Vasco had no more plans.

He was fairly certain he'd been walking in near circles for the past two or three days, but he was pretty terrible at directions, so where he was was anyone's guess. He'd made it out alive from the run-in with royal guards that had managed to barely graze his calf with a bullet, all while stranding him in the middle of this hell called Polaria.

At this point, Polaria had lost all its charm and was instead looking like Vasco's personal hell. It was cold, the people were even colder, the food was a mix between unusual texture combinations and absolutely tasteless, and people were out to kill him. So needless to say, he was not having a fun time in Polaria.

Even now as he rambled on through the snow, he crossed his arms over his chest, face burrowed into his mounds of clothing. His leg stung, but he'd bandaged it and it had stopped bleeding a while back. It didn't look infected, which was a very good thing. He'd already lost Ketil, the rest of the Order, and his cards, and he didn't want to lose anything else to this country.

Some part of him thought that he should just go into Kampsden—not that he even knew which direction Kampsden was even in and he couldn't read a map to save his life. So he walked.

A part of him wished he hadn't spent most of his money on bandages and beer, but what could he do about the past? Maybe if he found another bejlen game he could remake some of that money, but until he even found a town, he was stuck wandering through the woods on a small path. He would be a disappointing victim if any highwaymen decided to rob him.

He whistled as he walked, kicking up the snow with his right foot. The pain in his left calf was nearly numb now, but it wasn't causing problems so who cared, certainly not him.

He whistled again, the noise echoing around him, only to copied by someone further up the trail. He walked faster, letting out another whistle.

The person ahead of him returned the whistle, just a note higher.

He turned a corner, watching a man in a rugged looking cape limp forward. His back was turned to Vasco, but he could tell he was in pain.

"Who are you?" Vasco shouted as the figure straightened up.

The person in front of him turned sharply, throwing down his hood. "Vasco?"

His eyes widened, "there's no way...Ketil!"

"Vasco!"

Vasco ran, barreling into him with an embrace. "We thought you were dead!"

"I am dead!"

"We thought you were dead dead!"

Ketil stepped back, letting out a wince as he laughed. "Just banged up and bruised, nothing I've never experienced before."

Vasco's eyes flitted around his face, staring at the bruises under his cheeks and the heavy circles under his eyes. "You look terrible."

"Oh, thanks."

"I mean that in the best possible way. But you're hurt."

"Vasco, you don't know the half of it. I've been nearly drowned, broken, bruised, shot with both arrow and bullet, stabbed, frozen, and on top of that I had to care for a child. I know nothing about children."

"A child? You have had a busy time in Polaria."

"Kaspar wasn't mine, of course, but..." he trailed off, his eyes cast down at the trampled snow. "I was responsible for the death of his parents and if I live through this, I'm going to take him as my own."

"That's..." Vasco trailed off, "that's a lot."

"It is. Aslaug is done for." He shook his head, tucking a strand of white hair behind his ear. "Where's the rest of the Order?"

"I don't know. I guess they're near or in Kampsden by now, but they left me whenever royal guards attacked us. I told them I'd stay behind as a distraction and it worked. A bullet managed to graze my leg, but nothing much."

"You're alright though?"

"If you are."

"I can pretend to be."

Vasco nodded, "so, do you have any idea where we are?"

"There's a town near here, about two miles. Didn't you read the sign?"

"It's in Polarian." Vasco set out beside him, slowing so Ketil could walk at a comfortable pace. He really was beat up and broken and there was a sadness in his eyes that even he couldn't hide. Whatever he'd been through must have been his own personal hell.

"There's a town even closer to us where we could probably get some rest before dark. I think it's only something like less than half a mile. We can make it in five minutes, come on."

Vasco thought back to his conversation with Calstein in the tavern. Ketil didn't know any of that. He cleared his throat. "I met an uncle of yours the other day."

"Oh really, Aslaug spared one? How gracious of her." His voice was thick with venom. "Who was it? One of the ones she liked...but I can't think of any that liked her—or any of us for that matter."

Vasco shrugged, biting his lip. "Uh, Calstein?"

"That bastard? You didn't meet much. Why would Aslaug spare him? Everyone hated him."

"I think he ran, Aslaug didn't spare him. Anyways, I killed him so take that as you will."

Ketil shrugged, "he probably deserved it. He would've sold his son for a gold dat—if his son had lived past infancy..."

"He came at me with a knife after trying to undress in front of me so I just—" he shrugged. "You know, just kinda suffocated him. It was an easy death." Vasco didn't say who it was easy for.

"Typical Calstein," Ketil snorted. "Of all the ones she couldn't catch, she couldn't catch Calstein? You must forgive me, but I can't stand his guts. He's the lowest of the low, even for the Østberg House—but he's really not even an Østberg. He's barely an uncle. He's a bastard of my grandfather. Sold his real mother out for a few dats. Then on my father's deathbed, he came into the room, looked us both in the eye and told me that Aslaug was going to kill me too. Like why was even allowed to live int he palace with us when all he was was a damn bastard!" Ketil's voice rose with the last word, his hands, balling into fists. He spoke in a harsh version of Polarian that Vasco had never heard, he guessed it was mostly curses.

He finally switched back to an understandable language, his accent still thick. "I'm glad he's gone."

"Well, that's a lot to unpack." Vasco stared at the snow beneath them that was suddenly become more well packed with ruts and footprints. "But he's dead and he told me some secrets about Aslaug before he died."

"Aslaug doesn't keep secrets, especially ones he would know about. Did he even know I was alive?"

"No, he thought you were stone-cold dead, I think anyways. But I think you might want to hear me out with this. I mean, this is something very serious that could derail our mission."

Ketil begrudgingly did.

"Aslaug is like us."

Ketil was silent. "Batræ?"

"Yes."

"No." Ketil's face turned bright red. "She couldn't have hidden something like that. There were people who could tell...people who could see if we were—" his eyes were wide, his face flushed and hot. "No. Calstein's a liar..."

Vasco ran a gloved hand over his hair, tugging on the ribbon that kept it back in a braid. "Calstein told me that she could manipulate people with her words."

"But..." Ketil was scrambling for something that would prove him wrong. "If that was the case, she could have easily changed the Elder's mind about killing me. Or she could have convinced father to speak with them. This isn't...this has to be a lie."

"I think Aslaug is far more ambitious than you think, Ketil."

"But it makes sense." He shook his head. "It makes sense why the servants followed her every order...everything...makes sense. No wonder everyone always listened to her! No wonder she was always allowed into meetings and into diplomatic affairs. Do you know what this means?"

The sounds of a town were beginning to grow louder.

"It means she should have died too. The Elder Laws say that any Østberg with batræ blood is to die at the death of the crown." Ketil shook his head, stepping out of the way as a sleigh passed in front of them. "How could she do this?"

"It's a good thing the only one of us who's normal is Jameson and even then, he's dead now."

"Jameson died?!"

"Oh, I guess I forgot to mention that." Vasco shrugged, "he's fine. Anubis brought him back, but there was a big debate on if she should or not. He got cut up pretty bad, but Dante killed the man who did it."

"Dante?" Ketil let out a snort, "she killed a man? I guess things have changed since I last saw you all. Oh, and I think this is yours." He dug a small satchel out of his pockets, dropping it into Vasco's hands.

"My cards?!" He snorted with a laugh, falling into the shadow of a barn as the town began to rise from the snow. "I dropped them in the river, how did you find them?"

"Olve found them in his nets and thought I might find them familiar. I knew they were yours. I was just waiting until I could return them."

Vasco shoved them into his pockets. "I don't know what to say."

Ketil pulled him inside a stable, "it's nearly dark. Do you have any money?"

Vasco shrugged, "not enough for a room or a decent meal."

Ketil settled down in an empty horse stall. "Then we will stay here until morning." He unshouldered a knapsack, letting out a long sigh. "I have food."

Vasco stared at him as he brushed hair away from his face. "You have a bruise on your neck." He raised an eyebrow, lips twitching into a small smile.

"Don't worry about it. It's nothing, I've been through a lot in the past weeks and you know, you do what you have to. If that means letting a woman with batræ abilities manipulate your emotions for the sake of her own sanity...so be it."

"That's a lot to unpack."

"Tell me about it." Ketil opened his knapsack, carefully taking out a bottle of what looked like whine. "But I did manage to steal this—I wouldn't say steal per say, but borrow until further notice. It's not much, but it warms the body up."

He pulled off the cork, taking a swig before handing it to Vasco who followed in suit.

"I wish you Polarians would stop trying to make liquor. You're damn good at vodka and some spirits, but damn..." he shook his head. "Whoever runs a vineyard in your country should be shot for treason."

Ketil shrugged, "the more I remember Rajsend, the more I appreciate its cuisine."

"Your food is bland. You could at least salt things. Baked goods are great, but your cooking skills...not so great."

Ketil shrugged, "I'm really starting to miss Raziel's cooking."

"Maybe when you're the emperor you can command these people to use spice."

"Maybe if we can actually get imports of spice...that's usually one of the bigger issues." He let out a small hmmpf. "If I'm emperor."

"No ifs—it's going to happen."

Ketil handed Vasco a slice of bread and something trapped within a glass jar. Vasco smiled, even as small smoked fish of some sort stared back at him through brine. He was really starting to miss Rajsend too.

They spent the night in the livery stable, paying the man over the building what was left of Vasco's small fortune he'd won from Calstein and then lost quickly afterward.

They sat back to back, Vasco listening to Ketil's every breath as he spoke softly about everything that happened to him. From the moment he broke through the ice to the moment that he gave Kaspar away.

There was a sadness in his voice when he spoke, something hollow, as if a piece of him was gone.

But Vasco did his best to listen, even as his voice dipped down into sleep and he eventually stopped talking at all.

Vasco listened to his breathing afterward, matching his inhale to every exhale.

In the darkness of the livery stable, he allowed himself to breathe.

***

They woke at morning to the smell of smoke.

Ketil rushed to his feet blindly, grabbing Vasco by the shirt. "We have to go, Aslaug's here!"

Vasco stood, sleep still weighing heavily on his head. "What?"

"My sister is here! I see her with the guards! They set the stable on fire! They're going to smoke us out!"

Vasco cursed. "What do we do?"

"Climb," Ketil abandoned his bag and grabbed Vasco's hand, "we need to go before they manage to set the whole damn thing on fire. I know they've got us surrounded."

Vasco helped him climb to the loft, ramming his shoulder into large shutters that concealed a door.

Ketil's eyes looked to him with fear before scanning the front and back of the stable where guards waited on horseback for them to flee like rats from a sinking ship.

"What do we do now?"

"I'll climb down first and I'll catch you."

"I can't climb down, my shoulder won't allow it."

"It's a short drop and I'll break your fall then." Vasco stepped out on the edge of the stable, grabbing onto the ledge before dropping down to the ground.

"It's not a bad fall," he called to Ketil. "There's hay down here anyways. It'll break your fall!"

Ketil nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. He knelt, backing up until half his body dangled from the second story. He let out a yelp as his weight shifted onto his arms, letting go before he could grab onto it with his other hand.

Vasco broke his fall, both crying out in pain as bone met bone in a hard collision. Vasco still stood, watching as a woman on a white horse dismounted.

He looked like Ketil, down to the way she walked and held herself. Same white hair, same delicate looking nose, same thin lips. They were twins—that was for certain.

Ketil let out a curse, limping into the shadows. "That's Aslaug."

"You could have dressed in drag, you would have fooled anyone," Vasco whispered.

"Ha ha. Come on, she'll kill us if she gets the chance." He limped forward faster, dragging Vasco along behind him.

Now they were in the thick of town—royal guards stationed at every business door. They were caught in the middle, all eyes directly on them.

It was morning too. Vasco was useless now.

"There they are!" Came a call from the rooftop.

Another cry from the ground. "Spare the Prince for Aslaug!"

Ketil froze in fear, head spinning as he looked for an escape.

They were obviously blocked in.

Vasco took a step back, hands raised.

"There's the one who killed our men!" The voice of a woman filled the air with hatred and Vasco knew that something terrible was going to happen.

The call turned into hatred.

"Kill him!"

Vasco turned just in time to see an archer with a crossbow.

The arrow was already loose, the fletchings just a blur.

And then Vasco was on his knees, head bowed towards the snow. His momentum carried him back, but he thrust a hand out to stop from toppling over.

He inhaled deeply, gasping for breath.

The whites of Ketil's eyes flashed back toward him and the Prince let out another scream.

His chest was on fire and his clothes were weirdly warm and sticky.

"Vasco!" Ketil yelled, running forward towards where he crouched on the ground. "Vasco!"

Vasco looked up at him, his features washed with pain. What had been a stinging, fire in his chest was now a hot brand shoved tight against his skin.

The arrow protruded from his chest, just away from his sternum. Blood colored the front of his shirt and his teeth clicked together with the cold. He bowed his head again, letting out a small grunt of pain.

"Ketil," he whispered, hands curling into tight fists. "I think I've been hit."

As if Ketil was blind and couldn't see he'd been hit.

"Nilo, no!"

He remembered Vasco's real name.

"No, stay with me." Ketil fell to his knees, lifting a hand to touch the arrow, but Vasco drew back.

He wasn't stupid.

He knew what was happening.

He never thought he'd go like this.

And if he did live...they'd use him against Ketil. They'd torture him and make Ketil watch.

Maybe it was better this way.

The blood was so warm against the snow.

"The pain—it's not so bad," he lied a very obvious lie. He grunted, sitting back on his heels. The effort made his legs and arms shake, his teeth gritting as tears streamed down his face. He gripped the arrow with both hands, tearing it from his chest.

"No!"

Vasco gripped the wooden arrow, eyes widened as he stared at the gore coating the shaft.

He let out a little unintentional gasp.

It was easier this way.

Ketil caught him before he fell face first into the snow, turning him onto his back and laying his head against his knees. Vasco's right hand still held the arrow, the other one lay open against the snow.

Vasco's mouth opened uselessly, a small drone escaping.

Ketil pressed his hands against the wound tightly, the blood leaking around his fingers. Vasco let out a breathless scream, his legs jerking and kicking a little as he let out a few gasps. Tears dripped down his face as he tried to hold the pressure there, tried desperately to stanch the bleeding. The blood was coming from his back too—it was everywhere and spreading.

"Stay here. Stay here. Drass, you idiot, stay with me! You can't die, you can't die on me!"

"Tell Gia—" he coughed a little, his lips tinged with blood. "Tell her I tried."

No, Gia was dead and had been dead.

What was happening to his mind?

"No, Nilo. Don't leave, don't go. Stay with me now. Do it for Gia."

Tell him, a small piece of his mind screamed as it began to slip. Tell him how you feel. Tell him you wanted your death to mean something. Tell him what you think. Don't die holding it.

"Nilo, you're going to be okay. We're going to make it out of this. Hold on. Please. Hold on, hold on for me."

Vasco's left hand touched his chest, slipping under Ketil's fingers to feel the wound. It burned and stung, but everything was numbing and there was a strange almost weightless sensation in his limbs.

Was this what dying felt like?

Was this what Gia felt when the Weepings' murdered her?

He opened his mouth to speak, but a faint drone echoed around him. His fingers gleamed with red that dripped down his hand and gathered on his coat. He looked up to Ketil, pressing his bloody fingers to the man's pale cheeks. Blood smeared against the skin and he smiled a little.

"Look Prince—" he stared at his fingertips "—blood."