Chapter Text
They were well into the next morning when one of the medics finally slipped out of the makeshift medical station and approached Meili.
“How are they?” they asked, pitching their voice low. (They weren’t sure it mattered; the citizens of Scala ad Caelum had known, the moment they’d noticed Meili hovering near the medics, arms folded and warding off questions with a stern glare. Still, they’d prefer to be as discreet as they could, beyond the worry.)
The medic had a vaguely perplexed, almost haunted look on her face, but when she spoke, her voice was clipped and professional. “Kvasir, Mimir, and Sigurd are all doing alright. Most of their major wounds looked like they’d been healed; there are some scrapes and bruises, but nothing serious enough to spend magic on. Mostly, they’ll need rest.”
“I’ll talk to them later—make sure they’re holding up.” A pause—and then, lower, “The Union Leaders?”
They thought the conversation behind them grew a little quieter.
The medic’s expression turned tight. “Master Skuld…mostly seems to be dealing with an extreme case of magical exhaustion. She will likely sleep for a while, and may struggle to use magic for some time in the future, but should make a full recovery. Master Brain…” She trailed off, expression pinched, and it made Meili’s heartrate spike.
“What’s wrong with him?”
The medic looked at him, then sighed, bone-weary. “It’s…complicated,” she said finally. “He’s stable—not in any danger.”
Meili could feel something in them uncoiling, and they weren’t sure if they were angry or relieved. “You could’ve led with that.”
The medic gave him a tired sort of look. “He’s stable now. He had a wound through his chest and back.”
Stars. That’s not— “When we brought him? How did—”
“No. That’s the thing—it was already healed when we got to him.”
The medic fell silent, and Meili could feel the implications settling over them. “You think it was Skuld.”
“It’s what seems most likely. It’s—” The medic broke off, expression twisted a little, then sighed. “Most medics would find it difficult to heal a wound like that. We would need a team, and even then, we could only heal it little by little; it might not work. For one person, on their own…it would be almost impossible.”
He should be dead. The practical part of Meili’s brain could acknowledge the thought, pulling it apart to try and figure out what needed to be done; the emotional one shied away from it, but their hands felt numb, no matter how much they tried to push the idea away.
“Sometimes, when someone is desperate enough, they reach beyond what they are normally capable of. If Master Skuld was watching her friend die, she might have been able to tap into much stronger healing magic than normal.” The medic’s lips pursed. “It is…not a perfect healing, but that is to be expected, given the severity. There is scar tissue on his heart and lungs; he will likely find it difficult to be as active as he once was. We will want to monitor him for a few days, just to make sure everything’s healed; we can figure out a long-term care plan from there.”
Meili closed their eyes, and breathed out, and silently filed away that information for later. “Right. Thank you for informing me.”
“…You can see them,” the medic said, lips twitching toward a smile for the first time during their conversation. “Just be quiet; they were both asleep, and they are not the only ones resting, besides.”
“I will.” They were a little surprised at the swell of gratitude, and dipped their head in her direction. “Thank you.”
The medic dipped her head in kind, and turned on her heel, heading purposefully back toward the station.
Meili could feel people watching them—wondering how the Union Leaders were, they guessed. They wanted to tell them to mind their own business—but they supposed they couldn’t blame them, entirely. They’re their heroes. Of course they’d want to know.
…Still. Meili figured they could leave it up to Frigga to be the one to spread the news.
They’d set the surviving citizens up in an old castle on a mostly-abandoned world. Meili suspected it’d belonged to Keyblade wielders, once, a long time ago—split off sometime just after the first fall, maybe. Still, it worked well enough for their purposes; while the castle was relatively overgrown, it did give them shelter, though they still needed to figure out the logistics of it. They’d focused on setting up the medical station first—the medics had taken over what looked like a large meeting hall, throwing up spells for privacy, laying out what supplies they had to try to make things more comfortable for the injured. Most of what they had were taken from the ships, hammocks and blankets and pillows frantically repurposed for the most seriously injured. It didn’t entirely surprise them that both Skuld and Brain had been afforded the luxury. They’d managed to press themselves close together, like they’d been scared they were going to lose each other, and it made Meili’s throat tighten.
Kvasir and Mimir were still there—they hadn’t been given beds, though that didn’t particularly surprise Meili, given the report. They sat on the ground near their friends; Kvasir was the first to notice them, expression twisting almost nervously.
“I thought there were supposed to be three of you,” Meili commented dryly.
Mimir’s shoulders jumped a little, but they seemed to forcibly straighten them out, doggedly keep their focus on the Union Leaders.
“I think he…felt a little awkward being here.” Kvasir twisted and gestured vaguely in the distance. “He was going to see what he could do to help, I think.”
Meili made a noise of acknowledgement, then settled unceremoniously near the two of them. Both Brain and Skuld looked…pale. Exhausted was certainly a good word for it; they seemed dead to the world, and with the blankets pulled up near their shoulders, it made them feel a little like they were looking at corpses.
…They would’ve been looking at at least one corpse, if Skuld hadn’t done something drastic.
How did that happen in the first place? What exactly did you two do?
They wanted to bury their head in their hands—but the kids were still here, and they were likely still being watched by the people of Scala ad Caelum. It wasn’t exactly a time to see one of their members of leadership breaking. And so they clenched their fists, and breathed out slowly, and tried to resign themself to the fact that at least they knew all of them were alive.
“…Are we in trouble?”
The quiet question came from Mimir; they still hadn’t looked away from their friends, and there was something almost defensive in their expression. “We had to go back,” they said, like they were pre-empting an argument. “We had to get them.”
“You took a hell of a risk,” Meili retorted, and their voice turned stern, despite themself. “You don’t run off like that in the middle of a crisis. Either you force people to spend more resources looking for you—when they should be looking for other people, or focused on taking care of who’s out—or they have to choose to let you go. You wait until things have calmed down, and you let the experts take care of things. If you really want to help, you ask what you can do later.”
Kvasir flinched; Mimir looked mutinous.
Meili could feel themself relenting a little, and sighed, shoulders slumping. “But I get it. It’s hard to leave your friends behind.” They stared at the Union Leaders, and found themself drifting back into their memories. “…When I first became the Head of the Exploration,” they said, quiet, “I threw myself into the mouth of a Heartless to get one of my team members out.”
“You?” Kvasir squawked, looking just on the edge of gleeful. “But—you’re not a Keyblade wielder.”
“Yeah. I got read the riot act by one of the more senior members. She reminded me that as the one in charge, I had to be an example for everyone else.” They huffed a quiet laugh. “She was angry that I didn’t seem to regret it—so I’m guessing scolding you two will be about as useful.”
Mimir gave them a ghost of a smile—but it was the quiet, raspy laugh that drew their attention.
“And here I thought you were both asleep,” Meili said, and tried to ignore how relieved they were to hear the sound.
“You’re loud.” Brain pushed himself up, slow and careful, and paused for half a moment when he seemed to notice Skuld’s arm still wrapped around his waist. Something soft flickers across his expression, and he shifts very carefully, bracing a hand to keep from disturbing her.
It gave Meili a chance to better assess his injuries. The bloodied shirt and jacket had been taken away—likely washed and mended, if possible, given that they didn’t have many extra resources right now. The scar the medic had warned about was starkly visible—no bandages needed, not with the wound already healed, but it was still a startling thing, to see the thick, raised line of pink-white skin, right there across his chest. That’s too neat, Meili thought, frown pensive. That couldn’t be from that thing—could it?
Brain looked up, and Meili noticed the second thing: golden eyes, staring tired and resigned at them, like Brain knew he was going to have something to explain and wasn’t sure he was looking forward to it. They made a shiver go down Meili’s spine, and uneasy sort of prickling across their skin.
“What happened, kid?” They tried to keep their voice measured. Neutral. If he didn’t feel up to talking, they wouldn’t press. But—
(He’d almost died. He had what might be a Keyblade wound through his chest. Skuld was drained of magic, and clinging to him like she was scared he’d disappear. They had slipped away, and then the storm had stopped, and Scala ad Caelum had stopped falling, and they didn’t think they’d ever seen that in their life.)
—they needed to know.
Brain didn’t look surprised; he just looked very, very tired, his shoulders bowed under the weight of something. He didn’t say anything, at first, finger tapping like he was thinking—but eventually, “It was my fault.”
(Kvasir straightened a little beside them. Mimir turned, giving Brain a careful side-eye. Meili wondered how much they knew; wondered if this was the first time they were hearing things, too, or if they’d found out earlier—been there to see it, maybe—and were simply anticipating how Meili would react.)
“I…didn’t want to use the box,” he continued, halting. “Thought I could use myself as an alternative.” He smiled, but it was bitter and sad and tired, and the implications of it settled over Meili’s shoulders and made them cold in a way they weren’t used to.
“Kid—” They broke off, entirely unsure of what they should do. “Why the hell didn’t you want to use the box?”
“The Dandelions.” He lifted one should in a half-shrug. “Found out they were in there.”
“So—” Meili broke off, and finally let themself run their hands over their face, breathing carefully to try and keep themself steady. “Alright. Okay. You used yourself to trap that—thing that was causing the storm.”
“Darkness.”
“Darkness. Okay. So. Wound on your chest.” Meili gestured. “Explain.”
Something in Brain’s expression tightened. He tugged Skuld a little closer, looking defensive.
Alright. Maybe not something they were going to get out of him, right now. “Kid—”
“He died,” Kvasir blurted. He looked a little alarmed to have spoken, like he hadn’t even entirely meant to, but his hands were shaking, and the words kept tumbling, anyways, like he couldn’t quite stop them. “He died, and so—we went to bring him back—”
“My fault, too,” Brain said, sharp. “I thought—I would’ve—” The words cut off, his teeth grinding against each other, and he closed his eyes, hand tightening around a still-sleeping Skuld.
Died. The word rang, and it took a few moments for it to actually sink in. Died. He actually fucking—and they went to—
Meili pressed their hands together, and then pressed them against their forehead, mostly to help still the shaking. They felt cold deep in their bones, fever-like. There was a jitteriness there that made them want to do…something, but they couldn’t quite place what.
Stars. If I’m like this, what are they like?
They pulled their hands away, and carefully packed their emotions into a mental box. It was…a little harder than normal, but they’d had years of practice, and those years would benefit them now as they took in the kids. Brain was still giving them a sort of defensive look, but he looked…tired, as well, like most of the fight had been drained out of him. Skuld was asleep, but they could see the bags around her eyes, the paleness of her face. Mimir’s everything was tense, staring stubbornly at their friends but perched like they were ready to leap into action at a moment’s notice. Kvasir’s expression was broken, everything shaking; it looked, almost, like the reality of the situation was only just starting to dawn on him.
Meili sucked in a breath. Held it. Let it go. Whatever questions they had, they could be answered later. “Are you up to talking about this now?”
Brain tilted his head. “Figured you’d want to know.”
“I do. Stars, kid, I’d like to get a fucking explanation for—that.” They gestured at the scar on Brain’s chest. “But I’m pretty sure you’re all dealing with a hell of a lot more than I am right now, so I can wait.”
Something in Brain’s expression crumbled and it looked, for one brief moment, like he was about to cry. He closed his eyes, sucking in a shuddering breath, and just nodded.
“…Is there anything you need right now?” Meili asked finally. “Any of you?” They leveled a look at Brain. “Beyond sleep.”
It drew a quiet snort of laughter, so. They supposed that was something, at least.
“…Could you stay?”
Mimir again, still tense and quiet, but something very vulnerable had crossed their expression.
A lump formed in Meili’s throat, and they tried to swallow past it. “Sure, kid. I think I can do that.”
~*~
-It took some prying to get Meili to leave the medical station.
Not that Frigga was entirely surprised; the Union Leaders were still in varying states of awareness, their friends conscious but exhausted, and after a harrowing twenty-four hours, she couldn’t really blame them for putting up a fight when she came to get them for the council meeting.
“You don’t know half of what they’ve been through,” Meili hissed, just barely in earshot; she could see Mimir glancing at them out of the corner of their eye, and Kvasir staring a bit more openly. “I don’t know everything they’ve been through.”
“Then you will have to inform me,” Frigga said, forcing calm. “I will need a run-down of what occurred, anyways, so we can figure out what to tell everyone else.” She let her eyes wander to the Union Leaders—both seemingly asleep, currently, though she hadn’t missed the brief flicker of Brain’s eyes. Gold, she noticed, and she tried to ignore the prickle at the implications. “You can return as soon as the meeting’s over,” she promised, gentling her voice, “but we need you here for this.”
Meili made a face that said they knew she was right and hated it, but at least they didn’t protest anymore. They turned, bending to mumble something to the kids, and Frigga turned away to at least give them a facsimile of privacy.
It let her get a better look at the medical station, and her lips pursed. There were…many people who’d sustained injuries, between the chaos of the fight with her family, the Heartless, and Darkness finally emerging. Some were superficial—cuts and bruises, things that would heal on their own time, and many of them had been sent back out to make room for more serious cases. Others had sustained things like broken bones or deeper cuts—and others still had wounds more serious, dragged onto ships by friends who’d frantically tried to stabilize them. The medics were run ragged, carefully rationing their magic for the most serious wounds, setting bones and staving off bleeding from less life-threatening injuries until they were sure they didn’t have any more serious cases to tackle. She would have to make sure she checked in with them later to see what supplies they needed, and to make sure that none of them were draining themselves so dry they’d end up with magical exhaustion. Perhaps Keyblade wielders would help; she would have to ask Osmin about who he’d suggest. They’ll want to see me later, anyways, she thought ruefully, and tried to ignore the ache of empty space where part of her leg used to be.
(“That happens sometimes,” one of the medics explained, like she hadn’t already known from dealing with injured Keyblade wielders prior—but then, perhaps they were just rambling to try and reorient themself, as exhausted from the day as anyone else. “The body remembers. You may still feel pain there, for a while. But you’re not in any danger, at least.”
“So I am not needed here.”
“You should still limit how much you try to do—exhaustion could take you out as quickly as anyone, magical or otherwise. And once things are settled, we’ll want to see about getting you a better mobility aid. But—no. You are free to leave, and to—to see to everyone else.”)
Meili cleared their throat, and Frigga turned, briefly, to acknowledge them. Both Mimir and Kvasir were watching openly now, something like wary exhaustion across both their faces. It was…something of a sobering sight. At least they are all alive.
They left the medical station in silence. She wasn’t surprised when several sets of eyes lifted to watch them—there were plenty of people still stationed around the area, waiting on injured loved ones or looking for news, and now they turned to their leaders, questions in their eyes they didn’t quite dare to voice.
Frigga would let them linger, for now; she wanted to get a better idea of what happened first, and discuss things with what remained of the council. She could decide how to address everything from there.
She waited until they’d trailed down one of the empty hallways—that looks like it might crumble, need to get Bryn to address that—before she asked, quiet, “How are they doing?”
Meili sighed, and it spoke of a heavy exhaustion that Frigga could sympathize with. “All stable. Exhausted. I’m pretty sure Kvasir and Mimir haven’t collapsed only because they’re being stubborn. They got off easy, it sounds like. The Union Leaders—” Meili broke off, rubbing a hand over their face. “Stars, Frigga, it’s a mess. One of the damn kids died.”
It wasn’t anywhere near what Frigga was expecting to hear, and by the time it’d started to sink in, a thousand questions rising to the tip of her tongue, Meili had already barreled onward:
“It didn’t stick, obviously. Skuld and the others got him back—not that I know how, because three of them have been tight-lipped about it and Skuld hasn’t woken up yet. But—fuck. Fuck.”
Frigga stopped, giving Meili an uncertain look. Perhaps I shouldn’t have drawn them away, after all, she thought, even if the logical part of her understood that they were still needed. But—she didn’t think she’d ever seen them cry, before. Not even when they’d faced the full brunt of her family’s accusations; they’d always dealt with it stiff-faced, a stubborn sort of anger coating their expression. Now, though—now, she thought she was going to watch them break.
Died, she thought, turning the thought over herself. It felt—unreal. She didn’t doubt that Meili was telling the truth, but all the same, it seemed strangely…impossible, for it to have happened. For the fact that they were Union Leaders. For the fact that she’d seen them both alive just moments ago. For the fact that, as far as she knew, there was no way to bring someone back from the dead. It was—
She wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it. In the midst of everything else, it left her feeling…a little untethered. Lost.
“We should…keep that to ourselves, for now,” she said, trying to reel this back into some sort of useful discussion—for both their sakes. “From a practical standpoint, it would likely only make everyone else uneasy. There would be questions about how, and fears about it happening again, as well as—potentially unsavory accusations. Better to have injured but living heroes.” She paused, and then added, softer, “From a more emotional standpoint—I imagine the Union Leaders would not appreciate having something like that aired against their will. There is already much that will likely be under scrutiny; we can at least give them this.”
“Never thought I’d see the day.” But there was something relieved in Meili’s expression, and it stung a little to know there was a reason for it being there.
Frigga took a breath, and steeled herself—because she was still the leader of Scala ad Caelum, and that meant that there were more answers that she needed, no matter how painful they may be. “And Darkness? I am assuming that the Union Leaders had something to do with its seeming disappearance.”
Meili’s lips thinned. “Gone, as far as I’m aware,” they said, though their expression was closed off in a way that said there was something they were hiding.
(She thought of golden eyes, just visible. Interesting.)
“…Very well,” she said, when it became clear Meili wouldn’t say any more. “We will keep the explanation vague, then: the Union Leaders fought Darkness, and came out triumphant, though not without cost. Scala ad Caelum is still standing, but will need repairs.”
“I take it that’s why you needed me for this meeting,” Meili said, and Frigga was relieved to hear a little bit of their old self in their voice.
“Partially,” Frigga agreed with a tired smile. “It’s also because we will need to decide what to do with what remains of Aegir’s cohorts—and I suspect you’ll want to have a say.”
~*~
-Osmin. Meili. Bryn. Herself. Four members of the original council left. It was…a strange sort of thing to see in-person. Members of the council had changed before—Frigga had seen several in her lifetime, even—but rarely did so many happen so fast, and she wasn’t sure that any had happened because of such a public display before. (There had been quieter ones, of course—some scandal that had led to a member being asked to step down behind the scenes—but those were taken care of out of the public eye, hopefully reducing the strain on everyone else in Scala ad Caelum.
They, unfortunately, did not have that luxury this time.)
Fafnir, Anders, and Leid were still present—guarded by Keyblade wielders currently, though she doubted there would be much of a struggle, after…everything. Leid looked resigned; Fafnir wasn’t looking at anyone; Anders looked terrified, fingers twitching like he’d summon a Keyblade, if he had one. They were kept separate from the rest of them; they’d found a small room to use, for the time being, a couple of old chairs to use, and the four remaining had congregated on one end of the room, where they could keep an eye on the others. (Meili and Bryn both had refused to sit; Meili stood with their arms crossed, watching the others warily, and Bryn had her Keyblade in her hands, fingers tight around the hilt. Osmin had sank into the chair nearest to Frigga, a bone-weary expression on his face.)
Frigga stared at them, then closed her eyes and forced herself to breath. They were not the only ones they’d need to deal with; she would have to tell Osmin to send out wielders to quietly round up the rest of Aegir’s supporters.
She wasn’t sure how many were still here. She knew, from a logical standpoint, that this might give them time to escape. But she also knew how shaken everyone was from the world’s fall; she didn’t dare break the tentative peace quite yet, not when everyone was still trying to find some stability.
But she was still the Head of the Council. Worldless and with significantly fewer companions at her side, perhaps—but her people were still here, and so her job persisted. And that meant addressing problems like these, for better or for worse.
“We will begin,” she said, her voice carrying clearly, “by discussing what to do with all of you.”
Leid tensed; Frigga could see the protests on her face, though she was wise enough not to say them.
Anders wasn’t. “Surely we can’t be the most pressing concern. We’ve been displaced from our home—figuring out that should be the top priority.”
“It is,” Frigga said, “but that is something to be discussed between council members.”
The implications fell across the three remaining, and she could see their expressions shifting. “I see,” Anders said, finally, voice clipped.
Frigga, frankly, didn’t think he had much room to be upset. “Aegir’s trial was never finished; however, his actions during the ending and aftermath spoke loud enough. He actively encouraged the rest of our family to stage a coup, which led to significant civilian death and, eventually, the fall of our world. We have the opportunity to rebuild, but that is only because of the Union Leaders’ efforts.”
She could see the questions there. She would not answer them—not yet.
“Aegir has paid for his actions with his life. However, there were many more who stood up to follow him—including the three of you. Members of Scala ad Caelum’s leadership—people who should’ve been protecting the citizens here, rather than putting them in danger.”
Leid and Fafnir, at least, had the decency to look guilty. Anders’s expression contorted, like he wanted to argue, but a twitch of Bryn’s Keyblade kept his mouth shut.
“So before we begin talking about more important matters, I would like to ask for input from the rest of the council: what should we do with the three of you?”
The silence that fell was heavy; Frigga could see it weighing on them, bowing their shoulders with expectations. Leid shot nervous glances toward the remaining council members; Anders opened his mouth, like he would try and make some sort of plea, but closed it again just as quickly. Fafnir just lowered their head, eyes turned as far away from the rest of the council as possible.
“Strip them of their positions.” Meili’s voice came first, thrumming with an anger that seemed barely contained. “If they can’t put their people first, they don’t deserve to be in charge of them.”
“They deserve exile,” Bryn added sharply; there was similar anger reflected in her expression, her Keyblade shaking. “They took an active part in destroying our world, and could still put people at risk.”
“We didn’t—” Anders started to protest, but Frigga cut him off with a wave of her hand.
“They deserve a trial,” Osmin said; he sounded defeated, his whole body bent over.
“Because of their blood?” Bryn asked, voice pitching incredulously.
“Because that’s what everyone deserves, Bryn.”
Meili ran a hand over their face, making a frustrated noise. “I can’t say I’m happy about it, but I agree with Osmin. There’s already enough turmoil; exiling them right now, without giving them any say in the matter, would probably just make things worse. They were council members; if that can happen to them, people will probably wonder if we could do the same to others.”
Bryn didn’t look happy, but she didn’t try to argue.
Silence fell; Frigga waited for it to pass, and when it didn’t, she inclined her head. “Very well. Leid, Fafnir, Anders—as of this moment, you are formally stripped of your positions. You will be placed under careful watch until your trial. If you try to run, you will be considered guilty, and exiled. I would be on my best behavior, if I were all of you.”
There was an implication there—of a lighter punishment, provided no one attempted anything. Frigga could see the realization settling across them, one by one; she hoped it would be enough to quell any problems, should they arise.
Frigga inclined her head. “You are dismissed.”
The other wielders closed rank around the former council members; Frigga watched as they left, eyes lingering on the door long after they left the room. “We will need to make an announcement,” she murmured, mostly to herself, “and decide on a trial date.”
“Not for a month, at least,” Meili said. “Everyone’s going to need time to adjust.”
“And the rest of them?” Bryn asked, tight.
Frigga had barely had time to think about it, with everything else—but an answer came easily enough. “We will likely have to hold private trials for them—nothing so public, not with so many. And not until after the trial for the other council members.” She sighed, and she could feel the exhaustion dragging at her, too. “We will…need to change things, going forward. This can’t happen again.”
There was a silence there that echoed her thoughts back at her. There was…a lot to do, still, and the weight of it felt almost overwhelming. But she’d been leader for a long time; while she’d never had to deal with a crisis of this magnitude, she would not let it stop her. “Bryn,” she said, forcing herself to break the silence, “we will need a team to check and repair the infrastructure of both this world and our home. How many people do you have with you?”
Bryn’s lips pursed, but Frigga could see the way her expression shifted, contemplative. “I haven’t been able to track down many,” she admitted. “There are five members of my department here, that I know of.”
“Ask for volunteers. See who is available and capable of taking instruction.”
Bryn inclined her head. “How soon?”
For that, Frigga glanced to the side. “Meili?”
Their eyes narrowed, but it seemed in thought, more than anything. “Infrastructure here should be the priority. As soon as possible, to make sure nothing falls down on us. I’ll get a team out to Scala later today. We can get a better idea of what sort of state the world’s in, then go from there.”
“Tomorrow,” Frigga interjected; she looked at them, and in their bowed shoulders she could see their near-breakdown on the walk here. “Scala will not likely deteriorate any further, at this point; we can spare you for a day.”
Meili looked strangely conflicted, like they weren’t sure whether to be grateful or frustrated.
“Bryn—focus on anything that looks dangerous, first. From there, we want to figure out whether we’ll need more permanent shelter.” She had a feeling the answer was ‘yes,’ though she supposed she wouldn’t know until Meili’s team had a chance to investigate. “We can start getting people more settled from there.”
Bryn nodded.
“Meili—I know you sent out teams to scout for food and water last night. I’d like a more official report on that before you leave.”
“Water’s fine; there’s a stream down the hill. There’s some wildlife around, but most people here aren’t exactly used to hunting…”
It was a familiar sort of cadence—different problems, perhaps, but a comforting routine, making it easy enough to sink into. Frigga took a breath, and tried to steady herself.
Her world had nearly fallen—but her people were still here. The worst was, hopefully, past them. It was…strangely freeing, in a way. For all the difficulties she knew they would still face…the threat to their world was gone. Now all there was to do was move forward.
~*~
-(Her awareness was…hazy.)
“…’re back!”
“How are they?”
(It felt like she was floating underneath the waves. Sounds and sights would filter through to her at a distance—all blurry colors and muted words.)
“…before…”
“…need more…isn’t room…”
“Just let them…”
(Every now and again, something would drag her to the surface—a loud enough noise, something triggering a familiar warning in the back of her mind. But, inevitably, the waves would pull her back under. There was a heavy sort of exhaustion there—something bone-deep, making it painful to keep her eyes open, settling deep inside her chest. It weighed her down, down, down, and she let herself drift, content with the impression of familiar figures around her.)
When Skuld woke, it was dark, but not quiet. The noises were what she registered before anything else—the murmuring that reminded her of cicadas, an ever-present noise in the background, and the louder shouts of people calling orders or asking questions or even cracking jokes, carefully hushed. In the distance, she thought she could hear off-key singing, the cadence of what might’ve been a story interspersed.
She breathed out slow, and for a moment, she considered drifting back off to sleep. She was warm, something soft wrapped around her and a weight against her shoulders and side, and she was tempted to burrow into it. But her eyes were less heavy, and her chest still ached but not quite as bad, and there was a sort of restlessness that was starting to make her skin itch, and so she forced herself up, slow.
“…Hey.”
Brain was already awake, and sitting up; his eyes were focused on something in the distance, one hand braced against the ground. The other fell away from her shoulders as she moved; he didn’t look at her, but his lips twitched toward a smile. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”
It took her hazy mind a moment to register the irony of the joke; when it did, she hit his side lightly, and he made a quiet, wheezing sort of laugh. “I should be telling you that.”
“Should’ve woke up earlier.”
She gave a vaguely annoyed huff, but shifted into a sitting position. She surprised herself with how wobbly she felt; her head felt light, and she found herself nearly crashing into Brain’s shoulder.
A half-panicked arm wrapped around her shoulders to steady her. “You alright?”
“Mm-hm. Just…dizzy.”
“You can lie back down, you know. No rush to get out of here.” He snorted with a vague sort of amusement. “Pretty sure Meili’s never going to let us out of their sight again.”
In the dim lighting, it took a moment to really register the shapes surrounding them—Meili and Kvasir and Mimir, all of them lying nearby. They didn’t have blankets, Skuld noticed; she squinted, and tried to look further, and noted the vague outlines of other figures, lying in make-shift beds with people clustered around them, bobbing lanterns illuminating the spaces between them.
…She didn’t recognize this place at all.
“Think I overheard some of the medics trying to get them to leave earlier,” Brain murmured, a thread of amusement in his voice. “Between our status and Meili’s, they convinced them to let them stay, so long as they were out of the way.”
Skuld blinked, and stared at the others with a lump in her throat. “Where…is this?” she asked. “Do you know?”
One shoulder lifted in half a shrug, jostling her. “Haven’t been awake much. Just caught a couple things.”
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. It was hard to see in the dark, but she thought his face still looked a little too gaunt, his eyes still heavy. She couldn’t see the scar from this angle, but she could imagine it, and a queasy, sick sort of feeling curdled in her stomach. Her fingers curled into her blanket, tightening until they went white. “How are you?” she asked, and it felt inadequate, but she didn’t know what else to say.
Brain huffed a quiet laugh. “Alive.” There was a strange sort of note to his voice, and he tugged her a little closer as he added, “Achy. Chest and back hurt.”
The lump in her throat grew bigger. “Where—”
(She could still feel the phantom of it—the resistance, the way things had given way and the sticky blood and the noise—)
A second arm wrapped around her, and it took until that moment to realize she’d started shaking, Brain’s voice dropping toward something more soothing. “Hey—”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—you were the one who—”
“Doesn’t mean you weren’t affected.” He shifted a little, and she leaned against him a moment, and—she could feel the scar now, beneath her fingertips, a jagged thing that popped up along the line of his chest. It made her feel like she was going to vomit, so she tugged her fingers away, closing her eyes and breathing, in and out.
“…That’s not all I was asking,” Skuld managed, finally, when she got her breathing under control. She pulled away from him, and lifted her eyes to meet his.
…Golden. She had known—she’d seen them, when they first got back—but it was different, in a dark, unfamiliar space. They flashed in the gloom, reflective, and for a brief moment, she saw a Darkling, and not her friend. She bit down on the instinctive flinch, but she thought Brain noticed, anyways, because his tilted his head away. “I’m…processing.” He laughed, but it sounded almost bitter. “Don’t know if it’s entirely set in.”
She wasn’t sure what to say to that.
Brain breathed out slow. “I’m sorry,” he said, and there was the weight of a lifetime of guilt behind it. “I shouldn’t have—”
He cut himself off when she knocked her forehead gently against his. “You don’t—don’t. It’s not—I’m not angry.”
He snorted.
“I’m a little angry,” she amended, feeling her lips twitch into a smile, despite herself. “But I’m not—I don’t need an apology. I don’t want one. I just—want you to be okay.”
Brain relaxed, some of the tension bleeding away. “…Alright. But that goes both ways. No apologizing for—” He broke off, gesturing vaguely at the scar.
Skuld breathed out a stuttering breath. “I think I can do that.”
~*~
-“Alright. Breathe in.”
It was a strange experience, to have a modified Aero spell pressed against his face. Brain could feel the wind spinning against his fingertips, some of the air leaking out between the gaps; it stung his nose and throat, crisper and colder than normal air. (It had startled him, the first time; he’d gone into a coughing fit, and Skuld had looked at him like she wasn’t sure if she should do something. He’d waved off her worry, though the medic assisting him had walked him through the process a little more carefully the next time.)
His chest and back ached. A strange, prickling feeling spread like spider webs out from his scars; it was almost itchy, and he resisted the urge to scratch at them. It felt a little like his chest wouldn’t expand fully, the scars stiff and straining. He wasn’t sure whether the cold air stinging his lungs helped or not.
“And out.”
A puff of breath; the Aero spell dissipated between his fingertips, and he shook them out reluctantly.
“How do you feel?”
He shrugged, and forced back a wince. “Still achy.” He paused, squinting in thought. “Breathing’s alright.”
The medic made a thoughtful noise, scribbling something down in a notebook. “Okay. Let me see if I can run something by—hold on just a sec.” They turned on their heels, muttering to themself.
Brain leaned back and watched them go. His fingers still buzzed, cool from the after-effects of magic.
“Is it helping?” Skuld asked; she was perched nearby, having stolen one of the few chairs that settled around what seemed to be the examination area.
“A little.” Brain tapped his fingertips, contemplative. “Think it could be a little more efficient, though. Too much gets between my fingers—if there was something to hold it, maybe—or something self-sustaining—”
Skuld snorted with laughter, and Brain felt the beginnings of a smile. He shoved her lightly, ignoring her yelp of protest. “What? It’d be useful.”
“They haven’t even released you yet, and you’re already planning another project!”
“I’ll take it slow. Have to, right?”
(It was…a light blow, all things considered, but a little discouraging, none-the-less. “The scarring might make it harder for you to keep up with your former pace,” one of the medics had said. “You may get winded easier, and you might find you feel tired more often. In addition, you may find yourself dealing with stiffness and chronic pain.”
“Already noticed that.”
“Right. That may end up being a permanent thing. We’ll see if we can’t heal some of the scarring and make things easier—but it might not be possible, for such a serious wound.”
He’d gotten off very lucky, he knew. He should’ve been dead—had been dead, and would’ve stayed that way, if Skuld and the others hadn’t come back for him. Still, there was something that scratched at the back of his mind—a familiar guilt, telling him that he needed to do more, he couldn’t just rest, there was so much that still needed to be done, how could he be so—
He took a breath, and silently smothered it. No. We’re not doing that. Not again. I can’t—I can’t watch that again.)
Something shifted out of the corner of his eye, and he lifted his head to look—and then snorted with laughter when he realized what it was. “We have an audience.”
Skuld craned her neck; it didn’t seem to take long for her eyes to land on Kvasir and Mimir, both watching less-than-subtly from behind a table. “We still aren’t free!” she shouted back at them.
Kvasir started, nearly banging his head on the table; Mimir looked a little sheepish, but gave them a thumbs up.
“They need to work on their subtlety,” Brain said, leaning back.
“They aren’t the only ones watching.”
“Yeah, but everyone else is at least pretending not to watch.”
He had taken note of the glances shot their way—sideways looks, occasional furtive glances, an open stare every now and again before they were ushered away. The surprise seemed to be wearing off gradually, and most had returned to their own doings; there were lots of wounded here, after all, and people often had more pressing concerns than two teenagers.
It was…still a sobering thought. For all that they’d tried to do—there were still a lot of injuries. The crowd in the medical station had thinned slowly over the past couple of days, but it still wasn’t as close to empty as he would’ve liked. It was…a bitter feeling. At least they’re alive, he thought, and tried not to think about the people who didn’t make it.
“Okay.” Brain’s head snapped around, honing in on the medic as they returned, their eyes still focused on their notebook. “We’re going to have you use that spell whenever you feel like you have difficulty breathing; if it’s persistent, then come back and see us, and we’ll see if we can figure out something more permanent.”
“Noted.”
“We’ll also want to try some massages and stretches to see if we can’t work out some of the pain in your back and chest—once everyone’s workload decreases, I’ll send someone to find you and get started on that.” They turned to Skuld, and she straightened a little under the scrutiny. “How are you?”
“Fine.”
“Don’t believe her. She still gets a headache every time she tries to use magic.”
Skuld flicked him.
“Can you use anything?” the medic asked.
Something flickered across Skuld’s face. “Not much,” she admitted. “Just—very small spells. And even then, they go out before very long.”
The medic sighed, but they didn’t look surprised. “That’s to be expected. High level spells already drain a lot from the user. Combined with the fighting, and you’re lucky the effort didn’t kill you.”
Brain kept very carefully silent. Skuld was equally quiet beside him, picking at a loose thread in her jacket. Meili had given them a brief rundown on what the medics’ theory was for their…conditions. Neither had broached the topic of whether or not they should tell the truth. (Though Brain would, quite frankly, prefer to keep it between them. He was…tired of all his traumas being public.)
“Your magic may be slow to return. Avoid using it for now—which means you’ll need to let others handle Heartless, if they show up.” The medic leveled a look at her. “Let it rest for about a month. The worst of the symptoms should be gone by then, though your magic may still refill slowly for a while longer, given the extent of the drain. Find a medic if you’re still experiencing more serious symptoms—headaches, chest pain, the like.” They glanced back at their notebook, then sighed. “But…by all accounts, you two are stable. We shouldn’t need to monitor you anymore.”
“And you could use the extra space,” Brain added dryly.
It drew a smile out of the medic. “And lower workload, yes. You’re free to go—but remember, easy, both of you. No Heartless, no heroics—your feet stay firmly planted on the ground.”
“Noted.”
“Meili’s probably going to keep us from doing anything, anyways,” Skuld said with a sigh.
Brain snorted; they weren’t here right now, but he was pretty sure that was because they were off yelling at someone else for similar concerns. He’d thought he’d heard them, somewhere outside the medical station at some point.
Skuld turned and gave the others a thumbs up as the medic called over another patient. Brain had barely had time to slip off the chair before he was nearly being tackled. He stumbled, grunting quietly as pain shot through his chest and back. “Easy.”
“Ah, sorry.” Kvasir stepped back, looking apologetic. “But—you’re both good?”
“As good as we can be,” Skuld answered with a weak smile.
Kvasir’s smile was a little bigger, and he looked like he was about to say something, but was interrupted by a quiet rumble. All eyes flicked to Mimir, who looked faintly embarrassed. “We haven’t really had time to get anything to eat,” they signed.
Skuld’s smile turned a little more real. “Food first?” she suggested.
Brain glanced at the others, gesturing. “Lead the way. You guys know the way around better than us.”
“Ah—only a little bit.” Still, Kvasir didn’t hesitate to take the lead, walking them through the crowded medical station. “We’ve only left briefly—to get food, or when the medics yelled at us for getting in the way.”
“They kept tripping over Kvasir,” Mimir signed, looking impish at Kvasir’s squawk of protest. “But Meili was actually the worst.”
“That’s true!” Kvasir turned to walk backwards, beaming. “The medics actually threatened to throw them out if they didn’t stop bothering people about you two.”
Brain’s eyebrows raised. “That’s what they kept asking about, huh?”
Skuld laughed. “I’m surprised they didn’t kick us out sooner.”
Outside the medical station was…surprisingly quiet. Brain had expected more; Meili had grumbled, more than once, about “people needing to mind their own business.” It’d led him to expect more of a crowd.
…Then again, they had been stuck in the medical station for nearly a week. He supposed that people’s curiosity would wane after a while—and even if they were still interested, they’d need to be ushered away so the medics had more room to work.
It gave him a better chance to see more of what the world looked like, at least. The medical station, he knew, had been set up in the remains of an old building—the walls were still standing, despite the cracks, but vegetation looked like it’d been hastily cleared away, and Bryn had been ushering a team of wielders through the area, looking for damage to shore up. From the looks of things, the building expanded further—ceilings arched high above, some pockmarked with holes, intricate details curling just visible along dusty walls. Nature had crept in over the years—bushes and flowers and a couple of squirrels, skittering ahead of them—but it looked like some had been cleared away or trampled in order to make more room for people to stay. When he glanced out the open windows, he thought he could see sprawling mountain ranges that tugged on his heart in a strange way.
The people of Scala ad Caelum were…managing, it looked like. Or at least, as well as they could. There were some people curled up together, or bent over with a heavy sort of weight to their expression, and it made Brain acutely aware of what had been lost. But there were also kids playing—a couple ran past them, and one of their parents shouted after them, seeming not to recognize the Union Leaders at all—and people telling stories, one of the storykeepers spinning some tale to a rapt audience as they passed.
Kvasir led them toward a small room that had, apparently, been designated a sort of kitchen. Various fruits and nuts were collected in baskets; some fish sat not far off. There was a lot of noise, for how small the room was; one worker stood near the open doorway, chatting with two Keyblade wielders and someone who was frantically scribbling in a notebook. “If people are willing to go back to Scala to fish, that’s great; we’re struggling to keep up with demand as it is. Maybe other worlds—I don’t think we have much to trade right now, but—”
“I can talk to Meili. Or Master Frigga, if I find her first.”
“Hey!” one of the workers shouted from the back. “Did the morning team come back with anything yet?”
“Not yet,” someone else shouted, “but we’ll keep an eye out!”
“You four—you here for food?”
It took a moment to fully register that the question was directed at them, and Brain found his attention swiveling sharply toward a worker at one of the work tables. They were only half paying attention to them, it seemed like, focused on something that looked like soup. “You didn’t get any rations yet today, right?”
“Not yet,” Kvasir answered, voice cheerful. “We’ve been in the medical station all morning.”
“Visiting?”
“Two of us were. Our friends just got out.”
The worker looked up fully, finally, and blanched when they seemed to notice the Union Leaders. They recovered quickly, schooling their expression. “Alright. Come on, grab a bowl—things are going to be lean for a while,” they warned, looking pointedly at the Union Leaders, “so no seconds.”
It was…a sobering thought. It stuck with Brain as he collected his food and slipped away with the others, finding a space near the wall to sit and eat. There were others doing just the same as them, hunkering over food, some looking tired and worn, others chattering quietly; he thought he could hear laughter, drifting faintly in their direction. “Guessing food’s been a problem,” Brain murmured, spoon tapping the edge of his bowl.
“Ah—a little,” Kvasir admitted. “Meili talked about it, a little; they were trying to send people out to get supplies, but we couldn’t bring much with us, and don’t have a lot to trade. Some fishers have been going back to Scala to see what they can catch.”
Skuld’s lips pursed. “We should be helping,” she whispered. “If they need—”
Mimir hit her lightly on the head. “Resting,” they signed.
“You guys have done plenty,” Kvasir said, an exhaustion in his expression that was familiar, but seemed out of place on his face. “Besides—it’s not like you’re the only ones who can do something.”
He gestured, and Brain followed the sweep of his arm to see a small group of people coming back with a large haul of fish. The workers shouted excitedly, hurrying to great them, and a couple of people eating nearby pumped their fists.
“There are a lot of people pitching in to help,” Kvasir continued, softer, “so it isn’t going to hurt if you take some time to rest.” He gave them a tiny smile, eyes crinkling. “The world doesn’t have to rest on your shoulders.”
A lump formed in Brain’s throat that he couldn’t quite swallow. He leaned back, eating silently, and let his eyes wander. There…were a lot of people helping, now that he stopped to look. Some wandering around, leaning down to check in and ask how someone else was doing. One teenager bringing a small toy for a child, who grabbed it eagerly. People helping to clean dishes and checking to make sure others had gotten food. There were difficult things, maybe, but no chaos—not like it had been, back in Scala. It was—perhaps it was alright. If they rested, for a moment.
(And…he was still tired. It weighed heavily on his chest, behind the ache of his breathing; it was a bone-deep sort of thing, tugging on his eyelids and making his limbs feel heavy. It would be…nice, maybe, not to have to keep fighting it.)
“Holy shit, you guys are out!”
Brain started; his movement jostled—Skuld, he realized after a moment. He blinked, eyes bleary, and it dawned on him that he must’ve started to drift off. It was…a bit of a surprising realization.
Skuld was scrambling into a similar position next to him, looking just as exhausted. There was something like alarm creeping back over her features—her fingers twitched, like they wanted to summon her Keyblade—only for her to relax slowly when she seemed to catch sight of the people calling to them.
The students. Kris, barreling toward them, waving enthusiastically. Eir trailing after her, looking uncertain. A couple other students that Brain didn’t recognize, congregating behind them.
Mimir brightened a little, lifting their hands to sign, “Hi.”
“‘Hi,’ yourself. We haven’t seen you since you jumped off the boat!”
Skuld shot them an incredulous look. “Jumped off a boat?”
Mimir gave her a deadpan look in return.
Skuld’s expression slowly turned sheepish, and Brain had to smother a snort of laughter. (He still got elbowed lightly for his troubles.)
“But you obviously found them.” That was Eir, giving them a wide-eyed look, like she couldn’t quite believe they were in one piece. That was…probably fair, all things considered.
“We heard about it when Meili brought you guys back.” Kris sat beside them with a heavy hmmph! and drew a faint smile from Mimir. “They wouldn’t let us into the medical station to check on you guys, though. Something about ‘not bothering the patients.’”
Mimir’s lips twitched toward a grin. “Putting you and Kvasir together probably wouldn’t have been a good idea.”
“When did you start that? Were you always like that?”
Mimir’s smile faltered a little.
So did Kris’s. Her expression dimmed, just slightly, but after a moment she rallied. “I guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time.” Kris leaned backward, glancing at the other students. “Are you just going to stand around all day? Come on, sit down.”
One of them was staring with trepidation—at them, Brain realized, and he had to suppress a dry snort. Right. Of course. “Um,” the student started, “but they’re…”
“Sitting here, eating food, like the rest of us. Come on, don’t be dumb.”
Eir, at least, started to sit—helped by Kvasir, who had reached up to drag her down. The others were watching a bit more warily, like they weren’t sure if they should.
Skuld poked Brain lightly in the side. “Look,” she whispered, and he turned to follow her gaze.
They might not have attracted attention before, but they certainly did now; all eyes had turned toward them, now, conversations hushed after Kris’s proclamations. Some people looked almost perturbed; others seemed shocked; others still just seemed strangely sad. Brain wasn’t sure what to do about any of it, so he looked away.
“What have you been doing?” Mimir was signing as he turned back.
“We’ve been volunteering to help get stuff,” Eir said, looking only slightly hesitant. “Most Keyblade wielders have been going out to other worlds, or helping explore this one, or—or things like that.”
“But that’s not the interesting part!” Kris interjected. “You two stay behind on the main island,” she pointed at Brain and Skuld, “and you two go after them,” the finger swiveled toward Mimir and Kvasir, “and then the storm just stops, and Meili has to go and rescue you and drag you here in the dead of night, and then you’re stuck with the medics for a week. You going to tell us what happened?”
(Brain’s skin prickled. Even now, he could almost feel Darkness creeping under it; could feel the way they tugged at his limbs, everything uncomfortably out of his control, the phantom of something cold and sticky filling his ribcage.)
Skuld’s fingers found his, curling around them tightly; she looked pale, when he glanced at her, and he pressed his shoulder against hers, as much for her comfort as his.
Kris looked at them, and something dimmed in her expression.
“Ah—Eir!”
Eir jumped, making a startled noise as she swiveled toward Kvasir.
He had an impish grin on his face. “Do you have any funny stories about exploring around the castle?”
Eir paused, looking a little uncertain—but then her expression turned contemplative, and a little mischievous in turn. “Kris tried to drown herself in the creek.”
Kris squawked in protest, voice rising in frantic denials as Eir hurried to try and tell the story. A couple of other students started to chime in—both in defense of and against—and, for the moment, it seemed like the story was forgotten.
Skuld relaxed against him.
“You alright?”
“Yeah.” She looked at the others, and there was something a little morose in her expression. “We’ll…have to tell them something eventually.”
…They would. They had to explain at least something of what had happened; everyone would be looking for it, not just the students. But… “Later. We’re supposed to be resting—right?”
He thought he saw her smile. “Right.”
“Hey,” one of the students was saying, “weren’t you the one who thought we could fix the problem by freezing over the creek?”
“It would’ve worked—”
Skuld laughed, and Brain found himself snorting with laughter beside her. There was still a lot to be done—they would have to step back into their roles as Union Leaders eventually—but for now—
For now, it was nice to just…have this.
~*~
-(“They really are just children, aren’t they?”
One of the Union Leaders laughed, nearly spitting out a mouthful of soup, as the students’ conversation grew more animated.
“I saw them when I was visiting my daughter. The boy was—it looked bad.”
“How…?”
“Hole through his chest. Didn’t even realize it was the Union Leaders at first, and when I did I just kept thinking—they’re my daughter’s age. I was terrified with the wounds she had; if they’d been like that…stars, I don’t know what I would’ve done.”
One of the boys—the blueblood kid, the one who had spoken at the trial—got up, miming some action. The other Union Leader made a dry comment, but his friend responded in good humor, shooting a playful jab back in his direction.
“…They saved us.”
“Yeah.”
There was a weight there that wasn’t present before, and a heavy silence that followed, filled only by the escalating chatter of children.)
~*~
-“Careful, careful!”
“A little to the left!”
Sigurd hovered nearby, wondering if he should get involved. He…hadn’t exactly volunteered to help with Bryn’s crew, but…well. He’d been trying to keep his hands busy.
(He hadn’t known what to do with himself, ever since coming back from rescuing Brain. He didn’t know what to think. He had been charged to protect Brain—keep him away from Darkness—and he’d failed. And Brain had died. And then they’d traveled to the afterlife to save him. And—
And he wasn’t friends with him. Not really. He was just…someone who came along, because it had been his job, once, to watch him. Now—well. It didn’t really feel right, to intrude.)
“Shit, it’s going to fall!”
Sigurd’s head snapped up. They were outside the castle; Bryn had a group of Keyblade wielders trying to stabilize an unsteady structure, their weapons already out and glowing with magic.
“Get some spells ready,” Bryn ordered.
A flash of light. A rattling sound. Sigurd flinched away on instinct.
He turned back at the surprised murmurs, and found himself staring at familiar chains—long, glowing things, clinging to the unsteady bits of the castle and anchoring them to the ground. It reminded him of the ruins underneath Scala ad Caelum.
“…Did—did you do that?”
“Dude, do you think I know a spell like that?”
Sigurd almost wanted to laugh, if his throat didn’t feel so tight. He caught of flicker of something dark, just at the edge of his vision, and turned.
And there was Brain, standing just out of sight, Master’s Defender clasped in his hand.
“I take it that was your doing?” he managed. He looked—not well, really, but—in one piece.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Sigurd snorted a quiet laugh, despite himself. “Of course.”
The two stood in silence for a few moments. Sigurd watched as Bryn’s crew worked, easing their way around the newly-formed chains. Brain didn’t do anything, twisting Master’s Defender like he was contemplating something. “I think,” he said finally, “we got off on the wrong foot.”
Sigurd snapped toward him, surprised.
Brain still wasn’t looking at him. “Think I’d like to start over.”
It…hit Sigurd harder than he expected. “Oh?”
Master’s Defender disappeared. He extended a hand, and lifted his head. “Name’s Brain.”
Sigurd stared at it—and then, throat tightening, accepted the hand with a simple shake. “Sigurd. It’s…nice to make your acquaintance, Master Brain.”
He thought he could see the twitch of a smile on his lips. “Just Brain, if we’re going to try this ‘friends’ thing.”
Sigurd managed a quiet laugh. “Alright. ‘Just Brain,’ then.”
Brain released a world-weary sigh. “You’re going to fit in with the rest of them.”
That got a laugh out of him that was a little more real.
~*~
-Yellow eyes. Brain stared at his reflection, fingers pressed to the space beneath his left eye. He’d known—the others had told him, and he’d seen the way people reacted, quiet whispers chasing after him—but this was the first time he’d managed to really get a good look at them.
They reminded him of a Heartless—golden, almost glowing in the right light. If he twisted his head wrong, the light would reflect off them, making his pupils near invisible.
He took a breath, hand gripping the tiny hand-held mirror a little tighter. It would…take some getting used to.
(It felt a little like he could feel something creeping over his shoulder—something cold and sticky and dark and painfully familiar. “Does it bother you, Little Light? To see how you’ve changed?”
He considered it. His reflection stared back, and he willed himself to look past the memories of the Darkling—hurt and desperate—and see the person.
He was…tired. He still had bags under his eyes, and his face was still a little too pale, and his clothes were patched and stained with blood he hadn’t quite been able to wash out.
But he was still here.
“Not as much as it probably should,” he said, finally. “Just means I’m alive, right?”
A laugh, and it sounded warm. “We suppose it does.”)
“Are you ready?”
Brain blinked, dragging himself out of his thoughts.
Skuld was standing in front of him, pack thrown over her shoulder, expression somewhere between nervous and determined. Still, her eyes were bright, and it made something in his chest ease.
“Suppose so.” He stuck the mirror back in his own pack, closing it and hoisting it over his shoulder. “You?”
“Yeah.” She glanced over her shoulder. “If Meili stops worrying.”
He huffed a laugh. “They’re the one who agreed to it.”
They fell into step beside each other, walking back to join the others. Already he could hear Meili’s voice, barking stern orders.
“Nobody goes wandering off. None of you are supposed to be fighting right now.”
Kvasir’s voice piped up, tentative, “Actually, it’s just Brain and Skuld—”
“None of you. The only reason I’m letting any of you go back right now is because I know you’d go anyways, so you might as well be supervised. But this is just a recon group. You see a Heartless, you find a less injured Keyblade wielder, and you leave.”
They rounded the corner, and Brain’s lips twitched toward an amused smile as he caught sight of Meili amidst a small group from the Exploration Department. Some looked like they were trying to prepare, but others were watching with thinly veiled amusement. Meili was standing in front of Kvasir, practically looming over him as he tried to appease them. Mimir had edged away a little, and looked like they were trying to figure out if they could sneak off without Meili noticing. Their eyes caught on Skuld and Brain, and they lifted their hand in a tentative wave.
Skuld gave a small wave back.
Meili turned toward them at the movement. “That goes double for you two,” they ordered.
Brain flashed a grin. “What, you think we’d find trouble?”
Meili groaned, running their hands over their face. “You’re probably the best at it.”
There were a couple of snorts of laughter from the watching Exploration Department members. It stole away a sort of tension that Brain hadn’t even realized he’d been feeling.
“Alright,” Meili shouted, finally turning away from their victims, “everyone ready?”
The Exploration Department members stood straighter, making final checks of their gear. One nodded to them, offering a tentative smile.
Kvasir and Mimir made their way over to the two of them. “Are you guys okay?” Mimir signed, eyes sweeping over the two of them.
Brain shrugged. “As we’re going to be, probably. Not like we can put it off forever.”
“We’re fine, Mimir,” Skuld offered with a tentative smile. It fell a little, replaced with something a little more nervous. “I wonder what it’ll be like.”
Brain thought of the ruins of Daybreak Town. His fingers curled tightly around his pack. “Probably not great,” he admitted, “but it’s not the first time our home’s been rebuilt.”
Skuld’s expression shifted a little toward something bittersweet, and she nodded.
Light flashed. Brain lifted his head as a portal opened.
Meili’s voice lifted, echoing in the small space: “Everyone, out!”
Perhaps it shouldn’t have been surprising when Brain’s throat tightened, and his footsteps faltered, just a little. It was…hitting him, slowly, everything that had happened. The world had fallen. He had died—and then he’d come back, following his friends—
And leaving the others behind.
It was a heavy sort of thing. He was—he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to see the remains of the fallen world. It would make everything feel that much more real.
But he couldn’t go back. None of them could. His friends were moving forward, and—and he was going to move with them, whatever the future brought.
Skuld glanced back at him, curious and concerned.
With a breath, he stepped forward.
~*~
-Frigga lifted her head. The castle framed her back; the ruins arched around her, the remains of a courtyard underfoot. The mountains rose in the distance, a sea of grass stretching toward the horizon.
And in front of her were her people: the surviving citizens of Scala ad Caelum, as many as could be gathered, all waiting on word from their leader.
Frigga straightened her shoulders and took a breath. She balanced carefully, adjusting her crutch as an excuse to steady herself, physically as well as mentally. The weight of a world was on her shoulders—but she could bear it, and help to lead them into the future.
One we wouldn’t have gotten without—
Her eyes trailed across the crowd. She didn’t expect to see the Union Leaders, and she wasn’t surprised when she couldn’t pick them out. Still—
(“You don’t want to tell them?”
The Union Leaders had exchanged glances with each other, and then turned back to her, expressions equally firm. “Neither of us asked to be legends,” Skuld told her, eyes steely. “We didn’t do this to be heroes.”
“Besides, you get more mileage by controlling the narrative, right?” Brain asked, his smile just slightly edged.
Frigga took them in. Tired. Healed, but still showing signs of their battle. Weighed down by the loss of a second home, and traumas they would not speak to her about.
Children.
“Very well,” she said. “And the council…?”
They’d both hesitated, then, and she’d seen the uncertainty on their faces.
“You don’t have to stay. You have more than earned the right to rest. But…there will always be positions for you there, if you want them.”)
We can give them this, she thought. A chance to, perhaps, have something a little more normal.
“Citizens of Scala ad Caelum,” she said, and the chatter quieted as her voice carried, “we have had an…eventful few weeks.”
It drew a few quiet chuckles, and her lips twitched a little in turn.
But her expression dimmed, after a moment, into something a little more serious. “You have been through much—and my family was at the core of it. Our fighting is what broke apart our world—and it cannot be allowed to happen again.”
She paused, and squared her shoulders, and took a breath. A leader first. “Master Aegir was lost in the fall. The members of the council who sided with him have been dismissed, and will receive trials to determine their fates once things have settled. The others who participated will receive more private trials. And—” She broke off, and then steeled herself, “—and once Scala is rebuilt, and we are more stable, I will step down from my position, for the role I have played in this.”
A low, surprised murmur went through the crowd, but she would not let it dissuade her.
“Our power has long-waned—and perhaps it is finally time to let it fade. To let ourselves step back into the society our ancestor created, and stop demanding respect because of our heritage.”
She paused, and her old Keyblade hummed in her chest; with it, she could feel the warmth of memories, familiar and comforting, and despite herself, she smiled.
“…I was a storykeeper, once,” she said, and the crowd fell to silence, “before I began pursuing my position. And the stories go like this.
“A long time ago, a single child survived the fall of his world. His name was Ephemer, and he would go on to rebuild the home that he had lost.
“But the truth of it is this: he was not alone. During his journeys, he met and befriended countless people, and together, they are the ones who created the home we once knew.
“Master Ephemer, our family, the Union Leaders—we are all human. Not a single one of us is better than another, no matter how many legends may trail in our wake. Master Ephemer was a hero, but he could not be a hero by standing alone. The stories don’t talk of his grief, or his struggles—but history shows that it took a long time for Scala ad Caelum to become what it did in its prime. Without the support of the people around him—people whose stories have since been lost—perhaps he would not have had the ability to create Scala ad Caelum at all.
“Our world has fallen before—and yet, we persisted. We will persist again, and we will rebuild, and we will grow and learn and pass on the stories to our children, so that perhaps they may not repeat our mistakes. We will step into a new age—and perhaps let the heroes of our past have their rest.”
(She wondered, fleetingly, what the Union Leaders were doing, right now.
…She hoped they would be happy, in whatever future they chose to make.)
“Citizens of Scala ad Caelum—you are brave and resilient. You may face darkness, but it will not overcome you. We are Keyblade wielders—and we are storytellers.”
She could see faces lighting up, slowly, through the crowd.
“Bakers. Armorers.”
More, and more—slowly, slowly, the response rippling across the group.
“Healers. Researchers. Fishermen and shopkeepers and tailors and more—every single one important. You have survived something you never should’ve had to—but you have survived. Scala ad Caelum has survived. And together, we are going to turn that into a better future.”
There was silence, for a moment—and then, slowly, slowly, a rumbling began, a slow-growing cheer that rose from the throats of thousands. A promise, of a future still to come.
Frigga breathed in, and out, and despite everything, felt something a little like peace. No matter what the future looks like, she thought, we will make the most of it.
~*~
-“Hi, Ephemer.”
Ephemer’s statue didn’t respond. It was still standing, miraculously—tilted a little and cracked, but not in broken disarray. It was more than a little bit of a relief; Skuld wasn’t sure what she would’ve done if she’d found the image of her friend broken and scattered across the streets.
Her throat tightened, and she turned to look at the city. Scala ad Caelum was…a mess. The streets were cracked and broken, pieces poking up toward the sky. Buildings had fallen in on themselves; those that were still standing had broken windows and burnt walls, with some looking like they were a hairsbreadth from crumbling under their weight. Colorful debris lay trapped under the rubble—remnants of the festival preparations, before everything had fallen apart.
“I kind of wish I knew how you did it, now,” Skuld murmured, eyes trailing over the tattered remains of the world. “I wish I had thought to ask, when we saw you.”
She could hear the chirp of birds overhead. A sea breeze brushed against her cheeks, and she breathed in the crisp, stinging air, and let it bring her a little bit of comfort. “But we’ll figure it out. Don’t worry; we’ll make sure that Ven and Lauriam have someplace to come back to, too, when they get here.”
She settled on the broken edge of the fountain. She thought she could see some of the others, picking through the streets.
“I wonder what they’ll think. If they’ll be just as lost and confused as Brain and I were. If they’ll end up finding each other again. If me being here—does something, to their futures.”
“Probably.”
She hadn’t even heard Brain approach, and she nearly jumped out of her skin at his voice.
“Don’t do that,” she said, but couldn’t really manage to muster much exasperation.
His lips twitched, like he was fighting a smile. “Sorry.” He glanced toward the tilting statue. “You want more time?”
“No. I was just…thinking.”
“About the future.”
She hummed a quiet acknowledgement.
Brain was silent a moment. “Well,” he said, “think you’ve already changed things quite a bit. Have to imagine it might affect the others somehow.”
She felt her lips twitching a little. “Right.” Her fingers curled around the broken edges of the fountain, tightening just a little. “I hope…it’s a good future.” She took a breath, and when she thought of the others, it didn’t sting quite like it once did.
“…Yeah,” Brain agreed quiet. “For all of us.”
The two of them lapsed into a companionable silence, for a moment, and…Skuld tried to let herself think of it. Of a future, here. Of a rebuilt Scala. Of an apartment that they could actually make their own, this time. Of making more memories with their friends. Of the places they could explore, and of learning more about how they trained Keyblade wielders here, and—
And it’d take a lot of work. Scala was still broken, and they were still legends, and—it’d be hard. But it would be possible, and…despite everything, there was a part of her that was excited to see what it would look like.
Speaking of the future… “Did you find the box?”
“Think so.” He settled carefully beside her, giving the fountain’s edge a skeptical look, like he expected it to crumble underneath them. “Meili wouldn’t let me get it out, though.”
Skuld couldn’t quite help her snort of laughter.
Brain rolled his eyes. “Not like it’d be that hard. The building’s mostly intact.”
“Mostly.”
“I do still have a Keyblade. It’d be fine.”
Skuld laughed quietly, and it made the strain of seeing Scala like this a little easier to bear.
She sobered a little, after a moment. “The Dandelions…” She trailed off, not quite sure how she wanted to finish the thought.
“…We’ll figure out how to get them out.” Brain leaned back a little, head tilted skyward. “We have the time.”
She nodded. She wondered how they would take it, too—how they would feel, being displaced from their home and time, with only two of their leaders here to greet them. She wondered if she and Brain would be able to do it at all—and when they’d manage it, if they did. “It’s…going to be different.”
“Yeah.”
“But—good different.”
Brain was quiet for a moment, in a contemplative sort of way. “…That’s the hope, yeah.”
A quiet grunt and the sound of something scraping against stone caught their attention. Skuld leaned around Brain and found herself staring at Meili as they dragged the black box across the street toward them. Kvasir and Mimir hurried after them, Kvasir looking a little nervous and Mimir faintly exasperated.
Skuld couldn’t quite help feeling a bit baffled at the sight. “Kvasir or Mimir could’ve helped—”
“That’s what we’ve been trying to tell them!” Kvasir said in nearly a shout; Mimir started to sign, then apparently gave up, waving their arms exasperatedly.
“No. Magic.” Meili set the box down with a quiet grunt, sighing. “So. This thing has a whole bunch of other kids in it. Have I got that right?”
Skuld gave them a faintly sheepish smile. “Yeah.”
Another sigh. “Great.” They rested a hand on top of it, and their expression turned…conflicted. “A lot of trouble you two went through, just to make sure that you didn’t have to use this thing.”
They looked at them, and…there was a question, there. An explanation, put off for a time, but still hoped for.
Skuld’s throat tightened. She glanced at Brain, and saw a similar grief in his eyes. It was…only a couple of weeks ago that she’d lost him. That they’d fought Darkness, and watched the world fall, and—
And it was a lot, still. To think about.
A hand wrapped around hers, squeezing—Brain, head tilted in question.
Skuld swallowed, and glanced back at Meili—and then beyond them, to Kvasir and Mimir. To the family they’d made here, despite…everything. And—maybe she wasn’t sure she wanted all of Scala ad Caelum to know what had happened, but…if they were going to tell anyone, it should be them.
“Are you okay with it?” she asked Brain, quiet. “You were…”
He hesitated, contemplative and uncertain, before giving a quiet huff of a sigh. “…Yeah,” he said finally, something stubborn in the set of his jaw. It softened a bit as he added, “Not like we have to do it alone.”
She gave him a tentative smile, and for all her uncertainty, it made things a little bit easier. And so she turned back to the others, and she met their eyes.
Whatever happens—we’re facing the future together.
“…Do you want to hear a story?”