"It can't be," Rhun breathed, taking a step back once he released it. He still hadn't recovered from his shock of the sight. The egg was alive. Half the reason the assassins were coming, the justice they thought they'd receive for the Dragon King and prince's deaths, was actually all for naught. Not when the egg wasn't destroyed so much kidnapped, here and safe. Well, relatively safe considering the items around them. Why? Why go through and cause all this trouble for an egg?

Then the answer came to him. The question wasn't so much as why, but why not.

"This...this changes everything," he mumbled, biting down on his thumbnail while he thought.

"What do you mean?" Ezran asked, his large blue eyes curious.

"Prince Ezran, do you know what you just found?"

"No..."

"This is the egg of the Dragon Prince," Rhun breathed in wonder. "Six months ago, they killed the Dragon King, Thunder. And we thought that his egg was killed, too. That's why --" He cut off suddenly, remembering who he was talking to, and he glanced at Ezran.

"That's why they're...coming to kill Dad," Ezran said in a sad voice, looking up at him with those blue eyes. "Isn't it?"

Rhun chewed on his nail again before he sighed. He couldn't lie this time now that Callum had already let the cat out of the bag. "Yeah," he answered softly, looking away. "The assassins are elves coming to avenge their king and prince." The breaking point of high tensions transforming into all-out war wasn't true. Viren had only given them the illusion of it. A masterful illusion that was now risking the king and the kingdom's welfare, and leading both sides to break into war. For what, though? Was he in the right in his own mind? Did he think he was protecting his kingdom by faking the destruction of a defenseless egg? Did he plan to use it in one of his dark magic spells? Or had he planned to wait for the egg to hatch and then raise it as a weapon to be used against Xadia?

Deep in thought for a moment, Ezran lifted up his head as his eyes lit up. "But the egg is alive, so all we have to do is show them, and then they won't have to kill him," he said excitedly. "If they see Dad didn't kill the Dragon Prince, they'll leave him alone. Maybe they can even start talking and no one has to die or get hurt!"

Rhun was silent a moment. "Prince Ezran, I'm sorry, but it's a lot more complicated than that."

"Why?"

"It--it just is."

"Well, we have to try." Ezran picked up Bait off the floor, hugging him close, a determined edge to his voice. "I don't want to lose Dad, too," he said in a quieter voice. His glow toad croaked sympathetically, and Rhun caved in.

"Alright, alright," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shook his head. "I...know someone who would listen to me, and maybe listen to you."

"Great!" Ezran's cheer echoed out through the lair, the boy quickly clapping a hand over his mouth as Rhun shushed him. "Great!" he repeated in a whisper-shout. "Let's go tell Callum!"

"Ezran-" The prince had already run off before he could get another word out. With a sigh, Rhun followed, knowing Ezran knew these passages much better than he did.

"By the way, who do you think will listen to us?" Ezran asked innocently as they climbed up the stairs

"One of the assassins' leaders."

"How do you know that?"

"He's my father."

A moment's silence. "Okay."

They climbed up to the top steps to a wide door at the entrance. Rhun heard voices behind it, and though he couldn't hear it, he got the gist of it. One was Callum's, the other was unfamiliar. In an instant, Rhun had out his baton and pressed a button, causing the blade to come slicing out one end. Either Ezran hadn't heard it, or he didn't recognize the danger as he whispered through the door, "Callum. Psst, Callum!"

"Shh! Go away!" hissed the older prince.

"But I have to show you something!"

"Are you talking to that painting?" the other voice, a new voice. A familiar accent, though, lilted her words. His father had the same, as did people coming to Katolis who'd spent the better part of their lives living near the border. Xadian.

"Heh, no, why would I do that?" Callum laughed nervously.

Rhun pushed Ezran to his side to better shield him if worse came to worse. But Callum was his responsibility also, so he had to ensure his safety as well as Ezran's. Slowly, he opened the door, although on the other side he could see it to be a portrait, enough to peek out. He caught Callum on the ground against the wall with a blade at his throat. And the owner of it....

Besides his father, Rhun had never seen another Moonshadow elf. This one didn't look all that different than what he'd imagined: lilac-tinted skin and hair bright and white as the moon, pointed ears, lavender eyes, and purple markings in thick lines descending beneath her eyes and ended in a point. A pair of horns could be seen, smaller, however, than an adult elf's horns. That pointed out something else to Rhun: this girl was a kid. She had to be around Callum's age. And that got Rhun to start thinking along the lines of...

What were they thinking sending a teenager into the battlefield?!

Regardless of whatever amount of experience she had or whatever customs the Moonshadow elves had, the thought crossed his mind.

"Get the kid out of here," Callum ordered, panic hidden in his eyes. That's when it clicked. This girl was here for Ezran, but she had no idea what the younger prince looked like. None of the assassins did, or at least, they hadn't told her. That could work to their advantage.

"Come on." Rhun tried to pull Ezran back the way they came, but he wouldn't move

"Callum, what's going on?" he asked, eyes shifting from Callum to her

"Callum?! I thought you were Prince Ezran!" the elf girl growled, narrowing her eyes at Callum. "You lied to me!"

"How is that worse than trying to kill someone?" Callum exclaimed.

As the assassin turned to Ezran, Rhun sighed, thinking up a way to delay her and give him time to save both princes. He could fight, but if she were here, there could be more waiting around the corner. He tried to ignore the other reason, which was that his conscience wouldn't let him fight a kid. At the very least, he give them time to run and come up with a better plan.

"Listen, listen," Rhun spoke up, gathering her attention as he slowly lowered his weapon, "I have a feeling you don't want to kill us, and well, we don't want to die, so let's compromise." She tensed at his words, so he continued, hoping he was right. After all, Moonshadow elves were trained to kill, didn't mean they liked it. His free hand slipped into his satchel, clasping around a small, smooth pellet, and crushed it as he drew it out. "Give me five seconds to state our case, and if you still want to kill us, I'll understand completely."

She pointed her sword towards him, but eventually, she said, albeit slightly uneasy, "Five seconds."

"Alright." Rhun lifted his closed hand to his mouth. "One--" He opened it to reveal a crushed, red powder, and abruptly blew it into her eyes. Her reaction was instantaneous as she cried out and her hands flew to her eyes, her swords dropping onto the floor as she released a stream of colorful curses to put a sailor to shame. "Run!"

Needless to say, when cornered by an assassin, it was in the princes' best interest to follow that word of advice. 

***

Theodosia tied back her hair in several ties and loops that draped down her back, the ends resting at her hips. She was ready, or as ready as she'd ever be. She wore one of her simpler, more practical dresses with trousers beneath the skirt for sensibility. Pants only without the skirts would probably be a better choice so it couldn't catch on anything or be held back, but what could she say, she liked to look her absolute best whatever the circumstance. Life was a beauty contest; in any situation, it helped to look your prettiest, if not for the problem, for yourself.

Sure, that way of thinking was vain, and one of the many things about her scorned by her mother, but she always found that when she looked her best, she felt her best. After all, someone with as gorgeous a face as hers didn't deserve to be hidden in the shadows. Even now, as she was supposed to be going into disguise, she couldn't help fixing her hair so not a strand was out of place. Besides, if no one was going to admire her for anything else she did no matter how hard she tried, the least they could admire her for was her beauty.

Silver bells were tied onto the end of her silver-white hair, and they chimed slightly whenever a particular movement jostled them together. She couldn't use any obvious magic, or else someone might notice, so she would have to escape the harder but just as effective way. Beforehand, she had begun tying her bed sheets together with some of her more durable gowns and dresses in her closet to make a rope, each time tugging lightly to check its strength before moving onto the next knot. Whenever someone came to check on her and ensure she was still there, she'd hide it under her pillow and put on the illusion of a princess who was certainly not planning anything at all, whatever could you mean.

As she placed the necklace around her neck, the illusion spell took effect almost instantly, disguising her features with a stranger's. Looking in the mirror, it was strange, knowing it was her, but seeing someone else entirely. To the naked eye, she seemed to be another random Moonshadow elf that could fade into the crowd.

And for a moment, she wondered if it would be so bad to disappear, to leave it all behind. Here, everyone wanted so many different things from her. It felt like she was chopping herself into pieces to keep everyone satisfied, as though she was both feeding and fending off wolves at the door. But there were too many responsibilities for her to cast aside, and the thoughts evaporated in her mind.

Quickly, she skimmed through her notebook, seeing all experiments she'd used to create her own spells. The first two-thirds were crammed with notes and diagrams, written in cramped, slanted and messy handwriting meant to squash as much information possible onto the page. Nothing at all like her father's neat, tidy handwriting. Then again, he wasn't writing fast enough to keep up with her hypothesis and experiments with magic before it faded from her memory, if she missed one note or one detail that produced the desired result, it would end up catastrophic. That had been learned the hard way, considering last time she'd just barely avoided singeing her eyebrows...her room on the other hand had not been so lucky....

There weren't only those on magic experimentation. One page was about the reaction experiments she'd done when she was younger with rats, mice, bugs, and other little magical critters she had been able to get her little hands on despite the wrath she'd often face in return, just to see the fight or flight response in action. It was hilarious, even though most of the time it nearly ended in her death every time. Of course, the last time she'd tried that with her father, (it was how she, and half the kingdom by how loud he screamed, figured out King Draven, a proud and "fearless" assassin and king, was freaking terrified of spiders, no matter the kind) he threatened to disown her if she ever did it again. Still, he shrieked like a little girl loud enough to wake half of Xadia, so Theodosia counted that as a win.

The last section of the book, however, was blank, the pages pure white and yet to be touched, especially since its author could no longer continue her research. For now. Maybe in the human kingdoms, she could continue experimenting only with different kinds of magic she found, maybe cross-reference it with some more of the books she had memorized, try to pin down origins and what made the magic work, maybe develop more theories over the primal sources and of that one Startouch elf she had to keep learning new languages to keep up with if she wanted to learn about. An enchantment, no doubt, but what was it that made them take such drastic measures to keep anyone from reading about him?

Perhaps it was only wishful thinking, but she felt like it had to be some kind of piece in a much larger puzzle, stretching from the ancient past to today. If she could only read closely enough, if she could decipher the text more accurately, if she could find some match to the numerous writings, poems, and pages referencing the Archmage Aaravos –

Sighing, she snapped her book shut and returned it into her bag, securing it around her shoulders. She just needed to do better. Be better. Show them she could be better or at least good enough as she was. She had to – after all, who would ever want a girl who disappointed them?

Her whole body was sick with nerves: it locked her jaw tight and closed her throat. Now or never.

Now after heaving the makeshift rope over to the window, bracing herself once she looked down to estimate if it was long enough, she turned to her bed and turned over something in her head. Something that might at least give her a few minutes head start if yet another person came up to check she hadn't made another attempt to leave. Walking over to her bed, she looked it over, and thought before closing her eyes and concentrated, singing an incantation softly under her breath. When Theodosia opened her eyes, she found an illusion of herself sitting up in her bed, eyes closed. At first glance, anyone could be fooled, and as long as anyone didn't look too closely, she should be good for a while. She drew the curtains around the bed, the shadow visible so anyone who came in would think she was merely asleep or sulking.

Ironically, she was good at producing illusions with magic, just not on her heart.

As Theodosia climbed down out the window, she grew dizzy, breathing deep to keep herself calm, sharp-clawed hunger digging into her ribs and slipping up her spine. Her hands were bloodless, cold and stiff, grasping the cloth so tightly the knuckles were white. But she remembered her vision and kept going. She could see herself from the outside, as well, and her face may have betrayed her fear yet she refused to be a victim to it. Maybe it wasn't so much as not showing fear but not letting it overcome you – that was all that mattered, in truth, wasn't it?

Theodosia almost bit her lip, but stopped herself just in time – if she bit her lips they would grow ugly and chapped and scarred. Instead she focused on keeping her grip, refusing to let her hands shake.

Laughing caused crow's feet. Frowning caused wrinkles. Crying blotched your skin, screaming ruined your voice. But no one could ever fault her for looking perfectly, exquisitely empty. She couldn't master the illusion of fearlessness, but with the newfound thought that one was only as brave as they make-believed, she tried. She could do this, and even if she couldn't, she had to.

(Author's Note: So here's the next chapter! :) P.S. sometimes, I like to place my OCs in Hogwarts houses while I write, and a lot of the time I can't decide, but I am certain about one. I remember thinking throughout this chapter that...Theodosia is definitely a Ravenclaw. Anyway, back on topic! Hot pepper, don't get into your eyes, it burns like you never believe, and trying to rub or wash it out makes it way worse! Hope you liked this one! )