At a place where two tracks meet, the carter brought his horse to an abrupt halt.
"This is where you get off," he said, turning to spit.
Dusk was falling, and a curious mist was crawling towards the cart, covering the barren landscape in a sheer coat. Apart from the sparse clumps of dying grass, the surrounding area was devoid of any features that would inform visitors of where they had arrived. An ancient stone marker stood vigilant at the crossroads; a proud sentinel despite the clinging moss.
One of the passengers stood up on sore legs, clinging to the side of the cart for support.
"This isn't even a settlement," she protested, cheeks red from the cold. "It's-it's nowhere!"
"This is as far as I'm willing to take you," the coachman replied flatly. "It's late, and I won't linger in these parts after nightfall. Dangerous stories surrounding the castle these days." He turned to spit once more, narrowly missing the two other passengers who had already hopped off.
Stubbornly, she crossed her arms, and glared at the older man.
"Don't tell me you're frightened? If that's the issue, my companions and I are more than capable of protecting you from these...dangers." She rolled her eyes at the last part, but the man merely sneered.
"Sure darling, you could come on with me." The man's tone had changed. "I've got a comfortable home back south that I'd love a pretty thing like you protecting. Maybe even have you take on a second job as a bed warmer."
Assuming danger, the shorter of the male companions jumped back on the cart, hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his sword. Releasing a shaky breath, the girl held up her arm to halt his movement, and poured all of her rage into a loathsome look that would startle even the most hardy of explorers.
"You are lucky indeed sir, that I do not have the time nor patience-" her voice hitched, and her companion laid a soothing hand on her shoulder. "...to educate you on how to speak with a lady." Turning on her heel, her pigtails swung wildly in the air, slapping both the driver and her companion in the face.
"Do not pay him Lazward," she snapped, jumping to the ground, hands still curled into fists.
Lazward backed out of the cart with a sheepish grin, leaping to avoid the desperate driver's grabs.
"Thugs!" He yelled after Luna, who ran over to join Odin by the stone marker. "Thieves and barbarians the whole lot of you."
Pausing by one of the horses, Lazward turned to look at the haggard driver, whose scalp was eerily similar to the ground he stood on. Flipping a coin in his hand, he smirked at the desperate gaze that tracked its movements.
"A few coins for some information? Maybe about those dangers you spoke of?"
The man rubbed his hands together, peering around anxiously.
"They say the weather in these parts is bad enough to wake the dead. Lightning so strong that when it strikes the ground it gives the deceased a second breath. Thunder so loud that the people never sleep, and become paranoid from deprivation. Rain so heavy that no life but parasites thrive. This is a dying kingdom son, but it's people aren't passing quietly."
It sounded like backwater rubbish to Lazward, and yet when he kicked at the brittle soil beneath his boots, it cracked; dust particles flying up around his face like a dying breath.
He flicked the coin to the man who snatched it from the air, stuffing it quickly into his coat as if scared Lazward would change his mind.
"A last piece of advice for you," the coachman called from his seat. A crack of thunder responded, and Lazward fought the urge to cover his ears. The horses began to panic, stomping and whining in place.
"It's going to rain soon, which means you ought to start running."
The carriage left in a hurry after that, leaving a trail of grey dust in it's wake. Lazward watched until it was a speck in the distance before heading over to his companions, who were heatedly discussing their next move.
"...if you think we can make it to the castle in time, you're a bigger idiot than I thought. That carriage was our only hope, and if you bastards had been there to help me we could've convinced him to take us. Now, in this freezing weather and soon to be rain, we have to trek over thirty miles before sunrise to participate in a-"
"By the blood of my ancestors, look at this writing!"
"Owain! Were you even listening!?"
"Odin," Lazward corrected, moving to stand beside the linguistics maniac, who was already tracing the writing with his hand.
"These symbols...these predate our writing system!"
Thankful that the recent discovery shocked Odin into using normal speech, Lazward leaned over to take a closer look.
"Are you saying our worlds are connected?"
"Ha! An excellent deduction apprentice. It would seem that the lines between worlds bleed into another, dripping on the fates of the inhabitants, and coating their lives with a culture similar to our own."
Luna began tapping her foot in annoyance, a scowl decorating her features.
"Can we worry about this later? Maybe when we don't have somewhere to be?"
Lazward and Odin exchanged a glance.
"You're right," Lazward finally replied, prying a protesting Odin from the stone. "Do you know which direction the castle is?"
Luna pointed a few paces away to a well-worn path that headed towards a valley in the distance. "Hopefully that trail will take us there."
A raindrop smacked Lazward's forehead, and Luna groaned.
"No, no, no ,no. We do not need this right now."
With flourish, Odin lifted up his cape.
"Would the lady like to take shelter?"
Luna flushed, shutting her eyes tight.
"Put that down! You're showing way too much skin."
"Ha Ha! Jokes on you. Before this outfit my magical energies were at a minimum, but now they course through my veins. Indeed, sometimes I cannot even stop myself from performing magic, so be weary companions."
The rain was now coming down in a steady sheet, and Lazward sighed.
Luna stood beneath the nearest tree, pouting at the change in weather, and Odin had wandered back over to the stone, laughing manically at the possibilities it presented.
At this rate, they would need a miracle to make it to the castle in time.
Although he had seemed weary to death the day before, Xander's lamp burned throughout the night.
Corrin stood out on her balcony in the approaching dawn, blanket wrapped tight around her shoulders. The sun would not be visible in the next hour, the sky would simply turn a lighter shade of grey. Tilting her head back, she inhaled the world around her; wet grass, fresh mud, and the dying embers of a fire. A part of her, a very secretive and monstrous part of her, wished that she could pick up Xander's familiar scent from here.
Sighing, she hugged her quilt tighter to her body.
It had seemed so simple last night.
When she awoke, lonely and cold in her canopy bed, the light emitting from Xander's window had caught her eye. Heart pounding, the idea of leaving her room, running down the hall, and appearing outside his chamber had entered her mind. When he opened his door, she would spill out all of her pent up thoughts and desires, only to have him...do what? What exactly did she want him to do?
Corrin shuddered.
Her body had felt strange that night, just as it did now in the morning light. She was not so naive as to be ignorant of what it meant, but these feelings were still so new to her. She had known the feeling would come to her that night, she knew as soon as Xander wrapped his arms around her in a congratulatory hug, giving her early birthday wishes and praise. It was that memory and more that had come to her in her dream, and now her stomach wrestled with lust and disgust as she recalled it.
Freak, her inner voice whispered.
Monster.
She knew, oh how she knew it wasn't right for her to feel this way about someone she shared blood with, but that didn't stop her dreams.
Or subconscious.
Or, on occasion, hands.
Guilt is what kept her up for the rest of the night, sitting tall and still under the cover of her balcony, surveying the castle grounds and pointedly avoiding the hypnotizing flare of Xander's room. She didn't want to sleep again, to be visited by dreams that made her feel dirty.
Dreams that concocted events she was wholly innocent of.
Dreams that ended in sweet release.
Dreams that left her feeling hollow, empty, and incomplete.
"Is mistress cold?"
Corrin started violently. She had been so transfixed on her thoughts that she hadn't heard her double doors opening, or Flora approaching. The maid smiled at her with an icy gaze that gave her a persistent melancholic air. Felica had told Corrin that Flora wasn't always like this, that her expressions used to genuine, but being held here as captives, even well-fed and employed captives, had soured something in Flora that Corrin didn't ever think would go away.
"I would send you home if I could."
Flora calmly walked over to Corrin, neither feet nor face giving a reaction.
"Is your lack of sleep causing you to spill nonsense?"
Corrin opened her mouth to object, but Flora silenced her by placing the handle of a hairbrush against her lips.
"I could hear you rustling about as I did my night rounds. No rest for the wicked, hm?"
She moved behind Corrin, carefully lifting her long, white hair out of the blanket and over her arm. Gently, she began to brush out the tangles in silence.
"I...was having a persistent nightmare. Even now I can't seem to stop thinking about it. I apologize if it worried you."
Flora hummed a response, gently squeezing her shoulder with her free hand. Where Felicia would have offered a sympathetic ear, Flora gave methodical movements, and before long the maid's rhythmic brushing was lulling Corrin into a deep sleep.
Rest was singing to her, but as her head bobbed down, Flora caught it in her hands, pinching her cheeks gently.
Corrin grumbled, yet straightened immediately. Years of etiquette training taught her how to effectively mask her desires, even if it occasionally took a light pinch or slap from Flora to remind her to put it on.
"Good girl," Flora whispered, leaving Corrin's side to grab a demure, silver circlet from her vanity. It was a birthday gift from Leo, and he honored her by placing her birthstone in its center, rather than the stone of their father. It showed that she was becoming her own woman, separate from the rule of Garon. It was a touching gesture from her most alienating sibling, and a sign of what she hoped was an improvement in their relationship.
It settled nicely on her head, dipping low across her forehead. Corrin could feel the cold gem pressing into her face, and she reached a hand up to touch it self-consciously.
"It feels heavy," she commented, tapping the garnet.
"It will feel better once we dress you mistress," Flora answered, holding out a hand for Corrin. She grasped it, hauling herself off the balcony bench, quilt slipping from her shoulders. Tired, cold, and near naked in her sheer sleeping gown, she wavered despite Flora's hold. Her maid tutted, but said nothing as she lead her inside, rubbing Corrin's arms with her gloved hands.
When they made it into the center of the room, Flora plucked a gown from her dresser and commanded Corrin to lift her arms up. Corrin complied, and stood silently as Flora set the gown down and undressed Corrin quickly. When she was younger, this part of the day always made her blush, but now she was used to the sisterly scrutiny of Flora as she would hold up dresses to Corrin's naked form, trying to decide which color and cut best suited the day.
She could avoid this altogether if she dressed before Flora arrived, which made Corrin suspect that the ice maid did this on purpose as a punishment.
They first fitted her into her underthings; silky and tight garments that pushed and pulled at her body. When the gown came over her head, a loud crash echoed down the hall, and Flora stepped back, face measured into a blank expression.
"If the mistress would excuse me…"
Corrin nodded her assent, and Flora lifted up her skirts and rushed out of the room. Her maid outfit was more formal this morning - longer in length and missing her familiar apron.
Ah.
If the maids were wearing longer outfits then that must have been Felicia who fell, no doubt struggling in the unfamiliar clothes.
Sending a silent thanks to Felicia, Corrin stepped over to her vanity and gave herself a critical look over in the mirror.
To the untrained eye, her dress was black. In truth, it was a velvet gown the deepest shade of burgundy she had ever seen. She felt as if someone had poured a glass of wine down her body, and the drink lingered against her skin to form a dress. Her shoulders were bare and pale, and her breasts heaved against the top of the dress. Form-fitted, but flaring out at her calves, it made Corrin feel like an other-worldly creature, especially with her pointed ears poking through her hair.
Reaching forward, she grabbed an unused purple perfume bottle that had been a gift from Xander. She blushed and stared at the unmarked flask, wondering what kind of message she would be sending by wearing his scent in this dress. Tentatively, she dabbed her wrists, and was surprised at the mature, musky scent that traveled up to her nose. It was starkly different from the fruity scents she usually wore; it's raw, sensual smell making her shudder. She dabbed more behind her ears and neck, relishing it's feminine power. Shyly, she looked back at the door before leaning down and snaking a hand up the skirt of her dress to smear it between her thighs. Rubbing her thighs together, she stood back up, body flushed, and feeling sufficiently naughty. Placing the bottle back on the stand, she walked back over to the bed at the same moment both of her maids came rushing into the room.
Felicia, ever the ray of light, was beaming and holding a tray of tea and morning snacks with an iron grip that made her knuckles turn white. Her sister stood behind her, spotting her every move, hands outstretched to catch anything that might drop.
"Happy birthday," Felicia positively sang. Corrin gave a soft smile in return, bowing her head in thanks. Setting down the tray slowly, Felicia bounded over to Corrin and hugged her tightly.
"That's quite the mature scent," Flora commented from behind the two. "Where did you get it?"
Felicia stepped back from Corrin, hands still on her shoulders.
"I like it!" She declared, giving her a light squeeze.
"You wear it well mistress," Flora complemented. "Yet I wonder how mistress Camilla will handle you wearing such an adult scent."
Felicia scoffed, turning around to wag her finger at her sister.
"Corrin isn't a child anymore Flora. You keep forgetting that she's the same age as you."
Flora hummed in response, and busied herself with setting plates for the three of them.
Felicia sat on the bed and pulled Corrin down beside her, bouncing with excitement.
"So are you excited for the tournament today? I heard your siblings are going to be picking a new retainer from the winners! I wonder why King Garon isn't letting you choose a new retainer…"
Corrin smiled at Felicia.
"No need to improve what isn't broken."
Felicia tucked a strand of her pink hair and averted her eyes.
"That's sweet of you to say, but I find it hard to believe that I'm involved in something that isn't broken."
"You haven't ever broken anything that can't be repaired or replaced - remember that."
"Yes mistress."
They sat in companionable silence, watching Flora set up the breakfast table with little difficulty. Corrin could feel Felicia buzzing to get up, but Flora must have had a word with her outside because she continued to sit as still as possible, even when her sister had her arms full of cups and food.
"Come and eat!"
The girls hurried at the command and sat around the small table. A plate was set and made beside Flora for Jakob, but knowing how he was in the morning, she would most likely deliver it to him after they finished.
Just as she always did.
"Don't eat too much mistress," Felicia advised. "The tournaments I hear can get rather bloody, and you don't want to make yourself sick."
Corrin eyed the pastry before her, now weighing the pros and cons of eating it. She was no stranger to blood, true, but she had heard rumors that at the last tourney someone had their head chopped clean off.
"Corrin is a warrior Felicia," Flora said, taking a sip of her tea. "She will be able to handle the violence, unlike someone else."
"Hey! I've been preparing myself. Just the other day I watched the butcher slice meat."
"Mmmm, a hardy barbarian you are. I thought something seemed different about you this morning."
The two continued to argue back and forth as the rest of the world awoke, with Corrin interjecting every now and then to take sides. Much to their surprise, even Jakob stumbled in eventually, and only cursed at Felicia five times throughout the rest of the meal. It was the most enjoyable, lively meal Corrin had had in months, and her face felt sore from all the laughing and smiling.
It was starting to look like a very good day.
It was already starting to look like a very bad day.
The three companions stood outside the castle gates muddy, wet, and tired. They hadn't slept a wink and struggled along the dark roads. At one point Luna had tripped, nearly falling down a hill had Odin not pulled her back at the last second. Unfortunately, this put him off center, and he took a painful tumble that twisted his ankle. He tried to laugh it off for the rest of the trip, but Luna was darkened by the experience, and spent the rest of their walk in a sullen silence.
Lazward, for this part, was just happy that they made it.
"We're here!" he announced, standing before the sprawling gates with his hands on his hips. A clap of thunder responded, and what he was sure was the wail of a dying woman.
"Not the most friendly place…" he muttered, turning back to look at his friends.
Looking just a bedraggled as he was, they leaned against the stone pillars of the entryway, breathing laboriously.
"Just like old times, right?"
Luna glared at him from beneath the strands of her hair that had fallen out of place, but said nothing.
Definitely a bad sign.
"Hey, you guys can't give up now. I bet that even at our worse we're going to be leagues better than the rest of the competitors."
Luna scoffed, but Odin tried his best to follow Lazward's lead.
"Master Odin never gives up! …but a nap would be nice."
The gates started to roll up, revealing a group of a 100 or so of the most barbaric, ruthless individuals Lazward had ever seen. Most of them ceased their chatting to stare at the new entries, sneering at their state.
"Well," Lazward replied. "You can certainly try, although I can't guarantee that you'll wake up."
He sighed, and the three of them pushed and yelled their way to a corner to mark as their own. Luna immediately began tending to her hair, while Odin inspected his ankle with a grimace.
"I think we even got here a little early, so we should be able to rest up at least a-"
"All competitors please enter the ring." The booming voice came from the far side of the room, and the crowd began to herd towards it.
"Well, I meaan, at least we managed to-"
"Just shut-up Lazward."
"Yes ma'am."