Ahh, sorry, I wrote this in a rush of activity and probably got lazy. But it was kind of asked for, and this pairing needs more things, so.

The palace was full of humanstink again, and Judal wanted to hide. Well, not hide. Sneak. He wanted to get lost in the enormity of the Imperial Palace like he did as a child, such that nobody could find the magi for hours and hours and he was free to do as he pleased without interference from witches and watchmen. He was still free to do as he pleased—more free, now—but at the moment it pleased him to take a break on palace grounds, and that could not be achieved because it was swelling with undesirables clamoring for his attention.

He did what he could.

He brushed past them, flew over them, glared and gave shivers all alike because he wasn't a child anymore, he was sixteen years old and a full-fledged magi and a carnage crow to beat the rest, and he wanted recover some private time in a place of some fucking stability for maybe two fucking hours before he had to deal with brainless people and tear up the world. (He didn't mind the latter, if only such a task could afford him some time to himself.) Gyokuen and Al-Thamen were so persistent and so pushy, as if he owed them anything. They'd push and push and push, and Judal was keen on the idea that maybe they should fucking defer instead. He was an oracle.

But he was tired. That conspicuous guy had given him the slip. For the first time, he hadn't been able to crush a man like a pea bud, and each moment he dwelled on the fact, he inflamed his wounded ego. He didn't want to face Al-Thamen. They wouldn't be pleased. It wasn't that he was afraid, but rather that Judal was in no mood to be devalued by them.

He just wanted to be alone for a while.

"Judal!" He felt himself on the cusp of losing it, of stabbing, stabbing, stabbing.

But it was just Kougyoku. And she was hardly worth the glowering. He just turned away from her, hair whipping to the side, and resolutely walked away.

"A—ah—wait—wait! I have something to ask you," she said. He heard the shallow thud of her steps scurrying after him. "It won't be annoying."

He stopped, feeling as though steam was rolling up in his gut and rising. But he inclined his head at her. "Won't it?"

"No," she said sourly, then grinned the most dopey grin he'd ever seen and leveled a sword at him. He almost jumped. Almost.

"What."

"Fight me!" She said, and beat a fist against her chest, and Judal contracted his brow for five whole seconds to better take the scene in, and then he laughed.

"Pass."

"Oh, I see. You're tired, from your journey." She looked at him with grave understanding. He bristled at the thought—she lowered her sword to her side. "Do you want to rest?"

Yes, actually. But he gave the Judal answer. "Not at all. Who do you think you're talking to, huh?" He craned and cracked his neck, snickering as Kougyoku flinched at the sound. He eyed her sword—clearly, she couldn't be serious. She couldn't have improved enough to actually try to take him on in his absence—no, that wasn't even a possibility! What mere swordsman could take him on? None.

Ah, what endearing, refreshing stupidity on the part of his favorite princess.

"In that case, I do challenge you to a formal duel." Oh, she was beaming. This was precious. He drew his wand out. It hadn't done much against that dungeon-capturing little shit, but it should be enough to strike fear into a dainty courtdweller like Kougyoku.

"Are you sure about that?" He said dangerously, directing his wand at her throat. It was something of a nice feeling, to know he could blow out her neck whenever he pleased. He consoled himself with that. But she didn't seem scared.

"No, no, Judal," she said insistently. "I meant fencing. No magic and things of that nature; I just want to fence with you. I have gotten quite good."

"Pass." He waved his hand dismissively at her, but she stomped her foot and clutched the sword handle so tightly that her knuckles went white.

"No, really! I understand if you're tired—" "I'm not—" "but please don't dismiss me just because you think this is a dead-end silly pretend hobby! I really have become skillful. Please let me show you!"

He had to consider that. On second thought, he was beginning to regret ever encouraging her to begin with. She'd latched on with such seriousness, and now he couldn't shake her off. He had to give credit for her determination—he remembered vividly her whining and wittering, of how she didn't want to always be seen-and-not-heard, about how she wanted strength and worth, about how Kouha was her age and he always got to swing swords around and he was a brute and she wanted to learn to defend herself and it went from reasonable to aggravating way too fast, until Kouen and Judal finally gave some minimal effort towards setting the tiny princess up with fencing.

And now she was standing before him with this outright stupid will to fight. Worse yet, she could actually beat him, if she really had improved as much as she claimed. What a brat. He clicked his tongue.

"Well, if you're begging so bad, " Judal said, letting disgust seep into his tone and enjoying her instant self-conscious withdrawal. He let that hang in the air for a few moments, and then, in all his graciousness, "Sure, I'll play with you for an hour or something." His eyes shifted downward, frowning imperceptibly, and continued.

"Later."

"Later?"

"I'm busy. Some of us do work."

"You liar, you're just going to nap on a roof, I've seen you do it—"

"Shut up, I'll fry your hair."

"My hair is not my one pride anymore, so I don't care! I can fight now, too. I have bested the guards."

"You have not."

"Some of them," she sniffed, about ready to let the conversation come to a close. "Well, it is a promise, then."

"I didn't promise," Judal said, a tad too quickly. "I never promised."

"Then, promise."

"No. I said I would. I will. Geez, Kougyoku, you're losing it. You're as bad a brute as Kouha." He clunked his fist against her head, but she didn't wince or draw back. She raised her sleeve to her mouth, and he wasn't sure if she was pouting or smirking. He stared.

"I am going to be as bad as you," she announced. There was something about that—he liked the idea and didn't like it, until he ultimately decided such a thing was impossible for someone like Kougyoku.

"Let's see you say that when you stop crying all the time." He was leaning back now, regarding her with detached interest, planning to slip away as soon as it waned. This side of Kougyoku was just fun, though. She followed him around like a duckling to its mother, and she was so embarrassingly set on impressing him.

"Let's see you say that after a contest of swordsmanship!"

He wouldn't be impressed if she really did manage to beat him, so it was probably best to ditch her before she tried to coerce him any further with all this silliness. He chewed the inside of his cheek.

"Wow. You sure are taking this seriously. You gotta calm down, Granny, you can't regain youth by swinging weaponry around willy-nilly and challenging people to duels you can't win."

"I don't care if I can't win. I just want you to see."

Her solemnity was a little disquieting, quite honestly. She was staring right at him, and he wanted to tell her it was unladylike—but then she might go back to her demure glances and lowered lashes, and that stuff made him want to puke. The frame of mind it took to stare right at him—that's what he liked about Kougyoku. So, instead:

"…Those guards were probably going easy on you. Because you're the sweet princess, and everybody loves you, you know. They wouldn't wanna risk their heads and hearts by making you sob like a baby."

Later, Judal sat on his ass on the floor of the training building, racked with deep breaths, and Kougyoku—Kougyoku stood in front of him with explosive glee, sword en point, where his had clattered to the floor. She was so happy she looked like she wanted to cry, and Judal swatted at her when she offered her trembling hand to him for aid.

He told her he'd been going easy on her, too. She didn't fight him on it.