"Your Highness! What seems to be the matter here— " The doors to the room flew open and the footman, wielding the silver platter he was polishing, jumped in front of the Prince. He was about Corrin's age and was likely just an apprentice. Already he had been taught that the lives of the royal family was worth throwing oneself in front of a monster. "Get back, sire! Go call for help!"
It was taking a lot out of a usually sanguine Xander to register that in front of him was a dragon. Corrin had sprouted horns and towered over the room. Her eyes blazed red for the briefest of moments as she touched the tapestry and realized what it depicted. What people like him and the footman did to people like her.
"No, I'll stay," he said, holding up his hand. "What's your name?"
"Jakob, sire!" The pale-haired servant peered over the tray, mustering up enough courage to take aim with it. Rumor had it that in the shadows of the servants' hallways, maids and manservants trained in secret to attain skills with cleavers and daggers they wore hidden in their uniforms.
Xander glimpsed at the sword at his side. By his guess, the girl— even in dragon form— had limits. He had heard talk from the armorers and quartermasters of ahook-bladed swords forged to pierce wyverns' hides, and likely the hides of dragons as well. Unfortunately, the weapon he wore into the castle that day was a plain, standard-issue iron blade that any cavalier could find in a smithy.
"Jakob, stand down. I want to talk to her." His eyes focused on the creature rampaging across the room, lashing its tail and claws at the pieces of the tapestry. It howled and roared in pain inflicted not with blades, but with the images of what it had seen. Xander's fingers went to the clasps of his sword-belt.
Time slowed as he heard the beat of his heart thud dully, carrying the weight of the decision he as to make.
The blade made a soft clank as Xander knelt down and set it out at the front of the carpet. Even though the dragon's eyes were shielded, he knew that it— no, she— followed the decision he had made with her eyes.
"Jakob, if you please." He turned to the young footman, who watched in alarm as his crown prince distanced himself from the sheathed weapon.
"Your Highness, are you sure—" an air of confidence had crept back into the younger boy. Though he was permitted to say nothing, the Prince could tell that Jakob bit back a protest against deferring to the girl that had sprouted horns and claws.
He remembered his father's words back in the court. You know what you were brought here to do, the king had said. What had that meant?
It would be for naught if he or Corrin succumbed to their base instincts, knight and dragon, to end one another in a tussle of fangs and blade. If his father knew what he was doing, then there was another future ahead of them.
"You will come to no harm," Xander mustered the most honorable of voices that he had seen from the men and women that trained him. If pressed, he would even deign to admit that he drew on the tales of knightly deeds he had heard around campfires or through bards' tales. But Corrin didn't need to know any of that. He drew himself to his full height and, step by step, approached the dragon. From the corner of his eye, he saw the footman ready to dart out the door and alert someone else.
He cleared his throat. "Corrin." Xander's voice was still, mustering up the tone he used to talk to Camilla about a ride he had in a village or Leo about a book he had read. Where things stood at that moment, things were wont to go to pieces if either of them left the room seriously hurt.
"Corrin, I'm not going to hurt you. Please." That wasn't a word that Garon had raised any of his children to say very often, and Xander wasn't inclined to use it much on his own. He commanded. He listend. But seldom did he really need to convince anyone outside of his family to do anything. The feeling stirred something alien in his chest— uncertainty, perhaps. He didn't like it.
The dragon slowed its mission of pawing at the ground and walls furiously. Its breathing, ragged and scraping against the air, grew quieter. Xander met its gaze cautiously, his hands suspended in midair in a manner most unbecoming of a knight of Nohr. Besides him, Jakob stood stock-still, unsure of what would happen next.
A blue glow emanated from the dragon's neck and spread throughout the room. Both Xander and Jakob staggered back, squeezing their eyes shut at the sudden burst of unearthly, gleaming light. Instinctively, the prince felt for the weapon that he had laid down, finding it but still temporarily blinded. In a few moments, the light passed and, with spots of dark color hindering his gaze, he looked upon the room.
The girl had returned, clutching a small pendant tied to a string around her neck that, in his ignorance for baubles and trinkets, Xander had overlooked. Corrin's eyes, red and visible again, peered into his.
"Can we go somewhere else?" she asked clearly, pointing to the tapestries that were now riddled with clawmarks and holes, and then at the door. Her voice held the resoluteness of someone far older than either of them. Corrin brushed past both Jakob and Xander, her steps shaking as she approached the door.
At that moment, a sharp rap at the entrance of the room caught the attention of all three youths. "Prince Xander!" The voice was female, and belonged to, if he remembered correctly, a bespectacled, older maid that looked after Leo and Elise's magic lessons.
He was proven right as the familiar maid entered the room and curtseyed in a rush. Her glasses were almost askew as she almost knocked into Jakob. But with a sidestep, she set him aside and turned to Xander to speak.
"It's Prince Leo and Princess Elise! They were out for a ride to a swamp to gather herbs, and we received this just now. We've sent knights to comb the woodlands, but they've found nothing. But there's this."
The maid handed over an envelope with a broken wax seal. Corrin and Jakob sidled alongside him to read it. Inside was a scrawled note with no words but a location. Two locks of hair— one pale gold, one straw-gold, were bound together with an expensive ribbon of blood-red silk.
Xander's eyes flashed with alarm, despite his exhaustion at the long day and the ordeal that they had just completed. The court was a cold place, and he cared little for most of its inhabitants. But if anyone's endangerment meant he would lend his blade, it was this.
"There's no time!" cried Xander. "I need both of you at my side. We're going." He gestured to the maid. "Alert the grooms to saddle three horses. Muster whatever soldiers you can." His eyes flashed with anger as he gestured towards the stables.
"What did the note mean?" asked Corrin. She was steadier on her feet now, or didn't want him to know otherwise.
"It means someone's taken my brother and sister for ransom," Xander said, through gritted teeth. Beside him, Jakob got out of the way as two attendants strapped a cavalier's breastplate and pauldrons onto him. Another fetched light arms for Corrin and a small set of daggers for Jakob. He held up his hand and whispered to the attendant, who brought a healing staff as well.
"Misstress Corrin. What arms will you be taking to protect yourself?" Asked one of the swarm of servants that now lined the stable.
She thought for a moment, and fingered the stone at her neck with a frown. "I've some skill with a sword." answered Corrin absently. She gave a nod to the prince, who was already on his horse, and let herself be lifted by a servant onto a second one.
The young dragon didn't know much about the court that she had entered, having wandered the woods before soldiers had captured her and attendents wheedled her into what she presumed was a nest of vipers.
Among the clues she found there was the tapestry, which told of what people like Xander were capable of. But by his actions— talking to her, and flying off into battle to find those he cared about— he was capable of many more things. And for that, he had earned one solitary, but valuable chance.