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Sophia Bellefleur, even just the name of the false Saintess brought a wretched fury to Victoire's heart. As the only daughter of Duke Alezon and the once betrothed of the Crown Prince, Lady Victoire should have had it all. With the help of a little political cunning and the poise and elegance of a noblewoman to get her there, of course. As was only befitting her stature. She also had the duty, to both her country and her compatriots, as a noblewoman and future queen, to make sure mistakes were avoided. Sophia Bellefleur was one such mistake, and what a mistake she had been! Able to charm the princes, the royal guards, the archivists, the king's council, the Black Jade society, and even Victoire's own brother, with her... Vague trickery and manipulation. Victoire had to give her that at least, she was very good at manipulation.

What Sophia Bellefleur was most certainly not was a Saintess, no matter how many had fallen for her deceit. Victoire had done everything in her power to expose Sophia, or, failing that, to make her admit to her lies and bow out of her own accord. At least to make the false Saintess realize she had gotten herself in too deep. She was simply a small fish in a too big pond, and yet, Sophia Bellefleur had conquered that pond despite Victoire's best efforts.

Victoire had been sloppy at first, she was willing to admit that. She hadn't expected some country bumpkin orphan nobody to pose much of a challenge to her own wit and wiles, the charm and savvy she had spent a life cultivating. Sophia had been more cunning, though, so much so that in the end it was Sophia who had claimed victory. Framing Victoire for attempting to take Sophia's own life. Ha! as if Victoire would ever do something so base!

Somehow, her own protestations had fallen on deaf ears. The Crown Prince himself, the one who she had once thought she would marry and spend a life with, had imprisoned her in the royal dungeon! She had been neither tried nor sentenced, but things looked rather grim. The King was sick and she'd already heard whispers of people trying to pin the blame for that on her too. If nothing else, it meant he wouldn't speak for her, even if he wanted to. Victoire wasn't sure if he believed what they said about her. Her own brother seemed to believe it.

She would weep into the stone floor if she had any tears left to her. The traces of the last ones stained the grey of the prisoner's dress she'd been made to wear, no longer given the deep cerulean and sapphire blue colors of House Alezon that she normally took such pride in wearing. She had been left to solitary confinement, with none from the outside allowed to come in to visit her, something commonly employed on new prisoners. Something she’d never once thought might be used on her. Why should she think that? Victoire hadn’t done anything that would merit such punishment.

Victoire missed them, her family, her friends, whether they had turned on her or not. She missed her Mirasin, her shining star of hope. The girl with cold hands but the warmest eyes Victoire thought she might drown in. Like honey or syrup. A sweet goodnight she would be reluctant to escape from.

Mirasin would come to her, she knew. Of all the people who might come, eventually, Mirasin she was sure of seeing.

The maid who brought her food spoke to her briefly on the state of affairs every morning. Each time a different variation of telling her the investigation was still going on and her access to the outside was still restricted. The maid, Ena, Victoire thought she was called. Victoire had nothing to distract her here from learning names, even if she have reason to pay much attention to the details. But Ena, she wasn’t cruel to Victoire, although she did act nervous around her. Eager to offer up information, but wary enough to stay far from the bars of her cell if she could help it. As if she thought Victoire might lash out. Which… Victoire could see in her desperation how someone in her situation might. But even in such a situation, the poise and stature of a noblewoman stayed with her to the core.

She wondered if Ena thought she was guilty. Ena had never told her and Victoire had never asked. Whether it was unbecoming to ask such a question of the maid, or it was merely because she didn’t much want to know the answer… Was another question she wished to distract herself from.

This morning, however, Ena’s news had changed. Today she would be allowed visitors, if any would deign to show up for her. As for the state of her… She didn’t know if she wished for them to show up or not, not wanting to be shown in such a state. Her prisoner’s dress was dirty and she hadn’t been allowed a proper wash. She picked at the dirt under her nails and ran her fingers through her long, blond hair. But she couldn’t make her appearance entirely presentable just by that.

The Crown Prince, Rouen D’Agnes, her former betrothed who had imprisoned her had made it clear on sending her away that he would not be visiting at any time for anything. He had been flushed with anger, and, she supposed, affection for the false Saintess. Victoire wouldn’t be surprised if by now Sophia Bellefleur had wrested the title of future queen for herself as well. Rouen had been well enough besotted for it at least.

Then again, he wasn’t the only one who had become enthralled by Sophia Bellefleur. Only the one who would give the most social capital to marry. But with the title of Saintess already her own, perhaps that would also grant her the power to follow her own heart in choosing someone to marry. After all, even without being Queen, a Saintess had power no other woman could dream of. The power of the heavens, and with that followed the power given on Earth. Even though Victoire had once been seen as most eligible and sought after, she had never really had that freedom of choice. Marrying the future King was the best choice for her and for House Alezon. The social capital that would bring was… Something they needed. Not that it saved them any from Prince Rouen ending the engagement.

Maybe Victoire was the strange one, seeing nothing to fawn over in the false Saintess. Everyone else seemed to find no end to the value she brought.

Sophia had the eye of Prince Rouen and also his brother Prince Stefan. She spent time also with the young Knight Captain, Lord Giroux, and the Archivist Count Dante of Ilen, not to mention Lord Seville of the Black Jade, though the less said about him the better. And, of course, though she hated it and tried her best to discourage such affection from him, Sophia also held the eye of Felix Alezon, Victoire’s older brother and the heir of the Duchy of Alezon.

And, to speak of the devil, even if it was only in her own thoughts, it seemed Felix was to be her first visitor of the morning. Ena led him in, along with the light of the sun that didn’t generally reach her these days. Ah, if she was to look so un-presentable, it may as well be to someone who had seen her at her worst. Felix Alezon still wore the shimmering sapphire of their house, his outfit proper and quite out of place in this prison. Much like Victoire herself. Though she shared none of Felix’s trappings now. Felix’s hair, blond like her own, was closely cropped, but still looked somewhat dishevelled, he’d probably been running his hands through it. He did that when he was stressed, a trait he shared with their father.

“Is it true?” He asked, the first thing out of his mouth when he came to her. It was good she had no more tears, she thought. His own pleading eyes tried to find hers, but she could not conjure up any emotion to meet them.

For her response, she shook her head and sighed. What else was there to say? Try to make him believe her? Either he believed her or he didn’t, wasn’t that right? She could hardly make that decision for him. Best not exhaust herself with trying. But Felix was her brother, her older brother, her protector who had cared for her, who she had looked up to, relied upon. Someone she should have always been able to count on to have her back, and her his in return. The scions of House Alezon, their fates, their goals, their interests and issues would always intertwine. Yet, still, he doubted her. Victoire supposed that perhaps she should have counted herself lucky that he thought to ask, that he did feel doubt rather than certainty of the lie, that he didn’t come here to outright condemn her. She couldn’t though. It hurt too much that somehow whatever bond they had was weak enough that any doubt could come ever between it.

It hurt that the first thing he could say to her was an accusation, a plea, rather than any words out of care for her and her own well-being. Which, was currently not so good.

“I didn’t think it could be true, but sister the case against you… It isn’t looking too good.”

“I know not of the case against me, Felix. I know not of my enemies, what they’ve done or said or even who they are. I feel you wish for me to say something to persuade you to my side, and yet, I have only been here after being tossed away on false charge. I truly know nothing, and thus can offer you nothing.”

It was the most words she had said in a while and her mouth was feeling dry. Though she dare not drink in front of Felix, forced to hold the water in her hands and sip it from her wrists, it would be a rather unbecoming sight. Even just to be witnessed by her brother. She was already knelt down and dirtied on the floor. She could manage to stay in that position at least. Not show off any more than she needed to.

“I see. I… Am not meant to speak on any specifics.”

“Of course you’re not. If you spoke on specifics then I might be able to plan a retort, and that’s not what’s wanted of me now, is it?”

“Sister…”

“Oh, not to worry, Felix, it’s fine. Truly. There’s nothing I need to know. Nothing that I can make any better of by knowing.”

“The King is still unwell.” She supposed he must have been able to tell her some things then, at the very least. “But, Father is back in the Capital.”

Father? That set a mixture of feelings through her, turning her stomach and stabbing at her heart. Father, Duke Alezon, he was a stern man of few words who was a friend and advisor to the King. He wasn’t cruel, though ‘ruthless’ might not be an incorrect descriptor. He was competent with a good but guarded heart and Victoire took great pride in being his daughter, in their family, in their House, in their Duchy, the land, their people… Yet in this situation, though she had been falsely accused she felt shame at whatever her father’s involvement would be, guilt at having let him down, bringing down the name of Alezon though all she had done was to try to lift it up. Perhaps she had tears left after all, because they seemed to be rising in her throat, choking her. They felt cold as they pricked her eyes.

Fear too, that he might believe the lies told about her, that he would be beset with the same doubt that clouded over Felix’s face. However much she relied on Felix, however much he was meant to protect her… Their father had always been the rock, the steady presence, the one with all the answers who could solve anything. If… If even he could doubt her, then what was left for her in truth?

“Will he be here?” She asked, her voice barely managing to carry her words past the bars of her cell.

“Yes. They only allow one visitor at a time and I… I had to know.”

“And do you know?” Victoire asked, a bit sharply. “Any better than you did before?”

“…I believe you, sister.”

“Do you?” She asked, but then shook her head again. “No, no, never mind. It doesn’t matter. How about this? Do you think the Lady Sophia will choose you? Over Prince Rouen?”

“Victoire…”

“Perhaps she will feel guilty, about what these accusations have done, will do, to your family? Do you think so?” Now her words had crossed over from sharp to cruel, but it hardly mattered. She had not tried to kill Lady Sophia, but she wouldn’t stop her own tongue just to seem less guilty.

“The Lady Sophia herself… Does not seek to make these accusations. In fact… She seems increasingly assured of your innocence. Though, Rouen would say it is only her naivety that keeps her from accepting the truth.”

Of course that was what Rouen would say. But… Lady Sophia…? What was she playing at? It must have been something. Perhaps it was only to seem more like a naive ingenue for Rouen and the rest. To feign belief in the innocence of the ‘villainess’ in her story. Oh, but Victoire was innocent, so could it truly be called feigning a belief? Ah, things got convoluted quickly didn’t they? “And you? Do you believe thus?”

“Do I believe Lady Sophia? If she believes in your innocence… Of course I would work with her to prove it. Even you can’t be so spiteful of the Lady that you would wish her not to prove your innocence?”

“The last I saw Lady Sophia she was standing by Rouen as he ordered me sent here. There is nothing further I have been allowed to know.”

“Yet, I believe you, shouldn’t you believe me?”

If she believed him, wouldn’t she have to believe in the false Saintess as well? Felix had been taken in by her just as sure as any other, but Victoire had to believe he was mistaken. But she wouldn’t believe him to be a liar. He may have been tricked by Sophia Bellefleur, but he must have been reporting what he knew as accurately as he could.

“Are you supposed to tell me what you and the Lady Sophia have found?”

“Oh, most certainly not. However… I’m sure we just need a little more time.”

Victoire sighed. “Time, that is something I’m not so sure I have.” And it was true. If she was being allowed visitors… Prince Rouen must have something he felt would prove her guilt. Not that she could say what that could possibly be. “Are you even going to ask me if I’m well?”

“Sister, I can tell that you are not well. To ask such would only be an insult, don’t you think?”

“It would still be nice, to be asked.”

“…Sister, are you well?”

“Not at all, Felix. Not at all.”

Felix slipped a hand through the bars of the cell. After a moment, Victoire reached up to hold his hand, only for a short squeeze. “I will speak to Rouen. Whether he will listen to me… I am not sure.”

Ena led Felix away from Victoire’s cell. She’d been there the whole time, Victoire knew, but she’d been so quiet Victoire had hardly noticed. She would certainly have some gossip, Victoire thought bitterly. Whether she thought it fairly or not…

Victoire really did hate being alone. She hated even more knowing her father would soon be by to see how far she had fallen. How shamed he would be! She felt she must have been a horrible daughter, though where exactly she had gone wrong… How could she know?

She tried in vain to right her appearance as much as she could as quickly as she could, splashing the water from the bucket onto her face and taking long drinks of it while she could to wet her dry throat. Her hair she could feel was still knotted and dry no matter how she pulled at it. And there wasn’t much to do for her outfit.

Duke Alezon might just weep to see his own child in grey. On the inside of course. Victoire’s father had long ago mastered the art of hiding his feelings behind a stoic mask. Another thing that made Victoire anxious. If he was full of rage or doubt, would he even show such to her if she were the root cause, the object of such feelings? She really didn’t know. Duke Alezon had never shown rage in his role as a father. Nor shame or doubt. This however, this might have been different. She didn’t know.

She heard Ena’s footsteps returning on the stairs, and behind them the steps that must have been her father’s, heavy and even, and not too fast. Trying to figure out if his foot falls sounded disappointed, Victoire found herself wondering how she would even measure such a thing. She came to the quick conclusion… She had certainly been locked away down here far too long!

When she saw him in the light as he came towards her, his face was as stern and as stoic as ever. It looked no different than normal, so how was she meant to interpret it? He followed Ena to the cell, his eyes seeming to soften, ever so slightly as they fell upon his only daughter. Was that a relief, or should she feel shamed by the pity? As a daughter, hadn’t she always wanted to make him proud? To fulfil every dream he’d had for her? How now had she managed to fail that so utterly? Before his very eyes?

Duke Alezon wore the same outfit as Felix did, the uniform of the Duchy of Alezon, worn by all the nobles in their house, and those serving under it, with different colored accents and such for different subsidiaries. Duke Alezon’s outfit however, was completely done in tones of grey, grey that might have almost been silver, which might have almost been blue, but could never truly been mistaken for such. Other than their age and the color of their clothes, one might almost mistake one for the other, between her father and her brother. Yet her father’s lack of color spoke volumes that could be understood fully at even a single glance.

Even if he had risen to the level of Duke, head of the House of Alezon, as a bastard, Victoire’s father could never wear the colors of his own house on his official uniform.

“My child, my dear, look at what they’ve done to you.” His voice betrayed only the slightest emotion, but it was enough. To be showing any emotion at all… Must have meant he was truly in great distress. He grabbed onto a bar of the cell tightly, leaving a sound like scratching metal.

Victoire wanted to assure him, but how? And of what? She wanted to be assured in turn, but even though a part of her wanted to naively believe anything could be fixed by her father, she knew that too was untrue.

“Father… I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for? Haven’t you done nothing wrong?”

“The accusations against me are false, Father, but still. Ending up like this, is too much shame to bear.”

“Don’t think like that. There’s no ending yet. The only one with shame to bear is that brat Rouen. The only one who ought be disappointed in their child is King Orland.”

“Have you spoken to the King, Father?” Victoire asked, unable to keep the hopeful tinge out of her voice.

“They say he’s in no way to receive visitors. As if I’m a mere visitor.” He scoffed, a bitterness tinging his own words. “If he were right, he’d never have let things go so far. He’d know well enough I’d never allow it.”

“You may have the King’s ear, but can you truly promise you can make Prince Rouen listen to you?” She asked, a little desperation leaking into her voice. After all, Rouen had been unmoved by any outside voice he didn’t wish to hear before, when he’d broken their betrothal. “Father, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m… I’m afraid.”

Duke Alezon’s expression barely shifted, but that was to be expected. “If that boy won’t see reason, I’ll tear him and his kingdom down with my own hands.”

Duke Alezon… Truly was not a force to be trifled with. Though it was before her own time, she knew he had fought for the King in the wars, against the uprisings and the members of his own House Alezon. He had truly made a fearsome name for himself, before he’d been known by the name ‘Father’. Before he’d even been known by the name ‘Alezon’. Of course Victoire liked to think anything was within her father’s power, that she could simply rely on him to fix any mess there could ever possibly be. But that was a far too naive mindset.

Yet he still spoke like he wanted her to believe it. Whatever he said… Might be a comfort for her more than a true solution. A cold comfort that might come at too high a cost.

“Father, you shouldn’t speak such treasonous things so openly.” Victoire’s eyes went to Ena’s form, the girl standing still in the shadows. She was certain her father must not have forgotten she was there. She had led him in after all.

“And why not? If this Kingdom turns so against my child what love should I have left for it? And what care should I have left to keep myself out of trouble if my child is so punished?”

“There is still Felix, and Mother to think of—”

“No, no! I will not have you comforting me as if… As if it would ever need to be spoken! I will get you out of there, I swear it, I will bring you home and keep you safe. If one way doesn’t work out another will, no matter what road I must take. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you.”

“Do you believe me?”

“…I do.” And at what cost? Surely, he would try. By his impassioned speech… It sounded like he may be in a hurry to throw his life away in the trying. With how far she had already fallen, Victoire had not considered she might fall further. From a noble lady who could be her father and her family’s pride, to being the cause of his death and the utter downfall of House Alezon. Becoming traitors twice in living memory… Would surely destroy any true nobility they held. “I am sorry Father. Whatever I can do… Please, I want to live, I want to go home, but I don’t want—”

“You’ve only fallen victim to slander. But even if you had done all you were accused of… I would not blame you, and I would stand behind you regardless. That Rouen is the one who brought this all upon himself, and upon us as well. Whoever it was who did try to kill that girl, it never would have happened if he hadn’t been such a fool. A hopeless sort with a fortunate birth, I never should have betrothed you to such. Crown Prince or no. Having you as a Queen would be the only thing to keep this nation afloat, and yet, that will hardly come to pass with that Rouen at the helm.”

Victoire had never heard her father sound so bitter or resentful. He had always seemed to hold a sort of distant affection for Prince Rouen as his friend’s child. But as Prince Rouen was an adult now, being judged on his own merits must have left him to be found wanting. Perhaps he even now reminded Duke Alezon of Victoire’s cousin, the former heir to the Duchy of Alezon, Denis Alezon. Victoire wondered if her fate might now be like his, banished beyond the borders of Thyrese. Or perhaps more like the fate of the previous Duke Alezon, executed by his own brother for treason against the crown.

Maybe that was to be the fate of her family. To repeat it’s past again. With her in exile and her father executed for treason in trying to save her. What would that mean for Felix? Would he take the place of their Father in this tale? Victoire… Did not want to think on it.

“Ena? Please know that my Father cannot be in his right mind currently. Perhaps in his grief he simply goes a little too far in his words.” But what good would it do to downplay the words Ena had heard with her own ears?

“Do not worry, Lady Victoire,” Ena said, a soft voice from the shadows. “I am not here to pass secrets out of this room. I am truly only a maid after all.”

Funny, with how silent she was and how well she blended to the shadows, Victoire would have almost sworn she must have been with the Black Jade. She still… Was hardly convinced that she wasn’t. How could the royals, or whoever else her enemies might be, not be keeping tabs on her? On her only now approved visitations? Had Prince Rouen been so serious about not paying her any attention, he even let this completely alone?

If nothing else, the Black Jade… If Ena wasn’t one of them they had to have some form of surveillance. The Black Jade always did.

“I will go to Prince Rouen, if not the King himself. I will go to him now and I will not stop until I can make him release you. Ah, you mark my words, Victoire. I shall not leave you there a second longer than I am forced to.”

He said that, but, he would have to leave her there for at least a while. Victoire knew that, and of course she knew not to weep and rail against his leaving, though it hurt her heart tremendously to see him go. This time, though, Ena did not go with him. Did not follow to make sure the guest left the way he came in. Not that there was really anywhere else for father to go.

Victoire listened to her father’s foot falls on the steps leading up and away from her cell. Just as forceful and even as they had been when he’d come down. Whatever mask he was wearing, he could certainly wear it well. Ena stood still at the bars of her cell, hands folding over each other in front of her, elbows at her sides. She twisted her hands once, twice, three times. It was hard to count in the dark. In the dim light still available, Ena’s brown eyes seemed to glow almost gold.

“Are you expecting another visitor today, Lady Victoire?” Ena asked. As if she knew what the answer would be.

“…Yes, there is one.” Victoire replied. She didn’t see the harm in it, being open about her expectations. Would it really be seen as so suspicious? Or was it only suspicious that she would know? Surely Ena must know if there were more people who wanted to visit her.

Of course, Victoire knew there would be another. Mirasin. The girl had come, for certain. She had wept when Victoire had been taken away and… Victoire knew she would want to come see her. Victoire had been the one to bring her to the Capital after all. The one to believe in her and her alone. They’d gotten… Rather close. In the relatively short time since they had met.

The truth was, Victoire had never believed Sophia Bellefleur was the true Saintess the nation so desperately searched for. But the Archivists and the Soulsguard had vouched for her, fully believing that she was the only one who could hold the title of Saintess. Victoire had always been more interested in keeping Thyrese away from the trouble of being fooled by charlatans than in finding the true prophesied Saintess. But, wasn’t it only natural to try to find her for herself? If no one else cared to look any further? At the very least, wouldn’t it put Lady Sophia’s status into doubt to have another candidate for the position?

Perhaps that had been the way it had started. How Victoire had found Mirasin performing magic tricks for change on the streets in a town near Thyrese’s eastern border. Victoire had seen magic tricks performed before. Always fully explainable by sleight of hand or illusion, however… The sorts of things Mirasin had shown her, Victoire had found no proper explanation for.

Mirasin herself had only called them miracles.

Mirasin had been a poor orphan girl, much like Sophia Bellefleur had been before she’d attained her status. And her miracles had seemed far more real than any reading or prediction Lady Sophia had ever made. She had invited Mirasin to become her lady-in-waiting, to present her to the court. Mirasin… Had been beyond thrilled. Victoire had ladies-in-waiting of course, and friends among the other noble daughters of Thyrese, however… There was something about Mirasin that drew her in. Her fresh perspective, perhaps? A fatalistic and dry sort of humor? The way her eyes lit up whenever she saw something new, a common occurrence as she hadn’t had the chance to experience much in her life, living alone at her little border town?

Whatever it was, Victoire and Mirasin had gotten close. Mirasin had gone from an alternate possibility to present to the court, to a close friend and confidant. Victoire even let her wear her dresses, brushed Mirasin’s hair and styled it any which way she thought the other girl might like. She’d told her of her life, and Mirasin in turn told her about her own, and though their experiences had been different, they spoke together on the patio at tea time until the sun left the summer sky, without realizing any time had passed at all.

Victoire had found herself… Truly believing that Mirasin was the real Saintess. Mirasin truly deserved to be someone she could believe in. She adored the girl, as a dear friend like she’d never had the chance to have for herself growing up. Oh, she’d had friends, but they treated as political allies in most circumstances. None that she could truly trust. Not with her secrets, not with her story, not with her life.

Perhaps sometimes, when they stood side by side on the balcony in the moonlight, hands clasped tightly together... When Victoire took in Mirasin's face, sharp but somehow sweet, half bathed in shadow... She could know deep in her bones, there was something more there aside from friendship. But what could she truly do about it? Past to hold Mirasin tight to her while she could, treasure her as best as she knew how?

“Lady Victoire, I shall bring the Lady Mirasin to you. However… I must ask you to promise me one thing. One thing that it is imperative you do, even if you don’t believe me, or you don’t know why.”

What was Ena asking her? And why? “What is it?”

“Lady Mirasin will ask you to pray with her. She will ask you to recite the words she says exactly. I… You cannot do as she asks.”

Victoire blinked, fully raising her head to look at Ena. She still didn’t know what she was saying, not really. “And… How do you know this is what she will ask? How do you know what she’ll want me to say?”

“Such things… Don’t matter. One of those, ah, ‘you won’t believe me anyway’ situations, you see?”

Victoire blinked. She… Very much did not see! “Are you truly with the Black Jade? Do you mistrust Mirasin?” Did Mirasin seem suspicious? She was a relatively recent arrival to the court all things considered. A relatively recent arrival to a court that was undergoing assassination attempts? It would only figure some Black Jade members might try to pin the blame on the newcomer. Even if Mirasin had been there for many weeks before without issue. How unfair could that be! Mirasin was the very picture of innocence, truly! And Sophia Bellefleur had hardly been around longer than Mirasin, and she was given all the trust and benefit of the doubt much sooner as well! Victoire stood firm. “I can tell you right now I am not guilty and Lady Mirasin is not my accomplice.”

“Oh, I believe she is not your accomplice. I also believe when you say you aren’t guilty. However, the thing I’m asking of you… Isn’t truly that outrageous, is it? Only a little change in wording.”

“What exactly are you asking?”

“Mirasin will clasp your hands and ask you to repeat a prayer. When she says, ‘I beseech all power within and without, to break thy chains and free thee from thy bonds.’ You should repeat it as ‘…to break my chains and free me from my bonds.’”

“Does it matter?” Victoire asked, wondering how this girl would know the exact wording of a prayer Mirasin was going to say with her. If even it were true.

“Of course it matters! It matters very much! After all, aren’t you the one who needs freeing?”

She supposed it made sense, but after all, wasn’t it only a prayer? “Alright, how about this. If Mirasin asks me to say that prayer like you said, I will certainly change the wording.” Whatever the odds were of Ena being correct about what would happen… If she was correct about that, then Victoire supposed it would be worth it to follow her instruction. And if she was not correct, then it would be a moot point anyway. “And if not, it will not matter.”

Ena seemed to think this over. “I suppose it’s enough of an assurance, Lady Victoire. Ah, I really do hope you keep your word.”

“A Lady never breaks her word, Miss Ena. Now please, bring Mirasin to see me.”

Mirasin entered the room following after Ena. Somehow, Victoire thought Ena looked more nervous with Mirasin there. Why she would feel that way… Well, she had said some rather odd things. Mirasin herself, however…

She was wearing one of Victoire’s dresses, a day dress with a diamond shaped pattern of blues and rimmed with white lace. Not an official uniform, so fine to be worn by a lady-in-waiting. Her hair was done up plainly. Victoire wondered if anyone other than her would have bothered doing it up for Mirasin. She didn’t exactly have many connections outside of Victoire herself. Though, she had always seemed content enough to be Victoire’s friend alone.

On the other hand, if she ever did become the Saintess in an official capacity… Not that it was looking very likely. But as the Saintess, officially, Mirasin would of course have many friends, or at least people clambering over each other to be in her favor. Not like Victoire. If she wanted to be in Mirasin’s favor, it was for that favor’s own sake. She was well used to people wanting to be in her own favor, and it was easy to tell it was never for that favor’s own sake.

But Mirasin being officially recognized as the Saintess, the true Saintess… It… Hadn’t exactly been likely to begin with. Only Victoire could count herself among the true believers, while Lady Sophia’s believers… Were quite numerous. Before she’d been sent to the prison, Victoire had heard others say that the reason she wanted to kill Lady Sophia was to give her own candidate any sort of chance. Of course, that had been backwards, hadn’t it? She’d gotten another candidate to oust Lady Sophia. And of course would never stoop to trying to kill her in any case.

How so many people had fallen for Lady Sophia, Victoire would never know. But according to her brother, Lady Sophia herself believed in Victoire’s innocence. Whether Victoire bought that kind act or not, that remained to be seen. Lady Sophia would not visit her regardless, and perhaps that meant something. Perhaps it did not. But Mirasin, her dear friend, she had come. Which also meant Mirasin had not been locked away herself as a framed ‘accomplice’. That much was a relief. Even if everything else was falling to pieces, Mirasin could still stand tall. Or, somewhat at least, as her time in court would surely be coming to a close soon enough, once Victoire herself was officially no longer welcomed.

But Mirasin was strong, Mirasin would get through it. Maybe she could even find another patron at court, one who would overlook her prior dealings with a villainess who had tried to kill Thyrese’s precious Saintess.

Or perhaps Victoire herself was being too fatalistic, counting herself out before she’d even had a proper trial. Who could truly know what would happen? Maybe even the King would wake and recover from his illness enough to hear out Duke Alezon and release Victoire fully from her prison.

When Mirasin caught sight of Victoire, she ran to her side as best as she could. Both of her hands found their way through the bars of Victoire’s cell, pressing in until she reached her elbow, reaching out to Victoire with an almost hungry desperation.

“Oh my Lady! Please, you must not despair! Come take my hands, let me feel your fingers against mine.”

Victoire did as Mirasin bid, placing her palms against Mirasin’s own, entwining their fingers together. Mirasin’s hands were smaller than Victoire’s, but Victoire’s fingers were more slender. They fit together strangely well, though their current touch was a cold one. Victoire’s hands chilled from the prison and Mirasin’s, well, Mirasin had always seemed to run cold.

It was also along the lines of what Ena had predicted, but then again, any who knew the two of them must have known that they would clasp their hands together. It was an expression of their closeness, in fact. Victoire had never had a sister of her own but this affection she shared with Mirasin… Didn’t quite fit that either.

“Mirasin! My Mirasin, have they falsified such rumors against you too?”

Mirasin seemed to hesitate at that. “There have been… Whisperings I have heard. But to see you like this makes my heart ache so. Would that I had sought to destroy them for that…”

“Oh, Mirasin, today you are the second person speaking treason for me. Please, I ask you not to follow such inklings. Seeing you safe and whole as you are gives me comfort at least.”

“And yet I cannot say the same for you! To look upon you now… Only lays bare the truth of my own affections. Because even as you are, like this, my love for you is strong and clear.”

Ah, but what sort of love was that? The way Mirasin spoke of it… Sounded like something that had only lived in silence between the two of them thus far. That Victoire might want to take Mirasin fully into her arms and touch her soft hair and kiss her sweet lips… And that Mirasin might have wanted to do the same. Not now, of course. The thought of kissing Mirasin as she was now was… Thoroughly unappealing. Victoire would need a good cleansing before she could think to do that.

She began to wish she had thought to share a kiss with Mirasin some time in the past, before any of this had happened. So she could have the experience of something sweet and untainted while she was still free and whole. But she had not.

Mirasin, however, did lean forward, to drop a lingering kiss onto the fingers of Victoire’s hand. The hands which she had clasped in Mirasin’s own. And Mirasin’s lips against them…

Victoire could not tell if she herself was blushing in the face of such affection. “Lady Mirasin, please… If I were better equipped to return such affections, I would do so in a heartbeat.”

Mirasin raised her head, looking at her. “Perhaps you will be soon enough. Better equipped, that is. I… Could perform a prayer with you. Try to call upon a miracle?”

It was also as Ena had predicted. But even so, wasn’t it also something it would only make sense for Mirasin to try? She did perform miracles after all, wasn’t that her duty as the proper Saintess? Of course she would try to call upon one for the sake of… Her beloved. And was that what Victoire was? Beloved of Mirasin? Mirasin… Could certainly be called Victoire’s beloved, no matter what else.

Victoire nodded. “Go ahead. It can hardly hurt anything.”

At that Mirasin smiled brightly. “Then I shall speak the words and you must repeat them after me.”

Again, Victoire nodded. This… Was what Ena had said. She didn’t have much time to wonder about that.

Mirasin’s eyes shut, hands still clasped and she started to speak. “I call upon the great holy power to perform miracles, the great holy mercies and gifts.”

Victoire repeated the words.

“I beseech all power within and without, to break thy chains and free thee from thy bonds.”

Those were the words Ena had said. Ah, then Victoire… Would need to keep her promise, wouldn’t she? “I beseech all power within and without, to break my chains and free me from my bonds.”

Some warmth began flowing through her toes and steadily rising through her body. When she looked down, Victoire saw her legs slowly being eaten by a golden light. She felt too surprised to even call out.

Mirasin still held her hands, but her face had clouded over. “You… Did not repeat the words exactly.”

“No, but is it not my chains to break, my freedom to ask for?” Victoire asked. She wouldn’t know why it would need to be so exact, but… It was as Ena had said, and surely the words had done something. Or there would be no warm light steadily engulfing her body. And… Mirasin would not look so… Put out.

Mirasin stared at her evenly for a long moment, any trace of her prior affection being lost. “I… Suppose that’s true enough, Lady Victoire.” Her voice was a cautious mixture of annoyance and disdain. “Ah, whatever. I suppose I don’t need you anyway.”

She said that and yet, she still clasped Victoire’s hands. Perhaps she held them even tighter as the light spread across Victoire’s arms, and then slid onto Mirasin’s body as well. Though, where the light touched Mirasin it seemed to flicker, parts of it turning to shadow.

What… Exactly did Mirasin mean? What had she needed Victoire for? Did this mean her affection had been a lie? Somehow even with everything else going on, the thought that Mirasin’s affections may have been a simple lie hurt her heart most of all. Why would Mirasin wish to do such a thing?

Victoire looked around to the shadows, trying to find Ena. Ena knew this would happen. Ena had told her what to say. Ena would have the answers to whatever question Victoire wished to ask. However, the light was engulfing Victoire almost fully now, and looking past it, was difficult. “Ena?” She called out at last. “Ena are you there?”

Mirasin turned to see where she was looking. “Ena is it? Is she the one…? I suppose I’ll have to remember that name.”

Was that a threat? Mirasin’s voice had certainly sounded… Unkind. Threatening, yes. Did Mirasin wish to do Ena harm? Or was she threatened by her? That was… Wholly unlike the Mirasin that Victoire had known. But perhaps… The Mirasin that Victoire had known had never truly been the real Mirasin. That thought was difficult to accept. She had spent so much time with Mirasin, trusted her so well, exchanged so many stories and hopes and dreams and a thousand other things that didn’t matter so much.

Victoire wanted to ask Mirasin, before the light took her fully, if it had all been a lie. At the same time, she did not dare.

“I suppose I will see you around again, Lady Victoire. Or perhaps not.” Mirasin might have had more to say, but Victoire didn’t hear it, the light finally sliding over her head, filling her ears with the sound of ringing bells, making her vision turn white, and then her mind—

To sleep.

When Victoire Alezon awoke, it was to the sound of ringing bells. She had heard it before, in the prison cell, when the light had touched her ears. Here and now though, she recognized it and knew it was real. The ringing of the Highchurch bells. Why were they ringing so many times, and how could she hear them so well?

She opened her eyes, able to see again with the strange light presumably gone, and blinked at her surroundings. She was no longer in the prison cell. No, this was… Wasn’t this her room at the palace? So many pillows surrounding her, she had forgotten how soft…

“My Lady, did you sleep in late? You do not want to miss the ceremony!” The maid at her door spoke excitedly, a flicker in her eyes and a pep in her step as she approached.

“Ena? Is that you?” Victoire asked. Perhaps her vision was still blurred, but the maid looked like she could be…

“Ena? No, I’m sorry my Lady, my name is Zara. Is Ena your regular maid? A lot of us were recently hired or reassigned due to the ceremony and the Trials of the Saintess.”

Ah, the ceremony and the Trials of the Saintess, where the candidates were gathered and tested. Victoire and the other noble daughters of the palace would of course be in attendance, and whoever else had been found and tested by the Soulsguard. And of course it was well attended by many nobles across Thyrese and anyone else who could afford the travel, as well as any of those in the Capital who could crowd in. However…

Hadn’t this all happened a year in the past? Victoire had attended, along with the other noble daughters, and the Lady Sophia Bellefleur had been chosen as the proper Saintess. That was when she had begun her war of attrition, bringing so many people along to her own side. Victoire had never trusted her, even from the trials, but seeing further how she manipulated others and how she conducted herself, it only made things more apparent in her eyes. Sophia Bellefleur could not have been…

But why was it today again? And why was she out of her cell? She was in her own room, in her own clothes, as pampered and clean and proper as ever she had been. She even had a maid, one that looked suspiciously like Ena, but apparently was not, showing her to her Sapphire Alezon uniform dress. Ah, an official function would require an official outfit. She and Felix would both be wearing the blue, as would their mother. She had been in attendance, hadn’t she? And their father… Well, he would be in attendance alongside the King, as was only proper. He was Duke Alezon and an advisor after all. Except that it had all already happened, it all seemed to make perfect sense.

Still in a bit of a daze, Victoire allowed Zara to dress her up in the sapphire dress. She even sat for her to do her hair in loops like a curtain, tying together at the back. She looked… Much better than she had in a long while.

It was only when she was walking down the hall of the palace that she began to think in earnest. Had the light that had engulfed her sent her to the past? It seemed impossible, even for a miracle, but that seemed to be what had happened. She wished she could ask Ena, even Mirasin about it, but wherever they were, Victoire didn’t know.

If she had been sent to the past by whatever miracle had been conjured… She supposed that was one way of breaking her chains and freeing her bonds. She was, after all, not locked up any more. She could even avoid being locked up altogether. If she could avoid being wrongfully accused. She might even be able to stop Lady Sophia Bellefleur from being named as Saintess. Though how she was going to manage that when it had gone so wrong for her before…

It wasn’t that she hated Lady Sophia, not truly. Certainly she did not trust the false Saintess, and certainly she found her manipulations both base and vulgar, but it was hardly the root of her issue. Everyone, after all, had to be capable of at least a little manipulation. It was only that Lady Sophia’s had always come across as so unnatural, and her true goals were always so shrouded in mystery. Being manipulated by a false Saintess, allowing her the privilege and power given to one of that stature to be given to her… Didn’t it only reflect badly on Thyrese’s scions, and on the nation of Thyrese as a whole?

Which was all to say, that the solution Lady Victoire thought of in her journey to the Highchurch wasn’t something she decided on lightly. It would also be a false manipulation after all. But it would at least be a false manipulation by a proper noblewoman who was formerly betrothed to the Crown Prince… Or rather, if this was truly the past, she was still currently betrothed to the Crown Prince… That thought was less a relief than she might have thought. More… Suffocating really. She’d never put much thought into whether she truly wanted to marry Prince Rouen on a personal level. However… She could expect not. Especially after she’d seen him so eager for her to suffer. It would be difficult, she expected, for any woman to be happy about a betrothal to a man who had put Victoire through what he had. Even if it was something that hadn’t happened yet.

“Lady Victoire, are you late? I feel I’m late as well, ah, but I thought you would be travelling with my sister?”

Of course, it was the younger of Thyrese’s two Princesses, the Princess Angelique. Her older sister, Gianna, was of an age with Victoire, and they often spent time together. Now that Victoire thought on it, they had never been as close as they might have been. Perhaps because they had both been more concerned with propriety and politics and appearance than in truly becoming friends.

It had been so much easier with Mirasin, because she hadn’t had all those needs and desires for herself. Perhaps it would always be difficult, friendship between nobles. Or maybe only between noblewomen. Being that she didn’t have anything to compare, Victoire could not say for certain.

“Ah, no, but I would accompany you if you’ll have me, Princess Angelique.” Victoire said, adding in a curtsy, as she was speaking to a Princess. One of the only girls with a higher position than her own. At least until she married her brother. Oh, but she did not want much to marry Angelique’s brother. That much was very clear to her now.

If it had been possible for her father to betroth her instead to Gianna or Angelique, though neither would be her first choice for marriage if left to her own devices, it would be… Much preferable. In the past, both Princesses had eventually sided with Lady Sophia, but Angelique had done so much sooner than her sister. Neither Princess had stood by their brother when he accused Victoire though. Neither had even been present. Though Victoire could not know what either thought, she had nothing to hold against them.

Angelique wore pink for her dress, with white accents. The D’Agnes family wore for their uniform color a bright and vibrant crimson red, though the princesses were known to sometimes take this color as a faded pink. It certainly suited Angelique’s bearing and complexion. Skin a soft brown with a warm blush permanently set in her cheeks and a face that seemed to always be smiling, a contrast to her sister whose face always looked somewhat stern.

“Of course I shall have you accompany me! Better to be late with a friend than to be late all alone.”

Whether she meant friend as a generic term or she truly meant to call her a friend, it warmed Victoire’s heart nonetheless.

It was crowded when they arrived at the Highchurch, and the bells were still ringing. The sound was beginning to make Victoire’s head hurt, though it was meant to be a sweet sound and she had always taken it for such before. Maybe travelling through time as she apparently had did something to bother her, took as much out of a person as travelling in general very quickly did. But at the very least she did not feel queasy or fully sick.

The church grounds were open and flooded with people. There were seats set up for the important guests, and as they were noble girls of a certain age, Victoire and Angelique both entered the church to sit in the pews as candidates. From where she sat she could see her father, sitting near a position of power at the side of the King, who was, like Victoire herself, no longer in such a bad state. They sat near the pavilion set up on the church steps, where the first rounds of testing would be held for all to see.

Was this truly the past?

Victoire looked also towards the other side of the church pews, to where the Soulsguard had gathered the candidates they had found. Not the candidates that had clearly gone unnoticed by them, she thought, thinking of Mirasin. Though what Mirasin’s goals truly were, perhaps she would never know now. Yet how could she simply leave it at that? She scanned over the girls gathered. No Mirasin. No Ena either, though she had clearly had some knowledge that was more than natural.

Sophia Bellefleur was there though. Possibly just Sophia for now, though she wore a true white lily in her braided auburn hair. Her blue eyes danced merrily as she laughed at some unheard joke or some other such thing, fingers at her lips. She was pretty, Victoire could give her that much at least. And as Victoire realized she must have been staring, Sophia’s eyes slowly met her own. Whether Sophia showed anything like recognition looking at her, Victoire could not tell, but at that moment time in the church seemed to stand still.

It wouldn’t have been the strangest thing time had done most recently.

It was like a jolt of something through Victoire’s body when their eyes met and Victoire found she couldn’t look away. Then Sophia slid her gaze past Victoire and the moment was over. Was this the sort of power that had enthralled everyone else in the past? Or, should she call it the past? She did not know, nor could she call herself enthralled exactly.

“Do you believe a Saintess will be found?” Princess Angelique asked from her side, twisting her hair around her fingers.

Victoire thought about it a moment. She supposed there was no trouble in telling the truth. She’d be proven wrong regardless, wouldn’t she? “I do not. I don’t mean to be pessimistic, but… I just don’t feel it.”

It was true, whatever the presence of a Saintess felt like, whether she had experienced it before with Mirasin or not, she did not feel it then in that room. Not the first time around and not now. Though, she had certainly felt something looking at Sophia Bellefleur. Whatever that was… Victoire was certainly not willing to call it ‘divine power’.

“I do hope she will be found! Someone brought in by the Soulsguard, a poor soul who doesn’t even know her own power… It’s like a story, don’t you think?”

Yes, Angelique was right. Everybody loved a good story. It was at least part of the reason that Sophia Bellefleur had gained as much popularity and notoriety as she had. She’d had the perfect story of being a good-hearted poor orphan girl, quiet and unassuming with no obvious political intent. Someone with a romantic heart like Angelique would see her as a true heroine. Too precious, and probably a good candidate for a future sister-in-law. Not like the stand-offish Victoire Alezon, with her own family and motivations who could not win hearts so easily as a poor orphan.

Being a bastard was not as innocently sweet as being an orphan, and being a bastard’s daughter was worth even less. Of course she had the status of any other noble daughter, but her pedigree was only subtly in doubt. Not enough to qualify her as an underdog heroine, but enough to put her just slightly out of step with who she needed to be.

Though, she did not mean to suggest she was jealous of Sophia Bellefleur. Who could envy such a pitiable orphan? No, there was no jealousy, there could be no jealousy, even of her uncanny ability to wrap even the most stubborn of fools around her finger.

…Perhaps there was a feeling something akin to jealousy. Again her eyes went to Sophia, not yet the Lady Sophia, but she merely sat quietly, her hands folded, attention turned towards the pavilion.

The first test was simple enough. Something that even children could come up with to play as a game of chance. A number guessing game, but rather than being a game of chance or trying to estimate or get close to a number, the only candidates who would be counted as securing a ‘win’ in the test would be those who could guess, or rather could ‘predict’ the correct number three times.

The reasoning went that once could be luck, and twice could be a very strong lucky coincidence, but three times would have to mean something.

The first time she had been through this test, the only one who had passed it had been Lady Sophia Bellefleur. Of course, such a test had not done much to convince Victoire of Sophia’s authenticity. However… That time, she had also remembered the numbers that had been chosen for her own ‘trial’ as well. As long as they remained the same this time around… Wouldn’t that mean Victoire too could pass the trial?

In one sense, perhaps she would be manipulating things just as badly as the Lady Sophia, but in another sense… If she was meant to answer what she predicted, no, what she knew the answers to be, then wasn’t she only using that knowledge for its intended purpose?

The first ones called up were the Princesses and Victoire felt a sense of deja vu watching them answer. Their answers and their numbers didn’t match of course, but they matched their answers and the numbers that had been revealed the last time. Of course she hadn’t thought to remember the numbers of the other girls. She’d really only remembered her own because she’d spent so much time thinking about the trial. Once she heard it start though, it all came back, like the memory had only been waiting to resurface. Perhaps this was why she was back here, because she could remember and change the way things happened. Perhaps… This was the true power behind a Saintess. Who would be unable to predict the future if they had already lived it? Then again, predicting the future was not the only thing a Saintess was supposed to be able to do.

As the Duke’s daughter, her own name was called not long after Angelique. Angelique had seemed cheery enough about not being a Saintess. Though, the Princess had probably never expected she had been. She’d seemed rather adamant the Saintess would be found from the girls brought in by the Soulsguard.

Victoire stepped up to the pavilion on the church steps. Her eyes found her father’s gaze. He probably didn’t expect anything from her other than a ceremonial trial. Moving across the crowd… There was Felix, who sat with her mother among the other members of the nobility. He gave her a little wave when he noticed her watching. Victoire tried to blink back the tears in her eyes. Perhaps if asked, she could say she’d accidentally looked into the sun. Not that it had anything to do with seeing her mother again, the one member of her immediate family who had not been to visit her in prison. Not that Victoire blamed her. She wouldn’t have wanted her mother to see her like that. Hopefully… She would never have to. She would never have cause to even imagine her sweet daughter in such a state.

Back to where the royals sat, those of House D’Agnes, she saw Princes Rouen and Stefan. Her heart had never skipped a beat nor felt any particular fondness looking at Prince Rouen, but it had always been an easy sense of neutrality to look on him before. Now, she only saw a rash headed fool who she wanted naught to do with. Whether or not he would be calling off their engagement again… Ah, it would look better for her if he did it, rather than her doing it herself. And there was no way she wouldn’t call it off if he didn’t. Maybe she could convince him in some way, some sort of subtle manipulation that he wouldn’t notice. If he hadn’t noticed the manipulations of Lady Sophia, then it should not be too much trouble to keep him in the dark.

“Lady Victoire Alezon, please step up to the dais,” said the Soulsguard Captain, Father Dmitri. He faced her with his back to the crowd. He didn’t seem to be putting much stock in her, why would he if she was only here because she’d gotten her place as a noble. A ceremony, that was all it was. Something that needed to be done for propriety’s sake.

“The first number?” Father Dmitri asked.

“Seventy-One.” Victoire said, loud and clear.

Father Dmitri revealed the number. 71, as she had said. He seemed a bit surprised by it, but not too much. One number was luck, after all. It wasn’t unheard of or even particularly rare, though certainly not common, for one number of the three to be guessed correctly.

“The second?”

“Thirty-two.”

Another reveal. 32. Two numbers being guessed correctly, now that was not something that could easily fall under luck. There were murmurs in the crowd. When she looked over she noticed her father had stood up, an odd look in his eye.

Father Dmitri seemed, a bit perturbed now. But while unlikely, it was still possible it was only very good luck. “The final number?”

“Eighteen.” Victoire said.

It seemed a moment before the reveal, like everyone around was holding their breath before it was shown. Father Dmitri, though flustered, showed the number. 18.

“That’s just not possible. It must be luck. Very very good luck but luck nonetheless.” Father Dmitri said, shaking his head. Louder protestations came from the crowd. This was the test as the Soulsguard had devised it, they should not be claiming luck now!

“There will be other tests,” Victoire offered diplomatically. “Let them decide the right of things, don’t you agree?”

When Father Dmitri did not speak right away, the King himself stood, beside her father. Perhaps he had done something to implore him, or perhaps he did it on his own. Victoire had been watching other things.

“The Lady Victoire has the right of it. She has passed this trial as it is devised. If Father Dmitri still has doubts on this, perhaps we should start an investigation as to why he might?”

“Ah, Your Grace, I was merely surprised. You must know there has never before been a Saintess found from the ranks of the nobility.”

The King shook his head, his face stern, but his voice remaining in a facsimile of good humor. “A first time for everything, is there not? Let us continue. We do not wish to deprive the finding of any further candidates.”

Victoire returned to the pews. When she sat, next to a wide-eyed Angelique, her own gaze wasted no time finding Sophia again in the crowd.

Sophia was as wide-eyed as Angelique, but rather than wonder and perhaps confusion, there was a spark of something else. No, it was more than a spark. When Sophia’s eyes met Victoire’s the thing she looked at her with, most overwhelmingly, was fear.

Well, good. Or at least it should have been good. Wasn’t it what Victoire wanted? No, fear wasn’t what she wanted really. And the intensity of it… Was quite strange. Though, if everything went the way it was meant to, she and Sophia would be the only successful candidates.

Victoire knew she would have plenty of time to dissect that fear then. When the appropriate time came for it. For now, all she could do was to sit and watch and wait.