I wish I wish with all my heart you can tell Darius and Swain apart because I've never written him before and I've never actually seen anyone write him so I'll probably have to rewrite this, too

The air within the sanctum of Prime was always cold. Dahlia didn't know why; it was here and here alone that she felt the urge to run without looking back. She suppressed the sickening twist in her chest, instead opting to follow her father's lead. He knew this place like he knew his axe. He could never get lost.

She lost track of how many doors they passed, how many guards looked like they hadn't slept in days, how many footsteps they shared between their entry and their destination. One day, she would know this place as well as her father, but not today. Instead, she zoned into the steady march of his boots, matching her own pace with his until they reached the door and she not-so-elegantly slammed face-first into it.

At least she didn't fall back from the impact, instead standing where she was and accepting the look that was being burned into her back. She had earned that.

She reached up with her good arm to hold her nose properly, giving her father a small and awkward smile as he sighed and opened the door she had slammed into.

The smile disappeared faster than she could drop her hand. The Grand General didn't care for unnecessary weakness like compassion or embarrassment. It was a hinderance.

The room was dark, and colder than the rest of the Sanctum; it was hard to see where the Grand General was without the telltale glow of Beatrice's eyes. He was in a good mood today- Beatrice didn't have flesh in her mouth. She prayed he would be at least relaxed towards her.

"I received your reports," came the drawl from the General. "Darius performed well, from what I gather… and you did not."

Her father stepped aside. She knew she had to face the Grand General alone. She just hated facing Swain at all. She squared her shoulders and nodded, keeping her head up in silence.

"Would you mind explaining your failure?" The clicks of his nails were enough to make Dahlia want to bolt.

"There was no failure involved, sir. We did as was required. We distracted the Demacian soldiers and split their forces to allow the main warband to carve through the ranks more… efficiently, so to say." She swallowed. Her knees felt like they were going to give. "The only failure involved was the lack of cohesion between myself and the others I was given command of. It is something I need time to work on with them."

"You should not need-"

"They wanted to run, sir."

The room felt colder as the Grand General stood, and her heart hit her stomach. She felt like she could die here and now. Instead, she took a shaky breath and forced her shoulders to stay down; she would not flinch nor show weakness. It was not Noxian to do so.

"They wanted to run and hide from the battle. It was their first. I remember my own, when I was too young to hold an actual blade in my hand. I wanted to run, too. With practice and exposure to the situation, they will become numb to it and we will have a more viable success rate, sir."

She could feel the eyes of Swain boring into her own, and she felt a twinge of pride in knowing he would find no regret in her. Experience was needed to become strong- even those who had been strong for years knew that. She forced herself to stay still, feeling the tears of anxiety burning in her eyes as she watched him sink back into his chair. She couldn't see Darius from here; he had escaped her field of vision.

"At least you're worth something," came the response. It sounded mildly amused. "If you had flinched, I would have killed you. Do the same with your new warband, girl; kill those who do not adapt. That is an order. Work on your strategy. Inefficiency leads to defeat, and defeat is unacceptable."

Her heart sank further, and yet she still nodded in silence. The gesture that followed was one that dismissed her, but not her father, and she was all too glad to turn on her heel and make for the door. She could see her father's expressionless face and wondered if she had made a mistake as she left, closing the door completely before taking off in a run.

She hated this place. It made her feel like there was no escape.

She didn't stop running, even when she reached the outside, even when the ground changed from solid stone to cobbled. She didn't know where to go but home; she couldn't get away from the Bastion fast enough. It felt suppressing, cold, and she always felt like there was more in the palace than was visible to the eye.

All she wanted to do was burn it all.

She felt the ground come out from under her before she realized she had leapt from the banister meant to keep people from falling; the landing was rough, yet she still kept moving. She had no intention to stop, no intention to look behind her as she went to the one place in all of Noxus that she felt safe; home. No amount of people could keep her from that place. Her mother would be there, forging new weapons for the military as she always was, waiting for the tap on her shoulder that signaled her blood-bound husband was home and her daughter was safe.

The sight of the home by forge was more than welcome, even as she slowed down to a halt, listening to the clang of hammer against steel from within. It was the sound of home to her, the sound she would always associate with power and stable strength. A forge housed the flame, the steel and the ones who could shape it to their will - and those were a select few among the thousands who would wield the results.

Dahlia took her time making her way into the forge, picking her steps carefully so as to avoid hurting herself on the stray shards of steel that hadn't been deemed worthy of weaponry. Her mother was focused, so much so that she hadn't noticed her daughter's presence as she worked. The young warrior couldn't help but smile.

She reached out, the smallest of fires dancing on her fingertips as she touched her mother's ear. It earned her an alarmed noise, and a near concussion as her mother swung around with the hammer in hand.

Dahlia started laughing about the same time her mother did, even sprawled on the ground.

With a flick of her mother's wrist, the fires within the forge faded; it was a beautiful power when wielded so expertly, and Dahlia felt shame creep into her heart as she realized how weak her own was. It did not vanish as her mother reached forward, pulling her daughter up to press a kiss to her forehead.

You lived, came the familiar signing of her mother.

Of course I did. Father had my back. It was still a process of learning the signs. Her mother had gone deaf years before she had even been born, but it had only been three years ago she had even noticed.

I suppose you both deserve something other than legumes.

There was a momentary pause before they both began laughing again, her mother nodding for them to go into the house; it would be nice to sleep on something that wasn't rocking.