A/N:

Ajanti's Apprentice: She did not know the vow; she made it up on the spot. I've gone back and edited that to be clearer. Also, nobles did frequent brothels quite often in the medieval ages, even if married, so there wouldn't be anything suspicious about him visiting one.

Rapis-Razuri: Someone caught my PoR reference! :D

I imagine she had ninja guards she wasn't aware of—to trail and stop her if she tried to defect. I wouldn't really call those retainers though, since their greatest value would be staying unseen—what better way to find a traitor than see what she does when she's "alone"?

Elise is fifteen now. She was fourteen when the war started, and it took a year to end. Sakura's seventeen.

The Zubatman: I actually got it from 緋, which is "scarlet", but still has the "hi" on reading.

The departures of Ladies Camilla and Hinoka, the betrothal announcement of Lord Corrin and Lady Azura, the preparations for their engagement banquet—the past few days have been a whirlwind of activity and change that threatens to knock Felicia off her feet. But it is the latest event that occupies her thoughts the most, as she scrubs mindlessly at plates and silverware.

Namely, the firing of herself, her sister, and Jakob by Lord Corrin.

Not firing, her mind corrects, just being released from service.

But to her, it feels like firing. It feels like failure.

He'd called them into his chamber yesterday, greeting them in his casual black tunic and pants. His crown was resting on the table and his cape slung haphazardly over a chair. Jakob, ever the perfectionist, had immediately gone over to fold it properly, fussing about wrinkles and ironing.

"Leave it, Jakob," Lord Corrin said, smiling wryly. "Fixing my room isn't what I called you here for."

"Apologies, my lord." The silver-haired man took a step back, rejoining Felicia and Flora in line. The servants looked at the king, patiently waiting as he paced.

"I suppose it's best to just get it out with," he finally said. Turning, he continued, "I'm releasing you from my service."

Lord Corrin raised a hand, forestalling Jakob's initial protests.

"You were all forced into my service by King Garon," he explained, eyes apologetic. "You've all been dear friends and comrades to me, but your oaths weren't given of your own will. I should have given you leave to go where you please long ago, and for that I apologize. So…I release you from your service to me."

Felicia sighs heavily, remembering how the breath had been knocked out of her lungs after that announcement. She and Flora had stood there, too stunned to react; Jakob had, of course, tried to immediately kneel on the spot and pledge his service again, but Lord Corrin had insisted they take a few days to think things over.

For her, there's not really anything to think over. She likes working as a maid, she likes the friends she's made here, and Kaze would certainly not be parted from his lord's side; staying in Castle Avalon and continuing her job is the only option. But she can't help but worry. She knows she's not the best at maidwork. She's only recently started improving at it, at a pace some would say is too slow for someone who'd tried for years. Would Lord Corrin even want her around? After all, he had a whole castle of maids and butlers at his disposal now…

"Of course he will." Felicia starts, not realizing she'd asked it out loud, and looks over at Flora. Her sister gives her a small smile. "You have heart and passion in what you do. More than that, you know he considers us friends. He won't throw us out of the castle for not being as talented as others."

"Oh, I know," she admits, laying aside the plate and taking a cup, scrubbing the insides. As she's been released from service, cleaning isn't something she has to do, but she and her sister still enjoy it, and no one minds extra help. "But…I still worry."

Flora nods, and returns to her own task. After a few minutes of working in silence Felicia tries to broach the topic again. "What about you, Flora? What'll you do?"

Flora scrubs at her plate for a while before responding. "I think I might go back home."

At first Felicia doesn't understand what her sister means. But when she does, the cup she'd been scrubbing slips from her hands and breaks on the floor. She ignores it to stare at Flora in shock. "Back—back to the Ice Tribe? But…why?"

Efficient as ever, Flora kneels down with a duster to sweep up the shards. "As the eldest, it's my eventual duty to take up leadership after our father passes. But more than that, sometimes I just feel as though I don't have a place here.

"I was never like you, Felicia—I couldn't let go of my grudge against Nohr for holding us hostage. While you, Lord Corrin and Jakob forged friendships, I stayed aloof. I only had you, and now, not only do you have so many new friends, you have Kaze as well."

Upset, Felicia blurts, "That doesn't mean I don't need you! I told you already, didn't I? You're my role model, my twin sister! I have a lot of friends, but only one sister. I'll always need you."

Flora's face softens, and she takes Felicia's hands in hers. "I remember. And I don't mean to doubt how much you love me, and I you. But I don't really have any friends here, outside of our little group, and we're often too busy to see each other. It's a bit lonely, and it's not the only reason."

The blue-haired girl takes a few moments to collect herself. "It's painful to stay," her sister continues quietly, "It's painful to be around Jakob and be so in love with him when he just thinks of me as a friend. It's painful to see other people be happy when I'm not." She gives a self-deprecating laugh. "I hate seeing other people happy. Isn't that just the worst? I'm such a terrible person—"

It's not until she hears the smack, and feels the stinging in her palm, that Felicia registers she'd slapped her sister. Flora raises a hand to her cheek in shock, staring at the strawberry-blonde, whose eyes are starting to fill with tears of anger.

"You are not! You are not. Being jealous, wanting to be happy for yourself, that doesn't make you terrible unless you try to destroy others' happiness! And you wouldn't do that. Because no matter how lowly you think of yourself, I know you're a good person. Lord Corrin and Jakob know it too, or they wouldn't have forgiven you." She almost doesn't say the next words, but it's been years—they need to be said by now. "And if you want things to change with Jakob…well, you should just come out and tell him already."

Flora looks down. "It's not that easy." Her voice comes out at a whisper. "I'm one of the few people he respects—what if he thinks I'm just some lovestruck idiot, and I lose even that?"

Sympathy shoots through Felicia. "I know. I know it's scary. I was scared too, about Kaze not requiting my feelings. But nothing's going to change unless you make it. If neither of us had confessed, we'd still be dancing around the issue. If you confess, he might reciprocate, and you can start courting like Lord Corrin and I have been waiting for the past…I don't know how many years."

"What if he doesn't?" Flora's voice cracks. "He's never shown any sign of liking me as more than a friend."

"Well, if he doesn't, then…then you at least know, and you can start to move on with your life." Trying for a joke, she adds, "Besides, we both know Jakob's as dense as a brick. He wouldn't realize your feelings for him if you hit him over the head with a sign saying 'Flora's in love with you'. It might not be that he doesn't return your feelings, but that he just genuinely doesn't notice them."

Her sister laughs, and Felicia beams, pleased at her success. Then she continues, a bit more somber, "If you're going to leave, that's…I'll miss you, of course, but I trust you know what's best for you. But I at least want you to do everything you can for yourself, first. Because you deserve to be happy."

"Felicia, I—"

"Repeat after me: I deserve to be happy."

"...I…I deserve to be happy." Flora inhales. "Alright. I…I will try. Could you…" She looks almost embarrassed. "When we're done here, could you help me practice, first?"

Felicia beams again. "Of course!"

They return to the cleaning, but her sister looks a bit more hopeful, and the weight on Felicia's heart is lifted.

His siblings had all sent letters, congratulating him on his engagement—Camilla's had been teasing, telling him he should have done it before she left so she could spoil her step-sister. Xander was engaged as well, though Ryoma wanted to give the Hoshidans more time to get used to Elise's presence before he proposed.

The engagement banquet is really just a formality, a way to spread the word among nobles and commoners alike their king is getting married.

"I shouldn't be up here," Lilith mumbles next to him, twisting her braid around. "This is the royalty table, I shouldn't—"

"You're my sister, even if the world doesn't know it." Corrin interrupts, waving a hand. "For now, I've expanded the table for my closest friends, so the secret is safe. Considering the royalty consists of just me and Azura, it'd be very lonely up here otherwise."

"And we should get to know each other more," the songstress adds from his other side. "We will be sisters, after all. This will give us a chance to talk."

Lilith throws glances around the room, where several Vallites are eyeing her with open suspicion, but relaxes with a small smile. "I suppose… The food does look scrumptious."

"You always have your mind on the important things," Corrin teases, rising for the welcome for the welcome speech. All eyes turn to him.

"Lords and ladies," he begins, "I thank you for attending the celebration of my engagement to Princess Azura Rheos. It has been six months since the reconstruction of Valla, and while our country is persevering, it still struggles. We all face challenges in all shapes and forms. But for tonight, we shall all set those worries aside and eat, drink and make merry not to just the health of my betrothed and I, but to the health of all wedded couples, present or not!"

He sits, to applause that sounds genuinely enthusiastic; the servants move in unison, bringing out the main course. Lilith doesn't waste a second before she starts digging in happily, though conversation with Azura briefly distracts Corrin.

"Catering to both cultures was a wise move, I think," his betrothed says, examining the room. Rather than separate the styles and food, Corrin had told the servants to mix both in. Nohrian dishes, like roasted pig and rabbit stew, sit next to Hoshidan rice gratin and fish with berry glaze, on tables low to the ground with cushions as seats—Azura's suggestion. He'd still kept most of the lords separate, only putting the even-headed Hoshidans and Nohrians next to each other, but he can see some of them eyeing the foreign dishes with curiosity; a few, like Silas's parents, are tentatively trying them, and he takes it as a good sign.

"It's a symbolism thing," he nods, taking a moment to just gaze at her. Gods, he can't believe how blessed he is, to have met her and to be with her now. She's going to be his wife. He still feels like he's flying, has ever since she accepted his proposal. "Instead of having Hoshidan and Nohrian dishes separate, by mingling them together it sends the message the cultures are unified."

She smiles. "It's a good tactic. Now that I think about it, isn't that what you did in the army?"

"Right. It helped then, so I thought it'd help now." He reaches to cut a bite of his fish.

Lilith's arm knocks his aside, sending his plate and the food on it crashing to the ground. Corrin turns, a little annoyed. "Lilith, what the hell—"

Her eyes, wide and fearful, meet his. Her body shakes in some sort of seizure, her skin taking on an unhealthy gray tinge. Her hands grasp at her throat as she gags and chokes, a bit of blood and spittle running out the corner of her mouth.

It takes those nearby less than a second to realize what's happening. "Poison!" Kaze yells, "The food's poisoned!"

The dining hall bursts into chaos. Those who haven't yet eaten immediately shove their plates away, while those who have start to scream in panic. Next to him, Azura's face is pale as she instantly spits out the bite she'd just started to take. Felicia, the closest one with healing experience, rushes to Lilith's side. She yanks her mouth open forcefully and sticks two fingers down her throat. "Throw it up!" she urges, "Throw it up!"

His sister gags again, then lurches forward—Felicia barely has time to withdraw her hand before the food comes up. Lilith coughs violently and falls to her hands and knees, hands trembling as she tries to hold herself up. Specks of blood are flecked in her sick.

"Get her medical attention immediately!" Corrin shouts over the noise. He wheels around to Kaze, Silas, and Jakob, who stare back at him, awaiting orders. "Kaze, find all the servants involved in cooking this food and detain them, now! Silas, focus on getting everyone to calm down! Jakob, send word that the gates to Elysium are to be shut! No one leaves this city until questioning is done and the assassin found!"

The three nod and dart off as Corrin's mind whirls furiously. Someone had tried to kill him. Someone had poisoned his sister, would have poisoned his intended, and would have poisoned an entire room of nobles just to get at him.

His intended—he wheels, fear rising up in him. "Azura, are you alright?!"

"I'm fine," she mumbles, face already reasserting itself into a mask, but still failing to hide how shaken she is, "I didn't swallow anything."

Thank you, gods. Reassured that one person he loves is safe, he crouches down to Lilith's side, grabbing her hand and clutching it tightly. He hopes—gods, he hopes—the worst of the poison is out of her system, but her body is still twitching and shivering sporadically, and her pupils are blown wide open. "You'll be fine!" he entreats, as if saying it will make it come true. "Lilith, you'll be fine…"

A pair of heels click into his field of vision—Flora. "I've brought the healers."

Reluctantly, Corrin steps back to let them crowd around Lilith. Her hand falls out of his; he barely feels Azura's comforting touch on his shoulder as he stares until the bodies of the healers huddling around his sister block her from his sight.

A few days later, Corrin calls his closest friends, allies and trusted ones to the palace sick wing. All travel to and from the city has come to a halt, as his men search for the assassin. The streets, from what he hears, are abuzz with gossip, and the nobles he'd invited are equal parts disdainful and furious. Naturally, some of the Hoshidans and Nohrians are blaming each other. He hasn't written to his siblings yet; he wants to get a better handle on the situation first.

He looks down at Lilith. Someone had removed her kerchief and placed it on the bedside table, revealing her pointed ears, identical to his. A necklace with a shiny blue rock—is that a dragonstone? he thinks in surprise—lays next to it. Her skin has regained its normal pallor by now, though it's covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and she shivers beneath the blankets. The sight makes fury well up in him, and he forcibly reins it in.

The healers are expecting her to make a full recovery, although she'd be ill and bedridden for several weeks. But it could have been so much worse. He thanks the gods every night it wasn't, but still…

A delicate hand rests on his arm. He turns to see Azura's golden eyes looking back into his. "She's going to be fine, love."

"I know," he mumbles. "But I feel so powerless."

She waits, patiently, and he continues, "She was poisoned, right there, right in front of me. Protecting me. Again. I'm always being protected, always coming close to losing the people I love, or actually losing them…" The memory of his mother, blood running from her mouth as she gasped in his arms, flashes through his mind. He swallows the lump in his throat. "It could have been you, or she could have died…" And it'd be all my fault.

"Don't think like that." She pulls him down into a hug, and he buries his face in her hair, inhaling her comforting scent. It calms him enough to remind him of something.

"I want you to take Felicia on as a retainer."

He feels her start against his shoulder. "Corrin?"

"She's already said she'd like to stay. I was expecting Jakob to have done the same by now, but he and Flora have been talking a lot lately…maybe she's finally acted on her feelings, and it's distracting him?" He sighs, his breath tickling her hair. "In any case, it'd still be up to her to accept or not, but I want you to at least approach her about it. It'd make me feel better, knowing you had people I trusted watching you, if she agrees."

She pulls back enough to search his face, her eyes soft. "Very well," she agrees. "I like Felicia anyway, and Mozu does too."

The door opens, and he allows himself one more moment to relish Azura's embrace before pulling away, donning the mask of a king once more. He turns to those entering—his retainers, hers, and Nestor—as they step in, his chest tight. "Give me the report."

"The poison was in the glaze, my lord," Kaze says. He holds out a hand, in it three small, purple berries. "Analysts have worked out that it was made from these."

Corrin looks at the berries. They don't look very dangerous. Poison never does. "Do we know what kind of poison it is, or where it came from?"

"I can answer yes to both questions." This time it's Silas speaking, stepping forward with a serious look on his face. "Although several other people ate the same food Lilith did, she's the only one who got sick. Based off that, and from cross-referencing with books, we've deduced the berries are wyrmsbane."

Wyrmsbane. Just hearing the name makes a deep, instinctual part of him recoil. "I suppose I don't need to ask what it does, with a name like that."

"No, you don't." Jakob's frown is deep as he recites, as if from a book, "The plant itself is mostly harmless, but the berries contain a fast-acting toxin that is painful to dragons and wyverns in small doses and fatal in large ones. Anyone else who eats them won't get more than a stomachache. It grows only in arid lands, and is used in the creation of Wyrmslayers—mages burn the berries as offerings in a spell, which is then cast on the blade. The sword then retains the ability to poison dragons and wyverns at a scratch… as you well know."

Well know he does. One hand goes to his shoulder, rubbing it in memory. He'd gotten glanced by a Wyrmslayer once—just a scratch, not even that deep, but it had stung so much worse. His blood had felt aflame, and the wound hadn't stopped bleeding for hours. Now there's a long, jagged scar there.

"So it was an attempt on Lilith?" he hears Nestor question, but no, that's not necessarily true.

Lilith had knocked his food out of his hands, almost certainly saving his life. She'd tasted the wyrmsbane and suspected his food was laced with it too. It may have been an attempt on his sister…or it may have been an attempt on him.

But who could know?

"If it's only poisonous to Lilith," and me, "that'd explain how it got past the taste-testers…" A poison that can't be detected by any except those it's meant for; a daunting thought. Corrin rubs his chin furtively.

"I want only those in this room cooking for Lilith, Azura and me from now on," he finally orders. There just isn't any other way to see if their food will be poisoned. Azura's not half-dragon or wholly dragon like him, but she still has dragon's blood—he isn't taking any chances. Those gathered nod, faces serious, and Kaze steps forward to speak again.

"My spies have already caught the perpetrator—one of the servants—and interrogated him," the ninja finishes, "We've learned the identity of the lord he was affiliated with."

The dragon in him growls, pleased and ready for blood. "Tell me."

Jiro rushes around as quickly as he can, gathering up anything incriminating and tossing it into the small fire burning in his hearth. He'd only gotten a few days' notice that the king and his soldiers were coming to investigate him, barely enough time to start covering his tracks. His servants and family are too busy preparing the house for welcome to wonder why he's been in a panic.

He's fortunate he'd decided against attending the banquet. If he'd been detained on the spot, the evidence in his home would be left open for finding, and then everything would be over.

Laurel watches, calmly, from her spot by the window. "Your blunder certainly made a right mess of things."

"My blunder? The servant's the one who miscounted the dosage. It would have barely been enough for a half-dragon, much less a full one." From what he's heard, the dragon girl is bedridden but alive, so they didn't even manage to remove the one they did poison.

"Not that. I mean the fact the poison didn't even reach Corrin at all."

"How was I supposed to know his sister would be sitting right next to him?" Jiro asks irritably. "The royal table is supposed to be only for acclaimed royalty. If she hadn't, no one else would have detected the wyrmsbane and he'd be dead right now."

"Well she was, and your servant talked, and now he's alive, angry, and coming for you. I hope you have a story ready."

He nods, reciting, "The servant's family was in Shirasagi the day our good queen Mikoto died—they were killed in the explosion. I was unaware that he was nursing a revenge plot against the king for that, and I will offer my sincerest apologies for accepting his request to be transferred to Castle Avalon."

Laurel nods, satisfied. "It'll save your neck, but it won't save you from suspicion. If he's smart, he'll have a spy hang around to watch you. You'll have to lay low a while."

"I don't think he's very smart," Jiro grumbles, feeding another paper into the fire. "By all accounts, he's stupidly trusting and naïve."

The paper curls and blackens, and he exhales in relief. That's the last one. He douses the fire with water and sweeps up the ashes, going to toss them out the window.

"Smart and naïve are not mutually exclusive," Laurel warns. "If they are watching, I won't be able to contact you for some time. I'll continue to gather allies where I can, but your part is done for now."

"So—what? One attempt, that's it, then it's over—"

"No." A bit of irritation flashes in her eyes. "Just bide your time until he stops watching you. We won't be able to poison his food again after this. I'll still try to find ways to assassinate him, but I don't have much gold and your expenses are going to be monitored from now on. The methods I do find likely won't be as effective as wyrmsbane would have been."

He glances about instinctively before speaking, even though he knows none of his servants or family are in earshot. "Rebellion, then?"

She shakes her head. "Eventually. It'll take me time to gather enough forces to attempt that, though it'll be a bit easier with the links I have from you. Until then, I'll focus on doing what I can—and you lay low and don't give them any more reason to suspect you."

"Of course not," he grumbles to air, as Laurel exits out the back door without waiting for his reply. Peering out his window, he can see her step into one of the puddles from last night's rain. It shimmers brightly, and when the light clears, she's gone.

Half an hour later, his wife arrives and informs him the king and his men are awaiting him in the main hall, fingers tapping against his kimono nervously. He inhales, then, putting a bright, welcoming smile on his face, Jiro goes to greet his guests.

"Your Majesty," he greets, bowing. "It honors me as always to welcome you here."

"Lord Jiro," King Corrin returns, his voice overly polite. "I thank you for hosting us on such short notice."

"Of course, of course. How is your servant? Recovering well, I hope?"

It floods him with perverse satisfaction to watch the king's jaw clench and his fists tighten. "She's doing fine," he says, voice going flat. "I'll tell her you send your well-wishes."

The Nohrian paladin places one hand on his shoulder, muttering something in his ear. Jiro watches, barely able to mask his distaste. Really, do Nohrians not even understand the basic concept of common courtesy?

The king closes his eyes and exhales. When he opens them, they're back to being unreadable. "Lord Jiro, this is no simple social call, as I'm sure you've guessed. We traced the assassin to a man who originated from your service. You will now be detained and your estate searched."

"Go right ahead." He bows again. "You'll find nothing more than the belongings of one of your humble servants."

As the ninjas scatter, Jiro ambles to one of his cabinets and fetches a bottle of sake and a shogi board. Hospitality has rules, after all. "Would you care for a game of shogi and a drink, as your men search?"

"You'll understand if I decline the drink. But I will play," King Corrin says, taking a seat. "I'm not very well-versed in shogi, I should warn you."

They play as they wait, Jiro making sure to feed him his prepared story and trying to hide how he surreptitiously eyes the albino. Like all daimyos, Jiro is sufficiently trained in martial combat; if it weren't for the fact a murder here would be too politically messy to clean up, and for the golden sword the king is keeping in arms reach, he could take the Nohrian by surprise here and now.

After a period of time that is both too short and too long, the ninjas return. "Nothing incriminating for Lord Jiro, my lord," the green-haired one murmurs, kneeling and presenting the papers Jiro had planted. "We did find several plans in the servants' quarters, however, as well as a letter about purchasing the poison."

King Corrin examines the evidence as Jiro spreads his hands. "You see? It truly was just a plot of one of my servants. A play at vengeance. Again, I apologize most deeply for my lack of oversight."

The king nods, snapping his final tile down before rising—he'd been losing the game. Jiro would like to believe it's a sign from the gods about his own ambitions. "It seems so. I apologize for the inconvenience, Lord Jiro, and thank you again for the hospitality. If you wouldn't mind, there's one more request I'd like to ask."

Kings don't make requests. "I would be honored to help you however I can."

King Corrin smiles then. It reminds Jiro eerily of the smiles he sometimes witnessed Queen Mikoto give a person right before she verbally flayed them alive. "Excellent. I hope you wouldn't mind hosting one of my men for several months as a guest, then?" He waves forward one of the ninja, a black-haired man with a short ponytail. "This is Haru, the son of a minor lord. He's heard much about your lands, and has been curious to sample their bounties himself."

Jiro grits his teeth, but hides it by bowing again. "Of course, Your Majesty." It seems he underestimated the king after all. Give Jiro a minor noble guest, one he can't eliminate without earning the ire of his family or the suspicions of the royal family. One trained in the ways of stealth, secrecy and sabotage, who would likely spot any hints of insubordination or rebelliousness. It's truly irritating.

But even so, he still feels a bit smug. While King Corrin is turning out to be a better political player than expected, he's still a novice. What he'd done was wise, but wiser still would have been to insist on having Jiro's wife or sons stay at Castle Avalon as guests—or rather, insurance. Not doing so was a sign of either soft-heartedness or naiveté.

He sees them off, smiling until it hurts his mouth, then orders a servant to show his guest to his new room. Only then does Jiro allow himself to drop his expression. Bitterly he pours another cup of sake, and as he downs it he hopes that Laurel moves swiftly. There's only so long he can stomach the rule of a Nohrian and the eyes of a spy.

Thwack. Sweat drips off Corrin's brow and into his eyes; he blinks it away, bringing his sword to bear on the target before him again.

Thwack. His arm burns; he's lost track of how long he's been out here, mindlessly exercising his sword arm. Not long enough, if he can still feel stress and agitation nipping at his heels.

Cr-ASH! His next blow decapitates the training dummy completely, sending the wooden head flying into the nearby weapon rack. The swords, spears and axes scatter; with a frustrated growl Corrin throws his weapon to the ground and stalks over to pick them up.

"Feel better?"

He turns to see Silas approaching; he must have been watching him for a while without his noticing. His friend bends to help him, gathering a few weapons in his arms. "Not particularly, no."

He's just been so angry, so angry and frustrated the past few days. Lilith's poisoning, the veiled taunting from Lord Jiro, his own failure to protect his sister—it had built up and up until he couldn't take it anymore, storming over to the training grounds. He'd just wanted to destroy something, and it had shown; the recruits there had taken one glance at the black look on his face and immediately cleared out.

The sole good thing to come of it is that the Vallites have slowly started to come around to Lilith. They'd all heard about how, upon being poisoned, her immediate thought was to protect the king, and while they thought the wyrmsbane wouldn't have harmed him, her intentions were still worth something. When he'd last visited her, her eyes had light up upon learning this, and she was slowly starting to display the bright personality she'd had in the Fortress again.

He rubs his dragonstone, feeling it burn beneath his palm, almost in response to his heated emotions. A motion in the corner of his eye catches his attention, and he looks up to see Silas taking a battle stance across from him, a lance in hand. The paladin arches an eyebrow. "Spar?"

Corrin smiles draconically, dropping his dragonstone back beneath his tunic. "First to three wins." Then he takes up his sword again and charges.

It's a challenge, the exact one he needs. While Corrin is the better swordsman and Silas is accustomed to fighting on horseback, his lance gives him more reach, and he parries all Corrin's efforts to get inside his range. The king has also worn himself out on the dummies, so it comes as little surprise when his retainer scores the first hit, a hard tap to his thigh.

"First blood is mine," Silas teases, giving a mock salute with his lance. He is rewarded with a blow on his arm. "Ow!"

"Don't lower your guard," Corrin shoots back, smirking, and they begin again.

He wins, but it's a close thing.

"Thanks," he huffs when they finish, ten minutes later; Silas tosses him a towel, and he wipes his forehead with it, sitting on a spare bench. "I…think I really needed that." Even as he says the words he feels his agitation melt away, the dragon side of him satisfied by the good spar.

The paladin smiles, putting his lance aside. He joins him on the bench, resting his forearms on his knees. "Anytime, Corrin. So what's eating you? Does your mood have anything to do with what happened with Lord Jiro, or…?"

He sighs. "Not exactly. Haru's reported nothing suspicious, so far. I want to believe nothing's amiss, but…"

"But you aren't certain."

"I just don't want to believe trouble could come back so soon," he murmurs. "We won; shouldn't that be the end of it?"

Silas shrugs in a way too forced to be truly casual. "Unfortunately, it rarely is. All we can really do is wait and hope Haru finds something incriminating—or if he doesn't, hope that it really was just an attempt from a lone servant."

The mood turns gloomy, and the two men sit in silence, each dwelling on his thoughts.

Then Corrin tosses the towel aside with a huff, forcefully dispelling the dark mood. "C'mon. Let's get Nestor to patch us up—knowing him, he'll probably make a fuss about the king sparring without healers on standby."

A/N: Next chapter: the moment you've all been waiting for.

It wasn't until I was writing that first scene that I realized how similar Flora and Lilith are here. Blue-haired sisters who seek to atone for past wrongdoings and have low opinions of themselves. I should have them talk sometime.

That last scene, while a bit short is actually one I've had in my head for a while, one of the first scenes I had planned (along with Lilith's poisoning). Partially because I wanted Corrin to show a more…human side, an angrier side, partially because I wanted more friendship scenes.