Deep in the heart of Castle Krakenburg, lies the throne room of the noble King Xander. So late at night that it was almost time for the morning servants to make their rounds, was the honorable Princess Corrin. She walks across the violet carpet down the center of the room, her steps feeling heavier and heavier until she reaches the throne itself.

Just hours ago her brother was sat there. They were discussing ways to further heal the land. It had been weeks since the war ended and there was much to be done. One thing about their talks had irked her more than it should have though. The sight of her brother on the throne.

Corrin harbored no desire to rule. She was raised fourth in line to a kingdom, a spare who mustn't dare shame her lineage. She was more than content with that. All she really wanted was to leave the castle, to be free and see the outside she had been shut from. To truly be with her family and not solely through their visits. She could never entertain the notion of eliminating one of them just for power.

No, what bothered her was seeing someone other than father sitting there. For years in the back of her mind, she knew he would someday pass and Xander would ascend the crown. But never did she imagine it would be because she and Xander cut him down.

Corrin keeps one hand on the throne but wraps the other around herself as if to take away the shiver she feels. She has not slept well recently, her nights constantly haunted by nightmares. One day she'll see her mother Mikoto crying over the bodies of her fallen sons. Another day and it's a distraught Sakura taking her own life with Ryoma's blade. A different day and it's Hinoka paying Nohr back in blood for what Corrin has done. Other times it's Takumi and those eyes of his. A brother with every reason to hate her. Staring at her with eyes that cut her down to the bone.

Regardless of their bittersweet reconciliation, Corrin can't help the guilt for what she's wrought toward Hoshido and her other family.

In daylight, as she walks throughout these castle halls it's memories plaguing her instead. She can see herself at age six crying for some reason or another on the same violet carpet she passed by today. King Garon is there looking displeased as ever before he gets off the throne and walks to her. She curls up tight in fear and keeps her eyes on the floor before he pats her on the shoulder to calm her down. She looks back up and through her tears, can see his frown is gone. His eyes telling her to keep her chin up. Other days she sees that same little girl, so desperate to please her father, all grown up and bowing her head to acquiesce at every damned one of his despicable acts.

She closes her eyes and can still see King Garon sitting on the throne seat. Chin resting on the back of his hand, forever unimpressed in whatever news or request was put before them. Who was this man? Was he still human then? If so, then when wasn't he?

Garon always wanted Hoshido. Were it not for Mikoto's barrier he would have tried to take it long ago. Whether he would do it as cruelly as his imposter is a question lost to time.

The war may not be by his hand but it certainly was by his will and Corrin was a puppet in all of it. A pawn on the board for a king she's never truly known.

Yet she can't deny the truth within her. Those questions will never leave nor the pain or frustration. But she knows there is no point dwelling on what she can never know. She will wrestle with the guilt and atone for it her whole life. But one thing she can never do is forsake Garon. The Nohr Princess would carry that with her forever.

A daughter's love.

"Lady Corrin are you alright?"

She opens her eyes, turns and sees Jakob. His eyebrows knit in concern. She unsure how long he's been there.

"Its nothing. I just… couldn't sleep is all. I'll turn in now."

Corrin has one hand left on the armrest, stroking it as she leaves it. Jakob's words chiding her about needing to rest die in his throat. Unsure of what he could say to comfort her, Jakob walks in front to keep pace and pretends not to see his charge's distressed face.

As they both leave, Corrin turns back and can still see the faint image of a bored Garon in her mind's eye. But then his face softens and he stands straighter as someone steps up to him. A young girl who is facing away from Corrin's view. She talks excitedly to him though no words reverberate the castle's room. Garon leans forward and pats the child on the head rustling her hair. Corrin swears she can feel the child's smile blossoming over her face. He then looks up as if he can see her when the image of parent and child ripples and dissipates.

Before Corrin turns forward, she mouths words soon drowned out by the heavy doors closing shut and too soft to be heard by anyone save perhaps the spirit of the lost king. A peace that she makes with herself.

"Goodbye, father."