A/N: One week since Fates released, woo-hoo! I've enjoyed the game immensely, it met all my expectations. Now that I've had time to blaze through it I should return to writing longer things, but enjoy this short drabble in the meantime!

Challenge to myself: keep this under 500 words. And, excluding the author's note, I did. *pumps fist*

She doesn't recognize it, at first.

Oh, she notices the strange turn of Corrin's recent behavior, the unexplainable oddities in his actions, but she chalks it up to Corrin being Corrin. He's never quite gotten a grasp on social norms or personal space, so she pays no heed to the extra brushes against her arm or lingering kisses on her hand, the stolen glances or out-of-the-blue compliments.

Others would have realized it by the gifts: fresh strawberries drizzled in chocolate, pretty baubles for her hair, little poems he wrote himself. But Corrin is always doing that sort of thing, going out of his way to give people items they like. If he does it for her a little more than others, well, she's his best friend, she rationalizes, and thinks nothing more of it.

But one day he hands her a book, softly murmuring that he'd spotted it in the market and thought of her. She looks at the title to see it's a rare volume of ghost stories, something almost no one knows she likes, and that's when it clicks. Oh, she thinks, he's courting me, and the notion both pleases and frightens her.

It's not as though she's completely unexperienced in that matter. She'd had the odd suitor here or there, back in Hoshido, a few men who were drawn to her beauty and singing, who thought to try and crack the ice princess. She'd appreciated their efforts, but she couldn't bring herself to open up to them, and they soon lost interest. The concept of vulnerability, of letting people close only to be hurt in the end, had scared her too much.

Aren't things different now, though? She's already let Corrin into her heart as a dear friend. Would it really be so bad to take that next step with him? She tries to imagine it, kissing Corrin, and her cheeks warm pleasantly.

Her fingers trace over the cover of the book, the embossed lettering and fresh leather. It's very well-made, probably crafted by a renowned bookbinder. Not exactly something you find by chance. She pictures him scouring the markets for it with the single-minded determination he brings to battle; unbidden, a smile creeps onto her face.

It's sweet. He's sweet.

She's been doing that a lot, she realizes suddenly, smiling. She thinks she's smiled more since she met him than since her mother died. Even in the midst of a war, he makes her smile.

He makes her smile.

That's what makes up her mind.

She presses a kiss to his cheek, letting it linger just a bit too long for propriety, and thanks him earnestly. His face burns red, but an almost boyish grin spreads across it, and her heart sings.

Why, Azura thinks, giddiness tickling her, I may be halfway in love with him already.