The lovely people asking why I didn't update an older story instead: Because I took so looooong deciding to write again and now don't remember what I wanted to do with the older work. I will say that the potential for my band AU to get a rewrite+continuation is high though. It needs it, and it'll help me get back in the swing of what I was doing there.

Cormag: In regards to the names, I actually... posted this up on AO3 first. Where the Japanese names are the norm. I hadn't even realized used the translated names til I was searching for character tags.

People worrying about plot spoilers: There are none, so read worry free!

Enjoy!

The dress is tight. And degrading. The clingy fabric hangs down far too low, displaying her cleavage for… for the Nohrian's viewing pleasure. Her hair is tangled up into a wavy bun, and her ears… her painful, aching ears are now pierced. The maids had to actually fight her for that, and they overwhelmed her in sheer numbers. Never mind that her dragon blood left her pointed cartilage far more sensitive than a pure human's. If King Garon wishes for her to have three earrings in one ear and two in the other, then a bloody, tearstained ear piercing she shall have. "You look…"

Hinoka lets it hang in the hall between them. Neither particularly want to enter the dining room any earlier than possible, no matter how inviting the music coming from the purple curtained-entrance. "Like a fancy Nohrian whore probably," Kamui says. It pulls a snicker from Hinoka. Dressed in a brilliant crimson and white Nohrian gown, the girl looks just as uncomfortable as Kamui feels. At least they couldn't twist and pull at Hinoka's hair as they had hers. Kamui beckons Hinoka closer and presses her mouth to the girl's ear. The smell of artificial flower perfume makes her almost lightheaded. "Keep Sakura close to me. I've got my dragonstone."

It's just as much for comfort as it is for protection. The maid had been surprisingly helpful hiding the stone down the front of her dress, and now it warmed her ribs, glow hidden in a fabric satchel. "And I've got two knives down my stockings." Hinoka nudges Kamui's side with a grin and then proffers her arm. "Enter with me? Mother already escorted Sakura because you were taking too long."

"Too long? They may belittle us, but I doubt they'd begin to eat without us. They'd miss the opportunity to parade out their many servants and display their wealth," Kamui says, returning Hinoka's smile and wrapping her arm round hers.

"It… seems dinner was a slight…" Hinoka tosses a quick glance down both ends of the deserted hall for eavesdroppers. "It was a load of Pegasus shit," Hinoka hisses. "Come look."

Her sister tugs Kamui by the arm to the curtained entryway. Drawing back the heavy, purple fabric, Hinoka gestures to the room beyond. Under the warm chandelier light is a gorgeous marble ballroom, yellow-tinted and almost welcoming. Welcoming except for the throng of lords and ladies obscuring the tiling. They cluster around the pillars to gossip and swirl around the main floor to dance. In the mess of nobility, the royal family is nowhere to be seen. "That slimy, little…"

"Lady Hinoka, Lady Kamui?" Pulling back the curtain completely, one of the servants blinks down at her. At the hem of her dress, really. Even without the presence of Garon and his children, the serving man is still too frightened to meet her gaze. "Are you ready for your entrance?"

Hinoka glances to her. Like there's some kind of choice. Like they don't have to sway down those steps and smile and simper with those nobles. Squaring her shoulders, Kamui nods. If nothing else, she won't let them see that they rattle her. She'll uphold the family honor for Ryouma and Takumi back at home. "I believe we are," Hinoka says.

With her sister by her side, Kamui steps out into the ballroom. It falls silent before the serving man has even announced their names. People stare up at her with thinly veiled wonderment, much in the same way you look at a peacock in a noble's menagerie. Like they were marveling at how King Garon had 'caught' her. Kamui spins back to the serving man. "Princess,"Kamui says. "When you announce us, I am Princess Kamui. Not lady. I am an equal, here because I wish to be."

The man shrinks under her words but nods all the same. "Princess Kamui and Princess Hinoka, from the bountiful kingdom of Hoshido," he cries as they begin to walk down the steps. Like rustling leaves, the noble's soft whispers hush around the ballroom. Mother and Sakura must not have insisted for the same treatment. Kamui glances to Hinoka with the slightest of proud smiles, only to find her sister frowning at her.

"Hinoka?" Her sister only shakes her head. "King Garon... I—"

"Not while they stare," Hinoka murmurs, lips moving only a fraction. A reprimand. From Hinoka, who had shared her sentiments on the Nohrians just a moment ago. Confusion and embarrassment coloring her cheeks, Kamui tilts her gaze back to the stairs. At least the cool stone under her bare feet—like she would wear those painful Nohrian heels—is soothing.

They're already gossiping about her by the time Hinoka guides Kamui to the foot of the stairs. Little snippets of 'dragon' and 'exotic.' One hissed request to 'Look at her ears. Pointed like a beast's.' Even if one of these despicable beings were to visit Hoshido, she and Oboro wouldn't whisper about their demon's wings. They had class. Hinoka wraps her arm a little tighter round Kamui's as they edge through the crowd. Why would her sister not want better treatment than this?

"There. Sakura." Hinoka points through a pair of ladies to the dance floor. The sight of Marx dancing with her little sister leaves Kamui feeling ready to vomit on the marble tiles. Sakura looks even younger next to him, little chin wobbling back more sniffles. Her dress, Kamui is relieved to note, is modest at least. "We'll just nab her after this dance. Then you and I—"

"Why did you scold me on the stairs?" Kamui asks. A hint of something accusatory creeps into her voice, and she beats it down. "I thought you and I were a... a... a 'you and I' in this."

"Yes, but..." Hinoka lets out a growling sigh and waves to Sakura twirling with Marx. "Do you want them to pick Sakura? Mother—"

"Mother's scared to—"

"She doesn't want a war. While I don't want to be treated as less than these people, I don't want a war either," Hinoka says.

"We should be able to have both," Kamui replies. "King Garon and Prince Marx should be able to treat us as equals and—"

"I want that, too, but... To think that we can have all that, and Sakura safe, too... might be..." Hinoka purses her lips and shakes her head.

"Might be what?" Kamui asks.

"Naive, Kamui. Childish." The way Hinoka says the words are more insulting than the words themselves. Like she was stupid. Of all people, Hinoka was the one Kamui thought she could trust to support her. "We can gripe in private, but if we act so bold in public, Mother feels we may give them excuse to—"

"To invade our nation because I insist on Hoshido being treated with respect? How am I the child in that situation?" Hinoka's mouth tightens at Kamui's hiss. Good. "At least I don't let Mother pick my opinions."

Hinoka just shakes her head. "You're throwing a tantrum. Like. A. Child."

Kamui gapes at her, face redder than her sister's hair. "I'm finding Mother." Wrenching her arm from Hinoka's grasp, Kamui stalks across the ballroom, feet slapping across the stone in a distinctly unladylike manner. Just because she wanted the best for her—their nation... Ryouma, Takumi, Oboro... They would understand. They were proud of their culture. Like she thought Hinoka was.

"You. You're the dragon girl." Kamui almost walks in to the noblewoman fluttering her fan in front of her. Contemplating mellowing her frown, Kamui eyes the noble. The girl seems nice enou—No. Why lie? She wants to touch her ears.

Kamui crosses her arms over her chest and glares up at the girl. "The dragon princess. Kamui."

The noblewoman titters behind her fan. It's a cream colored, black lace design, fashioned to match her dress. Kamui briefly fantasizes snatching the little flapping thing from her gloved hand. "Right." Worming her arm to loop through Kamui's, the girl begins to drag her to a group of nobles clustered round one of the ivory pillars. "Please do come chat with my friends. We're all so thrilled you could be here." There's no twisting from the noblewoman's grasp, so Kamui follows her with a scowl on her face.

Her collection of friends was indeed thrilled. Very thrilled. So thrilled they kept asking her question after question about Nohrian politics that she answers with complete honesty, naivety be damned. When Kamui isn't sure, but some time between the first question and the current, Camilla settles behind Kamui's growing audience. Just watching from behind purple bangs with a charming smile.

"If I were Lord… Alexuis, then I would forfeit the land. The nearby tribe seems justified in their claim of ownership so he shall have to build his vacation home elsewhere," Kamui says. The nobles glance between each other, twittering behind their fans. Camilla's hooded gaze is impenetrable, hiding the woman's opinion behind a sheet of iron. Then the twittering stops, the nobles still as statues. "I-is there yet another question?"

Camilla glides through the crowd with outstretched arms, earning another little start from the nobility. Kamui flinches as Marx brushes by her. "Brother, how lovely to see you again," Camilla coos. They speak like strangers. Is she going to have to speak to them like that if she stays? Camilla beckons Marx into a hug. The nobles scatter as he meets her embrace with a stiff, one-armed gesture.

As soon as the lords and ladies are a decent distance away, Marx and Camilla begin whispering amongst themselves. Kamui's eyes narrow as they cast quick little glances in her direction. "If there's something you wish to say to me, please, go ahead," Kamui says. Her voice is definitely curt, rudely so. Hinoka's not here to keep her from speaking her mind though, and at the moment, she rather relishes in it.

Camilla sashays around Marx with just the right amount of sway to accentuate her curves perfectly. She'd be a gorgeous woman in anything, but in her dark evening dress, Camilla makes Kamui—even in her horrible mood—avert her eyes shyly. "You're darling, sweetheart." Camilla pats Kamui's cheek with an indulgent smile. "You're also going to end up with a knife in your back if you don't watch your tongue. Probably multiple."

With a graceful wave of her hand, Camilla vanishes into the crowd, leaving Kamui shocked behind her. To say such things with such frivolity... Was this some poorly communicated Nohrian joke? Like nothing peculiar just happened, Marx proffers his arm. "Dance with me?"

There may be a polite lilt to his voice, but both of them know it isn't a question. "Of course. Milord." Kamui places her arm over his and lets him guide her on to the ballroom floor. The butterflies in her stomach aren't because of the romance of the gesture, but rather fear of the potential for romance in his gesture. She's not in the mood for this. With a silent prayer to the gods to ruin their dance, Kamui places her hand on Marx's shoulder.

He's tall. Far too tall. She's no short girl in Hoshido, but the men in Nohr are somehow bigger. Like they were bred from a larger, meaner, tougher line of human. Kamui's sure the top of her head barely reaches his shoulder. Maybe his chin, if he didn't hold his head so high all the time. Marx keeps tugging her closer, adding an extra awkward element to their dance as she tries to keep her distance. "Just…" He yanks her to his chest with extra roughness, slamming her nose into his chest. "I'm trying to give you some advice," Marx murmurs.

The smell of fancy cologne, mixed with the lightest scent of salt she's sure only her inhuman nose could catch, is heady. Between that and her corset, it's almost impossible to breathe. "I don't need—"

"Your naivety shall get you killed." His words are soft as a butterfly's breath, and his mouth presses in her hair. To an eavesdropper, Marx's speech would be a mystery.

Kamui tries to scowl at him, but Marx keeps her too close to his chest for him to see her face. She can't possibly be getting this lecture twice not even a full day after arriving at this palace. "E-excuse me?"

"Naïve. You. Are. Naïve," Marx growls. His breath tickles her hair, and despite her best efforts otherwise, Kamui's face flushes. Anger flush, Kamui decides. "Camilla says you showed disapproval for two thirds of those nobles' claims. Which means two thirds of those nobles are now your enemies."

"So they're going to assassinate me. The next, logical step," Kamui says. As the music quickens, Marx takes her through a fast twirl. At this speed, the corset makes it even harder to breathe, but Kamui forces her breathing to even anyways out of pride.

"Quip about it if you want. Just watch your tongue so my family and I don't have to." The harshness in Marx's words only grinds the anger in her belly. Like her dragonstone can sense her ire, it burns hotter against her chest.

"Your nobility asked me questions so I answered. Look, I'm not going to lie to anyone," Kamui says.

"That's exactly what you do." Marx twirls them between another pair of dancers. Gods, she can't breathe properly.

"Why do you care what I say?" Her voice sounds fluttery and distant in her ears. She needs to sit down. Now.

"Your death would lead to a war neither of us really wants for our country," Marx says. Oblivious to her wobbling legs, he guides Kamui in another twist.

"Then don't assassinate people over land claims. Why am I consistently at fault for expecting decent treatment from y-you?" Hellooooo impending darkness. Kamui tries to stay steady as her brain screams at her to sit down. Just til the end of the song. She just needs to last long enough to not embarrass herself in front of this man.

"I didn't have to give you my advice."

"Sh-should I be thanking you then for your-your—" Legs growing weaker with every breath, Kamui sways into Marx's chest. Gods-fucking-damnit. The overpower scent of cologne only makes it harder to breathe. "I-I need to—"

"Princess?" Marx almost sounds… concerned. Air deprivation must have addled her brain already. One of his arms wraps around her waist, the other eases her to lean against his side. "You clearly need privacy. Come with me."

She doesn't have much of a choice. His warm strength is the only thing keeping upright, and, as tempting as it is to refuse his help, Kamui is too weak to pull herself from his grasp. She crosses her arms over her chest. The least she can do is refuse to touch him. "Damn N-Nohrians and their damn corsets."

Marx only quirks an eyebrow at her. Probably. Her darkening vision and her head pressed against his side make it hard to find his face. The crowd parts as he half-leads, half-drags her out to the balcony. Are the nobles gossiping about how intimate they look or how much of an embarrassment she is, Kamui wonders. It's their own fault she's about to collapse on their dance floor. Oboro would never have designed her something so restrictive.

Cool air breathes some strength back into her limbs when Marx pushes open one of the balcony doors. "Here," Marx says, guiding her to lean against the balcony railing. Kamui concentrates on steadying herself against the black stone as Marx draws the curtains and closes the doors.

"Lean forward. I'll undo the ties." Marx's hand lights on her back, and Kamui elbows him in the stomach.

"What are you? Some kind of pervert?" Kamui asks. The darkness is only worsening. Squeezing her eyes shut, she wills herself to stay standing in front of Marx.

"Do you want to faint on the balcony?" Marx's hand is still on her back, warmth soaking into her skin even through his gloves. She doesn't want his gloved fingers on her bare skin.

"It'd be preferable, yeah." Kamui can hear Marx's frustrated growl in a hazy, darkening bubble. The most emotion she's ever heard from the man, but it's hard to focus on it when she feels like she might take a header into his garden. "J-just get Hinoka. Or my mother."

Marx has already begun to pop the buttons at the back of her dress anyways. She wants to smack him, but not collapsing in front of him is already absorbing most of her mental power. "I can get Camilla," Marx says. "But I'd have to scope the whole ballroom for her, and it'd make a scene."

"Oh, heaven forbid! A scene!" He pops the last button off as she huffs, and the fabric crumples around her waist. Because it's Nohrian tailoring, Kamui supposes not much more skin is revealed than was visible before.

"See. That's the level of understanding—Godsdamn, your maid laced this tighter than a set of riding boots—" Marx pulls at the ties on her corset, loosening them one by one.

"C-close your eyes," Kamui hisses. Gods, a Hoshido man would never dare to glimpse at so much as her unclothed knee. "You can't look at a lady's bare back."

"We have dress styles specifically to reveal the bare back, so really—" Marx grunts as Kamui kicks him in the shins. "You're hardly a lady anyways."

"I'm more of lady than you are a gentleman." She catches his chin with her elbow. It's a nice, satisfying thunk, too. "Luring girls out on to balconies only to bend them over the railing and undo their corsets."

"Usually there's a lot less struggling and a lot more giggling." Kamui's scandalized gasp pulls a soft snort from the prince.

"You're an ass."

Kamui stomps on his foot, and she's rewarded with Marx's grunt. "Likewise."

"Oho, 'likewise.' I'm Crown Prince Marx here to educate you on fancy talking and assery. How—" The ties loosen all at once, and her insides can move again. Kamui takes a deep, sweet breath.

And her pouch falls out the front of her dress. "Ah! My dragonstone!" Kamui tugs her dress out of Marx's grasp and leans over the balcony. Freed from its satchel, glittering stone illuminates the rock and dirt that makes up the Nohrian 'garden' in a pale wash of light. If anything happens to it… Heaving up her skirts, Kamui places a foot up on the balcony railing. The drop isn't too far. She can jump.

"Wai—" Kamui hops off after her stone.

The regret is instant. Years of wilderness exploration and tree climbing have more than trained her how to jump from heights, but not how to land on rock. Kamui lands hard. Without springy grass as her cushion, she rolls across rock and dirt, scraping up her arms as she goes. Her feet are definitely bloodied, and they sting like she tried to walk across hot coals. "Ka—Princess Kamui?!" Kamui flips Marx the bird from her huddled lump on the ground. Her mouth curls into a smirk as her dragon ears pick up on his growly 'godsdamnit.'

Kamui pushes herself up to her feet and crumples back down to the ground. Her ankle feels like it's been lit on fire. Something is twisted, sprained, broken. Like this day couldn't get any worse. She won't hear the end of this from Marx. Or her mother. Probably Hinoka, too. It'll just be one extended tongue-lashing on naivety and murder. Kamui struggles to crawl her way up to her dragonstone. It glows just feet away, and she needs it back.

So silent she hadn't even realized he followed her off the balcony, Marx sweeps up her stone in a smooth arc. The light softens his face, but his eyes—She doesn't want to see the last true vestige of Hoshidan power lighting up a Nohrian gaze. "So… this is what allows you to transform safely," Marx says.

Kamui sticks out her hand, but Marx doesn't seem to notice. He just stands there in deep contemplation, thumb rubbing slow circles into her gem. "Yes. And give it back." Pushing herself up, Kamui thrusts her hand out again.

For a brief, horrible, almost… strange moment, she doesn't think he'll give it back. Then Marx's mouth turns up into the barest hint of a smirk. "You know, as the—What was it?—the crown prince of fancy talking and assery I really have to ask you to word that better." Marx sets the stone back in Kamui's hand, and she clutches it against her chest. "Don't… let that happen again." Whatever he's trying to convey in the slow hesitation in his tone, Kamui doesn't quite understand. "It wouldn't be taken well here."

The confidence in his jaw back, Marx crouches down beside her. As he leans closer, Kamui angles away from him, grip tight on her dragonstone. Not being completely distrustful of the Nohrian in the beginning was what got her into this mess. She should've pulled herself from his grasp—"Which ankle?"

"Just call Sakura here," Kamui says. "But not without Hinoka. I don't want her alone with you." Marx only rolls his eyes and flips her dress up to her knees. Kamui's indignant huff earns her a head shake.

"Where are your shoes?" Marx growls. He waves to her foot, bruising to a lovely lilac color and bleeding from the sole.

"I left them in one of those decorative vases because—Wha-What are you—" As Kamui sputters, Marx loops one arm around her back, the other around her knees. He heaves her up into the air like she's nothing in his arms. "Th-this is—This—Y-you—" Kamui beats a tiny fist against Marx's chest. Which does nothing because his chest is rock solid. If anything, her fingers hurt after that. "I am not a child."

"No. You're a little princess," Marx says. Her head is pressed against his shoulder, and her sensitive dragon ears twitch as his voice rumbles in his bones. There's something velvet in his tone, under all the iron. The rich tone is comforting. Almost soo—

No. Marx was an unattractive, uninteresting, un… un… unvelvety voiced ass of a prince. Kamui crosses her arms over her chest and scowls at his flawless jawline. He wasn't always this perfect. Or insufferable. "We met as kids, waaay back when. Spent like a few days together. You cried a lot, and I beat you up twice," Kamui says.

"I don't recall this." Theeeere we go. Pompous prince voice is back, velvety voice she definitely hallucinated is gone.

"Really? Because I was hoping you could fill me in on some of the hazier details." Kamui smiles sweetly up at him. Innocently. With an extra dab of naivety that he and Hinoka so hated. Screw them.

Pairing requests are open, esp for Kamui and Hinoka. I'd also love to hear if you were a reader of my FE:A band au and are interested in seeing it get a revamp!