Aching Blood, Trembling Heart

A Fire Emblem Fates Story

Chapter 4

His Nightmare

Corrin smiled contentedly as she tucked her arm a bit more around Owain's torso. They sat in bed together, cozied up with a novel Owain was reading in the glow of her bedside table lamp, his fingers tangled loosely in her hair as he made sound effects for the action sequence. Her head rested on his chest, the top of it brushing against his chin as he spoke, the rest of her body curled around him as he sat upright against the pillows, the book in his left hand. This had become a nightly ritual for them since he had agreed to regularly sneaking into her room to sleep with her. They would go their separate ways after dinner, but every night, just after ten, she'd hear a gentle tap on the door, and she would lock them in together. It had been three weeks since she had first asked him to join her like this, and though he was still anxious about her family discovering them, he always willingly melted into her when they climbed in bed together. Novel reading before bed had been her idea, since she normally did so on her own anyway, and she was more than happy to let Owain provide voices for all the different characters. He was a good orator, and listening to him as they cuddled, his chest rising and falling with his breathing against her, his scent in her lungs a powerful narcotic...she could think of no better way to end her days.

They were both yawning by the time he finished the chapter. Marking their place, Owain set the book on the table, dousing the light before rolling back to her. They snuggled into each other, their legs jumbling comfortably together, and Owain pulled the blanket up to Corrin's chin before he curled his arm around her body. His lips pressed gently against her forehead as he settled against her, his nose buried in her hair. Grinning, Corrin brought her hand up to his neck and lightly brushed the hairs on the back of it. He squirmed in protest—she knew it was one of his ticklish spots—and he groaned playfully in his throat when she laughed at him. Her laughter quickly became a shriek of gleeful terror as his hands came up to retaliate, and for a time, they wrestled under the blankets, both of them blocking tickling from the other and giggling regardless of who prevailed. Owain could easily overpower her, though, so when his advantage was clear, Corrin deployed her trump card and kissed him. His hands slowed, and he willingly lowered onto her as she pulled him downward.

"Owain?" she asked after their liplock had run its course.

He hummed in response, his hair rubbing the underside of her chin. They had settled in a different position, Corrin on her back, her arms around his upper torso. Owain lay on his stomach, his leg and arm draped over her, his body partially on top of her. His head rested just below her collarbone, listening to her heartbeat.

"What do you plan to do when the war is over?"

He didn't respond at first. He furrowed his brow, his fingers tracing up and down her arm as he pondered in silence. "...Why do you ask?" he said finally.

She lifted her hand and petted her fingers through his hair, thinking. "I guess I was just wondering if you plan to go home once we've defeated...him, you know?" she said, hesitating only to stop herself from saying the taboo name.

Owain stroked his thumb on her bicep and was silent for a long moment. Sighing, he replied. "I...don't know."

"You don't want to go back to Ylisse?" she said, surprised.

Sighing again, Owain sat up and turned on his side to face her. "Of course I do. But it's not as simple as getting on a boat or catching a caravan. It's a different world, Corrin."

"I know…" she said, rolling to face him as well. "Then, how will we get there? An Outrealm portal?"

"I'm not sure one even exists, and if it does—wait, what do you mean 'we?'" he said, his tone snapping from dejected to startled.

Corrin's hand tugged on his shirt, a way to physically connect them in the dark room. "I was hoping that you would take me with you. Show me all the places you've talked about, introduce me to your friends and family."

Owain ran a hand over his hair, exhaling. "Corrin, it's not...it's not that simple."

"Then explain it to me," she said, her hand tucking around his side as she slid closer to him.

His hand found her face in the darkness, and he held it, his index finger looping a lock of her hair. "Corrin...when we were sent here, we were given something to help us return to our world. Selena has it; she said she couldn't trust that Laslow or I wouldn't lose it." Corrin stifled a quick giggle, and he grinned too in spite of himself. "But…" he said, his smile fading, "the thing is, it's...a one way ticket. Once we use it to go back to Ylisse...we can't come back here. That's how the magic works."

Silence overtook them for a moment, Corrin's hand tightening into a fist on his side. After nearly a minute had passed, she spoke. "Then I'll just go back with you."

"Absolutely not."

"Owain!" she protested, sitting up with her elbow on the mattress.

"Corrin, you're too important to this realm to disappear from its history," he said, propping himself on his elbow as well. "Hoshido and Nohr, they both need you to unite them in peace."

"And what about what I need?" Corrin said, her voice quivering. "You're telling me that one day soon, we'll have to say good-bye. How can you be okay with that?"

"I'm not!" he said loudly, and then he made a few desperate, anguished sounds in his throat. Much more quietly, he continued, "That's why I said I don't know what I'll do when this is over."

They sat in silence again, Owain's fingers brushing timidly against her elbow, a feeble attempt at entreaty. Corrin took his hand and squeezed it. "Owain...the past several weeks with you have been the happiest I've ever had."

He sighed, his breath shaking slightly. "Likewise," he said, his voice sounding dry.

Corrin's forehead pressed against his, a cool contrast to his own, which was heating with his rising distress. "You shouldn't have to choose between me and your family," she said, her nose brushing against his. "That isn't fair."

"And yet, reality remains," said Owain, leaning into her. "If the hellscape of my future taught me anything, it's that life is impartially cruel."

"...Not if I have a say in it."

He pulled back, staring at her, her stern expression barely decipherable in the scant moonlight from the far window. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

"I'll talk to Lilith," she said, her voice fierce and sharp. "I'll see if she knows a way to create Outrealm portals, or world-hopping teleportation magic, something. I refuse to accept these are our only choices." She leaned in and intentionally bonked her forehead against his. "You can't get rid of me that easily."

He gaped at her, his jaw slack. A laugh bubbled in his chest, and he snorted before letting it escape, his head going back as he surrendered to it. He could hear she was huffing at him, so he reached out and cupped the side of her head before he fumbled around in the dark for her lips. Still chuckling, he pulled away, stroking a thumb on her temple. "You are without a doubt the greediest woman I've ever met," he said, pressing his thumb to her lips when she started to protest. "First you refused to choose a side and ended up uniting two warring kingdoms, despite being unable to properly explain your reasoning. Now you're here in your nightclothes, demanding that fate help you unite two worlds together just because you said so." He grinned and pecked her lips again. "That's conviction I can get behind. You've thoroughly convinced me. If anyone can find a way to connect this world to Ylisse, it's you."

A smile curled on her lips, and Corrin pulled him into an embrace. "Is it really that greedy to want to keep you forever?" she said into his neck.

"Incredibly greedy," he said, chuckling. "Not to mention that sounds a bit like a proposal."

"...And what if it is?"

His grip loosened, and Owain pulled back as she did, his arm still holding loosely at her elbow. "What do you mean?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowing. Surely he misheard her.

Corrin inhaled sharply, the breath whistling in her nose. "Marry me, Owain."

He was dreaming, right? No, he could definitely feel the heat rising in his cheeks, the soft skin of her arm beneath his fingertips. Had his heart stopped? He was pretty sure his heart had stopped. Was he dead now? Could dead people get married? He briefly imagined a Risen in a wedding gown and shuddered. His brain wasn't working, and his throat was full of sand. How did words work again?

"I, uh," Owain stammered, finally finding his voice after an awkwardly long silence.

"You don't have to give me an answer now," Corrin said, her fingers brushing against his shoulder before her hand gently rested there. "Just...promise you'll think about it?"

"You have my word," he said quickly, his mind still reeling.

Corrin leaned in and kissed him, her lips a gentle pressure against his. Owain raised a hand to her face to continue, but she withdrew. "It's late. We should get some sleep," she said.

"R-Right," he agreed, allowing her to settle herself back into his arms, her legs entwining with his. Once they were both adjusted, the room went silent, the only sound the faint ticking of the clock on the bedside table.

Owain lay still, Corrin breathing easily against him, his mind replaying the night's conversation. Take Corrin to Ylisse? As his wife? To say the thought of marriage hadn't occurred to him would be an outright lie, but he assumed he was just getting ahead of himself. Being with Corrin was the lightest he had ever felt; it was so easy to be himself with her. No masking his insecurities behind bravado, but no hiding his passionate love for the dramatic, either. He could balance it with her, when to be serious and when to add his own flair to a conversation. And she not only didn't mind it, she actually appreciated him for it. Was that not an ideal dynamic for a marriage? After so many years of sorrow and grief, had he finally found a small piece of happiness for himself?

His mind flitted to Ylisse, the one he had been born into, the one filled with far too many memories of horror and death. He had made so many mistakes there, and his mistakes had cost him so much. He was unable to protect the two people he loved most in that world. Was he strong enough now to protect a newfound love in this one? Corrin would argue that she could protect herself, and she most definitely could, to be sure, but his parents had been strong, too. If he couldn't equally provide protection as her husband, and something happened...could he live with that shame again? Even considering it hypothetically made his heart immediately seize, and his arm tightened around Corrin's body. He sighed. Thinking about it all made his head throb, and his eyes stung from exhaustion. He settled against Corrin, one last thought punctuating his consciousness before he eased into slumber:

After all his mistakes, did he deserve this happiness?


A scream cut through his dozing, and he awoke with a start.

Sixteen-year-old Owain rolled off the cot, scooping his trousers from the ground and jamming his legs into them as he threw his tunic over his head. Grabbing his belt and sword with one hand and his boots with the other, he staggered out of his tent.

Risen. As he had thought.

The camp along Ylisstol's east border wall was already in motion, soldiers dashing in every direction, grabbing weapons, yelling at one another. Owain spared a few seconds to lace his boots and strap his sword to his side before he took off in the direction of the loudest shouting. The Risen had caught the night guards by surprise; their final screams had alerted to the danger before they could reach the alarm bell, which someone else was now clanging ceaselessly to warn the city. A horde of Risen were entangled with a mass of soldiers near the perimeter of their border camp, the sounds of battle piercing the night. Unsheathing his blade, Owain swallowed to calm his nerves.

"Owain!"

His first step became a stumble, and he whirled around to see Lissa running down the corridor of tents at him, her staff in hand, her undone hair flying behind her. She was still in her nightdress, for Naga's sake. "Mother!" he shouted, his eyebrows knitting together, his voice almost scolding. "What are you doing here?! You should be back at the castle!"

"Since when do you boss your mother around, young man?" said Lissa, frowning at him, her fists on her hips.

Owain opened his mouth but couldn't find his words, his face better conveying his panic. He stepped toward her and took her hand in his. "Mother, please...we...we already lost Uncle Chrom, and Aunt Robin, and...and Dad. Ylisse can't lose you, too." His hand trembled in hers, unable to dissemble in front of her. I can't lose you, too.

Lissa sighed. "All right. I'll stay back with the clerics and the wounded. But you be careful, you hear me? Ylisse can't lose you, either." She winked at him, her true meaning implied. I can't lose you, either.

Nodding, he turned toward the battle, only glancing once behind his shoulder to ensure his mother had run in the opposite direction, back toward the middle of camp.

It wasn't his first battle with the grotesque zombies they called Risen, but his experience didn't make it any easier. His sword found blow after blow, until the battle became a blur of screaming soldiers, howling Risen, and the clashing of metal. He found a sort of morbid rhythm to it all. Dash in. Strike through the heart. Spin into the next one. Watch your back—

Owain heard the gurgling groan close to his ear, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Whirling around, he came face to face with a Risen. He was too slow. He closed his eyes and tensed, awaiting the end.

A high-pitched wail snapped him out of his panic, and when he looked up, he saw the Risen standing frozen, a sword stabbed through the middle of its chest. As the monster disintegrated, the distinctive shape of the blade, glinting in the moonlight, came into focus, along with its wielder.

"Lucina!" Owain yelped, his heart leaping.

The blue-haired teen stood straight, and she smiled at him. "Take heart, cousin. I won't let you quit on me that easily."

Owain grinned as sweat trickled down his brow. "I guess I can't let you have all the fun," he quipped, resting his sword on his shoulder. "Morgan is back at the castle, I hope?"

"Yes, he's too young for this battle," said Lucina, frowning gravely.

"I don't know if you've noticed, Lucina, but we're not exactly old enough for this battle, either," Owain said, raising an eyebrow at her.

Lucina grinned. "Well, it seems fate would deem otherwise." She held Falchion aloft. "Watch my back, won't you? I've already seen to yours."

Owain chuckled in his throat. "You are in good hands, cousin. On this night, we fight as one!"

With Lucina as a boon, the remainder of the battle passed more smoothly. Owain felt the morale boost she gave more keenly than the rest of the soldiers, and the two of them made short work of every Risen they came across, the pair of them only sustaining minor injuries. When the last of the horde fell, a cheer rang out through the troop.

Owain wiped his brow, frowning as he noticed the blood smear across his hand. So that's why his head was throbbing. Oh well. He'd ask mother to tend to it when she had a moment to spare. He glanced over at Lucina, who was speaking with a messenger, who had just dashed up. The look she gave Owain when she turned to him said trouble.

"What is it?" he asked, jogging over to her. Had more Risen attacked at one of the other border camps? His thoughts flitted to their friends, who were stationed at the other camps surrounding the city.

Lucina's jaw clenched, and her eyes were glassy, fearful, and almost apologetic. "A small force of Risen got through our defenses during the battle and made it to the medical camp," she said, her voice shaking. "They were able to fend them off eventually, but—"

She didn't have a chance to finish; he was already gone, his sword abandoned at her feet.

No. No no no no no. He had already lost his father to these gods-forsaken Risen. Grima had claimed his Aunt Robin; she was as good as dead to them, and they mourned her as such, as well as his Uncle Chrom, on the day Grima took hold. Ylisse had lost too much, their family had lost too much, he had lost too much. He swore as the air in his lungs burned, his legs screaming at him as he hurtled toward the middle of camp. If Naga's Brand meant their family was blessed by Her blood, then surely She would watch over his mother as well? A prayer to the dragon goddess tumbled in his brain as he approached the medical area at the center of camp.

He wasn't prepared for the sight, and he doubted he ever would have been. Soldiers and healers littered the ground, their blood tainting the soil. Not a soul moved, many of the soldiers slain on the very stretchers on which they had been carried. A small group of people gathered near the back of the grounds, and he closed the distance in what felt like a few steps. He shoved his way through the crowd, begging them to make way, to let him through. When he finally reached the center, he froze, his heart dropping to his stomach.

A fellow Cleric tended to the fallen woman at the center of the circle, but his face looked grim. Her clothes were shredded, and there was so much blood. So, so much blood. The healer turned to him, his face shifting with pity, and Owain immediately felt the bile rising in his throat. Somehow, he found the ability to move his legs again, and he paced the short distance to his mother's battered body, each step weighing him down, until he finally collapsed on his knees at her side.

Her closed eyes tensed, and her eyelids parted slightly as Owain took hold of her. Lissa smiled at him, blood oozing from a corner of her mouth. He was crying, fat tears streaming down his face. Her beautiful son, as loyal and stalwart as his father had been. Summoning what strength she could, she lifted her left hand and gripped his cheek, and his hand immediately went up to hold it. She coughed, and blood splattered out of her mouth onto his clothing. With her last ounce of life, she spoke, her grin broad.

"Mama loves you, Owain."

Her hand slipped from his, the two rings on her hand sliding off from her blood's lubrication, remaining in his clenched palm. Owain watched in horror as the light left his mother's eyes.

She was gone.


Corrin stirred as Owain spasmed against her. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she mumbled groggily. The arm wrapped around her body twitched tensely, and she lifted her head. Owain whimpered in his sleep, his body rigid against hers. Was he having a nightmare? Immediately concerned, she lifted a hand to his face; he was sweating. Grasping his shoulder, she shook him.

His body thrashed, his lungs shrieking for air as he jolted into consciousness, disoriented and violent. He balked and flailed away, but two warm hands seized his cool face. A voice in the darkness soothed his scrambled mind, a balm on his raw nerves. "Owain, shh, it's okay, it's me, you're all right," the voice said in reassuring tones. Panting, he relaxed into the hand beneath his cheek as the one on top petted his face in long strokes from his hairline to his chin, the voice still consoling him. With a great sigh, he collapsed into her, his arms encircling her as he buried his face in her shoulder.

"You're okay," Corrin said, her hand caressing the back of his head, her voice steady and silky. "It was just a bad dream."

Owain kissed her neck, his breath still choppy and his body still jittery. Hot tears prickled at the corners of his eyes, and he blinked, allowing them to escape. In a shaky voice, he replied, "No...It was a bad memory."

Pulling her head from underneath his, Corrin held onto his face again, her breath hitching when she noticed the tears there. She thumbed his eyes and pressed her lips to his forehead, her fingers stroking his temples. Owain closed the distance, his nose brushing against her cheek as he kissed her. His arms squeezed her closer, his hand gripping the back of her head as they met over and over again. Her lips were like fire, melting the ice in his veins, banishing the terror with each caress. The urge to consume to her, to fill the ache in his chest with her heat and her purity, washed over him in waves, boiling his insides. His hands wandered, Corrin arching into each sweep of his fingertips, moaning in his mouth as he discovered new places he would normally shy away from in the light. He reciprocated as she too grazed her hands all over his body, her legs wrapping around him as she pressed flat against his torso. He was blind, completely lost in the sudden surge of lust, and it seemed like Corrin was more than willing to follow him in the downward spiral.

Like a dagger, the memory of his dream slashed through his arousal, and he withdrew sharply, his breath catching. Corrin's fingers flew to his temple, her palm on his cheek, and he broke. He gasped, his shoulders shaking, and the tears stung in his eyes like they had never left. His forehead found hers as another sob stole his breath, and he crumpled into her embrace, her arms welcoming him.

The guilt, the shame, the anguish, the homesickness—everything he had locked away in his heart burst out of him like emotional vomit. He let out a small wail, his tears drenching Corrin's nightshirt, and he clung to her as the grief racked his body. Corrin's arms trembled around him, and he was certain she was crying as well. Fresh guilt for this washed over him, and he dug his fingers into her back, his face hidden in her shoulder. Her soft hand stroked the back of his head, and he gasped and sniffled, his nose stuffy. Her grip never slackened as he unleashed his heartache upon her, until eventually he ran dry, and she finally released him so he could sit up.

Corrin touched her forehead to his and sniffed, dabbing her own eyes as she leaned into him. Cupping his face, she spoke, her voice gentle but raw. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Owain considered it for a long moment before he nodded. "Yeah."


They sat together in silence, his head on Corrin's shoulder and Corrin's head leaning against his, her arm wrapped around his shoulders so she could stroke his hair, her fingertips brushing soothingly against his scalp. The table lamp cast long shadows on the walls, and the bedside clock ticked softly in the interlude.

"It's not your fault, you know," Corrin said after a long moment.

"I should have been there to protect her," Owain countered, his hands fidgeting with the blanket in his lap.

"You thought she was safe," she said, her fingers rifling through individual locks of his hair, rippling pleasant chills down his spine. "You didn't know she wasn't. You couldn't know, really."

"I could have done more," he sighed, sitting up and lacing his fingers in his lap. "I...I should have done more."

Corrin exhaled deeply, running a hand through her hair. "Look, Owain...you can sit here and torture yourself with the should haves, but...none of that is going to change what happened." He looked up at her, but she didn't turn to him. "When I was taken to Hoshido, my mother, she...she sacrificed her life to save me from a blade that I brought there. I could have suspected fath—" She faltered, wringing her hands before continuing, "King Garon was up to something, I could have stopped her...I could have done a lot of things." She rubbed at the back of her neck. "But thinking about all those things, blaming myself for what happened...it won't change what is. My mother...she's gone. And I can sit here and blame myself for it, or I can move forward. That doesn't mean I still won't blame myself sometimes, but…" She finally turned to him, tilting her head with a small smile. "When those times happen, I'll lean on the people closest to me. People like you. And...I hope that you'll lean on me, too."

He gaped at her. What sort of luck did he possess to have someone like her? Was this Naga's blessing, finally finding him in another time, in another world? A smile overtook him, his eyebrows rising sadly, and he brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her palm. "A mere mortal like me isn't worthy of a goddess like you," he said, his lips brushing her hand again.

Corrin giggled in her throat. "You shouldn't sell yourself so short. You're pretty incredible, too."

"How do you figure?" he asked, his voice not masking his bitterness.

Freeing her hand from his grasp, she flicked his forehead, ignoring his yelp. "Stop self-deprecating," she scolded, her eyebrows drawn into a scowl. Her face shifted, and she took his hand, her thumb stroking against his knuckles. "You went through so much in your home world. You lost everything you held dear. Despite that, you still agreed to go back to an alternate past, knowing that you couldn't return home. And even though saving that reality wouldn't change what happened in yours, you still fought to save everything. You fought and won. And then, when you finally had a chance to rest, to live a normal life, you took the word of a desperate stranger and came here to save my world, too." She looked up at him, beaming, tears in the corners of her eyes. "Owain, you're amazing. The more you tell me, the more I'm in awe of you. And that's without the fact that despite all you've been through, you still have this...infectious positivity to you. You're the most incredible man I've ever met, and I count myself lucky to be loved by you." She squeezed his hand, a single tear escaping down her cheek. "If anyone is a mere mortal, it's me."

Honestly, if she said any more, he was going to die of happiness. His face was probably glowing at this point from the heat of his blush, and his heart thumped so ferociously against his ribcage that he was certain he was bruising it. This woman, he...he had to marry her. He would be a complete fool not to. He opened his mouth to say just that, but a thought stalled his words. Slowly, a plan formed in his mind, so instead of speaking, he kissed her, his flushed cheeks burning against hers. She eagerly pressed into him, and they slowly slid back under the blanket, tangling into each other.

"You shouldn't spoil me so, beloved," Owain said teasingly, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke. "Such words from your lips are sure to set my heart ablaze."

Corrin smiled, reaching past him to turn out the light. "Well," she said when she had returned, drawing the blanket to their shoulders, "the way I see it, you had to travel through space and time twice to find me, so you deserve a little spoiling."

"When you put it that way, it makes it sound like a love story for the epochs," he said, nestling into her.

Corrin grinned before she leaned in, adding, "Exactly."


With a groan, Owain stirred, the sunlight streaming in from the far window finding his face. He pulled the blanket over his head and snuggled against Corrin. His drowsy mind contemplated spells to blot out the sun for a moment before the sleep-fog cleared. Sunlight? He usually left at dawn, when enough night's darkness still remained to conceal his departure. Rolling over, he glanced at the clock and swore; it was already past seven in the morning.

His movement roused Corrin, who emerged from beneath the bedding, rubbing her eyes. "What's wrong?" she asked through a yawn.

"It would seem I've overslept," Owain said, standing and stretching his back.

"Maybe it's a sign that you should just stay in bed with me," Corrin said with a smile, drawing her knees into her chest.

He snorted, turning to her and leaning a knee on the bed. Reaching behind her head, he pulled her into a kiss, adding, "Maybe it's a sign that your wandering lips were too active in the night."

Her lips curved into an impish smile. "Is that a complaint?" she asked, eyebrows rising. "Because you certainly didn't seem to mind it at the time."

Chuckling, he kissed her again. "The day awaits us, my midnight goddess. I'll prepare some coffee for you at breakfast."

Corrin hummed in appreciation as he crossed to the door. Biting her lip, she called after him. "I love you, Owain."

He paused at the door and smiled tenderly at her. "And I you, Corrin," he said, before turning the handle. Stepping across the threshold, he assumed the title of Odin once more, not even bothering to glance over his shoulder as he closed Corrin's door behind him and strolled down the hallway. Thankfully, no one seemed to be about despite the hour, so returning to his room was no trouble. As he closed his bedroom door, stripping his nightshirt as he did so, he glanced at the storage chest at the foot of his bed. "Right," he said, pacing over to it. It took him a moment, but eventually he found what he was looking for: a small leather pouch at the bottom of the chest, and he emptied its contents into his hand.

Odin examined the two small rings in his hand, his expression reverent. The first ring he returned to the pouch; his mother's signet ring, bearing the Brand of the Exalt's symbol, was a bit too conspicuous, after all. The other, however, was not: a small gold band, a floral pattern etched around it. It was simple, understated; his father hadn't had much money to purchase it with, after all. He ran a finger over it, his heart drumming a little faster. Smiling, he closed the chest and turned to dress for the day.


Bonus Ending:

Takumi sighed, tightening his grip on Fujin Yumi as he closed his bedroom door. He really hoped Niles wouldn't be at the target range this morning. It wasn't that he hated the guy—he was okay, for a Nohrian—but some of the things the man said would make even the lewdest of men blush. He usually said them with intent to throw off Takumi's aim, or else he'd come up behind him and blow in his ear to frazzle him. Was a nice, quiet practice before breakfast really too much to ask?

Movement caught his eye, and he turned as Odin entered the hallway, still in his nightclothes, from the look of it. The man didn't turn his way as he headed in the opposite direction. Takumi frowned. Leo had the weirdest retainers. Niles was a lascivious scoundrel, and Odin...Odin was dependable, sure, but he was also kind of an idiot. Only a fool would prattle on the way he did. Sighing, Takumi turned, trying to clear his mind of the matter, when a thought struck him, and he whirled around.

Wait...the door Odin had come from...he was certain it was Corrin's.