NOTHING WAS HAPPENING AT the castle. Giselle didn't know whether to feel nervous or relieved, but she couldn't see anything in the distance, could not feel any more grief from her people beyond the pain the plague caused. There was no feeling of violence or discord in her kingdom. It felt like they were wrapped in a bubble, kept safe from every attack.

She thought nothing would happen. Nothing, she thought, until two separate, very distinct pains shot through her chest. Selene fell to her side, fussing despite Giselle's reassurances that she hadn't been injured.

"Something's wrong," she breathed. "Or maybe it's right. I--there's so much--"

Her voice caught, and the pain turned into a strange feeling, a startling one, and her heart took on an uneven rhythm. All around them, she could see the other Seelies clutching their chests, sharing looks of confusion, relief, and even pain. What the hell was going on?

It was tight, something was tugging on her chest, pulling her down to her hands and knees. It felt like there was a battle going on in her chest, like two tethers fought for control, until one wrapped around the other and, all at once, they were both cut away, letting her breathe once more.

"What's going on?" asked Selene, blue eyes flitting over all the others going through the same thing around them.

Giselle couldn't put her feelings into words, but luckily, she didn't have to. Her mother came up behind them, breath heaving, a wild look in her eyes, piercing through her dignified countenance.

"It's the Queen," she said. "Something's freed us from her."

* * *

Chalice felt out of place, their eyes flitting from Mab to Titania and back again. Two sisters, torn apart by time, faced each other on the steps of the palace, both angry and vengeful and vicious. They had their bets on Mab, with her large beasts and the mere fact that she was not currently suffering from a hole in her middle. It was unclear whether they planned to kill each other, if they even could, but they didn't know if they wanted to be present for the battle.

"You're ruining everything!" Titania cried out. "My palace will crumble!"

"Serves you right," said Mab. In that moment, Chalice did not see mere vengeance or wrath in her eyes. They saw evil, they saw hatred, they saw a need for blood, and it was all for Titania.

Somehow, Excalibur had found its way back into Titania's hand, though Chalice had little faith it would do any crucial damage to her opponent. She was the first to swing, starting a vicious battle of arms between her and Mab. Throughout every corner of the palace, guards came to her aid, but Eurion, Chalice, and the dragons fought them off, cutting through the crowds with ease. A storm was curling over their heads, darkening the sky and taking Chalice by surprise.

In the summer kingdom, they did not expect a storm. According to their research, it was always sunny. But today, with its Queen's high emotions and all the magic surging through the palace, they supposed dark, angry clouds made sense.

So far, Eurion had suffered no more than a few ugly yet inconsequential wounds, and Chalice didn't know whether it was because of how skilled she'd become or how poorly Titania fought. For a woman so powerful, they expected more than this.

"You're weak today," Mab said, echoing their thoughts. "That's dangerous."

"I'm fighting a thousand different battles right now," Titania said defensively. "I have given pieces of myself to my army. They're slaughtering your people as we speak, doing my work for me."

"You've just taken out the Winter Court's Queen," Mab said, dodging a hit and then delivering one of her own. "They're weakened. You should not be struggling so hard, and yet, you are."

Titania missed another hit as she faltered. "If you're winning anyways, why do you care?"

Chalice was too distracted with their own fight to see what was happening when they heard the sounds of a struggle and metal clattering to the ground. Excalibur slid towards their feet, and they picked it up without a thought.

It was instinct, like the sword was made for their hands. In a sense, it was. It was an extension of them, a creation of their creator's, and it felt as though they were bonded with the sword like a family. They cut through the crowd faster, stronger, until they were all a pile of dead in a heap on the ground. Magic surged through the handle, and when they ran their fingers over the red-tinted blade, they could feel it even stronger in the metal. They realized with a start that Titania was right, if only about this one thing.

Chalice was healing the sword. They were changing the rules.

* * *

The closet was suffocating enough as it was, but the sounds of unpleasant fighting made Lionel more desperate to escape and help. By now, he was older than he'd been when he first met his father. He was still a small child at seven years old, but Mab trained him well. He was better at magic now, and he wanted to help.

Lionel wondered if there was any magic to help him unlock sturdy closets from the inside, but he couldn't come up with any, and it was too claustrophobic for meditating. He felt helpless as he banged his fists against the wood and cried.

Time passed, and he heard everything, but no one heard him. It got quiet after awhile, and he gnawed nervously at his lip, waiting for any sign of life. The first one he got was a blood-chilling scream, followed by cries that made tears form in Lionel's own eyes. He didn't like crying, his mother told him to wipe his eyes and be brave whenever he did. It made the word "brave" turn sour in his mouth now, because according to Sera, it meant "keep quiet and pretend you don't hurt." He hated it.

It got quiet again, but he could still hear Kit's gentle pleading, followed by silent sniffles. It was quiet enough, maybe he could hear him. Lionel pounded his fists on the wood, screaming as loud as he could, begging to be freed.

"Please," he whimpered. "Come on, dad, I'm right here."

It was becoming hopeless, and Lionel thought for a moment that he'd never see the light of day again, that he'd be left to slowly suffocate in the stuffy closet, never to be found. But just as he was about to give up, the doors flew open, and he was pulled into his father's arms. He smelled of iron and grime, but Lionel didn't care.

"What's the matter?" Lionel asked. "I could hear you crying."

Just outside the door, Lionel saw Morgana propped against the wall. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth and he could see the glistening of gore peaking through his clothes. He wanted to cover his eyes, but he didn't. It felt rude to.

"Is he dead?" he wondered innocently, afraid of the answer.

"Maybe not," said Kit with a gulp, but he didn't sound so convinced. He crouched back down next to the faery, raking his dark hair back and off of his neck. His touch was gentle, with a tenderness that made Lionel feel he was walking in on something too private for him to see. "Maybe he's still in there. It's silly but... he's surprised us before. It'd be cruel of me to just leave him here."

"Can we take him somewhere nicer?" Lionel suggested. If Morgana really was dead, he deserved something better than this to rest.

Kit scooped the man up into his arms, holding his head against his shoulder. "There isn't much of anything that's nicer here," he said.

That's when the ground began to quake, much like it had at Mab's castle. Kit looked up at the disaster in fear, throwing Morgana over his shoulder and taking Lionel with his spare hand and yanking him through the falling debris. The boy could sense things before they got the chance to hit them, and he pulled Kit to the side right on time to dodge a falling curtain rod.

They weaved through the hallways, Lionel focusing only on not getting crushed while his father lead the way, until they finally reached a door. It was blocked by rubble, but he noticed after some time that the quaking ceased.

"It's stopped," Lionel noted.

"We should still get out," said Kit, pulling him further down the hall to the next exit. "In case it starts again."

It was a fair point, so Lionel followed without protest, hurrying with his anxiety. The next exit was not quite covered, and when they managed to claw their way out, they were met with the sight of dozens of bodies staining the steps red while Titania and Mab fought each other with fury. The sky was darkening above their heads.

Eurion noticed the others, while Chalice refused to take their eyes off the scene, Excalibur clutched in their hand. Lionel was always painfully aware of the sword, like he was still reaching for his other half but never quite united with it.

The thief helped Kit settle Morgana onto the steps. Lionel tried not to stare at the hideous patch of fresh blood over Kit's shoulder from carrying him, glistening and sticky and filling his throat with bile. He was far too young for such a sight.

"Is he... will he be okay?" Eurion asked, and the pit solidified in Lionel's stomach. Morgana had woken up from a near-dead state many times before. Maybe there was still hope. He wasn't all too fond of the angry man, but he knew how much Kit loved him. He needed to be okay.

The clouds were getting thicker and darker, and Lionel expected rain any moment, but it never came.

Kit was bursting with tears again, stroking Morgana's face and touching him all over like it would do anything. "I don't know," he whimpered. "Mab said--she said he needed an anchor. I'm trying, but I don't know if he can hear me. I want to believe he's still in there somewhere but I can't--Eurion, I can't feel him anymore."

As the thief consoled him, Lionel turned back to watch the battle ahead of him. Mab was winning, and if he hadn't been so surrounded by death already, perhaps he would've cheered her on. But he didn't have a thing to be joyous about right now, sitting in a pool of blood, watching nothing but violence and grief unfold before his eyes. Even if they won, there would be little for Lionel to celebrate.

* * *

Few words were exchanged as the women battled, but the ground shaking with each hit and the sky flashing with every cry said more than enough. This was a battle awaited for millennia, and if Chalice were being honest, it was a bit underwhelming. Mab was going easy, leaving her beasts to the side while she handled Titania with her own fists and magic, while Titania had been weakened, more focused on sending her strength to the battlefields than she was fighting her own fight. It was almost like she wanted to lose, and, if Chalice's eyes were not deceiving them, like Mab did not want her to die.

They couldn't know how this felt. They tried to imagine if they ever found themself in this situation with Eurion, and they couldn't bear the weight of it. Mab and Titania were sisters, bound to each other since time began, woven together with memories only they shared. It must have cut like a knife to be separated like this, and Chalice sensed pain and longing beneath their anger. The two must've watched everyone around them die, while they were the only constant, the only thing that could remember it all. Surely it stung, the thought of either of them dying.

Mab fought with hesitation, like she didn't want this, like her hand was being forced. Hell, maybe it was, maybe this was why Titania's name was forbidden to be spoken in her home, because the thought was too painful. Titania fought with desperation, like this was the end of her rope and she had nothing left to lose, though the one thing she did have was standing right in front of her, enduring the force of her mercilessness.

Chalice had no way to help, they didn't think they should've. They watched to keep a record, to remember this, should either of them die. Their feet were rooted to the spot, even as they heard Titania's vicious cry, and she reached her hand up to the heavens. A bolt of lightning struck her hand and she held onto it, letting it travel over her, and before the druid could cry out in warning, the Seelie Queen drove the lightning into the ground, creating a wave of force that knocked even Mab's dragons to the ground with loud cries.

That is when the rain began to fall.

Everything was black for a few seconds, until Chalice's eyes opened with a new kind of determination, one that felt as though they no longer manned their own body. Strength overtook them, strength from somewhere beyond them, like they had opened up completely and every God poured their blessings into them. The world around them took on a greenish-gold tinge as their eyes lit, and Chalice reached beside them for the sword.

Excalibur was charged with the might of Gods, and the druid did not think as they pushed to their feet and stormed Titania's way. Just as she was about to deliver the final blow to ruin the Unseelie Queen forever, and perhaps the entire land of Faerie, Chalice turned her to face them and drove the sword exactly through her heart.

Titania stared at them with wide, tearful eyes. "No," she breathed. "No, I can't go yet, they have not all fallen."

The druid's voice was not their own. It was feminine, familiar, crystalline as Vivien's. They were a vessel of the Lady of the Lake. "This is a mercy, Titania," they told her with a gentle voice, like a mother telling their child there were no monsters beneath their bed, that they could sleep safely. "You have lived too long, the Gods are sorry. You may rest now, but you may not bring your children with you. Close your eyes, Mother of the Sun, Queen of Lies, and rest your final rest. This life is no longer your burden to bear."

Titania's eyes spilled over with fat tears and a gentle, childlike sob. Chalice pulled the sword from her, and she sank to her knees, looking up at them as though they painted every cloud in the sky and dotted the night with stars. "Thank you," she wept, and Chalice watched her fade away with the pouring rain.

At long last, the Seelie Queen was gone.