No one would have expected the king of Windor to attend a Strahtan wedding, but when two of the king's closest friends were the bride and groom, there was no way he was going to miss it. Not even the inconvenience of having to order the royal tailors to fashion beach clothes for him so he could meet the service's odd dress requirements was a deterrent. Sure, there was a lot of work he needed to do, but there was always a lot of work to do, and he could make an exception this once, he told himself. Besides, even kings need to relax sometimes.

The wedding was beautiful but informal, the strangest Richard had ever so much as heard of, and not just for the fact that it took place on a boat. He had a feeling it was Pascal who had arranged the whole thing, as there were no speeches or even scheduled meals, just a buffet and music and robots designed to continuously fill every partygoer's glasses with wines (the robots and banana-themed buffet were dead giveaways, if nothing else). It was a wedding and reception designed to be fun, and for a man whose every minute was scheduled by circumstances outside his control, it was a tremendous relief.

Catching up with his friends was the highlight of the night, especially Asbel. It had been nearly three years since Asbel had taken Lambda into his own being, and yet it seemed Lambda was having no effect on Asbel's mind or spirit. In truth, though this was heartening, Richard couldn't help being a bit jealous at his best friend's strength. Still, he talked and laughed until their group broke up, as Asbel decided to hunt down his brother, who was avoiding the festivities despite being the newlywed.

An unexpected surprise was that Richard was apparently unrecognizable in beach attire, and so no one bothered him, completely unlike how he was constantly swarmed by admirers wherever he went any other time, in any of the kingdoms. It was such a relief to be left alone without having to shut himself away in his room, and he kept to the edges of the crowd, sipping on white wine and taking a much-needed break, just breathing the sea air and relaxing as the sounds of waves, music, and happy revelers washed over him.

This is what I work for, what I fight and live for, he thought. Peace. Joy. The freedom for people to have parties like this, and live their lives. That this wedding can even happen is worth all the struggle…all the nightmares…

…Well…maybe not all of them…

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the dark thoughts that tormented him when he was alone, and as he did so, he caught sight of someone else who seemed to be keeping away from the crowd. A woman with two-toned hair that marked her as an Amarcian was leaning against the deck railing, her arms crossed, her expression not exactly pleasant.

Recognizing her, Richard grabbed a glass of red wine and approached, holding it out as an offering.

"Drink?" he asked.

"Get that vile concoction away from me," the Amarcian huffed. "As if I could afford to have my mind clouded for one moment!"

"My apologies," Richard said, quickly pulling his hand back. He studied her a moment, then asked, "It was…Fourier, wasn't it? Pascal's older sister?"

"Yes, Pascal's older sister," she said sarcastically. "That's all I am, isn't it?"

"Hardly," Richard said, surprised at her tone. "I'm sorry, I…I meant no offense."

"Hmph," was his only response.

He should have walked away, but somehow his curiosity overrode his better judgment. "May I ask what it is that has you so upset?" he inquired, settling against the railing himself.

"Oh, I'm not upset," Fourier said, her tone entirely insincere. "Why should I be? My perfect little sister has a perfect husband and everything's perfect and I'm so happy for her." By the end of this statement, she was speaking through gritted teeth.

Richard recognized that emotion; he knew it all too well. "You're jealous of Pascal," he said, "but not because of Hubert. What, then?"

"Oh, leave me alone, won't you, you pig?" she snapped. "Have you no manners?" At this, she finally turned her full attention on her unwelcome interloper, and then did a double take as recognition lit in her amber eyes. "Oh…King Richard. I didn't recognize you."

"No one has," Richard said with a smile, as a tiny voice at the back of his mind suggested that maybe he'd had a little too much to drink. "It's nice to not be recognized for once."

"Yes, well…" Fourier cleared her throat, then lifted her chin. "You of all people should know when to leave a lady alone."

"I want to know what's troubling you," Richard told her. "Your advice was invaluable when we were trying to discover why the monsters around Ephinea were getting stronger, and as the sister of a close friend of mine, I would like to consider you a friend as well. I'd like to help, even if all I can do is listen."

Fourier rolled her eyes, but he could tell she was tempted by this opportunity to spill whatever she was keeping pent up inside.

"It's best to let it out," he said after a moment. "Keeping your feelings bottled up can lead to…unpleasant things." Maybe I have had too much to drink, he thought as he finished his white wine and started on the red he'd brought for Fourier.

"Pascal always gets everything!" Fourier blurted out. "She's smarter, stronger, better than me in every way, without even trying to be! And now she even has a perfect husband, though how she managed to court anyone when she's such an airhead is beyond me! How could a man stand to be with a woman who refuses to bathe on a daily basis?! It's not fair!" Richard let her catch her breath and compose herself before she hung her head. "Oh, what's the point of wishing?" she moped. "I'm far too old to bear children anyway. At least our family line will continue."

"Too old?" Richard asked, surprised. "You don't seem that old to me."

"Well, by Amarcian standards, it would be a disgrace for me to bear children now," Fourier said. "Technically, Pascal very nearly fits into that category too, though since she married an Outsider, I suppose none of that matters to her."

"Ah yes, I'd forgotten how Amarcians think it's healthier to have children early," Richard said.

"It is healthier," Fourier stated, "science has proven this. And as our race is so limited, most of us are expected to do our best to have the healthiest children possible. I got a free pass, as my parents died when I had just reached wed age and I had to take care of Pascal, and everyone in the Enclave knew that she would be too much of a handful for me to be able to bother with my own children." The Amarcian woman turned a glare on a distant figure with a mop of red-and-white hair that looked like a shaggy version of her own, who was currently talking animatedly with a pretty blonde lady. "But she never cared. Four years past wed age, and she still had no interest in anyone, acting like she was still five years old! And then she ran off, and none of us thought we'd ever see her again - and I'll be honest, few of us cared. She's always been such a disgrace to our customs. And yet…and yet she's always better than me. Any technology I try to invent, she can do it better without even trying. And now she somehow found a husband, while I…have nothing…"

"Pascal was the one who insisted we ask you about the monsters getting stronger, because you know more about biology than she does," Richard remembered out loud. "Maybe you just have a different area of expertise from her. You shouldn't try to compete with her; find your own thing, the thing you do best, and do that instead."

"Easy for you to say," Fourier huffed, her moment of baring her soul apparently over.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Richard asked.

"Well, you were born knowing what your specialty was," she sniffed. "Born to be a king, and the best ruler Ephinea has ever seen from what I hear."

Despite everything, including the knowledge that he would make her mad, Richard couldn't help throwing his head back and laughing.

"What in the world is so funny?" Fourier demanded, her sharp amber eyes piercing him.

Struggling to get a grip on himself, Richard eventually managed, "I apologize, I just…It's funny, how everyone thinks I was born a perfect king. I don't know if that's what I'm best at; I try to be, because I have to be, because I am the king, but…" He shook his head. Wine and old regrets conspired to darken his mind, and the last traces of his laughter died. "When Lambda saved me from my uncle's poison, he fed on my bitterness and hatred," he said in a low voice. "Our shared anger and pain fueled us and fused us, until I could no longer tell where I ended and he began. He consumed me, and I let him, because I didn't have the strength of spirit to resist. And together, we nearly destroyed the world. What kind of natural-born perfect king would let that happen?"

"From what I hear, Lambda is a parasite," Fourier said, "a being of immense power birthed from Fodra's core. I'm sure no one could resist him."

"Asbel can," Richard said softly, scanning the crowd for the white-clad lord but not seeing him. "It's been nearly three years, and Asbel and Lambda are coexisting peacefully. He…would make a better king than me." With this admission drawn out, Richard gulped down the rest of the red wine and quickly wished he'd brought more.

"Asbel," Fourier said thoughtfully. "He's nearly as much of an airhead as my sister, from what I gather. Always believing in the best in people, in situations, in everything. He wouldn't have the head for kingship, the ability to make difficult decisions, not as long as he sees good in everything and everyone."

"He makes a fine lord," Richard pointed out.

"In a tiny town that answers to you," Fourier countered, waving a hand. "You have to be able to recognize the bad in the world to get a full view of everything that happens around you." She turned on him again. "Perhaps it's you who should focus on your strengths, and not lament who you are not. You have a much broader, more realistic understanding of the world than that boy."

Richard tilted his head. "As do you," he commented. "Perhaps…"

Just then, the sky above them began to burst into colorful explosions, as fireworks were set off from somewhere on the boat. They both turned to watch the show, which erupted after a few minutes into a portrait of Pascal and Hubert together made entirely of firework sparks. Even Richard couldn't contain a tiny "Aww."

"Of course," Fourier muttered. "She would show off like that."

"It's her wedding," Richard pointed out, not needing to ask who Fourier was referring to or what she meant by it.

"Well, I hope that at least means this ridiculous party is over," Fourier sighed, straightening up. "I can only hope to accomplish something while she's on her honeymoon. Honestly, I nearly didn't come at all."

"I'm glad you did," Richard heard himself say.

Though she'd started to walk away, Fourier stopped and turned back to look at him, and once again, he couldn't help notice the beautiful amber color of her eyes. "Perhaps…I feel the same," she admitted.

"May I visit you the next time I go to the Enclave?" Richard asked.

She blinked. "…Me?" she asked. "Not…Pascal?"

"You," Richard confirmed, smiling.

"I…would like that, yes," Fourier said, her eyes revealing that she was surprised at her own words.

Richard's smile broadened. "I look forward to it," he told her. "Until then, remember…Know your strengths, and focus on them. Don't worry about what other people can do."

"I may follow your advice, if you pledge to try to do the same," she countered, almost playfully.

Dramatically, Richard placed a hand over his heart. "You have my word, my lady," he vowed.

A surprised giggle forced its way out of Fourier's throat before she turned to head for the ramp that would be lowered to allow the guests to disembark any minute now. Richard stayed where he was for the time being, watching her go.

Know your strengths, he mused. I should get drunk more often.