Iarlaith hasn't forgiven him.

“Your sword.”

“Hey-!”

“Your pin.”

“Ow-!”

“Your cape—stop,” Iarlaith uses his arm to block Godien’s path, halting him in place. His red eyes glower with the promise of Godien's imminent demise as he pointedly pins his royal capelet to his left shoulder—Godien winces; “Don’t be an infant.”

“I’m not being an–” Godien cuts himself off, staring up at the hallway’s ornate ceiling in resignation, “We both know I don’t need to go to this meeting; why am I even here—ow! Iarlaith!” 

“My apologies,” Iarlaith replies without a single crumb of remorse; “Need I remind you that you are a Prince? Or were you hit in the head with a few too many stones while playing 'sword ball' with the knights?”

Godien frowns, eyes darting to the marble tile below.

Iarlaith sighs.

“You’re not a child anymore, your highness,” he says; Godien glances up to see his cousin watching him with an almost pitiful gaze, “These games need to stop, or at the very least mature above ‘damaging the knight’s equipment just for fun’. Alright?”

Godien stares into Iarlaith's eyes for a long beat, before looking away with a defeated sigh of his own.

He then straightens his back and fixes his patented People's Prince Smile right into place.

“After you, milord,” he replies, performing a dramatic bow.

Iarlaith sighs again, deeper this time, “There will be a single sun in the sky on the day you learn how to address people properly.”

Godien laughs, the two resuming their original pace towards the Minister’s Court.

“Well if you must play the technicality game, you are a High Lord so–”

Iarlaith pulls out his own papers from under his arm, flicking through them as they round the final corner towards the Minister's Court; “I am not playing the technicality game—I am on duty. I am not a High Lord while I am on duty.”

“I don’t believe that’s how it works–”

“You believed it would be a good idea to use sword flats to smack stones around the Knight's Courtyard while running around on a dirt pentagram,” Iarlaith pauses, palms flat against the ornate dark wooden doors leading into the Minister’s Court, “Forgive me for not taking your royal words for the infinite depths of wisdom that they are.”

Godien’s jaw drops in a dramatic show of offence.

Iarlaith's mouth twitches into a brief smirk. He then pushes open the doors before Godien has a chance to respond, his expression reverting back into that of a stone-cold professional as he gestures for the Speaker to announce their entrance into the room.

"His Royal Highness, Second Prince Godien of Fearg Impireal and his Grace, High Lord Iarlaith of Rosenbreck have arrived."

The two perform the High King's Salute—a hand over the heart and a mild bow of the head—before making their way towards the Imperial Stand.

Godien can feel his older sister glaring daggers at him as he crosses the room, her gaze setting fire to his dark blue hair from above. He tries not to react as he takes his seat beside the High Queen, Iarlaith taking position behind him – as is standard for a Royal Adviser. He’s certainly not glancing in that direction for the rest of the afternoon...

Eilis might decide to burn him to death with her retina the second they make eye contact.

───※·❆·※───

Click–

“Wh- Jenna, come on,” Allen gives Jenna a look as he lowers his phone – this being the third photo in a row flubbed by her silly expressions; “One nice photo per location. You promised.”

“Boo, fine,” Jenna monotones, her expression quickly bouncing back into a sharp grin as Allen resets and reraises the phone into the air.

"Thank you—Say cheese!"

“Cheese!” 

Click.

“You’re insufferable.”

“You love me,” She sing-songs back.

Allen rolls his eyes with an amused smile. He opens his Photo Gallery app just to make sure she hasn't tried to hide another pair of 'bunny ears' behind her little brother's head. The foot of difference between the two has never seemed to put a stop on her determination to do it in every single group photo he tries to take. It's always annoying in the moment, but he can never quite bring himself to delete the photos either.

He pulls up the photo in question—his smile softens. Not a pair of bunny ears to be found.

Blake stands to the right, his brown hair fluttering in the wind as his hazel eyes gaze at the camera. He's partially bent over to better stay in frame, his signature tan coat flapping about behind him. He's not at all dressed for a hike up the Dolomites, but at least he came in a pair of relatively sensible shoes.

Allen might've had a heart attack if he'd decided to rock up in the red-soled ones.

Allen's little sister stands in the middle of the group, her black hair held in place by an adorable green headband tied into an asymmetrical bow. Donned in a matching green pinafore skirt and a pair of light brown hiking boots, Ana seems more prepared for the trip than both Park siblings combined.

Her smile is bright and wide—Allen's heart aches. To think there was a time where she could never smile at all. He's so proud of her.

Jenna stands to Ana's left, her purple-tipped auburn hair whipping in the wind as she joyously pumps her fist into the air. Her smile is as electric as the purple and black rock-inspired outfit she's put on for the day, spiked cuffs and all.

The purple platform boots are certainly a choice, but he gave up on that argument hours ago. Beauty is pain, apparently. He's not going to pretend he gets it, but as long as she doesn't roll an ankle climbing up or down the mountainous terrain... 

He’d packed a first aid kit, just in case.

Finally, Allen’s own black-haired mop is staring back at him from the bottom left of the screen, the sun doing nothing to hide the dark rings under his eyes from yet another sleepless night. He's wearing a smile of his own as he does his best to stay out of the shot while still technically being in it.

He's never been a big fan of standing in front of the camera–

“Allen!”

“Ah-!” Allen startles, fumbling his phone—almost dropping it; "Ana!"

She giggles, her bright blue eyes twinkling in the sun; “You coming?”

Allen stares at her for a long beat. He then sighs, nods and slips his phone back into his right pocket – though not before he sets that group photo as his lock screen wallpaper, replacing the ridiculous photo they took inside the Colosseum earlier that week.

He accepts his hiking pack back from Blake and pulls it on over the blue of his short-sleeved sweater.

“Thanks."

Blake gives him a thumbs up as he pulls on his own pack, Ana taking off to catch up to Jenna as she stands roughly twenty feet ahead, engrossed in reading the signpost.

Allen’s eyes follow the narrow gravel path behind her as it leads up past a grassy plain, dotted with the occasional hiker. It briefly disappears into a sparse spruce forest before finally reemerging at the foot of the towering Dolomites range behind it. 

Allen finds himself turning a little paler than usual. 

He's suddenly not so sure that this hiking trip is a good idea.