Corrin felt his knees shaking, on the verge of knocking together as he trudged forward. He felt the snow compounding on his feet and, for once in his life, regretted the fact that he seldom wore shoes. He dug his face into his elbow and used his arm as a shield from the icy wind as he tried to keep pushing forward. He grimaced as Felicia walked daintily in front of him.

Silas was scanning ahead of them, cupping his hands over his eyes to focus on something notable within the sea of white that was confronting them. He dropped his hands to the reins of his horse and led it in his lord's direction. "The Ice Tribe village is just a few miles further north. I can see it from here," he nodded.

"G-G-Great," Corrin answered, feeling like he was breathing in icicles, "Th-That's all, huh? Miles. Plural."

"If it makes you feel any better, we're more than halfway," Silas added.

Corrin shook his head, "It doesn't."

"Come on, Lord Corrin," Felicia seized his hand and was gripping it tightly, "We'll never get there if you keep moving so slow."

"I'm… right behind you, Felicia," he breathed, "Just, uh… let me… Um, I'll be with you in a second… Say, does anyone else feel like they could use a nap?"

"Lord Corrin?" Silas's eyebrows arched, "Are you feeling all right?"

The prince fell face-first into the snow, "I'm just gonna… lay down for a minute. Y-You guys go on ahead."

"Shoot," Silas frowned, "Felicia, will you help me? We need to get him to the village fast, or he'll die of hypothermia."

"R-Right," the maid trotted over and helped Silas load the prince onto his steed.

"Honestly," Silas slapped his reddening cheeks, "I don't know how you're staying so composed in this weather, Felicia. You're a dedicated and hardened servant. My eyes are watering from the wind."

"Y-Yeah," she muttered, twiddling her fingers, "Th-That's weird, huh? G-Guess I'm just, you know, that good. Haha." Her laugh had no humor in it.

Silas glanced at her, but said nothing and went back to listening to his horse trot begrudgingly over the snow. Once, he swore it looked back and snorted at him. In any case, Silas kept his eyes forward: there was no end in his mind but delivering his lord to the Ice Tribe village. Once that was done, they could figure out everything else, but until he was there, well… there could be no telling what would happen if they failed.

[…]

"Good people of Hoshido… I will not fail you!" Ryoma held out his fist and clutched it to his chest, "I know many of you are feeling frightened in this uncertain time. For countless centuries, Nohr and Hoshido have struggled against one another, but this time… This time what the Nohrians have done is unforgiveable! They have murdered our queen in cold blood!"

A shout of anger surged through the crowd. They raised their fists, as well as a great many farming implements.

"For too long, we've been forced to suffer the effects of Nohr's avarice! Queen Mikoto was wise and kind, but, ultimately, her kindness was her greatest fault… it extended to naïveté. And while I owe my mother the greatest and utmost respect for her tenure as queen, as acting king of Hoshido, it has become my obligation to correct her mistakes. To that end, I ask that you join me… join me in fighting for our country!"

Shouts of approval traveled through the crowd, as well as a few echoes of "Death to the Nohrian scum!"

"But heed me carefully, my brothers and sisters," the samurai went on, "It is not enough to be angry. Our will must be strong, unbreakable. We must be intelligent. We must be organized. We must be united."

The crowd agreed and nodded their heads, looking solemnly at their neighbors.

"Therefore," he continued, "I stand before you today to announce that I will be taking the lead of a campaign against Nohr."

The heads in the crowd quickly turned to one another, whispering and chattering back and forth.

"I know you may think this strange," Ryoma nodded, "but we have sat and defended ourselves for too long. There comes a day when a man who is pushed must stand up, dust himself off and say, 'No more!' Beginning today, fellow Hoshidans, we are all that man. We must refuse to accept the indignity of Nohr's oppression!"

Cheers erupted again. Hinoka looked away from her brother on the dais and over her shoulder to see her sister's eyes and cheeks taut. It wasn't an expression of fear, but it certainly wasn't of joy or anger.

"I will step down, now, to allow my brother, Hoshido's new high prince, to speak a few words before he joins me on my campaign." Ryoma nodded at the crowd and stepped away from the center of the square, joining his sisters and folding his arms while standing in line with them.

"Thank you," Takumi looked at his brother while assuming the position before his audience, "I'm honored to serve as the high prince alongside my brother. King Ryoma's words are clear, and they are sage. We can and must fight back against Nohr. We won't be a bunch of cowards who drop to our knees and hide when attacked! We'll deal to Nohr a blow so savage, they'll never consider coming after us again!"

The crowd jumped and shouted in concurrence with their high prince.

"Because it's important to remember just who was responsible for all this," Takumi went on, bending forward and glaring at the audience. Ryoma cocked his eyebrow at his sisters, both of whom shrugged. "Some of you were there the day Queen Mikoto—my mother—was assassinated. You all saw what happened there. You know who's responsible: it's Prince Corrin, the queen's own son! Those contemptible Nohrians forced one of our own to turn traitor, and don't think for a second they wouldn't do the same to you and yours, given the chance!"

"The lost prince?" a Hoshidan cried out.

"He killed Queen Mikoto?"

"Those black-hearted Nohrians!"

"Matricide! Will horrors never cease for Hoshido?"

"Not until all of Nohr is broken!"

"Death to Nohr! Death to Nohr! Death to Nohr!"

Takumi stepped back and smiled slightly. Ryoma and their sisters came up and formed a circle with him. "What d'you think, Ryoma? Worked pretty well, didn't it?" the archer asked.

"Yes, but…" he turned and saw a woman clutching her child and crying as the crowd shouted, "Be careful how much you say. These people are already fearful, so telling them that their own loved ones could kill them is untrue and will incite panic that is not constructive to our cause."

He frowned, "I… suppose you're right. I'm… sorry, it just makes me angry. Him, I mean."

"We know how you're feeling, Takumi," Hinoka concurred, putting her hand on his shoulder, "Just try to set your frustration aside, and we'll get through this."

The Hoshidan high prince nodded, "I'm going to go take a few more practice shots with my Fujin Yumi, and then get to bed early."

"Good idea," Ryoma patted his brother's back and sent him off, "We'll have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

[…]

The cottony blankets flew off of the prince when he jolted awake. "What?" he started, "Where am I? What happened? Silas, Felicia!"

"Right here, milord," Felicia sung, appearing with a tray bearing three teacups. She handed one to him.

"We're both here," Silas nodded, sitting on a chair in a corner of the white-walled room, "We were worried about you."

"Your friends saved you, stranger," Corrin heard. Turning to the side of the bed, he saw a man with silvery blue hair and sharp eyes looking down at him, "A little longer, and you would have been consumed by the cold."

Corrin looked at both of them, "I already owe them everything. Add one more thing to the list."

"I don't mind giving you time to rest, stranger," the man said, cupping his chin, "but I do have to inquire as to your business here. I am the chieftain of this tribe, so it's important that I know the reason for your visit."

"The chieftain," Corrin blinked, "You? Ah, forgive my impertinence, sir! I'm sorry to intrude on your home!"

He laughed, "Fret not. We may be tribals, but we are not feral, as King Garon's propaganda often depicts us. We do not, however, receive many visitors to our land, so I must again insist on knowing your purpose here."

Corrin glanced at Silas, who nodded, and then at Felicia, who stood silently, holding her empty tray and looking at her reflection in it.

"You must be someone of considerable importance, seeing that my daughter decided to travel with you," the Ice Tribe chieftain pressed.

"Your daughter?" the prince blinked, "Felicia?"

"That's right," the chieftain cut him off, "and she referred to you as 'milord,' so I would like an explanation sooner rather than later."

Corrin swallowed, "V-Very well. What is your name, chieftain?"

"I am called Kilma," he answered.

"Chieftain Kilma," Corrin rose out of bed, "I am Prince Corrin of Nohr."

"What?" he started, "A Nohrian prince, in my home? What are you plotting? Is this some kind of coup?"

"No, sir!" the prince protested, "I'm a diplomatic envoy. There's no plot here, I'm simply asking you to end your plans for rebellion."

Kilma scowled, "Well isn't that a fine thing. A Nohrian prince comes under my roof with my daughter enslaved and asks me to give up my rebellion."

"Father, it's not like that!" Felicia protested.

"Oh?" he cocked an eyebrow, "So, when Garon's thugs broke down my door and demanded your servitude as tribute, that was… what, a peace offering?"

"It's true that King Garon took me from you," she frowned, "but Lord Corrin isn't to blame—he's different! I couldn't ask for a kinder master!"

"Don't call him that under my roof," the chieftain growled, "The Ice Tribe has no masters."

"Father, please…" Felicia groaned.

"For what it's worth," they heard another voice appear from the hallway, "I agree with her assessment." Kilma and Corrin watched Flora enter. She looked down at Corrin first, wearing a sort of apathetic frown, and then focused on her father.

"You too, Flora?" Kilma blinked, "You think this man is any different from King Garon?"

"He's quite different," the blue-haired maid agreed, "In all my years, I could never have wished for a kinder soul to serve… But that doesn't mean I'm without my suspicions."

"Flora," Corrin watched her carefully, "Please, you must know I mean you no harm."

"You're armed," she pointed to the Yato that was attached to his belt.

"I had to travel through a forest full of deadly creatures to get here," he countered, "Besides, if you thought I meant to make war, why would I only bring a single knight and a maid with me?"

"Maybe all your other men were killed in that forest," she pointed out, "Or maybe you're every bit as arrogant as King Garon, and you thought you could kill all of us with only that."

"Flora!" Felicia shouted.

"No, she's right," Corrin nodded, "it's hard for me to come here on my father's orders and claim it's all in the name of peace. I've learned a lot about the type of ruler my father is recently, and I can only imagine how difficult it's been to act as his vassal, Chieftain Kilma. But I do plan to make peace, no matter the cost. As such, I'm willing to do anything you ask in exchange for you ending the rebellion."

"Anythting I ask?" the chieftain stared at him.

"Anything," the prince repeated, "If there's a task you need completed, I'll see it done. If you need supplies, you'll have them. If you want your daughters returned to you… It may be difficult, but I'll make it so."

Kilma took a few paces around the room before stopping to look at Corrin, then down at the Yato, and then back up at Corrin's face. He laughed, "There is a surprising determination in your eyes, young man. And, I concede, an honesty that I did not anticipate. I see that you wield the sacred Yato. Tribal legends say that its wielder will lead our world to peace, but they also proscribe caution for false prophets, for the wicked may just as well wield the blade."

Corrin held up the sword, "The Yato… a legendary blade… Yes, Ryoma told me something similar. What of it?"

"If only the Rainbow Sage were here," Kilma sighed, "that man helped in the forging of the Yato. Out of anyone, he would know if you were destined to be the blade's true wielder."

"Do you want me to seek out this Rainbow Sage?" the prince asked.

"No, we haven't time for that," the chieftain shook his head, "Although, I do long to know what he would say about you… Let me make my request of you, prince of Nohr."

"Please," he invited.

"I ask you a simple question," he pointed an ashen, bony finger at the prince, "What is it you desire more than anything else in this world?"

Corrin looked at his chest, then back up, "More than anything else, I want everyone in the world to be at peace."

"Hmm," Kilma bowed his head, "A pretty answer, but how true does it ring?"

"Father," Felicia piped up, "Could I say something?"

He looked back, "Of course."

She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, rose onto her toes, and then fell back down and spoke, "Father, I was beside Lord Corrin when he and the other Nohrian royals engaged the Hoshidan royals in battle. In the course of the battle, the Hoshidan princess Hinoka was wounded, and could easily have been executed, but Lord Corrin stepped in and prevented it. He allowed an enemy leader to escape with her life because she was his sister, and because he didn't want blood to be shed. Father, you know neither Flora nor I would say anything that we didn't think was in the best interest of the Ice Tribe… so I'm telling you now, resisting King Garon is an effort destined for failure. His Highness won't live forever, and when his reign ends… I think that we can rely on Lord Corrin. Even while he's alive, to have an ally in his court would surely—"

"All right, all right," the Ice Tribe's chieftain held his hand out to her, "I have heard your counsel, my daughter. What does your sister think?"

"I… believe in Lord Corrin, too," Flora answered, looking him up and down.

"You do?" Kilma started, "And what prompted this sudden change of heart?"

"Lord Corrin offered himself to you," she answered, "He didn't tell you to drop to your knees and submit by threat of death. He begged for your compliance to spare our tribe, and offered you anything you desired in return. Any servant of King Garon would never stoop to such a level. But milord is no servant of King Garon, and that's why I chose to go on serving him." The maid smiled at her lord.

He reciprocated, "Flora, that's… thank you. That means a lot."

Kilma folded his arms and looked at both of his daughters, and then at Corrin. He closed his eyes and kept them closed for a few minutes, leaving Corrin and his companions waiting, listening to and watching their own bated breath. Finally, the chieftain reopened his eyes. "Ah, what can I possibly do? My own daughters have told me their feelings, and you stand before me as the Yato's wielder. I don't feel comfortable ceding my home like this, but… if it's to protect the tribe…"

"You won't have to cede anything, chieftain," Corrin responded, "Not if I have anything to say about it. Your compliance is the first step on a path to a new Nohr."

The chieftain closed his eyes and smiled, looking down, "Careful: if you say things like that so forcefully, I might start believing you."

"So then…" Corrin hesitated, not wanting to be the one to say it.

"There will be no more talk of revolution," Kilma looked up, "Not from the Ice Tribe, at any rate. I have no faith in King Garon, but with a successor like you… Hm. Perhaps Nohr's future is looking a bit brighter than this cold heart of mine was willing to believe."

"Thank you, chieftain," Corrin bowed, "Words can't adequately express my gratitude."

"You ought to thank my daughters," he shrugged, "Without them, I would never have agreed, but since they both seem to be so confident in you, well… maybe I can give you a chance, at least."

"Felicia, Flora," Corrin looked at both of them, "Thank you. I couldn't ask for better retainers… or better friends." He came forward and wrapped them both in an embrace.

The two maids blushed. "Oh, uh, no problem, Lord Corrin," Felicia stuttered, surprised by the sudden warmth.

"Milord," Flora stared straight ahead, unable to move as his grip tightened, then loosened, and he moved away.

"So," Kilma glared at the prince, suggesting he didn't appreciate the sudden gesture, "What will you do now?"

"Silas and I will head back to Nohr and tell King Garon of your pledge," the prince reported.

"With milord's permission, I'd like to come back too," Felicia waved her hand.

"Felicia?" Corrin looked at her, "Why? You're back with your father now, aren't you?"

"If both Flora and I leave the court for good, King Garon will know something is wrong. Plus… it wouldn't be right to leave you without a retainer, Lord Corrin."

"Your loyalty honors me," Corrin bowed, "Chieftain Kilma… by your leave."

"Don't go just yet," the chieftain halted him, putting his hand forward, "If you're taking my daughter with you, we'll have to give you some supplies so you don't keel over on the way back."

Corrin grinned, "Much obliged, chieftain."

He lowered his head to whisper into the prince's ear and jabbed a finger into his sternum, "I'm counting on you to get this right, for the sake of my tribe, and my daughters. Don't disappoint me. You won't like what happens if you do."

Corrin nodded solemnly, "I won't fail."

When Kilma turned around and took his daughters from the room, Corrin also spun around and wiped his brow, facing Silas and letting out a long sigh.