Quoted from the A/N of "The Midnight Clear", since that's faster than trying to rephrase everything:

"With regard to the nature of this AU, the shortest explanation is that it's as if fractured Milla's dimension was prime. There are several relatively minor differences, but none of them are very important right now. This little episode would take place several years after a story I haven't written yet, and therefore involves the 'next generation', hence the OCs."

Pairings: Gaius/Milla, Ivar/Leia, Alvin/Presa, Wingul/Karla, and Jude/Elize.

Something was very definitely wrong.

Allura had performed all the usual steps perfectly, but her brother still wasn't moving. She'd called his name, charged his bed, and performed a flawless dive-roll, sprawling next to him with a welcome rush of adrenaline in the early morning—but Dante didn't so much as stir. Not even after she mustered all her bravery (just like Master Wingul taught her!) and pinched him in the crook of his waist, which she knew was ticklish.

"Dante?" asked Allura, more quietly; maybe she should try a gentler tactic. "Are you… alive?" Aunt Karla had told her that starting big was best if she needed to figure something out; she should start with broader questions and narrow them down to the little ones. Sure enough, her brother moaned something by way of affirmative, and Allura smiled in relief; that was a good start.

Aliveness was nice… but if he wasn't dead, that still left the problem of what was wrong. "Are you okay?" she tried, biting her lip nervously. No, wait, maybe that was too vague. After all, Uncle Alvin had told her that you could say you were okay and not mean it; Allura still didn't understand why anyone would ever do that, but—

Dante rolled over to bury his face in his pillow and mumbled a response into it, but only the vowels escaped. Oh uh ey. "You have… the plague?" realized Allura, her eyes widening. Oh no; this was terrible! (How dare he be sick on her birthday!) Plus, wasn't that supposed to be contagious…? "D-don't worry!" she exclaimed frantically, tumbling off the bed in a hurry to stick the landing and back away slowly. After all, she didn't want to get sick, too—not when she'd just turned seven. "I'll save you!"

Tiptoeing out of Dante's room and closing the door behind her as quietly as possible to let her brother recover from his illness, Allura realized suddenly that she had an even bigger task in front of her. Now that she knew what was wrong, how exactly did one girl go about curing the plague?

But she steeled herself, gathering her resolution, and clenched her fists as she continued down her hallway. Allura was the daughter of the Dawn King and the (former) Lord of Spirits, so she could handle anything. Except awakening her parents early again, she thought, darting past an ornate door. The last time she'd done that, Mama had almost tickled her to death while Papa held her still.

But Papa had taught her that a princess knew when to ask for help, and if she ever needed help, now was the time. "Caitie," she decided to herself, and turned her tiny bare feet towards the servants' quarters. Even though Caitie was special since she was Auntie Presa's daughter, she insisted on staying with the other maids.

Come to think of it, Allura was jealous; Caitie got to have a sleepover with all her friends every night! Papa never let her or Dante have friends in their rooms. She crept into the maids' room, blinking to adjust her eyes to the darkness; they hadn't opened the curtains yet. Was Allura the only one awake besides the guards? It wasn't that early, right?

"Caitie," she whispered, approaching her bed; at least she got the one closest to the door. "Caitie, wake up," insisted Allura, shaking her shoulder; Caitie tensed under her fingers, but she soon relaxed again with a stubborn little groaning sound. "Dante's in trouble!"

But Caitie only sighed, propping herself up on an elbow. "His Highness?" she asked disbelievingly, reaching for her glasses; the lenses glinted in the dim light glowing around the curtain. "Why would Prince Dante need me to save him? You're usually the one who needs my help."

"But it's the plague," Allura told her anxiously, shaking her again in petulant insistence. "Come on, you gotta help him. It's your job, and it's my birthday!" she added, as authoritatively as possible, but choked on a yawn she caught from Caitie. Those were about as contagious as any sickness, after all.

"Princess, there is no plague in Kanbalar," she responded eventually, sitting up and stretching resentfully. "Doctor Jude just checked in on you both yesterday, so if His Highness is sick at all, it's just a cold. Let him rest, and he'll get better on his own."

"Fine," snapped Allura, putting her hands on what would someday be hips like Mama's. "Go back to sleep. See if he dies!" And with that, she marched out without even waiting for Caitie to respond. If her handmaid wasn't going to help her like she was supposed to, she'd have to find someone else…

Not Autumn or Heather; they'd be great healers someday, just like their parents—Doctor Jude and Auntie Elize—but they couldn't help out until they were older. And if Allura woke Cousins Jinna or Guan, they'd just go running to their parents, and that was more trouble she didn't need. She wasn't doing well enough in her studies to be able to afford offending Aunt Karla, and Master Wingul never went easy on her to begin with.

Shuddering at the thought that she should be tutored and trained to death on her birthday of all days, Allura turned her feet towards the guest rooms. She may have decided not to try the Mathisis-is-es, but maybe the Rolando triplets would be able to help her. They knew a little about a lot, after all, and they'd risked getting into trouble for less before.

Ro-lan-do; it sounded like Leronde, like Auntie Leia's hometown. But either way, at least they had last names, she thought sourly; she didn't have a last name. Papa had told her patiently that she didn't need one, since she was the princess and everyone knew who she was already.

Of course, Allura had asked about the Chimeriad, since they didn't have last names either, but they weren't royalty… except maybe Master Wingul, since he'd married Aunt Karla. Papa had replied that they had last names once, but they traded them in for new names and epithets when they joined him. Then he had called No More Questions before Allura could ask what an epithet was.

Allura passed her destination and kept walking before she noticed what had happened, and backed up swiftly, stumbling slightly. Her nightgown wasn't long enough to get tangled around her legs, so she didn't have that as an excuse; but at least no one was awake to see this time. She smiled to herself at first, raising her hand to grasp the handle… but scowled again as she realized the door was locked.

Even pushing with all her tiny amount of might yielded no results whatsoever; she glared at nothing, leaning against the wall to catch her breath. But here was some new hope: "Hey, did you guys hear that?" asked one of the triplets' voices, and Allura smiled. She could barely tell them apart by sight, let alone by sound alone; but based on the undercurrent of caution in his tone, that one was probably Corey. He was more careful than his brothers, anyway, if only by a little.

"Yeah… sure," returned another, after a brief pause, but this one sounded like he was mostly asleep—until there was a rustle next to him, after which the voice sharpened instantly. "Damian, where are you going?" he added, and based on what Aunt Karla called the process of elimination, Allura realized the speaker must be Zeke.

"To answer the door," replied Damian, his soft slippered footsteps shuffling along the stone, and Allura smiled at the sound. "What does it look like?" Zeke muttered something about how it looked dark, but Allura missed his exact words under his brother's protests.

"But what if it's a murderer?" asked Corey's voice fearfully. "Dad told us not to talk to strangers, because he talked to a stranger once and it was Alvin and then the whole world almost died. Remember?"

"Yeah, but do you really think His Majesty's guards would let a murderer into the palace?" retorted Damian's voice scornfully. "Besides, I like Alvin, and he helped stop the world from ending. Dad just doesn't like him because Mom does." He spoke so firmly and finally that his brothers didn't dare argue with the law he laid down. "Anyway, this is probably a maid, or something. They clean our rooms, right?"

"With us still inside?" shot back Zeke, apparently fully awake now. "That's stupid. You're stupid. But it's also cold without you, so just come back to bed already," he added impatiently, quickly enough that Allura guessed he was trying to avoid an argument based on those insults. "Besides, Mom will be mad if you open the door and it really is a murderer."

"Maybe it's a maid-erer," muttered Corey exhaustedly, his voice muffled as if by a blanket.

"N-no, it's me," Allura assured them softly, remembering her powers of speech abruptly, and those were the magic words: the lock clicked just before Damian opened the door. "Come outside, all of you," she added, peering past him into the darkness containing Zeke and Corey. "Dante needs our help!"

"Dante?" gasped Zeke, his voice full of newfound interest, and his shape stirred in the shadows as he got to his feet, all thoughts of the cold evidently forgotten as he stood curiously off to the side behind Damian. "He needs help?"

"He's got the plague and no one will listen to me," Allura told them desperately, and two sets of bright green eyes widened (Corey's pair still being notably absent). "Not even Caitie. So we gotta do something before he sucks-thumbs!"

"I bet Dante never sucked his thumb," Zeke told her, sounding as insulted as if she'd been talking about him. "Dad says he's exactly like Queen Milla, and she never did that either!"

"No, it's a fancy way of saying he dies," Allura told him, rolling her eyes at her friend's ignorance. "Sucks-thumbs, or something like that. It's because everyone cries just like a baby if they're in pain," she explained, proud of her incredible deductive skills.

"I never cry like a baby because I don't feel pain," boasted Damian, but Zeke pulled his short light brown ponytail the next moment; Allura blinked as his head jerked sharply back before she realized what had happened. "Ow!" yelped Damian, before remembering his parents lay sleeping in the same room, and clapped a hand over his mouth.

There was a pause as everyone froze, as if that could somehow undo awakening the triplets' slumbering parents; but nobody moved, and the conversation continued like nothing had happened (if a little more quietly). "Aw, I'm sorry, did that hurt?" taunted Zeke, tilting his head. "Come on, don't pretend you're the king or something," he persisted, crossing his arms stubbornly. "Everyone knows everybody feels pain except His Majesty."

At this, Corey finally emerged, wearing his blanket like a cape; Allura took a moment to look him up and down in confusion before remembering that he wasn't used to the cold like she was. "So… are we going to save Dante, or what?" he yawned, making space for Zeke as he huddled under the blanket beside him.

"Duh," responded Damian, gesturing for them to follow him in the general direction of the kitchens: Corey closing the door quietly behind them before obliging along with his other brother. "Let's make him some of that special tea!"

"But I don't know how to make tea," protested Allura, hurrying after him along with Corey and Zeke, "and the kitchens aren't awake yet!"

Zeke snorted with suppressed laughter, and Allura's eyes widened as she realized her mistake an instant before he said it. "Kitchens can't wake up, Silly-Ally," he snickered, employing the nonsensical nickname her brother had given her years ago. Even Dante didn't call her that anymore.

Allura's cheeks turned so hot she wouldn't have been surprised if they'd burned like red paper lanterns through the darkness. "Sh-shut up," she told him, a thrill running through her heart as she said the forbidden words; sure enough, his eyes widened in shock that a princess could use such language. "I meant the cooks!"

"Don't worry," Damian told her, smiling in his supreme confidence, and grabbed her hand unnecessarily as they rounded another corner. "We make tea all the time! Plus, there's a special Nia Kheran blend that Dad makes, and he takes it around to everyone every sick season to keep them healthy."

"Yeah, but did he bring any with us?" asked Corey, his blanket swishing after him and Zeke like a super-soft cape. "And even if he did, how do we know he put it in the kitchens? Maybe it's back with the rest of our stuff."

"Yeah, but Queen Milla came from Nia Khera too, right?" reasoned Zeke. "So she probably has some too, and tea belongs in the kitchen. So, if there's any in the castle, it's probably on a shelf somewhere over here."

"And with our luck, it's probably the highest one," responded Damian, as blithely as if he hadn't just predicted a huge obstacle. Then again, Mama had always said that they'd gotten their father's luck, but she'd never made it sound like a bad thing either. "Hope you're ready for some exercise!" he added cheerfully; this was met with a groan from Corey and a sigh from Zeke, but neither one complained in words.

Finally, they arrived at the kitchens—except it was too dim to see clearly. "Hey, Princess, you're already awesome at spirit artes," observed Damian, glancing around the darkness, and she smiled and blushed at his easy flattery. Papa always said she had potential, but Mama hadn't trained her yet. "Couldja maybe cast us some fire so we can see?"

He framed it like a question, given that she outranked them, but she could tell it was expected of her. "All right," she responded, holding out her hands and taking a deep breath to concentrate. She didn't need an incantation; she just needed an orb of fire, she thought, focusing intently on the image in her mind. She didn't want a big one, so if the spirits could just hold it in a small sphere…

"Wow," whispered Corey, and Allura opened her eyes to find herself holding a little ball of fire; he reached his hands out towards the warmth, green eyes shining in the tiny blaze. "It's like a mini-sun!"

"Sweet," grinned Zeke, joining Damian in his quest for tea; Allura followed him in an attempt to be helpful. "You should call it that so the spirits know what to do from now on," he continued, opening a cupboard and staring into it thoughtfully. "You just invented an arte!"

"I—I didn't just invent fire," stammered Allura, embarrassed trailing after him and Damian as they raided the kitchen. She'd definitely seen this somewhere before. "A lot of people probably did this before me. But they called it something fancy."

"Really?" asked Corey, his blanket still trailing after him. "Like what?"

Allura bit her lip thoughtfully, racking her brains, but came up empty. "I can't remember," she confessed. "Mama says I should learn more sword stuff before she teaches me summoning, so I haven't seen her use too many artes. Maybe I'll ask her for my birthday."

"Oh, that's right," remarked Damian, poking his head out of a cabinet and startling Allura; she hadn't seen him crawl in. "Happy birthday, Your Highness!" he chorused alongside his brothers, and she beamed at them all. At least somebody had remembered, even if it took a little prodding; but really, that was a little less important than making sure Dante didn't die of the plague.

"There," remarked Corey suddenly, pointing up at the cupboard Damian had just closed, and grasped at the corners of his blanket as it slid down his back. "I think I see it. Is it the jar in the back?"

"Don't be ridiculous," returned Damian, but nonetheless turned back to make sure, opening the door again. "I just checked that sh… what do you know," he finished, standing on his tiptoes: Allura raised her hands to cast more light on the jar of tea. The label was faint, but sure enough, it said something like Nia Khera.

"Thanks, Corey," smiled Allura, relieved that they'd finally found it. "Now we can finally make some tea!"

Corey's eyes widened at the praise, and he might have seemed a little redder in the firelight. "Y-you're welcome, Your Highness," he managed shyly, tracing circles on the floor with his foot. "I'm h—"

"Aw, why don't you ask her to marry you after we get it down," interrupted Zeke, rolling his eyes; Allura frowned, blinking a few times in confusion. She thought Damian was the one who'd been asking to marry her every year, not that she'd ever said yes. "Come on, lose the blanket and grab the tea."

"Fine," muttered Corey sullenly, letting his blanket fall to the floor and giving an exaggerated shiver. He made his leisurely way over to the counter, perhaps to prove a point, and climbed onto the surface; Zeke and Damian clambered up by the cupboard, kneeling next to Corey to hoist their brother up—each supporting one knee. It was really an ingenious plan, marveled Allura; she never got tired of seeing it in action.

"Got it," responded Corey, his voice muffled since his head was in the shelf, and his brothers lowered him down again complete with herbal tea. The three of them slid down from the counter in unison, and Allura grinned at them. Perfect, as usual.

"Great!" exclaimed Zeke, snatching the jar from Corey. "Now all we need's a teapot to boil some water, and we can brew it," he added, continuing the search anew alongside his brothers, and Allura frowned as a memory stirred deep inside her mind. Boil… That reminded her of an arte Mama had cast once, a little like the one she'd cast herself to give them light. It began with a B, didn't it? Or it had a B sound, anyway…

"Oh! I know," exclaimed Allura, and the triplets glanced over at her as the sphere of fire flared up momentarily with her recognition. They'd asked about the names, right? "See, someone already invented a move like this, because I saw Mama use it before. And I think it's called Flare Bomb!"

But the spirits misinterpreted her words as the incantation itself: the fireball shot uncontrollably out of her hands towards Zeke and the others, suddenly expanding into a jar-shattering, tea-burning, thankfully small explosion. Allura's eyes widened as the triplets were split up and pushed back, and she stared at her hands. Oh no; now she had more than Dante's life to worry about. She'd be executed for sure at this rate!

"The tea!" exclaimed Zeke, sitting up and staring at the smoldering bark and leaves; Damian and Corey followed suit, the former rubbing his head and wincing, the latter too shellshocked to do more than stare. Oops.

"What's going on here?" demanded Caitie's hoarse voice, and Allura whirled around to face her irate handmaid. "First you shake me awake at four in the morning, then you blow up the kitchen? Wait," she added, adjusting her glasses and squinting at the embers on the floor. "Is that… was that… Queen Milla's favorite herbal tea…?"

"Y-yes," squeaked Allura, edging backwards, but slipped on Corey's blanket and fell on her royal behind. Her eyes watered as her tailbone complained about the impact, but she didn't let the tears fall; a princess of her distinguished lineage must not cry, especially a princess of seven years. "Sorry!"

"Don't tell me you're sorry," returned Caitie, raising her eyebrows. "It's not my tea. I'll help clean up," she decided, stalking to the closet and procuring a dustpan and broom, "but when you have to tell your mother, you're on your own. Deal?"

"Deal," mumbled Allura, gazing at the floor, and Zeke and Corey scooted out of Caitie's way; Damian stood up, skirted cautiously around the remains of the jar, and grabbed Allura's hand to pull her to her feet. She couldn't find the words to say either 'thank you' or 'sorry', so she settled for just hanging her head in shame—but of course, she missed his forgiveness until he tapped her jaw to encourage her to look up.

"Chin up," Damian told her, crossing his arms. "I thought we'd break that thing ourselves. Looks like you beat us to it, that's all. But if you really want me to," he added, whispering in her ear conspiratorially, "I'll tell them I did it anyway."

Allura sighed, shaking her head. "Thanks," she told him softly, and meant it. "But nobody can lie to my parents, so it's probably easier for me to tell the truth. But if Mama kicks me out of the castle for this, can you take me home with you after the festival?" she added in a rush, more worried than she should be. Maybe she could be a Rolando, since she didn't have a last name of her own.

"Of course!" exclaimed Damian earnestly, grinning, and Allura hesitantly smiled back at the thought of a sleepover with the triplets every night. "I'd love to! Me and my brothers could teach you to live off the land, and we'd catch you any kind of animal you wanted," he told her, playing with her fingers as he gazed excitedly down at her face, a few inches away. "And the villagers would love you too, since you look just like Queen Milla with black hair—!"

"I said I'd help clean up, not do it all myself!" exclaimed Caitlin furiously, brown eyes flashing as she brandished her broom at Allura, and the princess sprang guiltily to action and seized the dustpan. All thoughts of life in Nia Khera aside, she had a lot of mental rehearsing to do before she'd be able to face either of her parents.

…Or, as her luck would have it, both of them—and Dante too. As if five explanations to several pairs of alarmed guards weren't enough, by the time Allura and Caitie had finally finished extinguishing the still-smoldering tea leaves and sweeping up the shards of ceramic into a pile, they had gained an audience of more than one kind.

"Allura!" called Mama's shocked voice from the doorway, and she froze, glancing back at her mother to find her father and brother standing there as well; as Allura got to her feet, Caitie sank into a curtsy, and the triplets all bowed. For a long time, none of them spoke or even moved, and Allura was preoccupied with wondering how Dante had recovered so quickly on his own—but finally Mama continued, "It is four-thirty in the morning. What are you doing?"

"I thought Dante had the plague," faltered Allura, scuffing a foot against the tile, and Dante made a strangled noise of what might have been amusement in the back of his throat. "And I—I wanted to help him. So Corey, Zeke, and Damian helped me take down some tea so we could cure him, but… it fell."

"What's this about… a plague?" asked Papa, frowning, and glanced between his two children with concern and curiosity in his deep eyes. (Allura could never tell whether she got her father's or her mother's eyes, since they were so close in shade; but Papa's reminded her of Dante's, whenever they both looked at her a certain way. But then, they all had black hair and pink eyes, so it didn't really matter who got whose.)

"Dante said he had it," insisted Allura, returning her gaze to her brother. "I woke him up this morning, and he said something about the plague, so I left to find some way to help him. But I didn't want to bother Doctor Jude," she continued desperately, trying to justify her actions. "Not so soon after our checkups."

To her astonishment, Dante burst out laughing before she could dig herself in further. "I didn't say anything about a plague," he snorted. "I said go away," he explained, shaking his head, and Allura could feel her mouth form a perfect o shape in newfound understanding. "Because it's too early in the morning, and you promised never to wake me before sunrise."

"But what was that explosion?" asked Mama, conjuring a much less volatile ball of flame to illuminate the scene: Allura blinked at the sudden burst of firelight in the dim shadows of the kitchen. "And… is that—was that—my favorite tea?" she gasped, eyeing the burnt and broken mess on the floor.

"Y-yes, Mama," mumbled Allura, bowing her head. "I—I'm sorry!" she added frantically, cowering as Mama took a few furious steps forward, her fire flickering out. "I didn't mean to! I just said the name of that arte you cast once, and the spirits took it too far!"

But to her great astonishment, Mama smiled as she halted before her, resting a willowy hand on her head. "I think… it's about time I taught you to control your abilities," she sighed, bending to plant a kiss on Allura's dark-haired head. "More lessons for your birthday."

"You're not… mad?" managed Allura, blinking up at her mother in astonishment. "About the tea?"

"I'm sure your Uncle Ivar brought me more for the new year," she responded evenly, glancing around at his children and motioning for them to rise (they hadn't dared stop groveling since the arrival of their father's revered queen). "All of you, return to your rooms," she continued; the triplets bowed once more and scurried past her, Corey dragging his blanket behind him, and were gone. "You're allowed to come out again once the sun has risen. And thank you, Caitlin," she added. "Allura can finish the rest."

Caitie curtsied, thrusting the broom into Allura's hands with a flinty expression; as Mama gestured towards the pile, the princess's gaze slid past her to the rest of her family. Dante's arms were crossed, and he looked as though he was enjoying himself; Papa, meanwhile, nodded slowly in dangerous encouragement. Allura swallowed and crouched back down, sweeping the pile further into the dustpan, and hustled over to the wastebasket before she could spill it all.

By the time she turned back around, Mama had cast a wind arte to blow the last remaining dust and fragments to the corners of the kitchen; a breeze tickled her feet as she stared in wonder. "That's our little secret," she whispered to Allura, glancing back furtively at the disapproving Papa and delighted Dante. "Now, let's all go back to bed before anything else explodes. You have a long day ahead of you."

"To bed?" protested Allura, her eyes widening. "But I'm wide awake!"

"You and half the rest of the castle, after everything you've done," laughed Mama, taking her hand in her firm and gentle fingers and guiding her to the broom closet to deposit her dustpan. "Even if you don't go back to sleep, you only have to wait a few more hours until daybreak."

"And if you want to be the best ruler you can be," sighed Papa, following with Dante as Mama guided Allura through the doorway, "you have to be patient." She nodded mutely in a silent resolution to do so, and Papa chuckled at her obedience, ruffling her perpetually messy hair in fatherly affection; she ducked under his hand reflexively, used to combat training. "That's my little princess."

…And Papa's little princess had a few questions for her brother, as they all walked down the hall. "If you hate getting up so early, why are you awake?" hissed Allura to Dante, striding alongside him as they continued walking before their parents.

"Caitlin woke me to make sure I was all right," he responded. "I thought I'd actually get some sleep after you left, but after our handmaid showed up, I knew you were up to something, so I fetched our parents. And you've really outdone yourself this time, by the way," he added, grinning. "You may be seven today, but I'm two years older than you, and I'm the crown prince—and even I don't have the right to blow up Mother's favorite tea at four in the morning!"

Allura rolled her eyes. "But I was really worried about you," she insisted, almost choking on a sudden yawn. Where had that come from? She hadn't been lying to Mama when she'd said she was wide awake, right?

Dante glanced briefly back at Mama and Papa to gauge whether he'd get in trouble for something; Allura eyed him suspiciously. He only checked like that if he was planning some sort of attack. "You really think I'd miss my little sister's birthday, even if I had the plague?" he murmured, nudging her before drawing her in close by the shoulder to steady her.

She hadn't realized how relieved she was to hear that not only was her brother fine, but he still loved her even after she'd accidentally forgotten about her promise. "Can I stay with you till dawn?" asked Allura, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. "Like I used to?" she added pleadingly, plaintively, and Dante sighed in exasperated contemplation.

They'd shared a room till he had turned seven himself, a couple years ago, so Allura had crawled into his bed whenever she had nightmares. And the events of this morning, she reasoned, should definitely qualify as a nightmare. Minus the promise that Mama had agreed to teach her some artes, of course. Even if she'd done it in a really… backhanded way.

Finally, after an unbearably long pause, Allura's brother pursed his lips. "Just don't tell anyone," decided Dante, glancing at her out the corner of his eye. "You're getting too old for this. I feel like—what was that word Alvin taught us? An… enabler?" he continued in an uncertain mutter.

"I know," responded Allura meekly. Ever since Dante had gotten his own room, Grandpa Jiao had chased away her bad dreams instead, but he'd said much the same thing the last time: even a princess had to learn to stand on her own someday. "I promise not to ask again."

"Like you promised not to wake me before sunrise?" asked Dante pointedly, pinching Allura's side, and she squeaked in delighted protest; Mama and Papa laughed softly from behind them, and both siblings glanced back. "Yeah, right. I'm locking my door from now on, and you can't stop me."

As soon as they reached his room, Dante herded Allura in with the threat of further tickling, and his sister complied… with a show of reluctance, of course. "Play nice, now," warned Papa, crossing his arms, and Mama nodded at them in that intimidating listen-to-your-father way of hers. "And don't leave your room until you can see sunlight outside."

"Yes, Father," Dante responded, bowing briefly before shutting the door—but Allura was already darting to her favorite half of the bed, which just so happened to also be Dante's favorite half of the bed. She beamed at him from the right side, curling up and making herself right at home; if Mama had banished her to bed until the sun had awakened, she was going to spend those couple hours in royal comfort.

Rather than push Allura away as she expected, Dante heaved a sigh and clambered onto the left side of his bed, flopping onto his back and flinging his arm into Allura's chest purposely: she stuck her tongue out at him, half automatically and half on purpose. "Good night, again," he growled good-naturedly, turning his back on her. "You're lucky it's your birthday."

Oh right; her birthday! She grinned all over again; if there was one thing she loved, it was forgetting something good, because every time she remembered it again seemed like a new occasion. "Dante?" asked Allura tentatively, but the only response she got from her brother was a faint grunt, and she gave a light sigh. She'd never understand how he could fall asleep so fast. "Aren't you going to wish me a happy birthday?"

There was such a long silence that Allura thought Dante had fallen asleep, or worse still, he'd started ignoring her… but then—"Happy birthday, little sister," mumbled Dante, plagued more by his sister than sickness, and Allura closed her eyes with a smile. Mama was right; she had a long day ahead of her. If she wanted to play with the triplets again, she'd need all the rest she could get.

Get well soon, Viisauden!