To Owe a Favor
Chapter 23

Killian's POV

"I haven't seen her in three days," I say to Selivan and Yasmil. We just got back from training, and I'm debating going to her room. Everyone just tells me to drop it though, to give her time.

"She just needs space-" Yasmil starts but cuts herself off by pointing toward the entrance of the living area, "Or she'll come out right now."

Yasmil smiles at Lillianna and waves her over. I turn and realize the reason she's walking over. A glare etched into her face pointed directly at me. Maybe she did need more time to process.

When she nears, she crosses her arms, "I want to be a warrior."

"Easy killer," Yasmil says, trying to diffuse some tension, "Where'd this come from? Your wings still need to-"

Before she can comment on her wings, Lillianna says to me, "Just show me the moves, and then I'll be halfway there when my wings unfurl."

Selivan tries to make a comment, but I shut him down. "Okay." Everyone gives me a shocked look, "We start now, try to take me down." A curious crowd forms, and Lillianna tries to imitate some form of human martial arts.

"Killian," Yasmil calls out in a low, nervous tone. I wave a hand, telling her silently that Lillianna won't get hurt. At least, not by me.

"You look angry, Lillianna," I say, in a bit of a mocking tone, "Warriors need to have composure."

She stands from whatever stance she'd been trying to crouch into, "I don't need composure. I just need you to teach me-"

I fly forward, carefully yet forcefully, knocking Lillianna to the ground in one swift move, "You do need composure to see your enemies coming."

Even from her place on the ground, she lifts her knees and tries to kick me. Nothing lands.

I keep my eyes on her but order everyone in the living area to leave. The spectacle is over, and Lillianna needs to calm herself.

When the last of the Royal Warriors has left, I kneel on the ground. Trying to stay on the same level as her. Like a good friend, I pull her in close, and let her be angry for a minute.

She huffs and pushes against my armor, and then begins to shout, "Let me go, this isn't even a fighting position."

"Your angry, and until you tell me why, we can sit here," I grumble. With a chuckle, I add, "My mothers used to do this when I was throwing tantrums as a toddler."

"I'm not a toddler."

"Then stop acting like one," I say.

Her anger bubbles up again but fades into hot tears that rush down her cheeks. With her struggling stopping all at once, I gently pat her back. She's sobbing when she asks, "How could they say that to me? I thought they loved me."

With my chin on her head, I sigh, "They do love you. I could tell from the way they helped you." That truth feels bittersweet on my tongue in the face of all they've done to her, and I add, "But their love is clouded by the need for accomplishment. Until they can love you again with no strings attached it's okay to be mad at them for that."

"I want to yell at them. Fight them."

"Try forgiveness first," I say.

"I don't think I can forgive them for what they did."

"Not them. Yourself." Lillianna pulls away from me to frown and gives me a questioning look. I clarify, "Forgive yourself for being a kid that didn't know they caused pain. For hoping that they would change. Forgive yourself for getting hurt and know that you will be more prepared for hurt in the future, by learning from moments like these. You may get hurt again, but not in the same way. Not by the same people."

We sit in silence. Even in the quiet, I can tell she mulls my words over in her mind. Her sobs subside and with a few deep breaths, I pull away from her. "There it is," I whisper, "Forgive, accept. And learn from that pain."

My hand trails down the side of her face, tucking her hair behind her ear. She hops up then, pressing a salty tear-filled kiss to my lips. With a blush covering her cheeks, she asks, "Did you learn all that fancy advice from your mothers?"

I squeeze her tighter to me, pulling her to a standing position before saying, "No, Lills, that was all me."

Lillianna laughs and wipes her tears away, "You ruined it with that horrible nickname."

I laugh, bending down to press another kiss, a deeper one, into her lips. We lean into each other, but pull back, chuckling, "I knew the second I said 'Lills', that it was a bad nickname. Guess Lillianna is going to have to work."

I begin to walk her toward her room, where I know we'll spend most of the evening, "Now about all that 'train me to be a royal warrior' nonsense. I think I have a better idea."

Three Months Later | Lillianna's POC

Killian walks into the coffee shop after his training session, followed by Yasmil and Selivan. The braids in his hair that I'd done this morning are nearly falling out. To make up for the poorly done braids, I have his drink order waiting for him with a smile, and he leans over the counter to kiss my waiting lips.

"How's the training been going?" he asks my coworker who's behind me.

"She's a trooper. Make it through rush hour nearly all by herself."

I smile shyly and turn to Yasmil and Selivan with a professional smile, "Hey guys, what can I grab you?"

Selivan, ever the joker says, "You haven't memorized our orders yet?"

Killian glares at him, and Yasmil knocks him over the head with her armored forearm. Yasmil places their orders and I get to work on it.

Killian leans on the counter, "So, who do you think is going to win the finals this weekend?"

"Fallin' Leaves!" Yasmil and I shout together. A few other coffee shop goers pump their fists in agreement at hearing their team's name.

I grab our drinks, telling my co-worker that I'll be on my usual evening break with the Royal Warriors. She gives me a wink and waves me off.

The three are already sitting at our usual table near the window, and I come out with our drinks balancing between my two hands. Yasmil and Selivan's drinks make it onto the table safely, but Killian's drink wobbles in my hand before making its descent onto his shoulder. The lid pops open and the contents spill down his arm.

I gasp in shock, and Yasmil and Selivan laugh loudly.

Killian stands, not bothered by the spilled drink, and leans into my ear to whisper, "I think you're going to owe me a favor, my love."

I blush. It was the same thing he'd told me when we met, in the same coffee shop, but under much different circumstances.

The End.

A/N: Tee hee! End of summer indeed <3 Thank you to those who've continued to read throughout a multitude of long breaks, and I hope this story may have made you smile at least once or twice while reading! Until I write again ;)