"You!"

Harrow didn't even have to turn to know who was behind him. He had already been able to tell by the sudden breeze of a window to the balcony he could have sworn he'd closed.

He had clearly been angry enough to risk attention with the rise of security around Harrow's chambers. His descent onto Harrow's balcony had been timed just right with the turning of the guards' heads as they scanned out across the castle courtyard for enemies.

And in all honesty, Harrow had to wonder if he'd rather the assassins had killed him already than face this man's wrath.

"Me," he chuckled nervously as he turned around. There was a flash of light as Agnarr reattached his earring, assuming his guise in case someone should walk in.

Harrow held a torn letter yellowed with age that anyone would assume held little importance, but really, was everything. His expression was soft, sad, contemplative. As if he bore the burdens of generations on his shoulders. Beside him, his sword, blade bare and bright in the last golden rays of a dying afternoon, rested its handle against the table's edge, while its point gleamed deadly sharp against the tile floor.

Agnarr's face was half curtained by dark hair on one side that reached his hips, the other half shaved close to his head as the stone in his earring shone in the light. There was still no mistaking the silent rage in his eyes. He shifted his weight onto one hip and folded his arms across his chest, and Harrow knew from the familiar position he was about to get his head bitten off. "So..." he began, deadly calm. "I take a vacation, on your insistence, and you with your dark mage somehow manage to invent a new brand of stupid."

"I don't think you hold all the facts—"

"Really, I don't?" The piecing gaze of teal eyes that seemed to almost glow if not for the illusion fixed in place. "Then allow me to review what facts I do hold." He held up a hand, counting each off. "You ignored me and listened to your mage, and whether you meant to or not, caused the death of Xadia's protector and his heir. So Xadia sent assassins after you because once you took off the leash on Viren, you couldn't reign him back in before he also destroyed an innocent. And if what I overheard from the guards is correct, said assassins kidnapped your son and heir in exchange for the egg you had a hand in destroying." His face was hard as he snapped, "Karma's a real bitch, isn't she?"

"You..." Harrow hesitated. "Do seem to hold some of the facts."

One breath, then another, and Agnarr hesitated. "I tried to warn you, Harrow," he said, his voice quiet as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Tell me why. Why you never listened to me." He gritted his teeth but Harrow caught the tremble in his voice.

Harrow's face was drawn. His shoulders slumped. Viren had fooled him, his lies running deep, and he couldn't say anything when it was him who fell for it. It made him question whether their friendship to begin with had been a strategy to gain his favor and his ear. "If it makes you feel better, you were right. All along. I should have listened to you."

"It's too late! Years too late, Harrow! I told you not to listen to him! I told you not to trust him! All that happened, you would have learned better from your last lesson that dark magic has its price," snapped Agnarr, not done. "It draws from the life force of everything around them and destroys it, what in the name of the stars did you think was going to happen when you ordered Viren to do something about Thunder?"

"I'm sorry."

"Tell me, Harrow, did it make you feel any better? Did Thunder's death fix your broken heart?" No. Only broke it more in the process, Harrow thought but did not say. Words did not mean anything to the man before him, actions did, and for once, Harrow was glad for it, as it reminded him no amount of apologies would fix his mistakes and what they'd caused. What could, however, was actually doing something about it. "Did Thunder's death magically bring Sarai back to life? Did it give the boys back their mother? Look at what all this got you and tell me if it was worth it all!" Agnarr took a steadying breath and studied Harrow. "Apologies change nothing. Your mistakes nearly cost you your own life if not for a miracle, and now may cause your sons their lives, don't you see that?"

"I understand that I made terrible choices that I have to live with. I had been more than prepared to pay with my life because I knew I deserved it." Harrow bowed his head before he reached into a pocket and pulled out a small token, offering it slowly. "My youngest son, on the other hand, does not. He should not have to pay for my sins, but if one good thing has survived my foolishness, it is that the Dragon Prince has been discovered alive."

Agnarr scowled, not even looking down at whatever it was he held. "Are you sure it's not a ploy you made up to ease your guilt?"

"I'm as surprised as you are," Harrow sighed, shaking his head. "Callum said he saw it. That he was there when Ezran refused to part with it and escaped with the elves, the elves that came to kill me that day. The egg is alive."

For a moment, Agnarr stared at Harrow before his eyes dropped to Harrow's palm and they flickered wide. "You came years ago to tell me that Callum was proof humans and elves could live in harmony if we actually tried," he went on, the crown suddenly weighing heavily on his head. "That it's possible to end the cycle of violence our lands have spun even if Edan and Sarai failed. It seems Ezran is determined to try and take the step towards breaking it."

In the king's hand was a folded drawing Agnarr had left for Callum to find years ago. Except when they made the decision to keep it from him until he was older, he had thought Harrow had burned it to keep anyone from finding it.

Agnarr's voice was soft, almost broken, as he took it and unfolded it, looking upon the faces he hadn't seen in almost fifteen years. "You kept it. All these years. You kept it from him."

"Of course. I--I want you to take it back. If anything happens to me-- Viren, he... No one can find it. Please. It's yours, anyway." As if reading Agnarr's mind, he said, "I doubt you'd want me to have it after everything I've done. But for your own safety, for Callum's, take it, destroy it, as long as it's not here. You know what might happen if anyone finds it, much less him."

His hands shook as he tucked it away, but Agnarr sighed and quickly wiped his eyes, refusing to show weakness. "Why do you have to be one of the better ones?" he breathed. "Maybe then it would so much easier to hate you. Everything would be easier if I could." With a sigh, he crossed his arms across his chest. "Listen, since I know best about elven customs, especially Moonshadow, I'll give you some advice. Ask Callum if he saw them wearing bands."

"What?"

"Bands. They're usually white or silver. You'll usually find them tied around the wrist--" Agnarr held up his hands to demonstrate-- "or somewhere along their arms. Occasionally, you might find one around their leg or ankle, but that's not very common."

Harrow waved his hands before his face. "Hold up. Why is that important?" he demanded.

"When Moonshadow assassins go on a mission, they make an oath to carry it out no matter what." His teal eyes flashed beneath the curtain of dark hair. "They bind their lives to completing it. Moonshadow are not people who lead by emotions but duty and honor. With every mission, it is succeed or die. Either they complete it or give their lives trying. If something goes wrong, or they are captured, they often kill themselves to prevent being used for dark magic or from having information tortured out of them. If they fail and remain living and breathing, they are often believed traitors and are banished from their village.

"The binding will get tighter and tighter around the limb it is tied upon until all blood flow is cut off and the limb either falls off or kills the elf from infection. When the target is dead, the binding falls off and releases them from their oath. And since they are all about what they believe is justice...." The word came out a snarl as if he was remembering that their form of justice was responsible for his brother's disappearance. "An eye for an eye, a life for a life, they came to Xadia looking to slaughter both you and Ezran in exchange for Thunder and the Dragon Prince. Ezran...if they found the Dragon egg, they no longer have reason to take his life. Their rules justify their kills and helps them sleep at night since they claim to value life and death, and yet believe they deserve the right to decide who lives and dies. But you..." He stared at Harrow uncertainly as his gaze narrowed. "Knowing Runaan, they would have killed you anyway because they believed you deserved it. So if you are still alive, it is because your son must have bargained."

As the gears turned in his mind, Harrow realized why Ezran likely went with the elves. "My life in exchange for him and the egg," he breathed, suddenly needing to sit down. His son was ten. And despite Harrow's efforts to keep him from such events at that young an age, had made the decision to give himself over to ensure his father would live.

Agnarr's eyes softened, moving to sit beside him as he placed an arm on his shoulder. "If it brings you any comfort, this may change everything, for better or worse. A human prince returns the long-lost Dragon Prince to his mother. With the elves that had been sent to kill him. Think of the impact such a gesture would have. Think of the message it would send."

"They can't kill him now because his life suddenly means so much more than it originally had." Harrow buried his head in his hands. "He's a child." He looked up, tears pinpricking his eyes. "He doesn't deserve that type of weight on his shoulders."

"Does anyone?" Agnarr asked, letting out a sigh as he allowed himself a rare moment of vulnerability. "It's rare that one is never weighed down by something. Whether it is our past or the uncertainty of the future. When we chose to face it, I wouldn't say it goes away." He offered Harrow a small smile. "But it does become easier to bear, and letting someone help with the burden never hurt anyone either."

Perched upon his stand, Pip chirruped a soft call. Harrow immediately straightened, glancing behind him toward the door. Someone was coming. Extending his hands, palm up, Harrow's eyes were soft with pain. "I would never have given it to him. You're under no obligation, and I ask you this, not as a king but as a friend and a father...."

Agnarr didn't let him finish, giving a sharp nod. "You're asking me to be your eyes."

A small smile formed in the king's face. "You have been among the best. I also know your loyalty to my sons."

He nodded, and with that, Agnarr stood and started towards the balcony. "With all this happening, history is at its turning point," he said suddenly without looking back. "Whatever you choose as your response will have history turning its eyes to you. For good or bad. I hope this time, it's the former."

Another flash of light, and he had already slipped into the night.

Harrow's eyes slowly lowered to the parchment he had been searching. Some words were faded and the writing rushed and urgent. Sarai kept this close till her dying breath. Now, with all that was happening, Ezran, the elves, a possible war with Xadia, Viren a possible traitor, having to watch his back against his oldest friend... What he decided now was crucial.

And it made him wonder if now was the time.

Callum never had to know.

Maybe, when he's older.

Year after year, Harrow had told himself that. When he was older. When he was better prepared. But the longer he kept it from him, the more it would hurt, and the more time went on, the thicker the web of lies weaved to keep him from finding the truth.

Now, Harrow was uncertain. There was no longer a way to know how much longer they had together. If not him, would Callum find out another way, and come to resent him for repressing a crucial part of him without him having a say in any of it?

But he folded the letter and tucked it back into a pocket. "Not yet. It's not the right time," he mumbled to himself. Well, what is the right time, then? a voice in the back of his head asked, sounding dreadfully similar to Even Pip chirped to tell him he was fooling himself for what he was really doing.

Putting off what was likely now inevitable.

There was a reason Theodosia's brother was the man most had called for hunting down Xadian creatures as their reputation grew.

Because there's three things you need to know about him.

One: Rhun was never around when not needed.

Two: Unless he wanted to be found, he wasn't.

And three: He never missed.

"Viren said he wanted to see a body, right?" Rhun asked, making some final adjustments. When wielded by an inexperienced hand, there had been... calibration issues in the past. "But not too soon?"

"Yeah, easier to blame it on the assassins that way. Oh, and after Viren's done with them, I hope he leaves some for me. I could use more test subjects," she told him conversationally, placing a cork on the vial in her hand.

He nodded and notched another arrow into the crossbow, drawing the string back and locking it at the five hundred fathoms mark. "Black arrow, it is, then, for the princeling." The moonlight gleamed across the smooth, polished black surface of the shaft. Her magic and his skill in weapon making had resulted in this creation. Normal arrows wasn't quite so effective against creatures from Xadia; for some, it was difficult enough to penetrate the outer skin, and that was assuming one was enough to take it down. Within his quiver, four kinds of arrows for a variety of jobs. Some did like their catches alive and fresh after all.

Each were distinguishable by the color of the arrowhead.

White for sleep.

Red for paralysis.

Black and grey for death, the difference being whether a slow one or fast.

"You sure you got this?" he asked.

"Of course. You'd be surprised how easy it is to destroy someone with mere illusions. You can run and hide from enemies, but no one can escape the demons of their own mind."

Daylight had begun to fade by the time the team began to hear the distant sounds of voices; Runaan held up a hand and stopped, gesturing for them to hide. Ezran opened his mouth to say something, but Rayla held a finger to his mouth and shushed him.

Then came the clatter and clamor of distant armor. Faint voices.

"Reckon that'll be the lodge over there?" Hyla nodded towards the sound.

Ezran peaked out from behind the tree Rayla had pulled him behind and nodded.

"And there might be heavily-armed humans there. As I tried to say," Kai hissed only to be shut up by a sharp glare flashed his way. "Let's get some distance between us, then," he sighed instead.

Naturally, Rayla knew they needed to stop somewhere secluded and out-of-the-way of the humans' patrol paths. Somewhere they could leave the boy without having to worry too much about him wandering off without supervision. She knew this after having been raised to think in terms of practicality. Unfortunately, the direction Runaan chose to search for this 'somewhere' seemed to be in the direction of deep water. At the sound alone as they neared the river, Rayla subconsciously latched onto a tree before Callisto noticed and had to practically pry her loose, peeling her fingers off the bark one by one until she realized what she was doing and let go.

Even the thought of being near it made Rayla wince.

The river came into view only a few minutes later, and after scanning the treelines for anything, Runaan found an enclosed area where the trees and foliage ought to hide them from any passersby who didn't take a closer look, and just far enough that if someone did find them, no one would hear them nor would they make it too far; she only wished it wasn't so close to water.

"Can I come?"

Runaan didn't even open his eyes to see the small human prince standing before him as he had separated from the group to meditate. He had a sense that if he did, he would have been met with the puppy-dog expression Rayla had been well known for as a child whenever she tried to sneak Adoraburrs into the house. "No."

"Please?" Ezran begged, the glow toad sitting atop his hair giving Runaan the stink eye. Or maybe that was his normal expression. But whenever one of the elves beside Rayla stepped too close, the creature tensed as if prepared to defend its master if needed. "I want to help. I can help."

"We don't need children to slow us down."

"I did a good job helping before, didn't I?" Prince Ezran protested. "Me and my brother were supposed to be at the lodge anyway! No one's going to think it's weird if they see me. If there are guards there, I can distract them for you."

"I said no."

"I can be sneaky! I can do sneaky really well! Ask anyone!"

Finally, Runaan opened one eye to regard the Prince's pleading expression. "What part of 'No' is so difficult to understand?" He would think it a human thing, if only the image of small, young Rayla fixing him with that same look didn't flash behind his mind's eye.

Entirely unmoved by his tone, Ezran hefted the dragon egg in his arms, and persisted. "I know the lodge better than you do, and I know where everything is already."

"Yes, and your knowledge is why you should stay here. Safe and out of the way," countered Runaan, standing to look down on the child. "If something happens and we do not come back, you are to go with the others and keep going."

Ezran's jaw set, stubbornly. As Runaan began to walk away, he followed, struggling to keep up with his long strides but refusing to fall behind. "But what if my Aunt Amaya is there? You said she could be."

Runaan had already accounted for the possibility; family happened to be the weakest spot for almost any warrior, and he sensed if the King had the time, it would have been the Standing Battalion herself who would have come to protect them.

To think, one of the greatest human warriors seen, had almost been reduced to a bodyguard for a couple of princes.

Night was coming. Better chance of looting for supplies under their noses. It heavily depended on where their soldiers were stationed, though. Too many, and well, it was a lost cause anyhow; Runaan was not putting his team at more risk than they already were unless absolutely necessary.

Frowning at the elven assassin's lack of response, Ezran went on, "If she's there, I can vouch for you, tell her the truth! She might listen to me."

At that, Runaan stopped, gazing down at the prince in disbelief. General Amaya was by far, one of the best human fighters Xadia had ever seen, certainly good enough to earn the begrudging respect of even his people. And she was certainly not a woman anyone with a sane brain would ever want to face on the opposite side of a battlefield. But with how Ezran talked about her, one would think she was just a normal aunt that gave bear hugs and was awful at cooking, not too different from Tinker back home, that was until he started mentioning how she would sometimes let him and Callum watch her birthday battle with some of her soldiers (none ever managed to win).

How this small human who woke up mumbling about animals made of toffee could be related to her certainly boggled the mind.

"I believe our last encounter with your misplaced faith should have been enough to get it into your head," he said, lowering himself to be eye level with the young prince.

At the reminder, Ezran pursed his lips. "People can surprise you," he shrugged after a moment. "But won't Aunt Amaya understand if she knew the truth?"

Yes, and if she knew what they had originally been there for, such as their original intentions for her nephew, they might not even be able to get out a proper explanation.

Allowing himself a sigh, Runaan bowed his head before raising it once more. "You do understand how the world works, don't you, little prince?" he asked, his tone slightly softer this time though remaining firm. The same tone he'd used when explaining the importance and essence of their job to new initiates.

Prince Ezran tilted his head, brows furrowing. "What do you mean?"

"You do know what we are, don't you?"

A moment's hesitation. "Assassins?" It came out more a question than a statement as he shifted uncertainly. "I guessed that you killed a lot people before, haven't you, if the Dragon Queen sent you? If I ever wanted...well, I would send my best. For any job."

Runaan nodded. "We have carried out many missions--"

"No. Just say it. I'm ten, not stupid, I know what assassins are." Ezran's jaw set again into a stubborn pout demanding to be taken seriously. "Your mission was to kill my dad. That's why you don't think anyone will trust you."

Runaan released a carefully controlled sigh. "Many have fallen by our hand for Xadia."

Suddenly, the little prince's blue eyes flashed. "Fall? Fall? Runaan--" the exasperation was stressed on his name as if this wasn't the first time he'd used it-- "assassins don't just make people trip and fall. If you're going to bring it up and say it, at least say it right."

Runaan blinked in disbelief, placing up the shield to keep his emotions from showing. "Fine. We have killed many before. Humans mostly, but at times elves, traitors. But that is not my point, Prince Ezran." He raised a four-fingered hand. "We are elves."

"Oh. Well, anyone can see that." Runaan could practically see the gears turning in Ezran's head before his wide, blue-eyed gaze met his. "So?" he shrugged. "Who cares? Personally, I'd be more worried about the assassin part, elf or human. They're the same job, after all."

Raising an eyebrow, Runaan examined the prince-- the Crown Prince who would one day grow to be King due to Rayla's mistake, a mistake that now allowed both princes, human and dragon, to live-- and wondered if he understood the importance of what he just said.

Besides his father being the man who fell Thunder, his mother had also been General Amaya's late sister and King Harrow's late wife. Queen Sarai. A woman who, alongside her sister, had managed to turn the Katolis military from an average human force that barely was of any concern into a genuinely worrying threat.

Two of the Katolis' army's strongest warriors, one of which became the Queen of a King who was vicious enough to order the death of their protector and his heir. Yet, somehow, the union of their families resulted in...this odd, little one who had just countered a topic many met with spite, fury, and prejudice with...simply indifference. As if the concern was only in their occupation, not their race.

Who cares?

Apparently, not him.

"Humans are not exactly fond of elves."

"Yeah," agreed Ezran, "but if you were anything like people said you were, you would look a lot scarier. And if you were all like people said you were, I wouldn't still be alive, would I?"

Runaan looked down at the child's large blue eyes, "You're...not wrong."

"So that means I'm right!" he chirped, following Runaan as he began walking back to the others to discuss their plan.

"No, it means you're not wrong."

There was silence as he looked down, then as he lifted his head, Ezran beamed, "Does this mean I can come?"

"No," said Runaan firmly.

"Please?"

"No."

"Please, please, please?"

"No. No. No."

"Please, please, please, please, with a jelly tart on top and sprinkles?"

"Do you not understand the definition of 'No'?" demanded the man in exasperation. Thank the stars above that twenty years of dealing with his husband and Rayla made him immune to the puppy-dog look Ezran was giving him now, making his large blue eyes even wider and more innocent-like if possible.

"Nope," the prince grinned, popping the 'p.' "So can I?"

"No!"

"Please?"

"Fine."

"Really?!"

"No!"

"Is he still giving me the eyes?" Runaan asked, tone void of emotion, feeling someone's gaze at his back as he discussed his orders.

Hyla glanced over Runaan's shoulder to spy the prince in question. Callisto was forbidden from looking as he had not built an immunity and all it would take was one look before he'd say yes to whatever he asked. She gave a sigh and rolled her eyes as she looked back at Runaan. "With the quivering lip."

"Lovely."