"Yes! I win!"

"No, you don't!" Kathika argues, leaning over Clarice's bed to snatch up Mak's discarded pile of cards and inspect them.

"Damn, she does," Tsil pouts, throwing her own small hand onto the bed with the rest of the scattered cards. Kathika follows, glaring heavily at Mak who's smiling wickedly.

The others are playing another game on the other now open bed, Nilsa, Inna, and Vanya having left abruptly, but not out of mystery. I couldn't hear Rohana's summoning, but I knew well enough that it was she who called them. All three of them tensed before they misted, and they never tense nor question it when the elementals call for them. They're not back, but they've only been gone for a few minutes, so I don't put too much thought into it.

The bell rings loudly, repeating its loud note nine times before silencing again.

"Welp, you know what that means," Mak chimes, still happy from her victory. "Time for you, Mater, to go to sleep."

"But-"

"She's right, Clarice," I insist, putting one hand on hers. "You'll want the rest if you wish to walk the castle grounds in two days."

Her lips purse, Víđarr standing from where he watched the game go on in the small pouch her crossed legs made. She watches him stretch, then finds his gaze which doesn't shift. When she looks prone to arguing with him, he makes a high puppy whine and starts throwing all of the cards off of the bed by using his front legs and moving them in a digging motion.

"Hey!" Mak scrambles to pick up the flying cards before she loses a few of them.

"I guess I don't really have a choice, now do I?"

Víđarr only picks up the last card in his mouth and drops it onto the ground before walking back over to Clarice's side. Mak mumbles a few curses in Thralian in response but doesn't do more than put the cards back into her box of chaos. The others start packing it up too, all gathering around Clarice to say their goodnights. I'll be here, of course, laying in that other bed and falling into a half-sleep. One wrong feeling, one creek of a floorboard or scurry of a mouse, and I'm sitting up with a knife already in my hands.

Clarice starts to lie down when the door opens, it's croaking hinges that I loosened so they would make the annoying noise makes us all turn. My eyes instantly downcast themselves at the sight of Rohana's dark hair and always tanned skin. I end up staring at Víđarr, watching his body language and focusing on it to distract myself from tracking Rohana out of the corner of my eye. It does little good, and I end up watching her anyway.

"You're Rohana," Clarice states, likely easily making the conclusion considering she's been asking after my missing sister.

"I am."

Don't look. Don't look. Don't look.

But it's too hard, and I end up staring at her, though her own eyes seem glued to Clarice. The Queen, herself, is glancing between the two of us, Víđarr now chewing softly on her hand. Something tells me the act is only a distraction for how he's likely relaying information to her. She knows things we don't tell her, things only a wolf with hundreds of pairs of eyes all about the castle and ears in every corner would know. He's a gossip, and it's rather annoying to me that he won't just let her live without the thoughts entering her mind, though maybe it's she who requests them. Maybe she needs to know...

I shake my head slightly, clearing up the fog threatening to cloak my mind.

"I'm not fully caught up in who I am," Clarice continues, now only studying Rohana. "But I'm told that if I order you - any of you ten - to do something, you have no choice but to do it."

"That is correct," Rohana answers in a flat tone.

"Good. Then you and Branka will go to another room and talk out your differences, and you will not return until all of your quarrels are settled."

"Clarice-"

"That's an order," she says to me, her face hard. I feel a pull deep in my gut, knowing that if I don't walk out the door with Rohana in tow and do as the Mater asks, then I'll be facing the man of death soon enough.

I take the few seconds I have before that pull becomes a burning in my chest to glance over her once more. I've already done it several times, but I can't help it. Her eyes are clearer, though they still have that distant look in them. Her skin has gained its color back, and those once hollow cheeks and visible ribs have disappeared, filled in quickly thanks to the immortality and its quick healing perks. She's also gained her strength, her muscles capable of moving without shaking now, and thanks to the light exercises we do to keep them warm and stretched and moving, she can finally walk downstairs in two days.

She could've very well gone today, but I explained to her that she wouldn't make it too far before needing rest, and then when she argued to go tomorrow instead, I explained to her that the Court was arriving tomorrow. It only took an explanation of who they were and what they meant to do and she surrendered to waiting two days instead. She's still skinny, but she's beginning to fill in her old clothes, though she argues otherwise, saying she's still weak as a twig and thin as a needle.

Feeling that tug becoming a yank, I nod to her and walk towards the door. I don't hear if Rohana follows, but based on the way Nilsa smirks, I'd say she is. Gods this is entirely unsettling. Never have things between Rohana and I been this tense - not even that time that I accidentally slept with one of her lovers - and yes, it was accidentally.

She went out for the night, and I naturally assumed that it was with him. So I went out on my own that night, bored out of my mind sitting around my house with nothing to do but wiggle my fingers. I ended up in a tavern full of singing drunks, met this guy who kept making me laugh and didn't smell like the rest of the crowd, and then one thing led another...Let's just say that neither of us was properly introduced before I let him lead me to the small broom closet. At the time, it was the last place we expected anyone to look. Though it wasn't her who opened the door, it was the innkeeper who came to grab his bucket and mop to clean up a mess someone had made, and Rohana just happened to be walking with Serephina toward the bathroom when the door opened. No one in the Ginerva had met the man Rohana kept secret, so Serephina only spit out her drink because she spotted me. Rohana, however, crushed her glass in her bare hand so hard that several of its shards dug deeply into her hand.

At the sight of the blood I launched forward, jokes already leaving my lips as I reached for her hand. As my mother's daughter I have a small bit of healing magic, and it was already flaring on my palm as I stepped away from the young man. She pulled out of my reach before I could grab it and continued to do so as I kept lunging for it. It wasn't until she yelled at the man that both Inna and I realized what had happened. Serephina was gaping, some part of her debating whether to defend Ro and attack me, or keep Rohana from doing something she'd regret.

Rohana ended up running out of the tavern, shoving anyone and everyone in her way, including the rest of the Ginerva. It seemed we all had a thing for the loudest and crowdiest taverns.

We all followed her out, leaving the man behind. Serephina managed to get the others to surround us as Rohana turned on me in the middle of a thankfully empty street, all of them ready to keep the city safe from our outbursts. She yelled at me, I defended my case and supported my claims, though it only made it worse. We didn't talk for the night nor the morning, but given the late afternoon of the next day, we were apologizing and swearing to never do such things again, to never have secrets that could potentially hurt the other.

So much for that.

I lead us to an empty room down the hall from Clarice's door, far enough to where they won't hear our yelling, but close enough to where we could feel if something is off. There are healers all about the tower, but most of them stick to the floors above and below, all too wearisome of us to come too close unless they have no choice but to do so. I've spotted a few casting curious glances toward me when I let myself walk amongst its wall. There is no doubt already rumors of who I was, but it doesn't bother me. I've been looked at strangely more than once thanks to my father, his murder of my sister, and the expectation that I'd slowly follow in either of their steps.

I do Rohana the favor of sitting on the bed opposite the room, giving her the space to pace like she does when she's unsure of what to do. The corner of my mouth tugs up slightly as she instantly starts her repeating walk. Some things never change.

I muster up the courage to speak first, figuring that this is going to take a while and I'll want my sleep. I've already gone three days without sleeping, and the tiredness is beginning to pull on my leg. "Do you want to yell at me? Or do you want to ask a question? Or am I to just start explaining?"

She scoffs, shaking her head at an empty wall. "Typical Branka, trying to be the controlled one when everything around you is moving too fast for you to keep up. Not everything is about what you want, you know that?"

"Well, then what do you want, Rohana?" I retort. "Because you sure as hell haven't been around to tell me."

"Stop playing the victim! You left! You lied - not me!"

"Oh, so I'm the only villain in the room? You are hereby pardoned by all of your misgivings because - because what? You're Lady One?"

"I was laid victim to your hand, yes," she states, stopping her pacing to stare right at me with angered eyes. "The only villainous acts I'm guilty of committing is throwing you the truth rather than smothering you with kindness, and showering false happy tears when you magically returned from the dead."

"I didn't need tears, Ro-"

"Well, then why are you mad at me? Because from my point of view, I have every right to be cross with you, but I see no reason why you should be tossing me across the room like a rag doll."

My lips part to keep arguing, to yell that I am mad at her and that there are valid reasons for me feeling in such a way, but nothing comes out. Instead, I slump down onto the bed, lying down with the heels of my hands pressing on my eyes.

The truth is that I'm not mad at her, I'm mad at myself for too many reasons to list out loud. I don't hate her, I don't want to throw her around the room like a rag doll - though I very well could. I just want things to go back to normal. I want us to sit and talk about her adventures in the past forty-two years, and I want to hear every detail of the lovers she's had since, both to tease her about and scrutinize her for laying in the same bed with such a person. I want, I want, I want, but not everything is about what I want, and I already know what she wants from me.

"He was there," I whisper, not entirely knowing where the words came from nor why my mouth chose for those to be the starting ones. Either way it gets Rohana to stop her once again continued pacing, and I can feel her wanting me to keep going, but she doesn't step closer. So I keep going, letting my thoughts find their own way to her.

"That day that I...died, just before I walked into the church I spotted you. I knew then that what I was doing would hurt you, that you'd remember that moment for the rest of your life. I hesitated. For a split second, I considered waving you over to help, but then I saw him over your shoulder. I saw how his face went from an uncontrollable fury as he stared at the back of your head, to an indescribable fear when he realized where I was standing. I knew then that the price for my assumed death was worth paying, because he'd lose what he wanted most, and it would cause him to leave Thralia alone. We could've saved everyone, including me that day, but there would've always been the next time, there would've always been another attack, another battle to be fought. So I made my decision, and I walked into the church and right up to the weapon that was half my size and carelessly thrown into the center of the room. I didn't think before I put up the barrier because I knew that if I did think, I'd think of that look on your face the second you realized what it was I intended to do.

"I poured all my power into that barrier, and then I poured all of it into controlling that explosion, even as it slowly burned my skin and made my head dizzy with its pulse. I didn't think, but I did see all your faces. I saw how all of you stood outside of my barrier, all wide-eyed and scared of what was coming. I saw the people who lived in that village and the realization in their faces that their town was gone, and so were their homes. I saw my father on the other side of where you all stood, his fists clenched in anger with his powers swirling in violent and quick patterns, but his own face pained and still bearing that fear.

"And then you were all gone. I ripped that bond we shared away, and silenced whatever was left of it so that you couldn't get back to me. I let my barrier flicker, not because I wanted you to assume the worst as I told the others, but because I really was fading. I barely had enough strength to mist onto the cargo ship, and I woke up a cycle later, the ship already docked on an unknown shore. My burns and wounds were clearly infected, parts of them clearly nibbled on by a few rats. I made it to the level of the ship above me before I hurled up my guts, and I was so dizzy that I ended up stumbling over a rope and falling through a gunport and into the ocean.

"Someone heard me crash into the waves, and I woke up a day later in a strange room. Bandages were around my stomach and my arms, and moving either was painful but bearable. I took the things that I needed - clothes, medicine, food - whatever was in the room that I could carry, and then I left, scared that my father would find me if I stayed. I roamed the streets of the city all day, pausing several times to catch my breath which was shallow and wheezy. I slept in an alley that night, and as I tried to find a suitable place to lie down without being found or disturbed, I thought about all of you. My mother, each of our sisters, and you.

"I mostly thought of you. My mother was already hurt and in pain, and though the last thing I would ever want was to add to that pain, I knew she'd keep going. I figured the others would grieve and mourn, but I knew they'd be fine because they had you, which made most of my worrying thoughts travel to you. If you fell, if you crumbled and shattered, so would they, and it would've been all my fault. Sure, my father stopped his attacks, but I could've woken to find a very different world where all of you went your separate ways, and the Ginerva I knew was now composed of others who would never replace you all.

"I searched for news wherever I traveled, but I never asked around, knowing that doing so would cause more suspicion and dangerous glances to head my way. So I kept going, kept hoping that you wouldn't fall, that the confidence, hope, and trust I had in you would be enough to ensure that you kept going. I beat myself up every day for those two years of trying to find a way to stay temporarily hidden from my father. I cried more times than I can count, I looked at where that island sat several times a day, and each time I did so my stomach would twist and fall. Sometimes I'd hurl at how hard the guilt would hit me, and one time I actually managed to give myself a sickness because of it. I hadn't eaten out of worry, hadn't slept because of my constant running thoughts, and I barely moved out of fear that I'd just head back to Thralia - to home - only to find that I had made the wrong choice and it was all gone - that you were all gone.

"It took me three days of contemplation before I finally let Aracely put the blue soul stone in me. I didn't want to make another decision, I didn't want to come back and find all my fears running about the world. I wanted someone to tell me that the decision I had made of faking my death, and the decision I was making to hide in plain sight, were the right ones - that they wouldn't lead to pain and misery. I knew that the chances of me waking up to find a war going on were strong, but I could care less about war, all I wanted to know was if you were okay or not. I wanted to know if I drove you mad like my father, or if I drove you to insanity and you took your own life. Maybe it was cockiness, but I did imagine several times that my death brought you to such a depression, that you ended up hanging yourself or slitting your own throat.

"I worried, and I worried, and though it'll never justify the pain I caused you and the others, though it will never make the decisions I made fair and right, I'd thought you should know - because I do care about what you want, Rohana." I sit up, finding her now standing at the window, her face turned away from me.

"I could tell you what I want. I want to kill my father. I want to help Clarice gain her strength and memory back. I want to give the people who care for her the person they lost, just like someone gave the people who care about me the person they lost. I want to see Darius smile, I want to see you smile. I want to go to war. I want to slaughter my father's creatures and crush his hope of ever taking this land. I want to see a new day. I want to see a better world. I want...Gods above I want some damn chocolate!"

She still doesn't move, but I do hear the slight exhale of air through her nose that could've been a laugh. I stand up slowly, scared that if I do anything too quickly it'll have her running out of the room like she did last time. I take a few testing steps, only stopping when her head twitches toward my motion.

"I want so many things, Rohana, but above all of those, I want to know all the things you want. I want to hear you say them, however many there are, and I will find a way to make that list shorter by giving you as many of those wants as possible because I...I miss you, Rohana. So much. I miss the talks we used to have, the silly fights we fought, the adventures we went on. If I'm being honest, I even miss hearing you yell at me - so much so that I actually instigated you into doing so when we walked in here."

Her shoulders bounce shakingly, the sound of her trying to muffle her sobs and laughs, faint, but there. She's always been one for hiding her feelings, always been one to bite her tongue until it bleeds to keep such feelings from escaping. She hates it when people see her cry, and hates it when they go to comfort her because she sees it as pity. You could tell her you love her and she'd push you away and tell you that your pity is pathetic and she's strong enough to stand on her own, she doesn't need nor want your help. Typical Rohana.

I take more steps towards her, only stopping until I'm a few feet away, leaning against the wall by the window, watching as she hastens to rub away her falling tears. "I don't want to fight. I don't want to go on avoiding each other or having constant tension between the two of us whenever we're near each other. You're my sister, Ro. Sisters bicker and fight and pull each other's hair - and hey, if that's what you want to do, then I'm all for it. I'm sure you'll kick my ass considering I haven't lifted a single weapon in forty-two years."

The corner of her mouth pulls up, then starts twitching as she fights to force it back down into a frown, but it fights to stay smiling. "Forgive me, Rohana," I beg.

She looks at me then. I've never said those words, and she knows it.

My