The capital welcomed Jonathan with somber skies, accompanied by the smell of rain that had gathered in the distance.

It had been sunny when they'd first set out on their last leg of the return trip from Glein. Their arrival seemed to have summoned the rainclouds to herald them, like a sinister omen, desaturating the buildings around them.

A pair of women stood in the distance, their long gowns billowing around them in the crisp wind. One of them had ebony locks held in a tightly-woven bun- a familiar silhouette Jonathan could recognize from miles away. The other was taller, her hair the color of coarse sand, albeit muddied by the lack of sunlight. The Shield of the King surmised that it was Lady Aine Sulvayn, another lady that made up the Queen's Circle. He frowned a little, his eyes scouring the vicinity in an attempt to spot others that may have come to greet them.

He did not see Lady Meara Friell among the pair, nor anywhere in sight. Was she not there to greet her betrothed? The half-calaian stole a glance to the silver king that rode by his side, but found only apathy on his chiseled features.

The women bowed in tandem as they approached. Faisuri's face was resplendent amidst the gloom, propagating an almost-childlike joy at their arrival. The sight filled his heart with an odd warmth, bringing a smile to his own face. Yet her eyes were not reserved for him, resting immediately upon the king that led them.

"Nice weather, is it not?" hummed the girl, whimsically.

Aidan frowned and raised his gaze to the sky, as if making sure the two were standing underneath the same heavens. "It's overcast," he pointed out.

The girl cocked her head to one side, placing her obscured fingers upon her chin and rubbing it in a thoughtful manner. "Is it? That's strange." The sharp twinkle of a smirk that Jonathan had learned to spot ignited within her eyes. "I must've mistaken you for the sun."

Daud coughed, deliberately, like a felid calaian choking on a ball of fur. The king's mask of quiet sobriety fractured, the ends of his lips fighting to keep themselves from turning upwards. There was almost a visible shift of mood throughout the entire party, though all struggled to suppress their respective reactions.

"It is no wonder the skies are so gray. After all, His Highness's eyes stole all the blue," the rascal of a lady continued, following up her words with a playful wink.

"Faisuri, one more word, and I'm cutting our blood ties," Daud interjected, half-laughing, half-snorting, and fully cringing.

The lady of the east shrank at his words. "Don't be like that, Daud," she sulked. "I am merely standing in for Meara at the moment, greeting the king as she would in her stead."

"Oh, please! Such cringeworthy nonsense could only spout from your mouth!" her cousin scoffed.

A chuckle forced past Jonathan's lips as he watched their childish squabble. It took him back to the simpler times, where the three of them as children would spend their days under the brilliant cerulean skies without much care in the world. The aged stills of those moments in his mind were tinged with fondness.

Yet even now, after so many years had passed, they had scarcely changed. Although their days were not nearly as carefree, with the new burdens they each had to shoulder, the three of them were still together. Jonathan began to wonder how long this would last. Would they- no, could they- forever be comrades til the end of their lives?

After all, ever since he became the Shield of the King, part of him had always feared they were standing on thin ice.

No, things have changed, he silently realized as his bark-brown eyes continued to seek the onyx ones of his childhood friend. In her gleeful distraction, they adamantly refused to meet his.

At that moment, something began to ache deep in his chest, as if a small thorn had buried itself into his heart.

Faisuri's playful flirtations often embarrassed Jonathan, especially in the eyes of the public. Strangely, now that she had turned her antics onto another, he found himself missing it. His palms clenched upon the reins of his horse as he tore his gaze away towards the distant horizon.

Jonathan, you idiot dog-bastard, he chastised himself, soundlessly. What were you thinking, expecting a lady of her status to devote any sort of attention to you? Know your place.

"Speaking of which, where is Lady Meara?" he heard Daud question. "I would've thought she'd be here to greet the King."

"Oh, Lady Meara is preoccupied with other important matters. Lady Ida is with her," replied Faisuri, airily.

"Now, if you would be so kind as to allow us to escort you inside..." Lady Aine spoke for the first time. Her sight seemed to linger upon Daud for a second longer than the rest, before timidly dropping it. Standing next to Faisuri, the sandy-haired woman was but a shy bloom- sweet, but less impressive.

"Lord Jonathan," Faisuri said, making the Shield of the King stop dead in his tracks with surprise. He turned around, inquiry written upon his face.

"Yes?"

"A moment, please."

The bouncy cadence in her voice had completely peeled away, leaving behind a grave monotone. For the first time since his arrival, their eyes met. Jonathan had grown accustomed to looking past the various masks she loved to wear - the laughter that hid her sadness, the tears that hid her lies, and the coldness that hid her compassion. It was to be expected - they'd known each other from a tender young age, after all.

Yet at that moment, it struck him that he had not an inkling of what she wanted.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he spied Daud pause for a second to glance their way. When all others had left the vicinity, Jonathan devoted his attention to the girl standing in front of him. "Did you... want to talk to me about something?"

"Is there something troubling you, Jonathan?" she asked, quite brusquely. She leaned her weight upon a single foot, the left corner of her lips twitching into a lopsided smirk. "Your expression is that of a constipated squirrel."

Jonathan released the breath he had not realized he'd been holding through a laugh. The tension in his shoulders begun to relax. "Have you ever seen a constipated squirrel?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hey, don't change the subject!"

"I was merely thinking of the whole mess that we have yet to resolve in Glein," he lied. His brows furrowed against his will as soon as the words tumbled off the tip of his tongue, leaving a bitter aftertaste. He loathed having to speak of untruths, but just this once, he could not force himself to say the true reason for his shift in demeanor.

After all, it was a despicable one.

"Ah. Perhaps you would like to talk about it?" Faisuri offered. "I do want to know what happened!"

Jonathan began to relay the happenings in the Glein in a manner as brief as possible. "I feel powerless," he concluded, the quality of a hound's whine slipping into his voice. "I do wish there was a way to help both Yhlifa and the Coven, but there are so many more needing our assistance. We are already shorthanded as it is."

Silence claimed Faisuri, her countenance lingering between a vacant trance... and one that was almost epiphanic. "What if... what if there was?" she suggested, enunciating her words slowly, as if almost not daring to say them at all.

"Do you have an idea, Faisuri?"

"An insane one."

"Let me hear it."

"Tell me, do you know who I am?"

Jonathan cocked his head to the side. What an odd question to spring up on him all of a sudden. "You're Faisuri," he answered in spontaneity. "But, what does this—"

"Faisuri of the East, Jonathan," she corrected, firmly. "True heir to the throne of Halimun."

In a flash of realization, Jonathan jolted. "Wait, are you thinking of...?"

"Just think about it. Halimun has closed itself off because of the usurper. If I could reclaim it, well... there would be all this space for the refugees..."

"Enough room for everyone," the hound lord breathed, nodding slowly as the lady's subtle clues started to click into place. It was, as she had so rightfully put it, an insane idea. Yet in dire times, often these fantastical measures had to be taken.

Despite that...

"No, y-you can't," he said, quickly shaking his head. "The reason we've kept your identity a secret from everyone else is to prevent them from knowing of your survival. If you were to go back and reveal yourself... they would be after your life. I do not want you to put your life in danger."

"But, you'll be there to protect me, right?"

Soft satin embraced his furred hands, clasping them with a firm strength. Yet, against his palm, her long, dainty fingers felt fragile.

When the young man looked at her face, the vision of a tearful child superimposed upon Faisuri's determined resolve. A child, whose death had been intricately arranged by the usurpers in the shadows, that he'd held in his arms.

Faisuri might have grown and changed from that frightened child into a confident woman, yet the silent oath he'd sworn to himself to protect her stayed over the years.

"Always."

"That's good," she sighed in relief, slowly letting go of his hands. "It reassures me to know that you'll be there by my side, whatever the path I choose to take."

Droplets fell from the sky, splattering against Jonathan's arms. The scent of a drizzle had descended upon the air. Faisuri angled her head to the sky, letting raindrops roll off her cheeks.

"We best be joining the others now. Don't want the rain to catch up to us."

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Chapter Writer: VeryBigMess

AN: Oh, look, another filler chapter >.< Writing in a rush is never a good idea it seems. This is probably getting into my list of chapters that need heavy editing. 

I am excited about the next chapter, though ^^ We've got a little... something in store!