A/N:

GuestWithIdeas: He is a Nohr Noble. Since I've made it a point that he identifies more with his Nohrian upbringing, taking the Nohr-aligned promotion made sense for him (though I sorely wish there was a third route-only promotion like Valla Noble). If you noticed, he wasn't among the ones healing back in Chapter 1, despite Hoshido Noble having access to staves. Also, the Cipher card game portrays him as a Nohr Noble in the Revelation set, which would hint that's his "canon" choice there. Also also, I like how Nohr Noble looks more, especially when with Azura because of the black/white contrasts.

I appreciate your suggestions! I already have plans for how SOL and Lilith will reveal their information, though. And plans for dragon!Corrin and what Valla thinks of him. Oh, do I have plans on that front. Mwahahahaha…

"More paperwork, Corrin."

Corrin is barely able to hold back a groan as Silas drops a stack of papers, almost as thick as his arm, in front of him. "Thank you, Silas."

The room he'd hastily declared his office is a mess. Papers are stacked all over his mahogany desk. Blankets and bedding fill a far corner, where he has slept for the past few days. Sunlight filters in through the window (shut, of course, a breeze coming in and blowing everything everywhere would be just what he needed), a poor substitute for actual warmth. Broken quills, used inkpots and candy wrappers are littered about. It feels like forever since he's been outside.

"Don't lie," his friend chuckles, "Thanking me for that is the last thing on your mind."

Corrin smiles wryly, eyeing the bundles of paper with something similar to resignation. "You're not wrong."

He never thought being king would be so exhausting. Well, not really; this is just the beginning stages, the planning and preparations for being king. Ryoma and Xander promised that the workload would lighten significantly once setting Valla up was done and he had advisors to help him. He's still disappointed that he hasn't been able to spend much time with Azura, or his siblings, or settle things between him and Gunter as he'd hoped, though. There's just so much to do.

Beyond the border lines, he needs to calculate the total population gained from Hoshido and Nohr, draw up a list of names of suitable advisers and councilors from said populace—"Don't just give the positions to your friends from the war, sweetie," Camilla warns him, "You need to make allies among your new Hoshidan/Nohrian citizens."—and think of events to get the two halves accustomed to each other. And there are so many things he needs to know: potential incomes, imports, exports, food consumption, trade routes, everything he took for granted growing up can be traced back to the work piled on his desk. He finds he has a perpetual headache these days.

Bless Lilith for her hoard of gold bars and for being willing to part with them. If not for her, Valla would have started its new life incredibly deep in debt. As is, they were still going to face monetary trouble; Ryoma had warned him that Nestra's ruler was likely to hold primarily him accountable for repaying the damage done to Cyrkensia, since the old Vallite army had been the one to destroy it in the first place.

"That doesn't seem fair," he'd complained when he first heard that. "The population of the new Valla wasn't even involved, and I was trying to stop the invasion."

"A king inherits the legacy of the one before him," his brother had pointed out. "And unfortunately for you, Anankos's legacy was one of crime and terror."

Valla would keep its name, as the curse on it had broken with Anankos's death, but he still needed to find a name for the city and castle, which would become its new capital. After scrambling about for a bit, since he hadn't even thought about what he would call either, the city had been christened Elysium and the castle, Castle Avalon. Valla's planned land was mostly in the south and middle of the continent, by the sea, the perfect place to profit off trade. The Bottomless Canyon was a dangerous place to traverse, so many trade roads went to the south, where it was thinnest, to skirt it. That happened to pass through Valla's new territory; they'd make a good amount of coin operating as a trade hub. They also had control of the Hoshido-Nohr Sea, so they could also make money off harboring ships and ocean-related goods (though Xander had said he expected a discount, since giving that area up effectively landlocked Nohr, and Corrin had agreed).

"Corrin, there's one more thing…"

Corrin blinks and lifts his head—he'd thought Silas had left. "What is it?"

The paladin hesitates. "Some of the men report feeling…watched when they go into Valla," he finally says. "It's unnerving, least of all because even Kaden and Keaton can't pinpoint whoever it is or where they are."

They've been making runs into Valla, sending in excavation teams to try and recover anything they can. Books, paintings, sculptures, architecture, technology, furniture, clothes; a country wasn't just a group of people, but their way of living, their culture and mannerisms. For Valla to ever live again, they had to salvage as much of the old as they could and fill in the missing gaps with the new. Not a lot had survived the twenty years of Anankos's reign, but they were making progress.

The albino frowns. "I see. Do you think it's those agents Lilith mentioned?"

Silas shrugs. "I don't see who else it could be. Regardless, if it is them, they haven't done anything."

Corrin runs a hand through his hair. "Right…" he mutters, knowing he looks as frazzled as he sounds. "Chasing them is no good, they know the land better and if they have access to water, they'll be able to flee instantly. And if they aren't showing themselves, I don't think there's anything we can do other than warn everyone to stay on guard. Thanks for informing me."

Silas studies him for a moment. "Okay, that's it," he finally announces with a shake of his head. "Corrin, you need to take a break. When was the last time you went outside?"

Before he can answer the door opens, and Azura steps inside. He could weep in relief at the sight of her empty arms, blessedly free of paper. She and Nestor have been helping him out when they can, and Azura will be taking over the brunt of the paperwork once they're married (that thought, that memory of her I'd be overjoyed to marry you still makes his heart trip over itself). But until then, the majority of it falls onto him.

"Not since yesterday evening, I believe," Azura answers Silas, obviously having overheard. Stepping besides Corrin, she adds, "Go relax for a bit. I can handle things."

He hesitates, eyeing the door with open longing. "Are you sure?"

She gives him a small smile. "Corrin, it's fine. I don't mind."

"Are you sure you aren't just avoiding Felicia and Mozu?" he teases as he rises, stretching and cracking his back. He hasn't had much time for himself lately, but he's heard about their latest attempts to befriend the songstress. Secretly he can't help but hope they'll succeed; friends would do Azura some good.

"Don't be silly," she says, a little too dismissively, and he knows he's right. He gently takes her arm and leans in close to her ear.

"I know how hard it is for you to be around people," he murmurs lowly, as Silas looks away and pretends not to be there, "But they're nice and they mean well. You should at least give them a chance."

She pauses. "I'll try," she relents, turning to sit, and Corrin knows that's all he can ask for. He presses a kiss to her cheek and turns, leaving Azura to the unenviable task ahead of her.

As they exit the room, Silas slaps him on the back good-naturedly. "Seriously, come on. Let's see if we can't rope Kaze and Jakob into drinks and a game of Hazard. It'll be good for you."

Of all the things Xander had been expecting to happen today, this was not one of them.

His day had been planned to go like so: run his drills, manage the affairs of the Nohrian side of the army, take a quiet lunch with his paramour, run more drills, and then complete writing all the appropriate letters for his coronation, to be sent once they left the Astral Plane. Then time with his siblings, dinner, more time with his beloved, and an evening spent finishing the book Elise had loaned him.

Those plans had been laid askew when, on his way back from his lunch, Laslow intercepted him, asking to speak. Xander was led to a side room in the main castle where Camilla, Leo, Selena, and Odin were waiting. Their trio of retainers had looked serious, even Odin, as they sat down. Then, taking turns, they began to tell the tale of their origins.

"That's everything," Laslow finally finishes, two hours later, his voice a bit hoarse from speaking for so long. "Well, everything about us, anyway. There are some things other people should hear first before deciding whether to share them or not."

Xander nearly dismisses their story out of hand. Another world? Anankos tearing his soul out and said soul asking them for help? Crossing dimensions and time itself? Absolute rubbish. But he has known Laslow for several years now, and while Laslow can be a bit…out of touch with reality, at times (mostly in regards to his chances with women), he has never known him to be prone to fits of madness. He steeples his fingers, resting his elbows on his knees as he tries to sort out his thoughts.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" Leo is the first to speak, his voice low and heavy.

The trio exchange glances. "We're not sure," Odin finally says, with an unusual lack of theatrics. "We miss home, but…at the same time, there are things and people here we'd miss if we left, too. And it's not solely our decision to make."

"We'll stay long enough to help with reconstruction efforts. After that…" Selena shrugs, looking uncharacteristically uncertain.

Xander checks to see his half-siblings' reactions. Camilla's mouth is tugging down into an unhappy moue and her eyes are heartbroken; she always gets too attached to people. Leo's lips are drawn into a thin line, arms crossed and shoulders slightly hunched as if to protect himself. Xander's own emotions are a jumble, incredulity and hurt and resignation tossing about like a capsized boat.

"Do you prefer Laslow or Inigo?" he finally asks the gray-haired man opposite, rolling the foreign name around on his tongue.

"Either is fine."

"Laslow, then. Come with me."

His retainer—his friend—follows him out of the room silently, three steps behind and at his right, as always, in a movement so familiar and practiced it actually hurts. At the edge of Xander's hearing range he can hear Camilla begin to talk, sounding choked, to Selena, and retreating footsteps indicating that Leo and Odin are going off somewhere else to speak privately. He inwardly sighs; he won't be finishing those letters today, it seems. His mind just isn't in the proper place for it.

Xander stops when they arrive in the castle gardens. It is always spring in the Astral Plane, and it shows. He gazes at the flowers, hydrangeas and violets and many others he does not know the name of. He idly wonders whether they will instantly wither and die when the garden is returned to its proper dimension—it should be getting close to summer by now. It's hard to believe it's been a year since that fateful day on the Hoshidan plains.

"Why didn't you say anything when we first arrived in Valla?" He finally asks, keeping a careful lid on his emotions.

Laslow quietly steps up to his side, extending a finger to gently stroke a petal. "We were going to, but as soon as we landed, Scarlet was killed, and all the whispers of a traitor started flying about. Who do you think the biggest suspects would have been if we'd said Anankos sent us, even a good version of him?"

It makes sense, even if he is a bit stung Laslow had thought he'd think so little of him. "Have you told Peri yet?"

The hero smiles involuntarily, and Xander can empathize with that, with how even the thought of that special woman can make your heart palpitate and your mouth curl upwards against your will. "Yes, I have. She took it well, all things considered."

"I would have appreciated some earlier warning that I may be searching for new retainers."

It's half a jest, half a barb, and Laslow flinches, smile dropping from his face. "Well, like I said, we haven't decided yet. Peri has a life here. Leaving means taking her away from that, and…" He shakes his head and sighs. "She's not sure, and neither am I. It's a very large dilemma. Either way, one of us loses something."

Regretting his cutting words, Xander rests a hand on his shoulder, meeting Laslow's gaze. "You're a good man, Laslow. Not everyone would leave their homes behind to help a land they had no stock in."

Laslow shrugs, his face growing red. For a self-proclaimed suave ladies' man, he is very easily embarrassed. "Well…it seemed like the right thing to do," he mutters modestly.

"I am quite glad you thought so," the paladin answers dryly. "There are many times my siblings and I would have been lost without the help of you and your friends."

Laslow nods absently. Hesitates. "So you aren't angry?" He finally ventures.

The prince exhales. "No. Sad, of course, and hurt that you felt as though you couldn't trust me in Valla, but not angry. I'll only be angry with you if you die—haven't I already told you that?"

His friend's lips twitch upwards at the memory. "You have. After a series of, in my opinion, unfair punishments for harmless flirtations."

"What you call harmless, others call offensive," Xander parries. "But whatever decision you make, know that I am proud to have had you as a dear friend and retainer. Even if you choose to leave…just knowing you're alive is enough." He has lost too many people, siblings and retainers and his own parents, to stand losing another. That isn't to say he wouldn't miss Laslow and Peri if they left—he would. He would just prefer it to them dying.

He would prefer them staying to them leaving, of course, but that's a given.

Laslow relaxes and nods. Then his expression morphs into one of mock horror. "Oh gods, we need to hug now, don't we?"

Smiles are hard to come by for Xander, but he feels one creeping up on him nonetheless. "Come now, Laslow. Don't tell me a hug scares you after fighting Anankos?"

His friend scoffs. "Hardly." And with that, he steps forward, arms open. Xander is not accustomed to hugs; he used to give them to his siblings when they were younger, but as he got older he had to start cultivating the image of respect and authority. An image that left little room for familiarity and signs of physical affection. Still, he tries his best, giving Laslow an awkward, one-armed hug and thump on the back.

"What did you mean earlier, when you said 'others'?" Xander asks as they begin the walk back to the castle. Laslow's expression becomes something close to a grimace.

"It concerns your brother, Lord Corrin. There are quite a few things he should know..."

"I see." Corrin frowns, staring at the three before him, having just finished listening to their tale. He leans back on his bed, the wooden floor of his treehouse creaking beneath it. "Anankos asked you to help and brought you here to do so…before being consumed by his madness?"

"That's right." Selena finishes speaking and sits back in her seat, arms crossed. Corrin examines the three of them.

He doesn't know his siblings' retainers as well as he should, all things considered. But he knows of their pasts—or rather, their mysterious lack of it. They'd ambushed him on his way back from the tavern after his outing with his friends, saying they had something important to tell him. Not particularly wanting to go back to the castle, as he'd been cooped up in it for hours at a time, he'd taken them to his treehouse instead to speak.

Some of what they told him lines up with what the Rainbow Sage's texts had mentioned of Anankos—that he was once a benevolent being driven to madness by the infidelity of humans. The parts about them hailing from an entirely different world would be harder to swallow were he not currently living in a different dimension. So he is inclined to believe them, overall.

"Well, I'll certainly ask the historians to write down what you've told me," the prince finally says. "The Vallites aren't particularly fond of Anankos at the moment, but I'll do my best to see that he gets portrayed fairly."

"We'd appreciate that," Laslow says, bowing his head. "We didn't know his good half for long, but he was a good man. He doesn't deserve to be remembered as a completely evil lunatic."

Corrin is silent. He'd felt sorry for the dragon when he'd learned of his story, but he still can't imagine a kind Anankos. It's just too hard when the memories of that giant being snarling in hate, of his twisted madness and sadism, are fresh in his mind.

He sighs, making to rise from the bed. "If that's everything—"

"Nay, it is not! There is one more secret we must impart upon you!" Odin yells, the return of his bombastics marking the end of his somber mood. "We also bear the identity of your sire! The one whose loins you fruited from, the patriarch of your line! The ancient, primeval being who gave your LIFE! He—"

"Oh for the gods' sake," Selena interrupts, rolling her eyes. "Anankos was your father."

"Selenaaaaaa!" Odin whines as Laslow turns to admonish her. "Selena! That's no way to break the news to someone…"

Their voices are distant in Corrin's ears as his vision swims. He blinks rapidly and his hands involuntarily clench around the bedsheets. His breath is coming in shorter gasps, and a remote corner of his mind notes he's starting to hyperventilate.

Anankos was your father.

Part of him isn't really surprised. He'd noticed—he'd tried not to, but he'd noticed—the resemblance between Anankos's dragon form and his own. The shape of the head, the cervine legs and neck, the large chest and narrow hindquarters, the almost finger-like claws. He'd noticed, but he'd tried to brush it off, told himself Anankos despised humans too much to ever stoop to mating with one and that the similarities were to be expected. Corrin could shapeshift because he had a highly concentrated amount of the First Dragons' blood; Anankos was one of the First Dragons. Why wouldn't there be a resemblance?

Bile and horror rise in his throat in equal measures. If Anankos was his father, he must have had a human form to procreate with. But he couldn't possibly have loved his mother, not with his hatred of humans, so that means—that means— "My mother…did he...force himself on—"

"No!" The three cry in unison, breaking off their argument. "Gods, no," Laslow says, shaking his head, and the air leaves Corrin's lungs in relief. "Anankos—he loved your mother, and she him. And he loved you. Remember what we said about him ripping his soul out and giving it physical form? That's the version that met her."

"And then he helped her, Lady Arete, you and Lady Azura escape Valla!" Selena adds. "Did you know what he wanted the most in the world was to hear you call him 'Father'?" That doesn't sound like the wish of someone who doesn't love his family, does it?"

No. No, it doesn't. He takes a deep breath, calming himself down. He'd forgotten about the "splitting himself in two" part, in the deluge of shock and dismay at the revelation. Though maybe they should have led with that, rather than letting me arrive at the worst conclusion. But Anankos's good half had been the one to encounter his mother, not his bitter, mad persona. He lets that comfort him.

Until, with a chill, he remembers the hate in the Vallites's voices when they spoke of Anankos. The fear they'd had of his draconic power. Would they hate me too, if they knew I was his son? Would they fear me if they saw my dragon form?

Would my family and friends? Would Azura?

No, that's absurd. His siblings, friends and beloved wouldn't turn on him for his parentage. But the Vallites…his people…

"One other thing," Laslow adds, pulling him out of his thoughts. "The Lilith we fought in Valla? We think she might be this same Lilith."

Corrin pinches the bridge of his nose—he can feel his headache starting to return. "And what makes you say that? Don't say it's just because they're both called Lilith, different people can bear the same name, you know."

"It is not!" Odin exclaims. "But her lack of verbosity on her origins, mysterious knowledge of the Vallite slaves, and suspicious deflection of how she obtained such information gives us cause to believe something lies in her past. Something…NEFARIOUS! Something like, perhaps, once being Anankos's daughter and servant."

For a moment he wants to laugh and tell Odin he's mistaken. Lilith, a servant of Anankos?She's one of the quietest and nicest people he knows. She's worked for him for years. But then he remembers the sadness in her eyes when she'd heard of Anankos's death, and combined with the other points they've made, the idea suddenly doesn't seem so ludicrous.

He closes his eyes. "Can I be alone for a bit?"

They affirm that of course he can, they understand he needs some time to process the news. He hears them rise from their seats, footsteps treading across the floor, and the door opening and shutting. Once he's certain they're gone, Corrin opens his eyes; his good mood from earlier the day has completely evaporated. Lilith may be Anankos's daughter…my sister…and as for me, I…

One hand reaches for the chain around his neck, pulling out the dragonstone hanging off it from beneath his tunic. He holds it up and stares at it for a good long while, watching the light reflect off the clear blue facets, unable to shake the thoughts creeping in his head.

If I didn't have this dragonstone, could what happened to Anankos happen to me, too? Could it happen even with it?

Could I someday end up as mad as my father?

Finally, the day comes when all the legislation that can be done without contacting the other countries is finished. It's time for the barrier to fall. Lilith asks them to gather outside her little shrine, and Corrin lets the sound of the nearby spring babbling soothe his mind. The sky is awash in reds, oranges, and indigos. The area is mostly empty; there are still things to be done, and calling on Moro shouldn't take very long, so there wasn't any point in demanding a huge ceremony. Only Corrin and a few curious souls are gathered.

The prince is still mulling over the revelation of his father's identity. It still seems surreal that Anankos could have loved his mother, and try as he might the image just won't properly form in his imagination. So, as he waits for Lilith to begin, he turns to the green-haired steward beside him. "Nestor?"

"Yes, my lord?"

"Did…did you know my father?"

Nestor nods slowly. "Not very well-I spent most of my time with Queen Arete, not Lady Mikoto and her husband-but yes. Lord Hydra was his name. Lady Mikoto found him unconscious by the lake one day and nursed him back to health. He was an amnesiac and a commoner, didn't have anything to his name; their courtship and marriage caused quite a stir."

So the Vallites don't know Anankos was my father…I suppose it makes sense for Mother to have kept it a secret…although, was she even aware of who he was? Selena, Laslow, and Odin didn't say. "What was he like?"

"He was humble and kind, if soft-spoken, always cordial to everyone. He always worried about his lost past and whether he was worthy of your mother, but for the most part he was quite charming. People couldn't help but be drawn to him. You take after him, if you don't mind my impropriety in saying so."

You take after him isn't something he particularly wants to hear when he's worried about possibly inheriting his father's insanity. "I see." Corrin falls silent. He tries again to imagine this kinder Anankos, and again all his mind can summon up is the hateful, raging dragon whose schemes had nearly killed everyone he's ever loved. Hearing your father was a good man is hard to believe when all you knew, for a few scarce, battle-locked hours, was an insane tyrant.

"There is a book of genealogy you could look at later, if you wished," Nestor offers kindly, misinterpreting his silence. "One of the excavation teams brought it back a few days ago, one of the few books to survive the years. It should have a few passages about your parents."

His throat tightens. "I would like that, thank you."

Lilith finishes her preparation and floats out of the shrine, her scales glittering in the sun. She bows her head and presses her nose to the crystal ball she carries, eyes sliding shut. Then she speaks, letting her voice ring loud and clear.

"My kin, my blood, my gods… You have been most gracious to allow us to stay in your realm, and now I ask for one final favor. I ask that you return to us what was taken so long ago. Great Moro, I beg of you, right the wrongs taken in the First War so long ago. Deliver this place back to whence it came, and bring us with it in safety."

Silence.

Then spiderweb cracks cross the sky, and with the sound of breaking glass, it shatters.

A blinding flash explodes across Corrin's eyes. Instinctively he shuts them and raises an arm to protect his face, half-expecting actual shards to fall from above. Instead he feels water droplets pattering on his head and body, and tentatively cracks his eyelids open.

The air doesn't taste stale anymore. The sunset is gone, replaced with dark gray stormclouds rolling overhead, precipitation pouring down from above in thick sheets. Those near him shriek in surprise and fumble for cloaks to shelter in. Thunder booms in the distance. It had never rained in the Astral Plane, and Corrin knows immediately they're back in their dimension. He closes his eyes, relishing the cool water on his skin.

When he opens them and lowers his gaze he blinks in shock. Lilith is there, but in her human form, kneeling in the dirt. Fragments of glass lie around her, the crystal ball she used to hold completely broken. Her hands move, touching her braid, her face, in shock. "Moro…?" she whispers, before a furious shout cuts her off.

"YOU!"

Corrin starts at the sudden roar from the normally-reserved man to his left. Lilith scrambles backwards as Nestor stalks forward, his face as stormy as the sky above, wizened hands curled into fists.

"Hold!" the albino yells, interposing himself between them, arms spread to keep them separated. His head turns from the cowering Lilith to the enraged Vallite. "What's going on? Do you know her, Nestor?"

"Do I know her?" The old man laughs, angry and bitter. "She was one of our overseers, personally responsible for our torment!" Spittle flies from his mouth alongside the words, and he glares at Lilith. "More than that, she was Anankos's own daughter! His assassin, his general, his right-hand woman!"

Corrin blinks, water streaming from his hair into his eyes. So Selena, Laslow and Odin were right. He glances over his shoulder at her. She is his daughter… my…sister…

"Lilith, is that true?" He asks, if only to cover up his lack of surprise.

Lightning flashes, brief and bright. She fiddles with her braid, a quirk she always does when nervous. She does not speak, and her silence is the final confirmation he needs.

"Lilith," he finally says, making his voice as loud and commanding as he can over the sound of the storm, "I want to speak to you about this immediately. For the rest of you—" he turns sharply, addressing the few hovering nearby, the Vallites among them pinning Lilith with angry gazes, "Leave her alone, at least until this matter is resolved."

"Your Majesty—" Nestor begins to protest.

"I want to hear Lilith's side before I make any judgments," Corrin interrupts, stressing the next part of his sentence. "She saved my life and helped us win this war. She deserves to at least speak for herself."

The Vallite frowns, knuckles turning white, but he does not dare argue with his soon-to-be king. Corrin turns to Lilith—his sister—and says "I think we have a few things to discuss."

A/N: One thing that always bugged me about the SOL trio returning home in their epilogues was that their spouses had basically no say in it. They always gave up their duties, families, and friends in Fateslandia with no second thoughts, and that's something that rarely if ever came up in the S-supports. It's especially egregious in regards to the royals, because they always leave, but in Revelation SOL will stay with Corrin if S-ranked, despite the siblings having the exact same royal duties. And depending on which timeline the trio would return to, they'd arguably be better off staying in Fateslandia. New world whose inhabitants you've forged strong bonds with, or crappy, ruined, doomed-timeline world where none of your previous friends live?

Re: the Rainbow Sage's texts: So Corrin mentions in his Revelation A-support with Azura that he'd looked through a bunch of texts for mention of Anankos. Problem is, this raises a bunch of questions: Where did he get these texts? Azura says they need to "go to Valla" to talk there, so apparently it occurs "canonically" before they jump into the Canyon, ie during the period Corrin is still considered a traitor and thus unlikely to have access to many resources. And why didn't he just show these texts to Xander and Ryoma to convince them he might be telling the truth?

My answer was that he got the texts from the Rainbow Sage's house. Their meeting occurs after his fight with his brothers in Cyrkensia, so he didn't have the texts around to show them, and who else is more likely to have texts full of lore about Anankos than a fellow dragon?

(Yes, I did put too much thought into a throwaway line in a support, especially given it's nowhere near as convoluted as the "which timeline do SOL hail from?" mess, which has contradicting answers)

Name meanings:

Elysium is the name of the afterlife's paradise in Greek mythology. It was originally only for great heroes, but eventually anyone could be permitted entrance if they were blessed by the gods. Corrin's not really a god, but he is a demigod, so he'll have to do ;) The name also works as a counterpart/contrast to Tartarus, the "hell" the Vallites were imprisoned in.

Avalon, or "isle of apples", was a place of wonder, magic and peace in Arthurian legend. It's most commonly known for being the place King Arthur was brought to for recovery from the wounds he earned in battle with his evil kin Mordred. Its location was secret—"removed from the world"—and it was the residence of the Lady of the Lake. Azura, anyone?

Hazard is an old European dice game. It was basically a medieval version of craps.