#i love creepy fish people anyone who has known me a decent while knows this

[zeekappa]

some people can organise an intergalactic soccer tournament AND commit space war crimes at the same time and i just think that takes talent

[your-dungeon-is-problematic]

Centaur (AD&D)

Yet another creature cribbed from Greek myth, where they were all rapacious drunken wild men who would rampage through the countrysides in whirlwind orgies of sex and violence, except for Chiron, who was pretty much the only decent centaur. So, you’d think centaurs would be perfect for yet another “they’re evil bandits, kill them, kill them all” sort of entry in the Monstrous Manual, right? WRONG! See, they look more human than orcs or hobgoblins or kobolds (at least, from the waist up), and beings so human-like could not possibly be evil, right? Though having said that, they might still be just a little evil, in a manner the writers of this book probably didn’t intend...

General: “Centaurs are woodland beings who shun the company of men. They dwell in remote, secluded glades and pastures. The appearance of a centaur is unmistakable: they have the upper torso, arms, and head of a human being and the lower body of a large, powerful horse. Centaurs speak their own language and some among them (about 10%) can converse in the tongue of elves.” Well! Short, sweet, to the point. Though it is a little odd that they don’t speak common. Hell, only a minority of them bothered to learn Elvish. I wonder why Elvish, though? COULD THEY BE ESTABLISHING A THEME? Yes, yes they are, but first...

Combat: “A band of centaurs is always armed, and the leaders carry shields.” ...That’s a little bit of an ominous way to put it, isn’t it? “Always armed”? I mean I suppose an adventuring party doesn’t have any room to talk, since your average D&D party even at low levels has enough weaponry to besiege a small town, but are there no centaur civilians? And don’t they ever get tired of carrying their weapons? I suppose in theory they could utilize their own horse-backs for cargo transportation purposes, but the illustration up top is clearly an invocation of some kind of nubile noble savage archetype, what with the complete and utter nudity. “Half of the centaurs will be wielding oaken clubs (the equivalent of morning stars), one quarter will carry composite bows and have 10-30 arrows (either flight or sheaf, depending on the current state of affairs in the area). The remainder of the band will be leaders (AC4; HD5) using medium shields and medium horse lances.” Okay, see, again, the wooden clubs and the bows and arrows are again sort of tying into an implied “enlightened nature-loving savage” theme, like elves (COUGH COUGH) only even more so, and yet the leaders have medium shields and horse lances, like medieval knights. Like, alright, if you want to go for the jousting imagery, because they are, in fact, literal horsemen, it doesn’t make sense to me to have the leaders and only the leaders being knights if the rest of their society isn’t at that same level of cultural development. Though that’s just me. “Centaurs make 3 attacks each round in melee: once with their weapons and twice with their hooves.” Oh, shit. Like, no joke, that’s nothing to scoff at. Taking a horse hoof to the head will seriously ruin your day, perhaps the rest of your life.

Habitat/Society: “Centaurs are sociable creatures, taking great pleasure in the society of others of their kind. Their overall organization is tribal, with a tribe divided into family groups living together in harmony. The size of the tribe varies, it range [sic] from 3-4 families to upwards of 20 families. Since males have the dangerous roles of hunter and protector, females outnumber males by two to one.” ...Wait, wait, females are twice as numerous as males, just because the men are the hunters and warriors? The turnover rate is that fucking high? What the shit? When the gender imbalance is that high, I don’t care how conservative and traditionalist these centaurs are, you need to start getting some warrior women up in here. “The centaur mates for life, and the entire tribe participates in the education of the young.” So the children are raised by the tribe as a whole, and yet we still have separate gender roles, with the men hunting and warring, and the women doing...everything else, I guess? “The lair is located deep within a forest, and consists of a large, hidden glade and pasture with a good supply of running water. Depending upon the climate, the lair may contain huts or lean-tos to shelter the individual families. Centaurs are skilled in horticulture, and have been known to cultivate useful plants in the vicinity of their lair. In dangerous, monster infested areas, centaurs will sometimes plant a thick barrier of tough thorn bushes around their lair and even set traps and snares. In the open area, away from the trees, are hearths for cooking and warmth. If encountered in their lair, there will be 1-6 additional males, females equal to twice the number of males, and 5-30 young. The females (3 Hit Dice) and the young (1-3 Hit Dice) will fight only with their hooves, and only in a life or death situation.” Okay, okay, hold up, hold up. First of all, it’s a little creepy how you keep referring to them very clinically. “Males”, “females”, and especially “young”. They’re children, for God’s sake. Second of all, WHAT THE FUCK WHY ARE YOU PROVIDING THE HIT DIE FOR THE FUCKING CHILDREN ARE YOU FUCKING EXPECTING A FUCKING GAMING GROUP IS GOING TO FUCKING GO OUT OF THEIR FUCKING WAY TO FUCKING MURDER CHILDREN Third of all, why are the women unarmed? Like, if they’re the ones handling the horticulture, and they pretty much have to be if the men are out hunting and/or fighting, they should at least have gardening or farming tools that could serve as makeshift weapons. “Centaurs survive through a mixture of hunting, foraging, fishing, agriculture and trade. Though they shun dealings with humans, centaurs have been known to trade with elves, especially for food and wine. The elves are paid from the group treasury, which comes from the booty of slain monsters.” That’s...there’s an, um, an unfortunate little problem, with this concept. Well, more like a pair of problems, rather. And less “little” and more “gigantic”. So, first of all, they shun dealings with humans, but they trade with elves? Why? Do they just scoff at humans not being “close enough to nature”, or whatever? If someone is willing to trade you for a fair price, why not deal with them? What’s with these strange forest sanctions? Secondly, all of their money in their treasury comes from “the booty of slain monsters”??? Excuse me? Like, okay, granted, what the writers deem a “monster” is a far looser set of criteria than what I use, obviously, but usually I deem a monster to be some kind of nonsapient and usually supernatural man-eating creature, of some sort. Now most animals have absolutely no concept of the value of money, and so have no reason to keep any on their person. So obviously, the “monsters” that they slay must have enough higher reasoning to utilize currency. Going by the other examples given in the book, then I would presume the “monsters” that they slay are orcs, goblins, kobolds, and other fully sapient, thinking creatures capable of reason, even if they aren’t often portrayed as such. So, basically the centaurs straight-up murder any orc who wanders into their territory, presumably, given the extreme isolationist xenophobia on display by these centaurs, even the ones who were honestly simply lost in the woods, and take their money for their treasury. That is a lot of forest murder in order to generate enough revenue to pay elvish traders. Inter-polity economics don’t come cheap! I mean, they don’t think to sell any surpluses they might have from the hunting, foraging, fishing, or agriculture mentioned at the beginning of the same paragraph?? Their monetary economy is literally dependent upon there regularly being enough orcs (or other sapient humanoids who lack a sufficient amount of physical beauty) who wander into the woods, maliciously or otherwise, where the centaurs then murder them and take their stuff. That is not a way to generate long-lasting revenue for your economy, that’s a good way for anybody with half a brain stem to notice, “Oh hey, I know of at least 15 people who went into those woods and were never ever heard from again, maybe let’s avoid them.” I mean, again, I suppose adventuring parties have no room to talk in the arena of “killing people and taking their stuff”, but at least those are small groups of individuals, not whole tribal communities large enough to trade with developed elvish states.  “The territory of a centaur tribe varies with its size and the nature of the area it inhabits. Centaurs are also not above sharing a territory with elves.” M-multiculturalism? Could it be? For once, an instance where two races live peaceably in a cosmopolitan mix of people? “The attitude of a centaur toward a stranger in its territory will vary with the visitor. Humans and dwarves will usually be asked to leave in a polite manner, while halflings or gnomes will be tolerated, and elves will be welcome.” Oh. No. It’s just centaurs being racist pricks towards anyone who isn’t an elf, who for some bizarre reason are apparently the only species the centaurs see as equals?? Like, the language of them “tolerating” gnomes and halflings suggests a sort of intolerance, ironically enough. Like, if a gnome or halfling wanted to live among centaurs, for whatever reason, it seems that they’d quickly become a second-class citizen within the tribe. But hey, at least they’re not one of those nasty humans or industrial-minded dwarves. God forbid even a single tree be felled to fuel a hearth. Hearths that centaurs have in their forest lairs, according to this same article. ...How does the smoke not give them away, I wonder? I just noticed that. “Monsters will be dealt with in a manner according to the threat they represent to the welfare and survival of the tribe. Were a giant or dragon to enter the territory, the centaurs would pull up stakes and relocate, while trolls and orcs and their like will be killed.” Ah. Mm. Right. Okay. So. If a tribe of orcs, desperately searching for a land they can call their own, settle in your forest, because you’ve been hiding out in your secret special awesome secret glade and haven’t bothered to make it clear that these lands are already taken, you would prefer to murder them all in lieu of peaceable diplomatic negotiations beneficial to all involved?  Oh, wait, right, these orcs will probably have cash. How else are you going to buy some sweet elvish brandy if you don’t murder these orcs, men, women, and children, all, to get your hands on their pocket change? Of course, the fact that they would move out of their forest if a giant or dragon came to town kind of makes their tree-hugging isolationist xenophobia ring a little hollow. It comes off as like, “This is OUR forest, and we shall defend its boughs until our hearts beat their last! Unless you’re bigger than us, in which case, fuck it, we’ll find another forest. There’s plenty, who even cares?” Like, okay, dragons are a pretty hard to deal with problem, granted, but if it’s just the one giant, at least he can’t fly like the dragon can, and I doubt he can outrun you, so if you just did the horse-archer schtick and hit-and-fade a bunch you could probably drive him off, if you all worked together. But then, if you wanted to be most effective in this regard, you’d really, really want to abandon your tradition of having your women be near-total noncombatants, despite outnumbering the men two-to-one. There is strength in numbers, especially when we’re talking about having enough arrows to blot out the sun. “Centaurs will take the treasure of their fallen foes, and are fully aware of its value. Most male centaurs have a small coin supply, while the tribe has a treasury which may well include some magical items. Leaders will have twice the normal individual treasure. This treasure is used to buy food for the group, or to ransom (90% likely) captured or threatened members of the tribe.” So you don’t mint your own money, you take it off of people that you kill. And if you have enough money that most male centaurs have a coin purse, on top of the previously-mentioned treasury, and this supplies you with a not-insignificant amount of magical items, I again must ask: how many people are you guys murdering?! Because with the wealth you have been described as having, and given the one way that the reader has been informed that you collect it, that means that you either have killed one particularly wealthy orc, or, far more likely, have been murdering hundreds, if not thousands of orcs over the years, and rifling through their pockets for change.  And worse yet, this isn’t just one centaur tribe, this is every centaur tribe, since this is an entry for the species as a whole. Every centaur tribe has a fairly substantial treasury funded by the dead bodies of orcs who may well have simply made the mistake of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, because as you’ll recall, the centaurs’ policy towards orcs in their forests is strictly of the “shoot first, ask questions never” variety. “While basically neutral or chaotic good, centaurs have been known to become rowdy, boorish, and aggressive when under the influence of alcohol. They are also extremely protective of their females and young.” ...So, a species of strangely forest-obsessed frat-bros? “Centaurs are basically pastoral, but will react with violence if their lifestyle and survival is threatened.” Alright, that seems reasonable in theory, and yet so far the examples provided of them acting violent towards intruders don’t seem to be justified by this line of thought. What do these centaurs see as a “threat to their lifestyle and survival?” Because it seems that they believe that you are a threat to their lifestyle or survival by dint of being born an orc, in a lot of cases. If a human or dwarf whom they “politely asked to leave” then refused to leave as asked, would the human or dwarf then become a threat to their lifestyle or survival, too?? They kind of come across as racist Luddites.

Ecology: “The centaur lives in close harmony with nature and spends its lifetime carefully conserving the natural resources around its lair. The race seems to have an innate knowledge of how to achieve this precious balance.” Though with the way they treat non-elves, it certainly doesn’t seem that they’re willing to share any knowledge about the subject to anybody who doesn’t already know it. I mean, some protectors of nature you’ve turned out to be, if you don’t bother to teach others how you manage to do it so efficiently, even though that would be the most effective way of preserving the environment, by spreading your techniques. “If forced to chop down a tree, a centaur will plant another to replace it. Centaurs never over hunt or over fish an area as a human group might do, but choose their game with care, limiting the amount they eat.” Ah. Do you also have proper birth control? Because if the answer is no, if your population growth is positive, then it doesn’t matter how much you limit the amount you eat, your population will eventually outstrip your ability to acquire food in a sustainable manner, and you’ll have to look to outside sources, which means you’ll need a source of income, which means you’ll go on another pogrom against orcs, goblins, kobolds, or anybody else who doesn’t look like you and whom you assume “was probably up to no good, anyhow”, because your economy is LITERALLY SUSTAINED BY HATE CRIMES.

Overall: Okay, like, I know it wasn’t the intent of the writers, because they themselves were working with the assumption that orcs were either evil to a man, or the exceptions were so rare that it wouldn’t be worth it to give any random orc your run across the benefit of the doubt, but from a more nuanced perspective where no, not every orc is a bloodthirsty evil psychopathic maniac who would attempt to murder you as soon as look at you, then their entire economy is literally founded on hate crimes. To these centaurs, orcs, who have Intelligence scores, and therefore are sapient, and have all the free will that any other sapient species does and can choose not to be evil, are simply monsters that can be killed, their corpses rifled through for money and trinkets to throw on the community money pile. That attitude combined with their haughty disdain for humans and dwarves, and what seems to be only thinly-veiled disdain for halflings and gnomes, makes them seem less like wise and noble guardians of the forest, and more like xenophobic isolationist racist Luddites who will murder you for looking funny while also being on their property, which they apparently don’t mark, considering they live in secret glades while the men go out and stalk the woods for “intruders”, intruders who probably didn’t know that this forest was already occupied because nobody bothered to warn a guy, first. And their weird nonsensical misogyny is just a topper on a cake of horrible. Like, there’s a trope called “Men Are The Expendable Gender”, but I don’t think that trope should be in play when men are literally so scarce that they are outnumbered by women two-to-one. It does not make sense. All in all, their alignment being “Chaotic Good” is nothing short of baffling. The most “good” they do is living in a way that is environmentally friendly. A way that they have not deigned to share with “polluters” like humans and dwarves, despite that if they lived like you, you wouldn’t have any reason to disdain them, and the only way they’d learn these secrets, it seems, is if you bothered to get off your high horse and teach them a thing or two, you jackasses!

...So yeah, they need a rewrite. The drunken marauders would almost be better, quite frankly, because at least their violence was fueled by hedonistic drunken revelry, and not hate-crimes with a monetary goal.

[kaen-ace-of-diamonds]

The Lion and the Wolf

[AO3] [FF.Net]

Word Count: 19,000+ (oneshot)

Genre: Family/Horror

Pairings: Arba/Ren Gyokuen, Ren Gyokuen/Ren Hakutoku.

Characters: Arba, Ren Gyokuen, Ren Hakuryuu, Ren Hakuei, Ren Hakuyuu, Ren Hakuren, Ren Hakutoku, Judal, Ithnan, Falan, Ren Gyokuen’s siblings (OCs). 

Summary: In which not all of Arba's children are innocent, and being possessed doesn't necessarily make you a helpless victim.

Warnings for incest, physical and emotional abuse, descriptions of child murders, violence, manipulative/possessive behavior, and Arba and Gyokuen’s A+ parenting and general creepiness. 

~0~

“The wolf, he howls, the lion does roar; the wolf lets him in

The lion runs in through the door, the real fun begins

As they both rush upon you and rip open your flesh,

The lion eats his fill and then the wolf cleans up the mess.”

- The Lion and the Wolf, Thrice

~0~

It’s only a couple months after the fire that Arba remembers that she ought to tell her older daughter how their plan played out.

That night, alone in her bed, she closes her eyes and lets herself sink down, deep into the depths of her shared consciousness. She looks around at the smooth obsidian field, shivering a little at the cold on her skin, and calls for her child. “Gyokuen? Wake up, love. I want to talk to you.”

A moment later, on cue, Ren Gyokuen strides out from the black mist surrounding them, and smiles when she sees the other woman. “Hello, Mother.”

“Hello, darling. About two months have passed since we last talked, I hope you don’t mind that I waited this long to fill you in on everything.”

Gyokuen shrugs. “Two months, two weeks, two days, it’s all the same to me now. I assume everything went well, then?”

“Everything went excellently. Hakuei ran out of the fire a little worse for wear, but she healed up quickly and now she's good as new. The biggest problem I had with her was getting her to just stop crying already. Hakuryuu’s been in a coma for the past months, and he’s awake now, but he’ll have scars all over him for the rest of his life.”

“Will he? Poor little thing.”

“Indeed. But most importantly, Hakuyuu and Hakuren are out of our way for good. You're sure you're not upset?”

“No. You were the magnanimous one, after all, and it was their choice to reject us. Like I said before, it's their own fault for not being more like me. Now, more importantly, are you sure you covered our tracks? No one suspects that it was anything more than an accident?”

Arba smiles and shakes her head. “Not exactly, but - Don’t give me that face, you’ll love this part! Before the fire could kill him, Hakuyuu managed to tell Hakuryuu exactly who wanted them dead, and Hakuryuu didn’t believe him.”

“You’re joking.”

“I don’t joke, love. It took him quite a while to work up the courage to come ask me about it, but eventually he did. You should have seen him, he came up to me with this nervous little smile and said - ” She starts to mimic her son’s small, squeaky voice. “‘It’s a lie, isn’t it, Mother? That you were trying to murder us? It was all Uncle’s fault, right? I’m sure aniue was just confused and trying to tell me something else.’ He’s such a sweet boy, he genuinely thought I was completely innocent!”

“Well, it’s not all that surprising. I of all people can tell you that the love of a child for their mother is not easily swa - ” Gyokuen’s words catch in her throat as Arba’s fully register with her. “Wait a minute. What do you mean, he thought we were innocent? As in, he doesn’t think that anymore?”

“Oh, no, far from it,” Arba says, her voice overly bright. “I told him everything!”

The look of wide-eyed shock on Gyokuen’s face is almost as good as the one on Hakuryuu’s, Arba thinks. “You...You did what?!”

“Well, not everything, of course. He still doesn't know anything of why I do what I do. I just let him know beyond any shadow of a doubt that first, I killed his family; second, I’m going to get away with it; and finally, there's not a single thing he can do about it. He must feel so terribly betrayed, considering he glares at me now like he wants to take my head off. Though, considering he's only six, it's more funny than threatening. He looks like a rabid kitten.”

Gyokuen still stares at her mother, gaping like a fish as she tries to make her mouth work. “You didn’t...We’re really...Are you...?” she sputters, before finding her voice again and deciding on, “Have you lost your mind?!”

“That’s been a topic of discussion from time to time, yes.”

“Stop being so calm! You said we were in the clear; we still would be if you hadn’t spontaneously decided to ruin everything! Why did you do that?!”

Arba smirks. “Who knows? Maybe I just wanted to see the look on his face when I tore down everything he thought he knew about his life.”

“You just wanted to - Mother, I understand, but even I know that there’s a time and a place for those things!” Gyokuen shouts, raking her fingers through her hair in frustration. (Arba, for her part, watches with some interest; she can count on one hand the number of times she's seen her daughter get this worked up over something.) “And something as important as this is neither the time nor the place to fool around! You said it yourself, Hakuryuu didn’t want to believe it was us! He was trying to get you to agree with him, to say, No, you’re right, it wasn’t me, so why didn’t you just tell him what he wanted to hear and be done with it?!”

“Oh?” Arba tilts her head curiously, as if the possibility hadn’t occurred to her. “That probably would have worked on him, wouldn’t it?”

Gyokuen looks as if she's about to have a heart attack. “Of course it would have! He’s six! He loves us, he doesn't know any better! He’ll believe anything we say! Or at least he would have, when he still trusted us! He’s our son, so he had potential, but now we’ll never be able to use him for anything. And that's all that will happen if we’re lucky. You know how he is; every time he's scared or upset, he runs to somebody else for help. What if he tells someone? What if they believe him?”

Arba waves her hand dismissively. “He won't. Like you just said, he's young and afraid and painfully vulnerable, so it will be easy to convince him to keep his mouth shut. Luck has nothing to do with it. Honestly, you’re overreacting,” she adds, and gives her daughter a conspiratorial smile. “You used to be very good at keeping your little sisters quiet, weren’t you? You started early, too, and you trained them to keep secrets very well.”

But unusually, Gyokuen brushes off her mother’s flattery, narrowing her eyes instead. “That’s different. An and Kuro knew we weren’t what we pretended to be, yes. They knew we were dangerous, that we could hurt them if we wanted, and that we may or may not have been planning something bad. But that was all they knew. They couldn’t say anything because they had no idea what they would say to make someone else realize there was a serious problem, and they wouldn’t have any proof to back it up if they did. The worst I ever did was taunt An about what I might have done or wanted to do.”

Arba raises an eyebrow skeptically, her smile fading. “You’re really going to look me in the face and tell me that that’s the worst thing you ever did to Ankoku?”

“That’s irrelevant,” Gyokuen sighs. “My point is, I was careful. I was good at keeping to the rules. I never threw caution to the winds and endangered our life! Has a thousand years without any real obstacles turned you complacent, Mother?”

“You watch your tone. You know perfectly well that I am far from complacent. Don’t assume that I’m doing this thoughtlessly.”

“And why not? Was there something else I was supposed to take from your little performance, or - ”

“I said, watch yourself,” Arba snaps, and has the satisfaction of seeing her daughter immediately shut her mouth and take a small step back, the aggression disappearing from her stance. Good. Gyokuen has always been her most well-behaved child, and even if this outburst is anything but rebellious, Arba does not like the unfamiliar defiance that edges her voice. “Remember your place, my love.”

“You make it impossible to forget. But even so, I just wish you’d consulted me sooner. I’m here to help you; I should think that you would remember that instead of ignoring me. Especially after I've so graciously allowed you into my body,” she adds, crossing her arms and pointedly looking away.

Arba smirks, leaning forward with her hands on her hips. “So what are you going to do? Throw me out?”

“Of course not, after all the trouble I went through to get you into me in the first place. But I take it you really don't intend to solve this problem the way I solved that one?”

“No,” Arba says, straightening up. “For now, Hakuryuu will be allowed to live. Because you’re wrong when you say that we can't use him for anything. He's only known for a few days, but just picture how the rest of his life is going to go. His fear for his and his sister’s lives, his rage and despair over being too weak to change anything, and most importantly, his hatred for me...Those feelings will build and build over the years to come, with no sufficient outlet, until they’re tearing him apart from the inside out. That is a fate that anyone would curse, and even one more person in this world who's fallen into depravity benefits me. That is why I did it. Does that satisfy you?”

“...I suppose it does,” Gyokuen admits. “And if that doesn't happen?”

“Well, then.” Arba’s bright smile returns to her face. “He'll at least make a decent plaything, won't he? Telling him the truth was the most fun I’ve ever had with him. And when your siblings were alive, it was nice to have somebody you didn't have to pretend in front of, wasn't it?”

“If you say so,” Gyokuen concedes. Trying to fight her mother is a pointless effort, even for her.

“I'm glad you can agree. There's nothing to be afraid of, love. Haven't I always taken care of everything?”

“You have.” She can't deny that, she reasons. “If it's all right with you, I'm going back now. This is tiring me out.”

“That's all right,” Arba allows as her daughter turns and walks back into the mist surrounding them. “I'll wake you again soon.”

Gyokuen stops, takes another deep breath, and looks over her shoulder at her mother. “I'll just say this: I only hope you know what you're doing. This had better not backfire on us because you got overconfident.”

Arba’s smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. “How cute, that you think that you give the orders around here.”

“That’s not what I - !” Gyokuen grits her teeth and turns away again. “Just...Be careful. And remember that I’m here. That’s all I ask.”

Without waiting for a response, she disappears fully into the mist. Arba’s smile doesn’t falter; her child will come around sooner or later. On the rare occasions Gyokuen seriously disagrees with her, it doesn’t last long. Or if it does, nothing will come of it, if Arba says and does the right things to calm her. To her immense delight, she’s discovered while raising her favorite daughter that a lifetime’s worth of careful conditioning is completely unshakeable.

This task out of the way, Arba closes her eyes and relaxes, quickly losing herself to sleep. Both mother and daughter will rest now; there is always more to do tomorrow.

~0~

‘I wonder,’ Arba asks her daughter teasingly, as she makes her way through the halls of the palace after a morning meeting with her priests. ‘Would it be possible, just once, for you to see Ithnan without insulting him? One would think you'd tire of that by now.’

At the back of their shared mind, Gyokuen laughs. ‘It isn't as if he can hear me. I would think that you'd just be relieved that we don't have the time to bicker any more.’

‘Of course. It was amusing while it lasted, but you’re not a child anymore. And -’

Noticing something as she starts to turn the corner, Arba stops and takes a step back.

‘And speaking of children, would you like to have a look at ours?’

‘What? Let me see!’

Paying more attention to the outside, Gyokuen follows their gaze around the corner. In the adjacent hall, Hakuei and Hakuryuu are there, at the wrong angle and too caught up in whatever they’re talking about to notice their mother. While Hakuei is talking animatedly, Hakuryuu’s smile is tight. They have come in at the end of the pair’s conversation, it seems: before long, Hakuei is bidding her brother goodbye and starting to leave, but she stops just before turning the other corner.

“Hakuryuu, are you sure you're okay? There's nothing else that's bothering you?”

Hakuryuu shook his head. “No, aneue, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

“You know you can talk to me if anything’s wrong, don't you?”

“I know,” Hakuryuu says, his smile widening. “Go on, you're going to be late to your lesson.”

“All right - I'll see you later!”

As soon as his sister is out of sight, the smile drops from Hakuryuu’s face. He stands still, looking where she had been with a torn expression, as if he’s grappling with some decision. If it were up to Gyokuen, she would narrow their eyes.

‘He had better not be thinking about what I think he’s thinking about.’

‘Don’t twist your tongue, love. I told you, he won’t tell her a thing, even if he considers it.’

‘Not good enough. Allowing even that thought will give it room to grow, especially if he thinks he can pass under our notice. Hakuei isn’t important, but do you think she’s the only one he’s considered saying something to?’

‘Hm...I suppose I see your point. Did you want to do something about it?’

‘I could give it a try. You had a point, too, about how I used to handle my sisters. Switch out?’

‘Very well, we’ll switch, but remember what I told you. Don’t do anything foolish.’

‘Of course. Thank you, Mother.’

The exchange lasts only a few seconds - mental conversations are so much faster and more convenient than spoken ones, she’s found - and as soon as it’s over, Gyokuen feels herself in control of their body again. It never feels quite the same as it did before; she can still sense Arba’s presence, silent but watchful, at the back of their mind. She lets her consciousness go dormant often, but her mother only rarely does the same. But it’s all right. This is what she wanted, after all: to merge the two of them into one. And her mother’s advice in her head is always welcome.

She doesn’t think she’ll need it quite yet, though. Hakuryuu isn’t very far away, but his back is to her, and she happens to be very good at moving without making a sound. (Her younger siblings had been decent practice: Surprisingly, little Kuroko had managed to either always see her coming or never react, but Enshan and Ankoku had never gotten used to her seemingly materializing out of nowhere next to them, and seeing the looks on their faces when she did was so satisfying.) She takes three long, careful strides forward, leans down, and sweeps Hakuryuu up into her arms.

He cries out at being suddenly grabbed, and starts struggling, but she holds him tightly to her and hushes him.

“Shh, now, don’t squirm like that. Did you get scared? Don’t worry, it’s just me,” she croons. Looking for the first time at the scar searing half of his face, at the unnatural paleness of his left eye, she almost starts laughing: without even meaning to, she’d gotten him on his blind side. They would have to remember that for later.

She's held her little boy before; the way he would always run up to them needing to be cuddled and protected, begging for their attention and their love, guaranteed it. (Though he can’t tell the difference between his two mothers at all, Gyokuen had still found herself flattered by his unthinking adoration of her.) As such, she can immediately tell that there’s a stark difference now. Instead of hanging on to her and relaxing into her touch, Hakuryuu is stiff and tense, trying not to shake and failing badly. He doesn't fit quite right in her arms any more. She supposes that's a shame.

“Aww, are you trembling? My cute little Hakuryuu, what are you afraid of?” she asks, putting on her kindest smile and the sickly sweet voice that had always turned her sisters’ stomachs. “I wouldn’t dream of hurting you, so long as you’re still my good boy. Aren’t you?”

Oh, my. It looks like Mother wasn’t exaggerating. Hakuryuu doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t avoid her gaze, either. There is hatred strong and pure as flame in those mismatched eyes, stoked with the pain of her betrayal and far too fierce to belong on such a young face. All of a sudden, she’s reminded of Ankoku, of the way the girl’s eyes would narrow and her small fists would clench and quiver at every mocking word, every reminder of how helpless she was to stop her older sister from doing whatever she wanted with her. The unwelcome resemblance almost makes the smile fall from her face.

She wonders if this is how Ankoku would have looked at her had she known what was happening instead of being stuck with only the maddening sense that something was terribly wrong, had she known this hatred instead of mere suspicion and resentment. In her last moments, in all of her siblings’ last moments, there had been no time for true anger, only desperate terror. She wonders further what they all would have tried to do, if they had been able to uncover the truth and steel themselves to defy their mother and their eldest sibling. Confident as she is that they would have been no threat, she's still glad that they never had to take that chance. And if she has anything to do with it, they will not take any chances now.

“Hakuryuu? Aren't you?” Gyokuen presses, petting his hair. She must be careful with this step: she has to intimidate him enough that he won't even think of acting against them, but she absolutely cannot let on that she's only doing this because she herself feels threatened. “I watched you talking with your sister just now. What were you thinking of? Certainly nothing that would get her in trouble, right?”

Hakuryuu swallows hard, and something like a whimper escapes him, but he still doesn’t answer. It occurs to her that maybe it’s not that he’s refusing to speak out of defiance, but that he’s so scared of her now that he can’t. Poor baby...But I won't let you off the hook so easily.

“Even knowing what you know, you can still be caught unaware. I had a hold of you before you even realized I was here, didn't I? And you were alone, too. I could have done whatever I wanted and there's not a thing you could have done about it.”

As she talks, she trails her hand gently from Hakuryuu’s hair, down his face, to his throat. Her fingertips rest on his pulse, warm and racing, under her fingertips. It reminds her of when she used to caress her little brother’s neck; her son, too, goes still at her touch. But in this there is another stark difference. Unlike Enshan, Hakuryuu knows enough to sense the thoughts behind the action: not affectionate, but imagining what it would feel like to kill him here. She lets that thought hang in his mind for another moment before she starts talking again.

“So, if this is how it is with you, what chance do you think your sister has?”

Hakuryuu makes a strangled sound halfway between a yelp and a sob, and though for once he’s trying to keep them back, the tears well up and spill over almost immediately. He starts squirming again, trying to reposition himself in her arms; he clearly wants to hide his face but the only place he could do that is against her.

It takes some effort to keep her smile from broadening. Instead, she cradles him closer, tucking his head into the crook of her neck and rocking him gently. “No, shhh, shhh...Don’t cry, sweet boy, don't cry. Shh, I didn't mean to scare you. You won't let anything happen to her, will you? Nothing at all needs to happen to either of you, so long as you behave. I should have made that clear from the start. Do you understand?”

Hakuryuu just whimpers some more, trembling even harder, trying to stop crying and failing miserably. She can feel his tears running down her neck. He’s already so overwhelmed, but she has to make sure that he knows who is in control.

“Hakuryuu? Do you understand?”

He nods shakily. Not quite good enough.

“Hakuryuu, I need to hear you say it.”

He takes one slow, ragged breath, then another, and another, until he’s calmed himself down enough to at least speak coherently, and mumbles, “I...I understand, M-Mother.”

“Good boy.” She kisses his forehead lightly, giggling when he flinches. “My good boy.”

‘There,’ Arba says, as if this ends any argument. ‘A weak little thing like this will spend his life bowing to us, not causing us any harm. You see?’

‘Yes, I see,’ she replies obediently. But privately, she thinks, He's not going to stay little and weak forever. And I know I've seen that sort of look somewhere before...Where?

Still sniffling, Hakuryuu wriggles a little harder. “Put...Put me down?” he asks in a tiny, plaintive voice, as if he’s afraid to speak to her again.

‘Oh, he’s too cute,’ Arba laughs. ‘I think we can leave him be, love, you’ve done your job.’

‘Maybe. But I’ve never exactly been one to make things easy for my family.’

“Now, Hakuryuu,” she says in a mockingly admonishing tone, and Arba starts laughing even harder. “Mind your manners. If you want me to let you go, you'll have to ask nicely.”

“P-Please put me down!” he cries, looking and sounding about a second away from bursting into another round of tears.

‘Not as good as An and Kuro’s begging, but I'll take it.’

“Shh, all right, down you go...”

She bends for a moment to set him back on his feet, and the instant he gets near the floor, he wrenches himself out of her hands and darts halfway down the hall, putting himself out of her reach in case she changes her mind. But instead of running any further away, he spins around, glaring up at her and clenching his fists.

Gyokuen raises her eyebrows, letting her smile linger. “Is there something else you wanted to say, darling?”

He grits his teeth, as if there's so much he wants to scream at her, but can't, that it's choking him. The fire still burns strong in his eyes, and all of a sudden it hits her that she was mistaken before about where she recognizes that expression from.

That isn't the look of her bitter younger sister. This is the look of their vengeful eldest sons, at the moment that they had decided to become their enemy. And while it had fit perfectly on two fierce, grown warriors -

(on Hakuren’s face as he charged at them in blind fury, as he held his bleeding fist after Arba’s borg had knocked him away; on Hakuyuu’s face as he called them traitor, and coldly refused to take the offer for partnership that would have saved his and his brother’s lives, why didn’t he take it, why, why had he refused her?!)

- it looks monstrous and wrong in this boy. Their mother had ripped his innocence right out of him, and she can see the rage and terror and confusion pouring from him like blood from the open wound. The child he was before has been shattered, and this new person they’ve created from the burnt and blackened remains is dangerous, hanging onto his semblance of stability by a thread and preparing to kill once that thread finally breaks. And they are his only target, the only ones who will face his wrath once this runt puppy grows into a ferocious beast, like his father and brothers before him.

The thought does not cross Gyokuen’s mind that she may be overestimating the capabilities of one so young. She herself had been four years old when she helped her mother bury her father, and seven when she had very nearly drowned Ankoku, before their mother had stepped in. And unlike Ankoku (like her, instead), Hakuryuu won’t forget anything. The truth of everything they have done is quite literally burned into him. The way she sees it, six is more than old enough to be planning how to get rid of an unwanted parent. Her father had been ill-prepared, and had paid for it with his life. If they aren't careful...They could very well share that fate.

She does not like the uncomfortable cold feeling that settles on her body at these realizations. But it’s okay, she decides. She will control their son; if she cannot get rid of him, she will hold the beast inside him on a chokingly short leash and protect them both.

After a moment or so, Hakuryuu makes a small, sharp noise of frustration and whips around again, bolting away from them as fast as he can. She’s so lost in thought that she almost doesn't notice. (They have nothing more to say to each other, anyway.)

‘So?’ Arba asks. ‘What do you think of him now? Even with those scars, he's still such an adorable boy, isn't he?’

Gyokuen barely hears her, and takes another few moments to consider their child before she answers. As clear and present a danger as Hakuryuu may be, she has to wonder whether he really has the resilience to see whatever plan he may have through, or even to survive to attempt it. Arba was right: the pressure is clearly crushing him even now, and it's only going to get worse the longer he lives. She could see his entire future in those eyes: with no one else he dares share the pain or the burden with, he’ll grow up into a burnt-out shell kept alive only by his lust for his mother’s blood. And if they die and the object of his hatred is suddenly gone...

‘It would have been kinder to have just killed the poor thing.’

‘Mm, maybe so. But we are not kind people, are we?’

‘No, I suppose we’re not,’ she agrees, turning and walking back the way they had come. ‘Though, if you change your mind about keeping him, I’ll certainly take care of that for you.’

It occurs to her that she's never made a quick and clean kill before. Even wounded and bleeding out, Ankoku had tried to fight back and made things more difficult than they needed to be, Kuroko had screamed and struggled under her sister’s blade until her last breath, and she had wanted to savor her last moments with Enshan for as long as she could. But it should be easy: all she would need is one of her knives and a moment alone with their son, to put him out of his misery forever.

‘I'll think about it,’ Arba says, though she can tell that her mother just wants her to drop the subject. ‘For now, all we have to do is keep an eye on him. I know you're worried, but I promise, we’re in no danger. There are no threats left in this palace.’

‘Of course. I'm sorry, Mother.’

‘You trust me, don't you, my love?’

Gyokuen takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

‘With my life.’

~0~

She is not like the other vessels. She made a choice, instead of being blindsided. She fought for her perfect existence, instead of against it. She shares her life with Arba, instead of having it stolen away from her.

(“Do you enjoy being Mother’s spoiled little pet, aneue? Because if you think you’re anything else to her, you really are out of your mind.”)

She alone was chosen. She alone has won Arba’s love. She alone can understand the older woman’s mind and heart.

(“Where do you and Mother go all the time? Why are you keeping so many secrets? Sometimes you two really scare me.”)

She doesn't need control. All she needs is her mother.

(“Aneue, you’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you? I promise, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to fix it.”)

It's better this way.

~0~

Since her possession, the years have passed far more quickly than usual, days or weeks or months at a time blinking by in between her times of awareness. But she is not consigned to oblivion like the rest. Devoted as she is to her mother, focused as she is on the future (her life has never had any particular purpose beyond the one Arba has given her), she can still enjoy looking outside herself to the present, sometimes. And Arba knows well what she enjoys the most, and wakes her so they can share this, too.

In this world, there is only one person that Gyokuen loves. However, there are exactly three people that she cares for, and they stand on the sidelines of the royal family’s training court, intently watching one of them.

‘She's improved quite a lot, hasn't she?’ Gyokuen remarks. Hakuei’s trainer left half an hour ago, but she still insists on doing extra drills. As someone with very little ambition herself, she has to admire her daughter’s dedication.

Arba, however, looks on the seventeen-year-old’s swordplay with a more critical eye. ‘She could be better. For one thing, her footwork is definitely off.’

‘Well, if you're dissatisfied, why don't you train her instead?’

‘Oh, no, I trained Hakuyuu and Hakuren and look what they did with it. All that was was nineteen years of wasted effort, and I have better things to do with my life.’

‘If you say so. She’d do so much better under your influence, but she's all right on her own, isn't she?’

At exactly that moment, Hakuei swings far too widely trying to finish a stroke, and loses her balance, landing hard in the dirt with a surprised yelp. As soon as the girl starts to look up, Gyokuen feels Arba quickly turn away and pretend to inspect their nails. ‘Mother, what are you doing?’

‘Pretending I didn't see that. Students do better if they're not embarrassed to keep trying.’

‘I remember if En or Kuro heard me laughing at them when they made mistakes, they'd look ashamed and give up. I suppose that must be why.’

Unlike their siblings, Ankoku had been the type to yell at her older sister and then try harder out of pure spite, and usually succeed, which had been no fun at all to watch. Hakuei doesn't have a spiteful bone in her body, but she jumps back up anyway, only taking a second to rub her bruised shoulder before starting the sequence over.

‘At least she didn't fall on her face,’ Arba comments. ‘Again.’

‘Oh, leave her alone, that was years ago,’ Gyokuen laughs. ‘She's just tired; she's doing her best.’

Part of her questions why being with her daughter, or even just watching her, fills her with such contentment. They aren't as close to her as they were to their eldest sons, and she has no particular investment in the girl’s life. But the rest of her has already figured out the answer.

She's heard so many people, her mother included, gush about how their daughter looks exactly like her. And she can certainly see that; Hakuei is a beautiful little thing, after all. But Gyokuen looks at this girl, all bright eyes and a hopeful smile, and sees her beloved husband in everything she does.

While she is far freer with her emotions than stoic Hakutoku, Hakuei is without a doubt her father’s daughter. She may have her mother’s face, but her drive and determination, her endless optimism, her desire to change the world for the better...Yes, those are all Hakutoku, though how much is inherited and how much is learned is anybody’s guess. Hakuei still does not know enough of the sword to wield it as easily as a new limb, the way her father and their mother do, but her technique is more refined by the day, her movements are swift as wind, and she will train as long and hard as she has to in order to improve.

Her father’s spirit, sheathed in her mother's beauty. A flawless combination. Gyokuen can't get enough of it.

‘You seem quite happy,’ Arba noted. ‘Is she really so consistently entertaining?’

‘Of course. Doesn't she seem a bit familiar to you?’

‘Well, yes. The older she gets, the more she reminds me of your little brother.’

‘What?’ Of the two answers she had been expecting, that was not one of them. In the mental space they share, she gives her mother a bewildered look. ‘She reminds you of Enshan?!’

Arba snickers. ‘Did you have another little brother I don't know about? I'm surprised you don't see it too.’ Their physical face keeps its expression of kind, mild interest, but here, she looks at their daughter with a small smirk. ‘A naïve little fool who hangs on Ren Hakutoku’s every word, who truly believes that a noble heart is the key to making this worthless world a better place, who would never suspect you of doing anything cruel...And what's more, who is entirely unaware of the fact that no matter how strong they become or how hard they work, everything they have ever done will mean nothing once their time comes. Who am I describing?’

Well, when she puts it like that, there's really no way to deny it. But even so...She can't meet her mother’s eyes.

‘That's really what you're thinking?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Arba’s smirk broadens. ‘Enshan died. Only in death did his useless little life have any point, isn't that right, love? And I might say that Hakuei will go the same way, but we both know that's not true. When her life is taken from her, it will be for a far greater purpose.’

When she doesn't hear immediate agreement from Gyokuen, Arba turns. ‘You know that, my love,’ she reminds her.

‘I do know. Only you could know better.’

She doesn't look on their daughter with sadness. She doesn't. Their line has been blessed with a great purpose, and accepting it is the only thing that has ever made her feel whole. But still, she is the only one who has ever willingly accepted it...Perhaps she really is the only one who can reach this perfect existence.

‘You are sure that she cannot understand? It...disappoints me that she will not share the same relationship with you that I do.’

‘It disappoints me, as well. But what you and I have is special, and I would not be able to recreate that bond with anyone else, not even her. It is certainly regrettable. But you are one of a kind, and she...’ Arba grimaces. ‘Well. You were right about one thing. She is her father’s daughter. She might have your face, but she's nothing like you. Her heart can never be swayed, she will always be blind to the truth.’

‘There's nothing you can do?’

‘Nothing at all, I’m afraid. You wish it were different, then?’

‘Yes.’

Gyokuen looks out at their daughter. Hakuei is finishing the sequence flawlessly now. When she pulls off the move that had tripped her up before, she turns for a second to smile at her mother, and for that one second Gyokuen is decades in the past, watching a beautiful young prince (still fresh-faced and energetic, with not nearly as many battle scars) practice the same techniques, with the same light in his sharp blue eyes, giving her the same sweet smile.

If she were in control of her body, she would smile genuinely, too. This girl looks just like her, but acts just like the man she adored. Even if their daughter won't understand what she was really meant for, she's still perfect. In an equally perfect world, she should be able to enjoy the same symbiosis as her mother.

‘If it’s for her, I wouldn't mind not being the only one.’

‘How touching.’

‘I only...I have one thing to ask of you. May I?’

‘Of course, anything.’

‘When you take her...Just don't hurt her. Let her go peacefully.’

‘Oh, my darling,’ Arba coos, smiling indulgently. She wraps her arms around her daughter from behind and holds her reassuringly close. ‘Of course I won't hurt our precious girl. It will be very quick, I promise. Just a little pain, only for a moment, and then she'll go right to sleep. Don't worry about her; she’ll never feel a thing.’

‘With me, you drew it out.’

‘Because that was your desire. But I have complete control over the process, I can make it as long or as short as I want. It will all be over before she knows it. No need for the poor girl to suffer any longer than she has to, right?’

‘Right.’

She looks out at Hakuei again. It's good that they've kept her ignorant of the truth - she's turned out to be living proof of the idea that ignorance is bliss, after all. Stay that way, my girl. It's what's best. And when our mother takes you, don't fight, it will be okay. It will all be okay.

Just then, she hears soft footsteps, those of one trying not to be noticed. Before she can ask, Arba turns their head, and as always, something inside her jumps when she sees their youngest approaching.

Hakuryuu, as usual, doesn't speak to them. (Sometimes that gets quite boring: Ankoku had been much more outwardly fiery, and consequently much more entertaining on that score, than her nephew.) He makes a point of staying away from them as much as he possibly can. Right now, he stands on the sidelines a good twenty feet away, taking only a second to glare at them before turning his attention to his sister, with an unreadable expression.

Gyokuen watches him grip the hilt of the training sword fastened at his hip, and then starts to study the rest of him. Her son seems to have grown a little taller since the last time she saw him, his features just barely beginning to sharpen into manhood. She thinks for a moment that he is starting to look more dangerous, but she knows it's probably just her imagination. The boy is no threat, she reminds herself, no threat at all.

Arba, feeling her daughter tensing in her arms, gives a light laugh. ‘It seems as if he’s almost reached that rebellious age, hasn’t he? And yet it’s exactly as you were saying that one time: He’s still just a toothless little puppy.’

‘Of course,’ she answers automatically.

Arba raises an eyebrow. ‘Oh? Years we’ve been going over this, and you still disapprove of my decision? You aren’t very good at hiding your feelings from me.’

She resists the urge to sigh. She is not going to get into this with her mother again. ‘Whether or not I approve has no bearing on this. You know better, so I have accepted all of your decisions. I am not going to go back on that.’

‘But?’ Arba prods.

‘But...Still...’ She pulls out of her mother’s embrace and turns around to face her. ‘Still, that doesn’t change the fact that every time I see him, I feel like I’m waiting for an axe to fall! And maybe I am being overly cautious, but you aren’t cautious at all! You’re as confident as you should be, and maybe it’s just because I don’t have your experience, but I worry that letting this go will hurt us one way or another. I'm sorry - ’

‘No. You're right. You are being overly cautious and you don't have my experience. After over a thousand years of fighting, I know better than almost anyone how to first read my opponents, and then deal with them effectively. One would think you would understand by now, even with the comparably short time you have had.’

She has to resist the urge to cringe back under her mother’s derision, like a child being reprimanded. ‘I do understand. You are stronger and smarter than anyone who wants to defy you, but that doesn’t stop me from considering every scenario, even those that are, most likely, not going to happen. I suppose someone like you...has grown past feeling the need to do that, so to speak.’

‘Something like that, yes.’ Arba’s expression softens. ‘I think you're getting the wrong idea, love. I've told you, there's nothing to fear. Don't let your imagination get the better of you. The little weakling lives only to suffer, to struggle endlessly and fail regardless, nothing more. I promise, this will not backfire on us.’

‘I know, I know. But like I said, my approval doesn't matter one way or the other. My...’

She does not want to say fear. She is not afraid of her own son, of this boy she could kill without blinking. She is not.

‘My uneasiness should not factor into what you choose to do. Your decisions have always been absolute, and neither of us should have any doubt in the other. Isn't that right?’

‘Of course. I'm glad that we can get past these little misunderstandings of yours. The less you think about him, the better off you'll be. Just focus on me, all right?’ Arba says sweetly. She reaches out to cup her daughter’s cheek, and the gentle touch is an instant relief.

‘All right. I won't bring it up again, I’m sorry.’

‘Like I said, don't be sorry. My darling eldest daughter can do no wrong, isn't that right?’

Their old refrain, that had made her feel secure in her position, driven Ankoku up the wall, and even made the normally calm and composed Kuroko bristle. She smiles. ‘Right.’

Just then, Hakuryuu makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat, and draws his mothers’ attention back to him. “Why are you staring at me?” he growls.

Gyokuen closes her eyes for a moment and suppresses another sigh. ‘Mother, did you forget to move our head?’

Arba shrugs, still smiling. ‘Maybe. You're quite distracting, after all,’ she explains, tracing her fingertips teasingly down her daughter’s face and neck.

To Hakuryuu, she just laughs and says, “What’s the matter? I can’t look at my cute little boy any more?”

He makes another noise - disgusted this time - and turns back to his sister. “Aneue,” he calls, and Hakuei stops short to give him her full attention. “I know you're tired, but do you have a few minutes?”

“Of course,” she says. The way she smiles at her brother, it’s clear that he means the world to her, and Gyokuen feels as if she’s being held out on. Surely her daughter’s affections would be better placed elsewhere.

Hakuyuu and Hakuren used to spar with each other fiercely, without a care in the world, but these two never do. They're too careful with each other, too afraid of harm coming to their only remaining sibling, to really go all out. But, that doesn't mean they can't train together. Hakuryuu watches with rapt attention as his sister demonstrates a new move for him, once at normal speed, and a second time more slowly, to show him clearly how all the steps go. He only takes his eyes off of her for a second, so he can glare daggers at his mother one more time.

‘Well,’ Gyokuen says, more amused than offended. ‘I suppose we know where we’re not wanted.’

Arba smirks at their son, even as she obligingly turns and leaves the field. ‘I’ll bet that he thinks he'd have a chance against me in a sword fight. He really is so cute. I almost want him to try it now, just to see the look on his face when he realizes how outclassed he is.’

‘Hm. Not exactly the combat I prefer. If he decides to start a knife fight, let me know.’

‘Oh, love, don't make me laugh. Your talent lies in murder, not a fair fight. Besides, I stopped wearing your knives a long time ago. It wasn't as if anyone would notice the difference.’

‘True. Though I do still find that method to have more finesse than what you prefer.’

‘To each her own. But, after seeing those two, I'm in the mood for some training of my own. If you would find that too boring...’

‘I understand. Wake me when something interesting happens.’

‘Of course. Sweet dreams, my love.’

With that, Gyokuen closes her eyes, and feels the thick, heady rush of unconsciousness pulling her down almost immediately. Her last thought before it takes her completely, is that maybe it wouldn't be so bad to let Hakuryuu try his hand at killing them, if he ever decides to stop being all bark and no bite. After all, she can’t say she wouldn’t love sharing the satisfaction of putting their arrogant son in his place.

~0~

She has killed exactly three times in her life. When she was only herself, the thought of feeling another human’s life end under her hands was constantly scratching at the back of her mind - not a hunger, more a wish, a fascination.

Causing one sister pain and humiliation behind closed doors, forcing the other to hold still and quiet and watch, feeling her brother’s reactions (reaction, but never resistance) when she ran gentle hands over his body...All that had been only mild, fleeting satisfaction. Their lives meant nothing to her; their sole purpose in existing was to be her playthings.

She doesn't pity them.

(As little love as she has for Ankoku, she has to admit that their bond is unique. Ankoku is one of only two people outside of al-Thamen who she allows to see her true colors, and she is free to take advantage of that however she pleases. Her sister can start as many arguments as she likes, but she will always come out on top.

The girl glares at her from across the breakfast table, and she meets her sister’s anger with a sweet, seemingly oblivious smile. The long sleeves of Ankoku’s robes mostly cover her forearm and hand, but she can still catch glimpses of the thin white bandages wound around it, covering the glass cuts that riddle her skin. She had gotten a little too full of herself in an argument yesterday, and if her older sister had ‘accidentally’ shoved her into her floor mirror when she'd gotten bored with dealing with her...Well, it was her own fault for getting too close.

“You look proud of yourself,” Ankoku growls, her scowl only made more apparent by the way she rests her head against the fist of her good hand. Her bandaged fingers tap restlessly against the wooden table. “Was this really such an accomplishment for you?”

“Elbow off the table, An,” she chides gently.

“Don't tell me what to do. You're not Mother.”

Give it a few years, she thinks. “There's no need to always be so petulant. You got out of line, and so I had to punish you for it. Nothing personal. Unless...” She does one of the things that Ankoku hates most: stares directly into her eyes and neither blinks nor breaks the contact. “That isn't the part you're still thinking about?”

Ankoku’s tapping immediately doubles in speed. But she takes a long, slow breath through her nose, and refuses to look away from her sister. “Do you have to go over this every time?”

“I might.”

She knows that the same images are playing out in their heads right now. Ankoku crying out in pain, trying to get up from the mess of broken glass she's lying in, but her injured arm buckling and sending her back down. Rapid footsteps in the hall, and the self-satisfied smile dropping from her face as she falls to her knees and pulls Ankoku into her arms. Their frantic brother running into the room to find out what’s wrong, only seeing his younger sister bleeding and upset, and his older sister trying to comfort her, looking up at him with a pitiable expression and begging for his help. That’s all she ever needs to win him over, all she will ever need.

Ankoku seems to disagree. “You know, one day you’re going to be in real trouble, aneue. And all the sweet-talking in the world isn't going to save you.”

“It isn’t as if you’re much help, either. We passed this time, but even Enshan isn't going to believe things like, ‘She just slipped,’ for much longer. You're going to have to start coming up with more creative explanations soon. But do try to keep it plausible.”

The first lesson she can remember learning from her mother is that she is free to do whatever she likes, but in order to avoid opposition and punishment from the rest of the world, she must wear a mask of kindness and keep anything “unsavory” under wraps no matter what. She remembers that day as clearly as anything, but she has never found out exactly how much Ankoku remembers of her part in it: of being held down in the shallows of a lake, seeing her sister’s face through the surface of the water before finally blacking out. All that their mother would say, and that she had instructed Gyokuen to repeat after explaining the rules to her, was that little Ankoku had fallen in the lake and her older sister had pulled her out and saved her life. She wonders often whether Ankoku’s hatred of her (and consequently, of deception and dishonesty) stems directly from this little incident, or another, better remembered one. For all she knows, it was a learning experience for them both.

“Why should I?” Ankoku’s tone is challenging, but she knows there's nothing serious behind it. “Why should I keep lying for you? I don't want to protect you!”

“You know why, An.” She gets up and goes to sit next to her sister, taking the girl’s chin and tilting it up. “Can you tell me?”

Ankoku holds her glare for another moment before giving a defeated sigh. “It's better for me to lie,” she says, with the tired monotone of an over-rehearsed line. “Because nobody is going to believe the truth.”

“That's right.” She leans forward to wrap her arms around her sister’s shoulders and hold her close once more. The girl does not resist. “Nobody is going to believe you.”)

She isn't sorry for what she did to them.

(Living as her mother’s shadow has taught her how to gather secrets, how to know every piece of private information in the palace. And while such a skill proves beneficial to her as a member of al-Thamen and as a dutiful wife to the crown prince, it also lets her have a bit of fun in her spare time.

Granted, it's not difficult to find the crack in the wall between her sister’s bedroom and her own and observe from the other side, but it's useful anyway. She wonders what they would look like if they knew that even their most private spaces were not off limits to her.

After she'd come upon them having a hushed discussion in the hall, Ankoku had snapped at her to leave them alone and stormed off to her room, dragging a yelping Kuroko by the wrist behind her; tiny for her age as Kuroko is, it's fairly easy to pull her wherever one wants her to go, no matter how the girl protests. So now, she observes the two more closely. Kuroko sits neatly in the middle of her sister’s bed, while Ankoku lounges against the pile of lacy pillows at its head.

“So,” Ankoku says. “You saw Mother with those weird priests again? What’s special about that? She’s always off somewhere, and we’ve seen those guys before.”

Kuroko shakes her head. “Not like this. There were more of them this time, I know it. And I still couldn’t see their faces, but the way they treated Mother...They belong to her. They acted as if...As if they were her dogs.”

Ankoku snorts derisively. “So aneue’s got some competition?”

“Please don’t joke. I didn't stay long, so I couldn't see what they were there for, but I don't think I could have figured it out even if I had stayed. Nee-sama...What is going on? I can't figure it out!”

“Kuro, shh. Relax,” Ankoku soothes, though the way her fingers worry the corner of the pillow nearest her hand betrays her own emotional state. “Let’s just think about this. Out of context, this isn't such a strange thing. Lots of other countries have priests or magic users in high positions. Our brothers were talking about how the Musta’sim Kingdom uses magicians just the other day, weren't they?”

“But those are units loyal to the nation and their ruler. It's perfectly clear what they're for. These people aren't going to answer to King Tokuma or to Hakutoku-onii-sama, not at all. They're Mother’s. What will she use them for, if not to help the family?”

“I don't know,” says Ankoku, with clearly forced patience. “Let’s think about that for a minute. I'm sure we can work some things out together; two heads are better than one, after all.”

“But why don't we try something else? There's only so much we can come up with on our own. We could do some digging and - ”

“No!” Ankoku snaps. “We do not get close to them, do you understand?!”

“But, nee-sama, we need to know more - ”

“I said no! And until I tell you otherwise, the answer will always be no! I’m angry enough that you snuck off without me this time, I don't want you anywhere near them! Don’t you get that it’s dangerous?! I let my guard down around them once, and I told you what that almost got me!”

Kuroko looks startled at her sister’s outburst, but still tries to speak calmly. “W-Well, in that case...If you’re too afraid of doing anything else - ”

“You think we don’t have reasons to be afraid?!”

“That’s not what I said. If this is all you want to do, then why don’t we talk to aniue? Three heads are better than two, aren’t they?”

“Sure they are, but our sweet big brother’s head is in the clouds,” Ankoku scoffs. “It’s one of the drawbacks to being a ray of sunshine, you see.”

“...Yes, I see. But doesn’t he deserve to know what - ”

“Of course he does. Everyone does. It makes me sick that those two can spend so long pulling the wool over everybody’s eyes. But aniue will deny that anything is wrong with this family until the evidence is smacking him in the face, so we can only talk to him when we have actual proof of how messed up our mother and sister are.”

“And when will that be?”

Ankoku gives a frustrated huff. “I don’t know. But it probably won't be anytime soon, if we're going to keep ourselves safe.”

Gyokuen smiles, deciding that she's heard enough, and silently turns to leave and report back to her mother. Her first thought is to deride her sisters as cowards, but she knows it’s the smarter move for them not to poke around where they don’t belong.

So long as the two can see sense where their mother and elder sister are concerned, she’ll be able to keep them around for her entertainment as long as she likes.)

Remorse and guilt are foreign concepts to her.

(Her little brother is a precious thing. Precious, but foolish.

Self-sacrificing, too. After hearing about what had happened on his most recent campaign with his big brother-in-law, she had decided that a caring older sister would go and check on him right away, so that is what she is doing. She opens the door to his bedroom and steps inside as quietly as she can, but she is noticed anyway.

Enshan still lies unconscious, but Hakutoku sits, stiff and straight-backed, in a chair next to his bed. The elder prince watches the younger with an impassive expression, but when he hears the door and sees his wife enter, a shadow of guilt passes over his face, and he looks away just as quickly.

Suppressing a sigh, she crosses the room and pulls up a chair next to her husband. Before she can say or do anything else, he's already talking.

“Gyokuen, I'm sorry,” he says, his voice lower than usual. He won't meet his wife’s eyes. “I wasn't watching him closely enough, when he needed me to watch him the most...This happened because of me.”

She takes a moment to look at her brother before responding. The boy looks softer and more breakable than usual, with thick bandages wound around his chest and stomach in lieu of a shirt. “It's not your fault.”

“He did it to protect me and I didn't stop him - ”

“Oh, I suppose you made him jump in front of a sword for you?” She would laugh at the absurdity of the idea, but it wouldn't be appropriate for the current mood. Instead, she takes his chin in her hand, and gently turns his face down toward her so she can kiss his lips. Even after pulling back, she holds his gaze. “Look at me. Do I look angry with you?”

“No.”

“Of course not. Now, I'll certainly be having a word with my reckless little brother when he’s aware enough to listen properly, but I can't blame you for this. So don’t blame yourself. All right?”

Hakutoku doesn’t look entirely convinced, but nods anyway, with a small grunt of agreement. He turns his eyes back to his brother, but wraps an arm around his wife to pull her close, and lets her rest her head on his shoulder. It's not quite as much attention as she would like to be getting from him, but it's warm and comfortable and enough for now. The silence only lasts for a moment.

“...Shuuen-dono hasn't put in an appearance yet,” Hakutoku says flatly, and although she knows he doesn't like to directly criticize family, the disapproval is clear in his voice. “Though I'm sure she already knows what's going on.”

“You know how my mother is. She probably thinks that it won't do any good to come while he's still asleep. When he wakes up and can actually see that she's there, then I'm sure she’ll stop by to check on him.”

“I'm sure,” he echoes tonelessly.

“She will, don't worry. And speaking of sleep,” she says, noticing for the first time the unusual pallor of her husband’s face, the dark shadows under his eyes. “When was the last time you got any rest?”

“I'm fine.”

“No, that wasn't what I asked. You've been watching over my brother ever since he got hurt, haven't you? It's all right, I can take over from here.”

“I can - ”

“I mean it, Toku. Go and sleep, and I’ll wake you if something changes. Enshan’s perfectly safe with me. Go on.”

Hakutoku only hesitates a moment before deciding that she’s right. He gives his wife a characteristically awkward one-armed hug, before getting up and leaving the room without another word. Once he’s gone, she moves from the chair to the bed, lifting her brother's head and cradling it in her lap as she sits down. She runs her fingers lightly through his soft, thick hair, as if petting a housecat. Before long, her eyes move from his face down to his wounded body. As she’s been told, the Gou soldier’s sword, meant to cut Hakutoku’s head off from behind, had instead slashed Enshan open from collarbone to hip when he got in its way.

She thinks that he must have looked stunning covered in blood, the bright red surely a stark contrast to the white of his clothes and the pale blue of his eyes and hair. That soon gives way to imagining what the scar will look like, once these bandages are removed - she’ll see it herself eventually, of course, but the thought is still interesting. She is more aware than usual of the tight leather straps around each of her upper arms and thighs, each holding a short but sharp dagger in place. What was it like, she wonders, to tear through this warm, perfectly unblemished skin with a cold blade? To leave a permanent mark on this boy? The thought crosses her mind that she should have been the one to leave such a mark, the one who her brother thinks of every time he looks at his own body. Her siblings belong to her, after all, and no one else.

While she's deep in thought, she almost doesn't catch the tiny noise that Enshan makes. His body tenses and starts to stir as he tries to wake himself up, and his eyelids twitch for a moment and then flutter open. He stares up at her blearily, and she can practically see the wheels turning in his head, trying to remember what happened and where he is.

“A-Ane...Aneue?” he says, his voice less than a whisper.

She smiles. “Yes, I’m right here.”

“Ane...”

“Shhh,” she murmurs, still stroking his hair. “It's all right. You're at home, you're safe now. You're safe.”

His eyes look a little clearer, but he still doesn't seem to get it. “O-Onii-sama...”

“Hakutoku is fine. Don't worry. Everything's all right.”

“Oh...” He tries to sit up, but hisses through clenched teeth as pain lances through his chest. Still whimpering softly, he lets his sister guide him back down onto her lap.

“No, don't try to move, just lie still,” she says, gently holding him down in case he tries again, with one hand on his head and the other flat on his chest. “You'll be okay, but you're still very hurt.”

Still only half-awake, Enshan’s mind returns to the previous subject quickly. “Onii-sama...He’s...”

“I told you, he's perfectly fine. Thanks to you, that is.”

Once he registers the answer, Enshan smiles too, and the idiotic mix of relief and pride almost makes her laugh. “Didn't...I didn't...w-wanna see...let him g-get hurt.”

“Yes, En, I know. You're a very good brother. But you need to take better care of yourself.”

“I...I'll protect...Protect you all...Aneue, I'll - ”

“Of course you will,” she coos, her voice sugary sweet. “But you were nearly killed. You just can't take such risks with your life. I don't want to lose you yet.”

Still the vacant smile and eyes. “I will protect you...I will.”

“I know.” She leans down and kisses his cheek, at the corner of his lips - not quite where she'd kissed her husband, but close enough. He doesn't seem to realize. “You’ll do anything for me, won't you? Such a good brother.”)

When she remembers her siblings - and she wonders why she remembers them as often as she does - all she recalls feeling is the satisfaction of knowing her place, of knowing that they would never be like her.

That had been all...Until that night.

(They stand in an empty corridor, facing each other, and she is frozen in shock.

She stares at her mother, uncomprehending, certain she must have heard wrong. A year since they had made their pact, a lifetime of devotion...Her mother would not repay her with betrayal. Never.

So she asks, somewhat shakily, for clarification. “Wh-What are you talking about? You chose me as your vessel.”

Her mother’s smile doesn't falter. “Yes, I did tell you that. But that may have been a mistake. I'm really starting to think that one of your little sisters might be a better choice.”

“But...” It’s taking every last bit of self-control she has not to scream. Hurt and fury are boiling in her stomach and heart, and she’s trying but she can't think of what she could have done so wrong that her mother would reject her. “I-I don't understand.”

“It shouldn't be hard to understand, love. Plans change, that's all, and this is what I have decided is best. It's nothing that you did wrong. And nothing about what you are to me needs to change, too.”

No! No, you're wrong! she wants to protest. Being your other half is what I am to you! I'm the only one who can be that to you! I’m the one who serves you, I'm the one you gave dark rukh to, I’m the one who is going to become queen, I’m the one carrying our child; everything has already been set in place perfectly for you with me! You can't go back on that now! You can't do this to me! What am I supposed to do without you?!

But she does not say any of this. She can't. Her mother's word is absolute.

So she takes a deep breath, and forces her lips into what she hopes passes for a smile. “Of course. I respect your decision, Mother.”

Her mother still smiles blissfully, as if she has no idea what she's just set off inside her daughter. “That's my good girl.”

“If...If you'll excuse me.”

Thinking that she’ll vomit if she has to look at that face for one more second, she turns on her heel and stalks away. As she turns a corner and disappears from the older woman’s sight, she still does not allow her rage to show on her face, but her mind is racing.

Her mother knows better than she does. Her mother’s plans always fall perfectly into place, no matter what they entail. Her mother will do whatever she has to to achieve her ultimate design, whether her daughter fits into it or not. These are just simple facts, as unalterable as the laws of nature.

At the moment, she couldn’t care less about any of that.

It barely even registers with her that this is the first time in her life she has ever had feelings like this. All she can think about is that there is no way she can allow this to happen. She is in this too deep, has been led to expect too much, for too long, to be able to accept any other life now. What does her mother expect her to do?! Just watch from the distance while one of her worthless siblings takes what is rightfully hers, knowing that her perfect existence is being dangled in front of her, just out of reach? She will never be satisfied with that. The only thing that can complete her is to become one with her mother.

The image of her sisters’ smiling faces flashes in her mind, and it only enrages her more. Those two don't understand anything. They don't love their mother the way she does; no one else can. They don't deserve her. They can't have her. They won't have her.

Her right hand slides up to her left arm, running her fingers up and down the knife held there under her sleeve. She won't let anyone else have her mother. She will set her life back on track.

Another deep breath, and her hand trails down from her arm to her stomach. She hasn’t started showing very much yet and it’s too soon for any movement, but she can feel the small life growing inside her regardless. Perhaps you can be of some help sooner than I thought, little one, she thinks, a plan starting to form in her head.

Since she told them the news, Ankoku acts just as hostile and Kuroko just as cautious as ever, but she’s listened to them showing their real feelings to each other when they think she can’t hear, gushing over the idea of getting a niece or nephew, even from the sister they fear. They might not be as likely to retaliate if she attacks them, before they realize that this time she’s striking to kill, and then it will be far too late.

Hakutoku and Enshan haven’t returned from the border yet, so if she can get this done before they do, then there won’t be anyone who notices in time that the girls are missing. And as for getting them in a secluded enough place that she can do it unseen and uninterrupted...She’s been told that an expectant woman’s mood becomes turbulent early on. She hasn’t felt anything like that yet, but her sisters don’t know that. If she can act empty-headed and harmless and completely unlike herself, just enough to make them let down their guard and unthinkingly allow her to lure them away from the palace and all its prying eyes...

Yes, she can make this work.

She must not rush; no, she must be as careful as always, to keep to the rules and not be caught. She will have to think much harder about her plan before she actually puts it into play, to ensure that it is completely foolproof. But she will do this.

Her mother will be the one left with no choice. She will have her eldest daughter, or she will have nothing, and die with nowhere else for her soul to reside in. If these are the lengths she must go to in order to reclaim her birthright, then so be it.)

She had to do it. She hadn’t had a choice.

Even if, in hindsight, the reality of the situation - that her mother had only wanted to see what she would do if offered the chance to back out of merging with her - was obvious, there still had been no other way. For her future to be secured, her sisters had had to die, by her own hand. And her brother, too; it had been better to make a clean job of it, even after she'd supposedly passed the test. Her mother had appeared to change her mind once, and once was enough to convince her that she could not allow Arba even a chance to do so again.

She only did it because her mother had forced her hand, but she has no regrets. In fact, she had been deliriously happy, that she had finally given in and done what had been calling to her since she was a child.

To hear the girls screaming, begging for their own lives and their siblings’, to see the raw terror in their crying eyes and contorted expressions, to feel their blood flowing over her skin as she plunged the blade into them, again and again and again: that was what she had been longing for. Killing her brother had been a completely different but equally fulfilling experience, with his throat held fatally tight in both her hands, his eyes bulging wide and his skin and lips turning a delicate shade of blue, the way his spasms and panicked scratching at her wrists grew weaker and weaker until he went limp and lifeless underneath her.

Aside from her mother, nothing had ever made her heart race the way the act of murder had. In those last seconds, in seeing the light leave their eyes, in knowing that the last thing they ever saw was her face, calm and contented in her success...In that, she had found greater power and satisfaction than she had ever thought possible. She wonders, sometimes, how something that felt so beautiful could be considered evil. But she never puts too much thought into it. Those are just the rules that she must pretend to abide by in order to blend in and avoid punishment, and they’re nothing to do with her personally.

Besides, she knows that she is ahead of the curve, anyway. Soon enough, it won’t matter who followed the rules of this world and who didn’t. When her mother can finally summon her god down from the rift between dimensions and bring everything and everyone in this place to ruin, nothing will matter any more.

She does not anticipate it with the zeal that her mother does, merely accepts it as an inevitability. But, one question does float into her mind every time the subject comes up: if feeling one person die under her hands could bring her such elation, then what will it feel like when the entire world is dying around her?

~0~

When the answer to that question comes, it does so, like everything else in her life now, unexpectedly soon. Her mother’s voice floats into her mind, loud and insistent:

‘Wake up. Wake up! Gyokuen, wake up, now!’

Arba’s excitement is palpable, and infectious; before Gyokuen even knows what’s going on, she is eager to share her mother’s feelings. But when she glances out at her limited view, at the legion of veiled priests on either side of them and at the dark grey clouds rolling in above them, she can’t quite put it together, though the unfamiliar energy she feels in the air certainly does set the scene apart.

‘Mother? What is this?’

In the mental space they share, Arba turns to gaze at her, her eyes and smile wide with the purest joy that Gyokuen has ever seen. Her lips fall open, but she can’t seem to find the right words. So after a moment, in lieu of speaking at all she runs for her daughter, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her in for a kiss. Gyokuen can feel the older woman’s hands shaking as her grip tightens, and she stays still and relaxed as her mother leans closer, presses harder on her lips. ‘My darling,’ Arba croons in her head, low and long. ‘My darling, I’ve done it, it’s happening right now. And I have you to thank for it.’

Arba pulls back, smiling proudly, and Gyokuen can’t help but do the same. ‘I’m glad. But what did you do?’

‘Come, look for yourself. Our Father is arriving.’

Arba has their head craned up to the sky. Though she knows there is nothing in the air above them, she, like her mother, is allowed to see through the eyes of the priests stationed wherever in the world this is actually happening. She doesn’t recognize the terrain, but she isn’t looking at it for long before what she’s supposed to be seeing catches her eye.

‘M-Mother!’

A colossal black mass, emerging from the clouds and stretching slowly down from sky to earth. Forget its dizzying size - the presence, the sheer power she feels from it hits her right in the pit of her stomach, and she very suddenly cannot breathe. She is faintly aware of their physical form, of the tears running down their face and Arba shrieking jubilantly in her daughter’s voice. But she is too transfixed by this thing, this...this god descending before her to care about anything else. Her eyes are locked onto its form, and she is shaking uncontrollably as she feels its influence on her, even in this state. Its darkness pours into her, sending her thoughts into a whirlwind and turning her blood to fire. This feeling...It's locking eyes with her father as her mother drives a knife through his heart, it’s clutching her own blade tight as it tears through her sisters, it's the itch in her fingers just before they close around her brother’s throat, and oh - !

This. This is what Arba has sought for a thousand years, this is what she loves more deeply and passionately than she could ever love her children. And for the first time in her life, she feels no envy at being passed over. For the first time, she understands.

She could happily lose herself here and bathe in this sensation forever. If all this goes uninterrupted, ‘forever’ won’t last very long anyway, and this way she won't even notice when it ends. But too soon, her mother takes hold of her again, jarring her back to reality.

‘I know, love, I know,’ she says, seeing the confused and disappointed look on her daughter’s face. ‘It’s an indescribable feeling to meet him, isn’t it? But I thought you’d like to take a quick look on the ground. Our family thinks that they have a chance at stopping us. But they are like ants struggling against the river’s current. Go on, watch.’

So she does, follows their gaze to the battlefield below. It’s not as interesting a sight, in her opinion. The towering creature born from their god is impressive, but she is surprised to find that, comparatively tiny and weak as they are, it is the humans darting around it that catch and hold her attention.

The blond boy and the blue-haired boy are unfamiliar and unimportant, and she barely sees them. But her nephews and niece are here, raising earth and fire and water against their weapon with everything they’ve got. (She still can’t quite wrap her head around the fact that beautiful warriors like this came from her repulsive brother-in-law). Her daughter is here as well, in shining white and gold, with the howling wind at her beck and call. She has to smile at the sight: the girl has grown up strong, after all, just like her father always said she would.

But she hasn't watched for long before it becomes apparent that something isn't right. Someone is missing.

‘Mother...Where is Hakuryuu?’

‘Ah, so you’ve noticed?’ Arba smiles. ‘He’s perfectly all right, but it seems he ignored Kouen’s call to arms. Clearly, he’s found more important things to do with his time than keep the world from ending. You didn’t hear, but we’re unable to locate Judal, too. If I had to guess, I’d say that Hakuryuu has taken him up on his offer for partnership, and they’ve finally decided to begin their revenge against me. Though I doubt that’s a surprise to you, either, considering how he behaved the last time I spoke with him. Remember?’

An uneasy laugh escapes her at that. Of course she remembers. Her mother had allowed her to take control to kill her brother-in-law, at her request. After decades of antagonism between them, it had felt good to win. But when she was done, she had returned to her usual position as a quiet observer of the events that followed. Hakuryuu had managed to surprise her, even more than he already had by actually surviving up to this point.

First he had bowed to them in the funeral room, deliberately trying to split the family apart, flaunting his rebellion in front of everybody. And then, he’d finally had the guts to draw his weapon and attack them, aiming to kill and damn the consequences. Though, when she remembers the look in his eyes every time they had touched his scars and brought up his sister before this, every time he had had to stay still and quiet because he knew he couldn’t yet retaliate, she figures that it was less that he’d planned to do that and more that he’d finally snapped after ten years of living with them. Her mother had stayed calm and controlled, as always, and it had startled Gyokuen to see how easy it really was for her to smack him down like an insect, and force him to resign himself to her touch.

May you always remain my adorable little Hakuryuu.

She and Arba both know that that is the one thing that Hakuryuu will never accept. If he hasn’t learned his place by now, he never will. The next time he comes to kill them, he will still be driven by rage, but he will have a plan and a partner and perhaps even more power. And none of it will do him any good at all. She understands now: if he dares challenge their mother again, he has no more hope of survival than his brothers did. She will not fight him herself, of course, but she wonders what it will be like to watch, and to feel her own body deal the finishing blow. She had not seen her eldest sons die, hadn’t even seen the fire, so she doesn’t yet know what it’s like to kill her own child. She wonders if it will feel any different than killing her siblings. Perhaps, this time, she will feel nothing at all.

She is sure that Arba will enjoy it, though, from what she’d said as they left the courtyard that day. According to her, their son had been on the edge of falling into depravity when they had last seen him. She smirks at the memory: Hakuryuu would be disgusted to hear how his mother had cooed over him.

You can’t see it, my love, but I can, Arba had said, with the air of an artist painting the final stroke of their masterpiece. I can see his rukh. I see the darkness in his heart surging to the surface and swirling around him. He’s exactly what I wanted him to become. When he finally falls...Oh, I can’t wait to see that. He’s going to be so beautiful. So perfect. After all these years, my perfect son.

‘Are you paying attention?’

That hadn’t been part of it. ‘What?’ she asks, jerked out of her reverie.

Arba rolls her eyes. ‘Clearly not. Well, perhaps it’s for the better. The tides have turned in the enemy’s favor. You see now?’

She looks, and is puzzled by what she sees. There are far more Metal Vessel users here now, and nothing of her mother’s. It isn’t the endgame she had been imagining at all. ‘We lost? So quickly?’

‘It would appear so. I told you about the singularity, didn’t I? King Sinbad. He’s the one down there with the ridiculous blue tail.’

‘He interfered?’

‘He and his whole damn kingdom, it seems,’ Arba growls, but then immediately returns to her usual relaxed tone. ‘Well, it scarcely matters. The dark spot we’ve torn into this world still remains, and they can’t keep fighting it off forever.’

Gyokuen smirks. ‘And we only need to get lucky once.’

‘Exactly,’ Arba agrees, her smile returning. ‘And I promise, next time won’t be such a letdown. You’ll be able to see exactly what I’ve been building up for all these years.’

‘Take as much time as you need, I’m in no hurry,’ she laughs. ‘I’ll go back to sleep for now, but do let me know when you start planning again. I’ll be happy to help.’

‘I know you are.’ Much more gently than before, Arba takes her daughter’s chin in her hand and leans in to kiss her cheek. ‘Sweet dreams, my love.’

‘Thank you. I’m already looking forward to whatever you’ll have in store for me when I wake next.’

She closes her eyes, and as always, sinks far down into herself. The warmth, the darkness, the sense of complete and total safety rushes up to meet her, enveloping her. Almost like a womb, in its perfection, she thinks, and the idea brings a small smile to her face as she falls asleep.

Mother...Let me see you again soon. Let me share in everything with you. Let every time I see you, the real you, be like the first time. Like that time...

~0~

Sometimes, floating in the dark waters of her consciousness, barely aware enough to think, she dreams.

~0~

Her newborn son squirms and murmurs in her arms, trying to fight sleep, but failing. “Shhh,” she coos, tucking his blanket more snugly around him. “Shh, Hakuren, it’s all right. Mama’s here.”

As she rocks him, Hakuren looks up at her with wide blue eyes - so much like her own, even if hers have long since lost their innocence. He's more demanding than his brother was at this age, needing to be held close by someone at all times to stay calm. It takes her a while to get him down for the night, but that’s okay. On this last night as herself, a little more time with her child couldn't hurt.

A week ago, her mother had stopped her for a moment as they passed each other in the hall, and whispered in her ear, “It's time. You have seven days; if there's anything left you’d like to do on your own, now is your chance.”

But she hadn't had anything in particular she wanted. In whiling the last days away with her husband and sons, all she had been able to think of was how her completion was so close now, so close. And now the time was finally here, for the two of them to become one. She remembers years ago, when she had found out that her rukh was different, was lesser, than her mother’s, and had insisted that she be allowed to have the same. Fortunately, her mother had already been working on a way to grant her wish; and such a sensation it had been when she had! It had taken so many times to complete the process, but the feeling of magic searing her blood was pure ecstasy, the most intimate she had ever been with another person. She knows, deep in her heart, that what her mother does to her this time will be beyond anything she has ever experienced or imagined. Finally, they will be merged together, and no one will be able to take what is hers, ever again.

As if sensing that his mother’s attention is drifting elsewhere, Hakuren whimpers again, and she smiles. “Shhh, sweetheart. Go to sleep, now. Mama’s not going anywhere.”

The way she sees it, that is perfectly true. These children - the little ones she has now and any that will come from her body in the future - still belong at least partially to her, even if she’s passing most of the responsibility for them onto Arba. They are still half her, and she just hopes that they will not only grow up strong, but also have the sense that she had and be able to support their mother the way she does. If not...Well. She supposes that she can help, doing what she can while she’s in control to make sure they’re just as attached to Arba as she is, but she really will have to hope. She doesn’t think she’ll want children she can’t see any of herself in, after all.

Finally, Hakuren’s eyes droop lower, and then close. She holds him in her arms, humming softly, for a few minutes more, until she’s sure that he’s sound asleep. If he wakes up while she’s gone, she reasons as she lays him down in his crib, one of the servants will come take care of him. “Good night, sweetheart,” she whispers as she slips out the door.

Her mother plans to move al-Thamen completely into the palace at some point, but for now, their base of operations is only a short distance from the grounds. She’s gone out riding by herself enough times that her departure tonight won’t be seen as unusual, and she knows the way there by heart. She had requested earlier that her horse be prepared, so she’ll be able to get going right away. However, she’s almost there when a loud, excited voice stops her.

“Mama! Mama!”

Before she can even turn around fully to see him, her other son is already at her side, gripping her hand and practically bouncing with a three-year-old’s typical excitement, and she smiles sweetly down at him. “What is it, Hakuyuu?”

“I’m learning swords!”

At that, she has to laugh. “I know, darling, you’ve been telling me that for the past three days.”

Hakuyuu does not care and keeps talking. “Papa says I’m already really good! He says I need to take it slow, though, but I want to do everything! You and Papa know how to do everything, don’t you?”

“Well - ”

“Papa learned from the palace trainers, but he said Grandmother Shuuen taught you. Did she really?”

“Yes, she did, but I was much older than you when she started.” And it had been less about teaching her to fight by herself, and more about strengthening her body to make it easier for her mother to fight in, but that was beside the point. “I'm glad you're excited about this, because I certainly don't miss it. I always thought it was boring.”

“It's not boring!” Hakuyuu says indignantly. “Do you think Grandmother would help teach me?”

“She might.” It would definitely give the boy a boost; there was no one in the palace who could match Arba in terms of swordsmanship. “When she gets back from her trip, we’ll see.”

“When is she coming back?”

“I haven't heard from her while she's been gone, but she said before she left that she'd be back here by tomorrow at the latest. I'm sure you can ask her then.”

Hakuyuu accepts this answer and promptly moves on. “Papa says he used to spar with his trainers to get better. Would you ever do that with Grandmother?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I would lose.”

Truthfully, it's because she doesn't see the point in doing so, but it occurs to her that this is something of an opportunity. She kneels down to look her son in the eyes, keeping his small hands enveloped in hers. Hakuren is only a couple weeks old, so he won’t remember anything of when his mother was only herself. But Hakuyuu is a different story. She knows that once he’s grown, there really isn’t much chance that he’ll remember this specific moment from when he was just a toddler (she ought to know; her own memories start at the age of four). But that doesn’t mean she won’t be able to leave at least a little of herself in his memories.

“Hakuyuu, listen to me. You should never try and challenge somebody who you know is stronger than you. Never. Don’t give powerful people a reason to be your enemy, and don’t ever take the risk of losing. If you have to choose between doing one thing or another, always choose to do what will keep you safe. Do you understand?”

Hakuyuu looks a little puzzled at the sudden serious turn their conversation has taken, but seems to think that he’s got the gist of it, and nods happily. “Yes, Mama!”

“Very good. I’m sure you’ll pass it on to your little brother when he’s old enough to understand, too.” Anything to keep them on Arba’s side, strong and alive and serving her loyally. “Can you promise that you’ll remember all that? For your mother?”

“Sure! I promise!” he assures her, without even a second of hesitation.

Goodness, he makes her laugh sometimes. “That’s wonderful. I’m very proud of you, darling.”

Before either of them can say anything else, though, another voice makes them both look up.

“Hakuyuu? Hakuyuu, where are you?” When Hakutoku turns the corner and sees the two of them, the worry on his face immediately turns to relief. “There you are. I hoped I'd find him with you, jewel.”

“You were looking for him?” she asks, standing up again, as he bends to pick Hakuyuu up and hold him safely close.

“Yes. I told him we could go find you, but he ran off before he could hear the part about waiting for me,” he explains, looking pointedly at their son at the last three words. (Hakuyuu just giggles and leans against his father’s shoulder, knowing he’s not actually in trouble.)

“I can’t believe you lost our child,” she says flatly, before giving a light laugh to reassure him that she doesn’t mean it. “I’m glad you two showed up. I won’t be long, but I wanted to say good night before I go.”

Hakuyuu nods and leans down so his mother can kiss his forehead, but Hakutoku looks concerned again. “You’re still going out for a ride? After dark?”

“The stars are beautiful tonight, are they not? Besides, it's nothing I haven’t done before. With any luck, I might run into my mother on her way back. This is around the time she said she’d be returning, after all.”

“I still don’t like that she’s always so vague about things like this. It means I have both of you out there to worry about.”

“My mother can take care of herself, and so can I.” Her mother usually has one or two priests watching her when she’s alone; she can’t be hurt. She reaches up to take hold of her husband’s shoulders, and gets up on her toes to kiss his lips. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll be all right, and back before you know it.”

Her siblings had only been in-laws to him, but Hakutoku had cared for them as if they were his own blood. (Considering that his one actual sibling is a poor excuse for family, she supposes that they were more than adequate replacements.) Suddenly and inexplicably losing all three of them within the space of a few weeks had shaken him badly, to say the least, and though he’d been plenty protective before, he had worried even more over her and over their children ever since, realizing that they could be lost just as quickly. She gets back down, looking her husband in the eyes. If he knew what was about to happen to her, he would certainly try to stop it. But he wouldn’t understand. She doesn’t need to be protected from this.

When this is done, he will probably be the only one who notices that she isn't quite herself anymore. But it doesn't matter. She will be in control enough to dissuade him from thinking too hard about any times that her mother’s imitation of her isn't as convincing as it needs to be. (Arba has promised that she won't touch him, won't do anything at all to him, without her daughter’s permission. Her husband will belong to her and her alone until the day he dies.) Even if she wasn't, though, he will never be able to guess at the whole truth.

“If you're still awake, I’ll see you later tonight, Toku. And I'll see you,” she coos, reaching out to tickle Hakuyuu under the chin and make him giggle, “in the morning.”

“I'll wait up for you,” Hakutoku tells her. “Be safe, jewel.”

“I will, don't worry,” she says, as soothingly as she can.

With that, Gyokuen heads on her way again, while Hakutoku turns the other direction and carries their son off. For a moment, she has the strangest urge to look back, to watch the two of them until they fade from her sight. But it passes just as quickly as it came.

As requested, her horse is saddled and ready when she reaches it - Ayumu even whinnies happily to see her owner coming. Before long, she’s outside the palace grounds, and then outside the city, riding down the path she knows best with oppressively thick forest all around her. She's made this journey, from the palace to the base of the mountain, back and forth several times, but it feels much shorter now. With the wind in her face, the cold of the night on her skin, and the landscape rushing past her in a dark green blur to remind her that she is really doing this - racing forward, proud and unafraid, to claim her birthright once and for all - she has never felt more alive.

When she reaches the flat-roofed stone building hidden among the trees and slopes, the group of priests standing beside the entrance bow low at the sight of her, and she smirks. She dismounts, pats Ayumu on the neck, and makes her way towards the entrance while one of the priests detaches himself from the group and leads the amiable horse away.

“Gyokuen-sama,” the rest intone as she passes through them. “Welcome. Shuuen-sama awaits you inside.”

The first room is empty of furnishings, save for the two torches on the walls that provide its dim lighting. Ithnan and Falan stand on either side of the doorway to the next rooms, their eyes unreadable. She barely notices either of them: in the center of the doorway stands her mother, with a delighted smile on her face to rival Gyokuen’s own.

“Come, my love,” Arba says, reaching a hand out to her daughter. “We've waited long enough.”

“Do this however you'd like,” she replies, taking the offered hand and letting herself be led down the next hall. “I am yours.”

“Good girl.”

Arba takes her a short distance down the hall, then around a corner, and then opens the heavy wooden door to a small room at the end. The room contains only a torch on the wall and a small bed, which her mother guides her to lie down on.

“On your back, now. It's all right,” Arba soothes, kneeling down over her and reaching for the neckline of her dress. “Loose clothes, just like I told you; very good.”

“Why did you want that, anyway?” Gyokuen asks, as Arba takes her arms out of her sleeves and pulls her dress down to her waist.

“For this.” Arba lays her hand flat onto her daughter’s bare chest, right on her heart, and where their skin touches, she starts to feel a sharp sting.

“Ungh...And what is this for?”

“Just a precaution. I've marked your rukh, so that if anything unfortunate happens, it will destroy itself and your body. This way, if we’re ever defeated, we can take our opponent with us.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “You anticipate something like that happening?”

“I anticipate everything,” Arba corrects her, lifting her hand and tugging the dress half-heartedly back on. “Now...Are you ready?”

Her heart skips a beat at that, and she smiles. “Of course.”

She knows that she must be the only person in the world that her mother has ever looked at so lovingly. Arba brushes her hair out of her face, leans in so close their foreheads briefly touch, and gives her a small kiss. “All right. Let’s begin.”

She doesn’t even have time to nod before the first shard of pain hits her, right at the top of her head, and a small noise of surprise escapes her.

“I told you it would hurt,” Arba murmurs. “Don’t worry, it won’t be much, since you’re not resisting. Would you like me to finish quickly?”

“No...”

It’s not so much a sharp pain anymore as it is heat, still pounding in her head but starting to spread down her body, through her insides. Her muscles twitch minutely and it’s a little harder for her to see, but it’s not a wholly painful feeling. Her mother is here, after all, and this marks the beginning of their union. So instead of grimacing, she pulls her lips into a smile.

“That wouldn’t be any fun, now, would it?”

“No, not at all,” Arba laughs. “I'll give you some pleasure. You can take me in slowly.”

She gives a quick nod, sinking back deeper into the mattress. “You'll let me feel you...”

Because she has quickly realized that that is what this pain is: her mother’s soul, pouring into her like molten metal and melding with her own. The burning inside of her is stronger now, much stronger, and it makes her heart race hard and her blood run hot. Something like a moan works its way up from the back of her throat. Her eyes start to fall shut, but her mother grips her shoulders tight, digging her nails in, and they fly open again at the sting.

“No,” Arba hisses. Gyokuen can't quite tell, but it seems there's a haze coming over her eyes, too. “You keep your eyes on me. Eyes on me until this is over.”

“Y-Yes, Mother,” she manages. She must answer, but it’s getting harder to breathe, much less speak. Black is tinging the edges of her vision, and it’s a struggle to do as her mother orders. But still, there is nothing in her that says ‘disobey.’ There is pride and triumph and love in her mother’s eyes, the love that she has been chasing her entire life. At this moment, she couldn’t look anywhere else, even if she had wanted to.

This will be the final time she ever gazes at her mother’s face, that she ever feels this touch on her skin. She must not waste a second. She takes it all in, the pain and the pleasure alike, gladly and hungrily. Finally, they are merging, they are one -!

Arba’s hands are shaking now as she tries to hold onto her daughter, and her eyes slip between focused and unfocused. She’s not all there by this point, and under the heat, Gyokuen is becoming aware of the pounding in her head growing into something else, coming over her, smothering her. She can’t keep from whimpering. “M-Mother...”

A shaky smile finds its way onto Arba’s face. “It’s okay. I just can’t keep this up for much longer, I need to finish now. But don’t be scared. You’ll see me again...S-Soon...”

And before she can ask what that means, the darkness washes over her completely. Deep inside her, something severs, and she falls, down into suffocating black depths where she can’t feel or hear or see a thing. She tries to move her body, and finds that she can’t do that either. She’s completely disconnected from it now. But she has no time to be afraid. After a moment, there’s a voice in her head, soft and soothing.

‘There, we’re done. I told you it wouldn’t be so bad, didn’t I?’

‘Of course,’ she thinks, an automatic response. There is no question as to who is speaking to her, after all. ‘You’re in control, then?’

‘Yes. I assume it might feel a little strange to feel me move this body without your input, but don’t worry. You’ll get used to it, just as I’ll get used to sharing this space with you. I’ve never done this with any of my children before.’

‘So you’ve told me.’ Then she’s reminded of something. ‘Mother, what happens to Shuuen now?’

Arba snickers. ‘Oh, come now, I’m sure you’ve guessed. But if not, then look through our eyes and watch.’

The command confuses her, but with no further clarification given, she decides to just do what feels natural. She opens her eyes (or does Arba? She can’t yet tell) to the real world, and realizes that only a few seconds must have passed during their conversation. Shuuen is still leaning over her, unsteady and blinking as if waking up from a long, deep sleep. For just a moment, their eyes meet, and a look of total confusion starts to pass over Shuuen’s face.

But that's all she has time to do, before Arba lunges up at her, pulling one of Gyokuen’s knives out of her sleeve and slashing Shuuen’s throat in one swift motion. The woman’s eyes bulge and she immediately starts clutching at her neck in panic, as blood spurts from the ear-to-ear gash and pours over her hands. Arba grabs Shuuen by the hair at the side of her head, pulls back, and then pushes her off the bed, hard. There's a sickening crack as her skull strikes the stone wall, and she falls to the floor. Her body starts to spasm, and she's making terrified noises that might have been screams, had they not been drowned in blood.

Gyokuen finds herself mildly interested in the sight, but Arba couldn’t care less. She gets up from the bed (wiping off the blade of the knife on the sheets and slipping it back into her sleeve as she does so) and leaves the room, closing the door with Shuuen still choking and convulsing on the floor.

‘How do you feel, love?’ she asks as they walk back down the hall. ‘I don’t feel much different than usual, but what is it like for you?’

She has to consider that for a moment. Arba had been right: it was very odd to feel her body move under someone else’s control. Not like a marionette on a puppeteer’s strings, but...something more. She still exists, but detached from her physical form, she isn't sure where she fits into all of this any more. Even so, she's still gotten exactly what she wanted. Her mother is here, and no one will ever try to separate them again. They will be one, sharing body and mind, forever.

‘I'll tell you when I have the words for it.’

She feels her mother smile. ‘All right, then.’

As they near the first room, the sound of rapid whispering carries into the hall. When they reenter, Ithnan and Falan immediately step back apart and fall silent, pretending they hadn’t been talking, and Arba smirks. “You know, you two aren't very subtle.”

Falan looks them up and down - sees their flushed face and disheveled clothes - and narrows her eyes. “I could say the same of you. Just what in the world were you doing to her in there?”

Arba laughs, absently smoothing back their hair. “Why, Falan, what do you think I was doing to my daughter in there?”

Falan huffs in irritation and leans back against the wall, while Ithnan gives a short, mirthless laugh. “Why should the girl be any concern of ours?” he reminds Falan, and then turns to Arba. “So, this is the part where you reveal that you were playing Gyokuen for a fool this entire time and never intended to share that body with her, right?”

“No, Ithnan,” Arba laughs, before Gyokuen has time to be alarmed. “I meant what I said to her. She’s still in here with me.”

She can’t see Ithnan’s face, but she’s had enough practice reading his eyes to know he’s scowling underneath that veil. “Arba, I told you, if I have to deal with that little brat for another few decades - ”

“You’ll live,” Arba dismisses him, crossing the room to leave. “She wants to help, so I’m letting her. I still have my uses for her outside of being my vessel.”

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I never thought I’d live to see you spoiling one of your offspring this much.”

“There’s a lot we’ve lived to see, Ithnan, I don’t know why you’re surprised. And speaking of my offspring, I expect you two to have Shuuen’s body disposed of by the time I get back tomorrow,” Arba calls over her shoulder as she walks out the door.

‘You know they’re just going to start talking about us again as soon as we can’t hear, don’t you, Mother?’

‘I do the same to them. Fair’s fair.’

As they walk around the side of the building, the priests bow to them when they come near. The only one who’s not at all pleased to see them, it seems, is Ayumu. The horse’s ears twitch back and she paws the ground anxiously as they approach, and though she allows them to approach her and climb into the saddle, she’s quivering underneath her rider as a priest comes and unties her from her post.

‘What’s the matter with her?’ Gyokuen asks, taken aback. ‘She’s never behaved like this before.’

‘She knows I’m not you,’ Arba explains as she urges Ayumu into a careful trot, starting back home. ‘Animals are strange. They always know things that humans don’t. She’s not sure what’s going on, but she can sense that there’s something awfully wrong about us.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh, yes. I remember a few generations back, my newest vessel kept a pet dog, that she had for years; it rarely left her side. After I took her body, the second the dog laid eyes on me, it tried to bite me! Can you believe that?’

Gyokuen pauses to consider this new information. ‘Will it...Will it be the same with Toku? With our children? Will they shy away from us too?’

‘No, of course not. This is still your body, after all. Your touch, your scent, your voice, your heartbeat, it’s still all the same. True, young children can be very perceptive sometimes, but it’s very rare that they catch on that something’s different.’

‘Did I ever...?’

Arba laughs. ‘You never got the chance to. I took over Shuuen while she was still pregnant with you. The only one you’ve ever seen is me. And that reminds me...You still haven't truly seen me yet.’

‘What?’

‘I have one more surprise for you tonight, my love. Don't worry about the horse, I can handle it. I know the rukh is unfamiliar to you, but I don't think you'll have a problem. Just relax, close your eyes, and let yourself sink down to it - to the place where our souls are bound.’

She doesn't quite understand, but she decides again to let her instincts take over. She does as her mother orders, and feels something move. When she opens her eyes again, it's to another seemingly endless expanse of darkness, this one deep and shimmering and solid. There’s only one spot of color, of rich gold and white and red; only one other person in this place with her.

This woman doesn't tower over her the way her husband does, but Gyokuen still only comes up to her neck, now. Lean, hard muscles define her arms and abdomen. Thick braids fall down past her waist, and her russet eyes glitter with excitement. A welcoming smile curves her lips as she reaches a hand out to her daughter. “So? What do you think of me?”

This voice is stronger and more soothing than Shuuen’s was, and the sound of it makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up. “This...This is what you really look like?”

“Yes. Within our rukh, I get to stay in my true form, that of my original body. You are the only one in a thousand years to see it firsthand.”

She should feel flattered, she knows. Honored, even. But at this moment, she can’t do anything but stare, mesmerized. “You’re beautiful. So, so beautiful.”

Arba laughs, and opens her arms invitingly. “As are you, my love. Now, come to me.”

Before the words are out of her mouth, Gyokuen is already running to her, clinging to her. It doesn’t matter that the form is different, she decides, laying her head against the older woman’s chest. The feeling of her mother’s arms holding her close is exactly the same. Arba runs gentle fingers through her hair and hums contentedly. “Are you happy now, darling?” she murmurs.

The steady sound of her mother's heartbeat is in her ears, and she never wants this moment to end. And in a way, it never will. Finally, they are one complete being, and for the first time in her life, she is satisfied. Nothing and no one can ever take this away from her.

“With you? Always.”

~0~

It’s a good dream. A painless one, where everything is hers and everything is right. She is content to float in this stupor until oblivion comes. Here, one with her mother, until they can both die together, as they have lived.

~0~

Even before she fully registers that her mother has, unusually abruptly, woken her up and given her control of their body without a word of explanation, she can tell that something is wrong.

The silence and emptiness at the back of her mind are the first tip-off, but she doesn’t think too hard about that, at first. It’s the way her stomach drops and her skin goes cold that shakes her.

And that's before she looks up to see her son, stalking towards her with a sword in his hand, and stark terror pierces her heart.

‘Mother?! Mother, where are you?!’

There's silence - no, there's less than silence, there's nothing. Arba is gone.

Hakuryuu is still coming, like a tiger advancing on wounded prey, staring unblinkingly into her eyes. Sunlight glints blindingly off of his blade. Behind him, Judal crosses his arms behind his head and grins like a maniac, eyes flicking between her and Hakuryuu. (From what her mother’s told her about what they did to the young Magi, she's not surprised that he's reveling in her impending murder.) Blood is gushing from her neck and arm and she feels like she's been trampled; how badly did they beat her mother?!

Her pulse is pounding in her ears. She can't get up, let alone try to run away; she wouldn't make it very far anyway before being cut down. There's not one knife left on her that she could use to protect herself. She knows that even in perfect condition, with all her weapons, she could never hope to win without her mother’s help. She can't breathe. She can't breathe. For the first time in her life, her mother is gone

(our daughter she's with our daughter now but i need you now I need you please don't leave me)

and she is alone.

It takes her a couple tries, but though her voice is weak, it still comes out.

“H-Hakuryuu...!”

She can't run, she can't fight, but there's still a slim chance of getting out of this alive. If she can talk him down, make him hesitate long enough for her to convince him that she's not the one he needs to kill, then maybe she’ll have a chance. She’ll say anything she has to to escape, anything to get back to her mother, anything to make Hakuryuu stop looking at her with fire and bloodlust in his eyes.

“S-Stop, Hakuryuu...I'm your mother...”

Hakuryuu doesn’t break stride, and there’s not the tiniest change in his stony expression. It’s like he didn’t even hear her. She couldn’t look away from him if she tried. All of a sudden, under the panic, her sister’s voice is in her head.

You know, one day you’re going to be in real trouble, aneue. And all the sweet-talking in the world isn't going to save you.

Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut UP!

No, her sister’s wrong; keep talking, she just has to keep talking, her entire life has been a performance, she has to get the right words somehow!

“Hakuryuu...? Hakuyuu...”

The wrong name comes out completely unintentionally, but she can’t help it; he looks too much like his brother, fierce and vengeful and filled with hate, why couldn’t they have died together?! The mistake should help her, she has to sound as confused, frightened, and pitiful as she can. The act isn’t difficult at all, she’s hiding none of her fear.

“You...Where am I? What happened until now?”

She notices Judal’s grin slip off his face as he registers what she’s saying, and for a moment, she really is confused: he doesn’t know that she was possessed, does he? No, it hardly matters. The one she needs to get through to is her son. Her son, who stands over her shaking form and raises his sword, with no semblance of pity or mercy on his face. Her mouth goes dry, and she tries again to speak but nothing comes out, and still she can’t look away.

The fire still rages in his eyes, brighter and stronger than ever, but that won’t last forever, she can tell already. He will kill her here and for a moment he will feel the same rush through his veins that she once did, but it will be gone as soon as it comes, he will get no pleasure from her death, no resolution, because he’s not like their mother and he’s not like her, and without them, without revenge to drive him forward he will be left hollow, his life in ashes -

“It seems that you don’t understand, woman,” Hakuryuu snarls, making her jump. “I don’t care anymore! Die!”

The blade falls -

Some small part of her is surprised at how little it actually hurts. The cut is fast and clean, and shock and fear must be numbing the pain as her head flies from her shoulders. She feels her lips forming Hakuryuu’s name before she hits the ground, where she finds herself looking up at him again. Spattered with her blood, breathing hard and still clutching his sword tightly, blue eyes no longer monstrous but still shining with exhilaration, the image of him is striking.

Oh...My beautiful boy.

Despite everything, a smile stretches her lips. She had been right all along. He’s not like them. But he’s grown up just the way she knew he would: ruthless, strong, and dangerous.

Her body is destroyed, her mind is dulling, and she knows she has seconds to live. She knows that she will never see her mother again, in this life or the next. But there’s a chance that Hakuryuu will. If he lives to see his purpose in life revived, if he can grow even stronger, he will clash with Arba again.

I wish I could see that...

She starts to feel something else stirring around her, something she’s never noticed before. Is this the rukh? she thinks, and remembers the spell that Arba has placed on her all those decades ago. So many years, and she never thought twice about it, much less realized that its true purpose must be to cover Arba’s escape from one daughter’s body to the next. Perhaps it had been meant to keep her quiet about all of this, too, just in case.

She wonders whether Hakuryuu will even be able to figure out that his beloved sister is now gone, replaced by someone else entirely. She wonders whether he will go from there to realize that the same happened to her, whether he will pity her or grieve for her without knowing what she was truly like. She wonders, will it even matter how much either of her children know, or will Arba kill them both as easily as she killed their brothers? As easily as she left Gyokuen here to die?

Hakuryuu...I want to see you match her again...Like you must have done today, if you can pull the same tricks twice...

Heat is building up around her body. There’s a hum in the air that rises louder and louder every second, and the world around them starts to glow white. Hakuryuu looks confused, but horror flashes onto Judal’s face, and he starts to sprint towards them. She keeps smiling, keeps staring into Hakuryuu’s eyes for as long as she has left. If her mother’s face cannot be the last thing she sees before death, then she supposes her son will do.

I wish...I want to see you all...I want to see who wins - !

In an explosion of white fire, the world dies around her.

~0~