They first met in the summer of 993, when Lilina and her father took a trip out to Pherae. He told the advisors and knights it was on marquess business, but he told her it was for leisure and good company, and nothing less.

On their approach from the sea, Lilina clung to the railing, looking out towards the castle, which seemed to rise in and out of the coastal fog without getting any larger. Rubbing the salty mist from her eyes, she returned to the letter clutched in her hands. It was hard to read, especially now that the ocean spray had blurred the ink in places, but soon it wouldn't matter: once they were in Pherae, she'd finally be able to meet Lord Eliwood's son in person.

From what Lilina could tell, Roy already seemed like a perfect friend for her: adventurous, spirited, well-spoken, and brimming with an imaginative sort of energy. She knew all about Pherae now thanks to his letters, where he recounted domain tours, forest hunts, and fishing excursions in as much detail as he could fit on a sheet of stationery. He'd promised to take her out to explore around the castle as soon as she came to visit. It sounded like something they'd have to do without their fathers' knowledge, which sounded both terrifying and thrilling to her. She didn't know anyone her age in Ostia, so the prospect of making a friend at all had been thrilling in its own way.

They docked much later than expected, however, and her father had a disagreement with the ship captain over payment, so Lilina's secret outing would have to wait. It was nearly suppertime when Lord Eliwood met them in the courtyard. She liked Eliwood. Most of her father's peers would just tell her how pretty she was, or remark on how much she'd grown, or something along those lines, but Eliwood asked her things, and he seemed like he was really curious about the answers, too. This time, however, she found herself distracted by the courtyard itself. The lush, twisting trees, shady crevices, and cool, green earth looked particularly inviting after countless hours of sailing. The branches were low enough to climb, too; she wanted to ask the resident marquess if she could try it, but something told her this was one of those things Uncle Oswin would chide her for blurting out. She tided herself over by adding it to the list of things she and Roy would fill the fortnight with, and followed the two men (who were by the minute sounding more like boys) up to the marquess's quarters. They agreed to summon some wine from the cellar and spend the evening catching up; once the servant had fetched a couple of bottles, they settled into the couches and began the exchange of names and news. Fidgety and impatient, Lilina cast her gaze around the sitting room for any sign of red hair (she thought it must have been red, like Eliwood's—Roy had described himself as "flame-haired"), but without any luck.

She waited for a lapse in the men's conversation to speak up, and then she wouldn't wait any longer: "Um… Lord Eliwood? Could I ask you a question?"

"Hm? Of course, dear."

"Where's Roy? I haven't gotten to meet him yet. He's here, isn't he?"

Eliwood looked dumbfounded for a moment, his glass suspended before his mouth. Lilina sensed right away that what she said was somehow out of line; indeed, her father leaned in and murmured, "Not the time." But Eliwood set his glass down and regarded her kindly, though with some lingering surprise.

"Well," he started, "erm… yes, he's here, but I'm not sure it's a good time to see him. He needs a lot of rest— I-I didn't want to overwhelm him with visitors."

"Why? Is he sick?" She glanced from Eliwood to her father, who looked just as perplexed as she felt.

"He… didn't mention that in any of his letters?" said Eliwood, frowning. "I thought you two were corresponding?"

"We were! Maybe… maybe he just forgot. He had a lot to write about already." She unfolded the weathered little letter again, scanning it in case she'd missed some clue about Roy's condition. "Oh—it was after the fishing trip, wasn't it? He said they were out until dusk, so maybe the cold…."

"Lilina, could I see that letter?" She hesitated before handing it to Eliwood—his expression had become stern all of a sudden. There was an uncomfortable silence as he read it. When he finished, he sighed through his nose and rose from his seat.

"Excuse me for a moment," he said, and left the room in only a few paces. Lilina had the distinct feeling of being in trouble, though she couldn't imagine what she'd done wrong.

"Is he angry?" she asked her father, who was taking the opportunity to pour his third glass of wine. She wasn't quite sure herself, without any yelling or pounding on tables… but maybe this was how people with good, courtly manners lost their temper.

"Eliwood? Nah, he's not angry," he replied, stroking the bangs out of her eyes. "Not at you, anyway."

"At Roy?"

"Eh, well… it's not really our business." Lilina nodded, running her fingers along the grain of the tea table, thoroughly unsatisfied with his answer. She wanted to know what was going on, even if she wasn't in trouble. She wanted her letter back. What was so wrong with Roy leaving out a little detail, anyway? She certainly wouldn't have wasted any ink on an illness if she had adventures like his to write about.

Soon enough, Eliwood returned, heaving another sigh as he sat down. "Sorry about that. Now, let's see… you were telling me about that arena ban?"

"Ah, yeah. See, if Oswin thinks he's going to get his way on this one, he—"

Lilina sat upright, seething with sudden indignation at being ignored. "Wait—where's my letter?" she demanded. This time, Eliwood was ready with an answer, though he still looked like he didn't want to give it.

"Ah, well…. As it turns out, Roy wasn't being entirely truthful about himself in his letters." He gave a stiff pause, his eyebrows raised. "…By which I mean he wasn't being the least bit truthful. I don't want to keep his storybooks from him, but if this is what it's amounting to…. Well, you can expect another letter from him tomorrow explaining himself—and apologizing to you."

"I don't care about that—I want my old letter! I—" Before she could get another word out, her father scooped her up out of her seat and planted her on the ground.

"C'mon," he said, nudging her roughly towards the corridor where they'd entered. She opened her mouth to protest, but this time he was the one to cut her off: "Not another word. " He marched her outside the parlor, stopping and crouching down slightly once they were far enough out of earshot. "Look, it doesn't bother me if you decide not to keep the best manners, but I don't want to hear you talking to my friend like that again. You're his guest, besides—you ought to show him a little more appreciation for having us here. He's got enough on his plate… doesn't need another kid giving him trouble." Lilina kept her eyes fixed on the tips of her boots. "Think you're ready to apologize?" She shook her head, more embarrassed than resentful now. It was clearly not the answer her father expected: "Well, erm… find something to do out here, then," he finished, rather half-heartedly, then returned to the parlor. Lilina leaned against the wall. She knew her father wouldn't punish her too severely, but it still stung to know he wasn't on her side here. She thought back to what Eliwood had said: you can expect another letter from him tomorrow explaining himself—and apologizing to you. She'd brushed it off in the heat of the moment, but this rankled her too. She'd come all this way to finally talk to Roy in person, and the only correspondence she'd get was another letter? Sure, she treasured the ones she got, but only because they promised something better—something real.

Lilina straightened up, struck by a sudden idea. This was the same way Eliwood had gone to tell off Roy. That meant his room couldn't be far. She could talk to him in person after all—and if she was quiet, and if their fathers were absorbed far enough into their wine and conversation, they wouldn't be any the wiser. Feeling energized with purpose (and, if she were to be honest, further disobedience), Lilina crept down the hallway, listening toward each of the rooms for anything that sounded like a person. Finally, in one of the doors at the very end, she heard it: the scratching of a quill pen, followed by a hoarse cough. Holding her breath, she pushed open the door, slowly and quietly, and slipped inside, shutting it noiselessly behind her. She turned toward the bed, and her eyes met those of the small boy buried in the folds of his blankets, regarding her with a sharp, fearful gaze.

Any images she had built of Roy from his letters evaporated as she looked over him for the first time. She felt her stomach clench up again; something about the real sight of him scared her. Not quite like bats or snakes—it was a deeper, unnerving feeling. When Eliwood said he was sick, she thought it must be like she got: runny nose, puffy eyes, flushed cheeks from a low fever. She didn't imagine that an illness could leave a boy her age so starkly pale, his breaths coming in tight and ragged, thin as the mangy cats that prowled the lower ring of Castle Ostia. What had happened to him? It couldn't happen to her, could it…?

Lilina's hand hovered near the door handle. She could still go out to the courtyard to climb those charming trees and try to forget about what she'd seen. But before she could decide, Roy spoke:

"Are you leaving?" She found herself unable to answer; in truth, she hadn't fully expected him to be able to speak at all in his condition. He continued, hastily, "Wait, d-don't leave! I-I'm sorry I lied in my letters—a-about going fishing and seeing the bear, and shooting arrows and everything." He stopped, catching his breath. "I… I lied about everything. I'm sorry." Another pause, and then, "Please don't leave."

Something unstuck in Lilina's throat. "Why'd you make all that stuff up?" She wasn't at once sure what to feel, but anger had been familiar to her that evening, so she settled into it again. Even then, she couldn't tell if she was angry at him for lying, or for being sick and weak when she'd expected him to be able to trek around the castle and climb trees with her. "Why couldn't you just tell me you were sick?"

Roy stared downward, his jaw set; he looked like he was shivering. "I just thought… a-after all you had to say in your first letter, if I wrote back and said that I just stayed in bed all day…." He broke off, fumbling with the feather pen. "Er… m-my friend Wolt—I wrote about him, a little bit—he stopped playing with me when I got really sick. I can't go outside for very long, and I get tired when we play our usual games indoors, so," he concluded with a half-shrug, his eyes still pressed onto the writing kit in his lap. "I-it's not that he doesn't like me, he just… got bored." He paused to rub a sleeve over his eyes, then mumbled, "I thought you'd get bored too."

Lilina's frustration subsided as Roy talked to her. There was something moving about his speech; hoarse and strained as it was, she could hear a strong voice in there, fighting its way out. Maybe that was the part of him that wasn't sick—the part that came through in his letters. She took a small step forward. "Actually," she said, after a quiet moment, "I never got any letters before yours. I got to go up and ask the courier for them and pet her pegasus—that was exciting no matter what was in the letter." She reflected a little longer, a smile pulling at her lips. "And… I never really had a friend before, either."

Roy glanced at her warily. "A-are we friends? I mean… you only made friends with the boy in those letters."

"But you'd do all those things if you could, wouldn't you?"

Roy shrugged again. "I don't know. I guess if someone went with me. I haven't, uhm..." he coughed suddenly, almost like a bark, then went on, "I haven't seen much outside the castle. Father tells me about what he sees, so that's mostly what I ended up telling you." He stopped for a moment, then muttered something Lilina couldn't hear.

"Huh? What'd you say?"

Roy was avoiding her eyes, but she could still tell his face had gone sour. "I said you can come closer if you want. It's not the kind of sickness you can catch." He looked like he expected Lilina to refuse. She had been a little nervous about his illness, but she also hated when strangers expected things of her. So she marched forward and hopped onto the bed, turning to face Roy and crossing her legs. And this did take him by surprise; his eyebrows disappeared into his overlong bangs and he actually hiccuped in shock.

Lilina snickered. Roy caught on, and before either of them knew it they had both burst out laughing.

It took them a minute to settle down, Lilina trying to shush them through her giggles, and Roy's hoarse laughing threatening to turn into more coughing. Finally, they fell quiet, at once tuckered out and reenergized.

"That was the funniest thing I've ever seen," Lilina sighed through a wide, relentless grin. "Did I scare you?"

"Yeah, kind of," Roy replied. Then he blurted out, "I think we are friends." He looked Lilina in the eye steadily now, his gaze finally afloat after struggling to stay above water all this time. From here, she could see him much better. He didn't look so bad up close, she supposed; his eyes shone bright and clear through the dark circles about them, his movements were still quick and certain, and the timid smile he'd adopted made him look healthier.

"We are friends! So that means you have to tell me the truth now." This broke their eye contact.

"Well, I… I-I don't really know what there is…." Lilina bit the inside of her cheek. She would have to put in a little more work than she expected.

"Lord Eliwood said something about books…?" Of course, now that she looked, he was surrounded by them: a shelf full on the adjacent wall, a pile on his nightstand tall enough to rival his own height sitting down. But Roy seemed to shrink as she trailed off expectantly.

"Yeah… h-he said that's why I didn't tell the truth in my letters… because I read a lot of stories." He paused, frowning again. "Except, I've been reading about real people. It's history. He should have known that." Lilina reached over and picked up the book on the top of the pile: Famous Mages of Etruria. She flipped through a section in the middle, where Roy had marked it. It looked dense and dull, like a brick with pages. She wondered suddenly if he wasn't lying about this too, to make himself look smart.

"Careful with my spot," he warned her. As she tried to parse the long passages, he continued: "I'm reading about Adelaide now— she was a healer— she invented a way to numb parts of the body with thunder magic. So if you broke your arm..."

Yep, he read it. As he explained the procedure, Lilina's eyes traveled to the spines of the other books. Healing Practices of the Elimine Church, Anima Magic and the Human Body, Understanding Staff Magic, Healing and Harmony...

"...but it worked so well, the Church had to accept that it wasn't really out of line."

"So you want to be a healer too?"

Roy's eyes brightened. "Any kind of mage. You don't have to be strong to use magic. There was even a Mage General who was crippled- he couldn't walk at all- but he went into battle with his tomes and won!" He took a steadying breath. "I haven't tried it yet, but I've read about it. I understand how it works. I know more than our healers do, anyway. Father made me apologize last week because I told the healer his staff wouldn't do any good." He sighed and slumped back into his pillows. "It's not my fault they're useless."

"Last year Papa's friend from Etruria visited— he used to be the Magic Gen—"

"The Mage General?! You're kidding! You met him?" He nearly outpaced his own breath, curling forward again in excitement.

"Yes, he's quite nice. He showed me a trick— here, blow out your lamp."

"But it'll be dark soon—"

"Just do it." Hesitantly, he picked it up, opened the lid and snuffed the flame, though it took a few tries. Lilina took it, and, with a bit of handwork and a brief incantation, the wick was alight again. Roy's eyes were wide, and an awed grin had spread over his face.

"C-can you show me how to do that?"

"Sure. Here, watch my hand—"

But before she could demonstrate, there was a rap on the door, and it swung open. It was Eliwood, holding a tray of food. He looked mildly surprised to see Lilina, but as she slid off the bed and inhaled to launch into an explanation, he chuckled.

"I thought you might be in here." He walked over and replaced Roy's writing tray with his dinner: a bowl of creamy, sea-smelling soup and what looked like sugar cookies. "Your father's out looking for you in the courtyard, Lilina. It's all right, you're not in trouble," he added. "Roy, what are you doing with that? This whole room will go up in blazes if you drop it."

"Father, Lilina can light candles with magic," said Roy breathlessly as Eliwood took the lamp from him. "She said she'd show me how to do it— Lord Pent taught her, and—"

Eliwood cut him off: "Slow down, I'm not going anywhere," he said gently, pulling up a chair from near one of the bookcases. "You need to eat; this won't be any good cold."

Roy scowled. "I don't like it warm, either." His father sighed, his lips narrowed, and Lilina could tell they were entering into what must have been a nightly duel.

"My apologies, Lilina— this may take a while," said Eliwood wearily. "And Roy, you're hardly making a good first impression." Roy bit his lip and ducked his head back down, looking as small and bashful as he had when Lilina first walked in.

"I don't want to eat," he mumbled. "I'm not going to." Eliwood glanced out the window and made to rise from his seat, but Lilina had another idea.

"Roy, I'll show you how to do the candle trick. But you have to eat your soup first." He raised his eyes and looked intently at her. She grabbed the lamp from off his nightstand and flashed an encouraging grin. Little by little, his expression became unmistakably hungry, until finally, he nodded and shoved a spoonful of chowder into his mouth. Lilina flicked open the cover, but didn't go further; Roy understood, and took another reluctant bite. They went on like this, each step of the demonstration— and she was really stretching it out towards the end— exchanged for a bit of soup or biscuit. She finished long before he was ready to, but Eliwood seemed satisfied.

"Well done," he said, his voice quieter than his smile. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" Roy shrugged, his eyes still fixed on the flame flickering in Lilina's hands. Again, Eliwood reached over and removed the lamp, along with Roy's dinner tray. "Though we'll have to do without the magic trick next time. I've seen Lord Pent himself overdo that one, and I'd rather you both keep your eyebrows."

Lilina laughed, and Roy started to, but it was soon swallowed up by a harsh cough, and this one wouldn't let up. Lilina had almost forgotten about his illness. Eliwood simply placed a hand on his back, looking calm, but concerned.

"Does he need help?" Lilina whispered.

"Probably not. There's not much we can do but wait." Indeed, after a minute Roy caught his breath again, but all that coughing had left him drained, his eyelids drooping like a hound's over his watery blue eyes.

"We ought to let you rest," Eliwood said to him.

Roy protested, "I don't need to rest!" which came out so hoarse it was almost funny. But he didn't resist when his father removed his extra pillows and pulled the covers back over him. Lilina figured he must have really been tired if he let himself be put to bed at dusk without a fight. Eliwood drew the curtains, and the room got dark.

"It won't take you long to drift off, I promise. Then you can join us for breakfast tomorrow if you're feeling better, all right?" He kissed his son's forehead and turned to leave. "Lilina, let's go find your father before he starts ransacking my courtyard." Lilina nodded and followed him over to the door. She turned and waved to Roy, who returned it sleepily.

She was brimming with questions, but waited until they were out of the corridor. "I thought you were mad at him?"

"Oh, I was only joking. I know he won't tear up the courtyard… he'd have to pay for it."

"No, I mean Roy." She wondered at once if she wasn't making things worse by reminding him. "I went in his room on my own. He didn't call for me or make noise or anything." And then, just to be on the safe side, she added, "I'm sorry I went in there," even though she wasn't sorry at all.

"No harm done. In fact, I'm glad things happened this way."

"Why?" She trotted to keep up with his long stride. "You sounded like you were mad at him earlier."

Eliwood hesitated thoughtfully. "When you wrote to him, and I told him it was his obligation to write back, Roy got very worked up. He was certain you wouldn't like him. Finally, we got the letter sent, and when I saw you were corresponding regularly, I assumed he had faced that fear. I was disappointed to find out today that he'd been running from it the whole time."

"I liked reading those letters, though," Lilina said, something like shame tugging at her.

"I'm sure they were quite entertaining. And I suppose we can't blame him too much. He's been miserable." Eliwood looked miserable himself when he said it. But he breathed in and continued: "Today was the first time in a long while he's looked truly happy. That's why I'm rather grateful that— beg your pardon— you decided to completely disregard your father's directions and invade my family's private space." He gave Lilina a smile. "Just this once."

They arrived at the courtyard, and along with a gust of pleasant, cool wind, they were met with a flurry of shouting voices.

Lilina heard her father long before he came into view. "How you missed a little girl playing out here in broad daylight—"

"Sir, I'm telling you, we've been on watch for the last hour, and no one's passed through!"

Another guard spoke up: "Lord Hector, are you sure she went to the courtyard at all?"

"What are you on about? Of course she—" He spotted Lilina and Eliwood and stopped mid-word. In an instant, his posture eased from menacing to casual, and he clapped the guard on the shoulder, knocking him into his comrade. "Ha ha! Look at that. Eliwood found her! No thanks to either of you!"

"Hector, I'll thank you not to bully my guards," said Eliwood. He nodded at them, and they left in a faint huff of relief. "Lilina's been upstairs the whole time."

"Oh." Lilina's father looked at her, puzzled. "What were you doing up there, sweet?"

"Talking to Roy." She figured if she said it innocently enough, and slunk her hand into his for good measure, he might overlook her disobedience. But he scowled all the same.

"Should've known you'd try that." He looked up at Eliwood. "You know I don't approve of this."

"I see your imagination's finally working," Eliwood replied. "You'll forgive me for saying you're being ridiculous. But if you're certain, you can be the one to tell Roy to break off his new friendship."

"Papa! You can't!" Lilina knew they were joking, but the thought of Roy alone and ill without even letters to keep him company was painful. Her father shifted his weight and scratched his beard, looking harried.

"I don't want my daughter going off to play with strange boys in secret," he muttered to no one in particular.

Eliwood wasted no time: "Then seeing as he's not a stranger and it's no longer secret, you shouldn't have any objections."

"Yeah. And he's gonna have breakfast with us tomorrow, so you better be nice to him."

"All right, all right. But this I don't like," he growled, gesturing towards the both of them. "You two ganging up on me."

Eliwood laughed. "Fair enough. As it is you're hopeless against just one of us."

"I'm hopeless against her, I'll give you that, but you we'll see about. Tomorrow, upper courtyard. Tell Marcus he's judging."

"Did you really bring an axe with you?"

"I brought three. You know me: always prepared."

"Indeed…."

They returned to Eliwood's quarters for dinner, the same seafood soup that Roy had to be bribed to eat (after a few bites, Lilina found herself siding with him, and stuck to the herb bread). About halfway through the meal, one of the servants summoned Eliwood to address something. Lilina's father set down his empty tankard, looking content. Lilina, taking this as a signal that she could stop pretending to eat, slid closer to him and leaned into a hug, tracing her finger along the fur on his doublet.

"You must be bored," he said. "Good thing it's about time for all of us to turn in, eh?" He drew in a huge yawn. "You'll get to explore the castle tomorrow."

Lilina nodded, but she wasn't as interested now that she'd be venturing out alone. She stared out the window, watching the moonlight dance over the rippling ocean surface. Without her even realizing, her eyes slid shut, and when she'd opened them again, her father had laid her on a soft, downy bed and was unbuckling her boots. Once she was safely tucked in, he put out the lamp and said in a low voice, "I'll be right across the hall if you need me. There's plenty of torchlight out there— do not light that candle on your own, understand?"

"Mm-hm."

"All right. See you in the morning. Sweet dreams." He planted a whiskery kiss on her cheek and left. Lilina turned over so she could see out the window in this room when something poked her in the chin. She pushed instinctively and felt paper crumple under her fingers. She blinked, eyes adjusting to the dark. It was the same size and shape as her old letters, but much crisper and cleaner. Suddenly much more awake, Lilina unfolded it and held it closer to the moonlight streaming in between the curtains.

Dear Lilina,

I'm writing this in the dark, sorry if it's messy. I tried the candle trick but I couldn't remember it well enough. Can you show me again tommorrow?

Anyway, I'm sorry again that I lied in my other letters. It probably didn't make a good first impression. I'm glad we got to start over. I know we already did, but I wanted to write it down so you can remember that it really happened, instead of all those made up stories.

It was really great to meet you in person. You're just as kind and smart as you were in your letters. It's especially exciting because this is the first time I've been able to write something in a letter that really happened. I'm looking foward to talking to you more this week and maybe practicing magic.

Yours truly,

Roy

PS: Please also show this letter to my father so he knows I did it.

Lilina read it over three times (as best she could— it was a bit of a mess) before setting it next to her, right where the pool of moonlight hit it. She knew she would treasure this one more than all the others put together. It lacked adventure, but the truth it told was nothing less than wonderful.