Love
Heads up. The latter portion of this chapter depicts themes of child abuse consistent with the source material (Fates). This will never be a graphically dark story, but it does have its moments—this is one of them.
It'd been a few weeks since Corrin and the others had first arrived in Hoshido. Much to the surprise of the utterly terrified girl that had first stumbled out of the lake behind Castle Shirasagi, each passing day in the Dawn Kingdom had blossomed into something that was, well…
When she'd challenged Ryoma that first morning, it'd been half-duty, half-childish inclination to prove herself. She'd indulged in a little of both, and it'd led to her meeting with Kanade. Maybe it was a series of fortunate coincidences, or fate, or 'the devil's own luck'. Maybe she'd just heard what she'd needed to hear—the right thing at the right time. Maybe Ryoma had needed those words as much as she had.
But ever since that day, duty to reach out to the Hoshidan royalty—to understand them, and understand the Corrin they'd lost—had given way to something else.
Ryoma was the eldest, the High Prince. He awoke at the brink of dawn to train, then dedicated his all to serving Hoshido—every task he would need to master when he took the throne. He carried this unwavering, unvanquishable devotion to his relationship with his siblings in equal measure. Even split between his duties as a prince and a general, he found time to listen to Hinoka's woes as she brushed her pegasus, to dabble in his rusty bowmanship with Takumi, to read Sakura bed-time stories she insisted she was too old for but Corrin could tell she secretly enjoyed. He was the last to give in, even when victory for his side of the board had become mathematically impossible half-a-dozen turns ago.
(What could she say, she'd been taught by the best.)
Hinoka was the first princess. She was strong, and brave, and just so determined. It bled into everything she put her mind to—lancework, riding, a disastrous foray into the kitchens, all of it. At the same time she was so kind and caring—she was always looking out for others. She'd given Corrin her space, but was the first to her side when she needed anything.
Figuring out how to use chopsticks over the last few weeks had been… a struggle.
Sakura was the second—no, third princess. She was polite and shy, rarely speaking more than a few words to Corrin. She opened up more around her siblings, though, and when she spoke passionately about something her stutter all-but vanished. Whether it was natural timidness or something else that drove her to close herself off, Corrin knew she had a kind heart. There wasn't a soul in the castle who wasn't happier to have her in the room.
She must've been young when Corrin was taken. Maybe she just needed time.
Takumi… was still a work-in-process. He was cordial, they ate dinner a few seats apart, but he still turned corners to avoid walking past her in the halls. He'd still spoken maybe a dozen words to her since they'd first met. She'd tried to talk to him, she really had, but between everything else…
Corrin resolved to up her game. Maybe they'd never be friends, but she had to try, didn't she?
She cared about them—all of them. And as she'd come to know them, that fragile, impossible hope had begun to grow stronger.
Hope that she would reunite with her siblings, hope that in the end everything would be alright. Hope that they could end this war—together.
So fierce was her resolve, this thunderous flame that seemed to roar through her veins, that she didn't hear the sound of clanging metal until she turned face-first into Hinoka's bedroom door.
Right. Hinoka was finishing up with her armor—the fall had given her old friend a bit of a beating, not to mention everything else. Rubbing her nose, she reached out—nope, other way—and slid the door open. She wasn't sure she was ever going to get used to Hoshidan interiors, but at least she hadn't fallen through the screen.
"Nohrian hunk of junk," Hinoka grunted, her back turned as she hunched over a workbench on the far end of the chamber. "What the hell—clang —do they—clang —make this—clang —shi—"
She cut herself short, coughing abruptly. "Stuff. What do they make this stuff out of."
"Mm," Sakura hummed from the corner of the room, nose buried in a lengthy scroll.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Corrin laughed lightly, taking a step inside.
"Hey, Sis!" Hinoka greeted. She reached for a cloth, wiping her hands clean before turning to face her. "I was just finishing up with your armor. I don't know what its deal is—doesn't have so much as a scratch, but…"
"Thanks again for all your help, Hinoka," Corrin said. To be honest, she'd always just assumed Jakob was incredibly thorough with upkeep—anything less would be out of the ordinary. But if the metal itself was pristine, maybe it did have some minor enchantments.
"Oh, you don't have to worry about it!" she reassured. "I am your older sister, after all."
"A-are you," Sakura spoke up. Corrin turned to face her and she averted her gaze. After a moment, she cleared her throat and tried again. "Are you going to wear it to the festival tomorrow?"
"The festival?" Corrin echoed. Suddenly, her eyes widened. "The festival!"
Queen Mikoto had proposed the idea to her a few days before. "I'd like to make a public announcement about your presence here, Corrin," she'd said, casting her gaze across the throne room. "There have been rumors circulating about spies from Nohr infiltrating the castle. I would like to quash those rumors once and for all."
In that moment, Corrin had begun to understand the respect Queen Mikoto commanded from her people. Not like Father, who alternated between silent rumination and thunderous proclamations. Mikoto maintained a balance—kind yet firm, and firm yet kind. Something like how she figured a mother would act—at least, if Takumi's squirming at her words had been anything to go off of.
Thus, the festival. A way to officially introduce her to the Hoshidan people. They'd all get to head down into the city together—Azura, Lucina, and the Hoshidan siblings. There'd be stalls, games, delicious food… Corrin would be lying if she said she wasn't looking forward to it. She'd never been to a festival before, after all, and this was a Hoshidan one at that.
Plus, it was a bit of a relief she wouldn't be cooped up in the castle forever.
Shaking her head, Corrin smiled back at Sakura. "I am! But," she continued. "I was thinking I'll wear my kimono over it. To…"
"To represent my homes," she settled with. "Both of them."
"O-oh!" Sakura exclaimed. "That's… that's really nice."
"You're going to want a…" Hinoka trailed off, hand hanging in the air. "Sakura, you know, the sort-of—"
"Haori?"
"Haori!" she said, snapping her fingers. "It's more of a jacket. I'm pretty sure Mother had one made for you, but you can borrow one otherwise." Suddenly her eyes widened, and she slapped the side of her head lightly. "Oh! I can't believe I— do you have sandals? You'll definitely want them in the city, I'll—"
"Oh, no!" Corrin laughed, throwing her hands up placatingly. "It's fine, really—I prefer going barefoot."
Hinoka froze, brown eyes wide with an unreadable emotion. Corrin's heart plummeted— had she said something wrong? Was her refusal offensive? She could wear them if she had to (really, really had to), she wouldn't prefer it but if it made everyone happy—
Her spiraling thought process was interrupted by a choked sound from Hinoka. She was grinning, eyes watery—happy tears? Oh thank gods, happy tears.
"Corrin," Hinoka said, clearing her throat. She held her arms out half-spread. "Can I…?"
Oh, yeah, that was fine—she gave an affirmative nod. She liked hugs!
Hinoka's were tight though, she realized as she wrapped her arms around her. Not quite Camilla-level, but she was certainly up there.
"It's just," she started, trying to keep her tone level. "When you were little, Father would always try to get you to wear shoes before you went out. Ryoma too, they tried their best— but you hated them. You'd climb the same tree in the gardens and sit up there until he promised to let you go barefoot."
A snort of laughter burst from the corner—Sakura, flushing pink as she threw a hand over her mouth.
Hinoka managed a laugh too, stopping to take a breath. She pulled back and placed her hands on Corrin's shoulders. Her eyes were still red, but she was beaming back at her.
"So, when you refused the sandals I just…" she squeezed lightly, before stepping back entirely. "I remembered that it was really you. You're back."
"Hinoka," Corrin said. "I…"
She could feel the emotions roiling inside her, churning like a physical force. Weighty as they were, she still found herself unable to put a name to them.
Corrin swallowed. "It's good to be back."
Robin frowned, scanning over the latest word to find its way to his desk. Heavy snowfall, difficult terrain… a noteworthy chunk of their force would be arriving at the border later than anticipated. Either the Nohrian army would be setting off behind schedule, or with less troops than he'd accounted for.
It's not terrible news, given the current circumstances.
Really, either option was a minor victory. Either Corrin had more time with the Hoshidan royalty (hopefully a good thing, if he'd gotten the right read on her), or there'd be less bloodshed in the case of an actual battle.
Which, if all went according to plan, it wouldn't. Hopefully.
A knock at the door jarred him from his musings. That would be Leo for their meeting… twenty minutes early.
So, not Leo.
"Now, wait just a moment—" a voice outside pleaded.
"Oh come off it, Laslow," an unfamiliar one bit back. "If anything, Odin here cast one of his dream spells on you."
"The dark powers at work here are beyond even I, dear light. A tapestry of shadows unseen, but to what end?"
"Alright, alright, enough!" she sputtered. "I'm going in."
"Selena—"
The door swung open, and the three figures lurking outside his office were unveiled. The first to boldly march in was a red-headed mercenary, hair parted into twintails—Selena, he gathered. She stared back at him, brown eyes wide.
"Oh," she murmured. "Holy shit."
"Uh," he said. "Hi. I'm Robi—"
She swiveled on her heel, and the door slammed shut.
"Holy shit," Selena repeated. "What the hell?"
"I did try to warn you," Laslow spoke up.
"There's no way," she continued. "He's an impostor, or— fuck, did you check his—?"
"Hand, yes," Laslow said. "It's gone."
"The dark threads of fate unravel," the third voice murmured in a low tone. "A single strand unveiled, but does he usher in hope or despair? Yet our own roles in this remain unclear…"
"Odin, now is really not the time."
"Laslow of the Indigo Skies, in all honesty I am freaking out right now," Odin hissed.
"Er," Robin hesitantly called out. "I can hear you."
The three voices fell silent.
He cleared his throat. "You can come in, if you want?"
After a beat, the door opened once more. The three of them shuffled inside—Selena, Laslow, and a dark mage in yellow garb he hadn't met. That would be Odin, then.
Selena pushed past the others, marching up to him with a gaze that had traded shock for steel. She paused before his desk, wound back, and punched him square in the jaw.
"Ow!" Robin yelped, clutching his face. "What was that for?!"
"That," Selena spat, "was for being a dumbass." Her biting tone hung in the air like a poised blade, as if she wanted to say more. But she blinked, rubbed her eyes, and the moment passed.
"Anyways," she continued, with noticeably less vitriol. "We let them go."
Robin, bent over as he rummaged around in a desk drawer (there had to be a vulnerary somewhere in here), grumbled back. "What?"
"You were right, we let them go!" she exclaimed. "Though, no division back home worth its salt would be without pegasus knights, so your scenario was bogus from the start. Also!" she continued, throwing her hands in the air for emphasis. "Here in Nohr we've got double their number in wyvern knights, plus the soldiers are more accustomed to difficult terrain. So, odds are we'd be just fine eliminating the stragglers on foot, too!"
Selena's gaze didn't let up, as if she was searching for something, but…
Grimacing at the bitter liquid as he set the empty bottle down, Robin shook his head. "Well, your tactics seem sound to me. But I have no idea what you're talking about."
Selena swiveled on her heel with a huff, stalking back towards the others. "He's not Robin."
Laslow raised an eyebrow. "Selena, we are looking at the same person, right?"
"Unless he magically wound up with amnesia," Selena bit back, "he is definitely not—"
She paused. "Gods, that would make a twisted sort of sense."
Robin slowly stood, pushing his chair back into the desk. He cleared his throat, but he was pretty sure his voice wavered regardless.
"…You people know who I am."
The three of them froze, looking at him like deer caught in a beartrap.
Laslow coughed out a response. "Well, yes, but—"
"Actually, no," Selena interrupted. "This is going to blow up in our faces," she hissed to her companions in a much lower tone. "We need to leave, right n—"
"Robin," Odin murmured. He stepped forward, the tone of his voice something akin to reverence. "Grandmaster Tactician of Ylisse. High Deliverer. The Azure Flame of Hope. He who slew—"
Selena clapped a hand over Odin's mouth, stifling any further titles.
"Alright!" Robin called firmly, laying a hand on the desk.
To his surprise, all three of them fell silent, staring his way.
Like soldiers taking orders.
"You're Lord Xander's retainer," he continued, gesturing to Laslow. "And if I had to guess," he said, looking Odin over, "you're Leo's." He turned to Selena. "Now, you on the other hand—"
"Lady Camilla," Selena replied stiffly. "Your turn."
"As of a couple weeks ago, I am Leo's tactician," Robin explained. "Right now, I'm working on our plan to rescue Corrin unharmed. And yes, I have amnesia. Which brings us back to the matter at hand—you three know who I am."
The three of them seemed to shake from their stupor, silently exchanging glances.
"Er," Laslow stammered. "Could you give us just a moment?"
Robin thought for a moment, crossing his arms. "Well, you're not trying to skewer me again," he murmured. "I suppose I can cut you some slack."
Half-muttered thanks was all he received before the three were out the door again. Low whispers followed—quiet enough he couldn't hear, this time.
His own words echoed back in his mind. They know who I am.
A few minutes later, the group returned—back to being unwilling to meet his gaze.
"Alright," Selena started, her tone subdued. "What do you want to know?"
There were a thousand questions he could ask, in that moment. Maybe more. Definitely more.
Yet, at the same time…
There was really only one.
His choice had been made the moment he'd woken up in that cell.
"Who's Chrom?"
The question hung in the air, a terrible weight released at last, and as Robin let out a breath he prayed the answer would grant him some measure of peace.
Odin's eyes widened, and he muttered in a low tone. "Amnesiac indeed…"
Selena in turn looked entirely caught off-guard. "Chrom is, well…"
"He is the ruling Exalt of Ylisse," Laslow finished for her. "The country we hail from."
"We," Robin echoed. "The three of you… and me."
Nobody spoke up to correct him.
"So…" Selena interjected. Her earlier fire had been all-but extinguished. "What do you know about Chrom?"
Robin shrugged, shaking his head. "He was my friend."
Selena took to staring very intently at the floor—Laslow, the ceiling.
Robin looked up, gaze scanning between the three. "What happened?"
Even Odin, with all his boisterous bravado, seemed hesitant to answer.
"Well—"
The door swung open, and everyone in the room jumped with it. Leo's gaze swept across the chamber, brow furrowed.
"…What are you all doing here?"
"Ah, Lord Leo!" Odin exclaimed, springing into action. "Twas the wings of fate herself that bid us to deliver the latest tactical scryings to the good Sir Robin! With our solemn duty concluded, we shall now, er, get out of your hair. Farewell for now!"
With that, all three retainers retreated down the hall with remarkable haste. Leo turned to meet Robin's gaze as the door slammed shut for what must've been— he'd lost count at this point.
"Robin?" he questioned, looking oddly concerned (now that was unsettling). "They weren't troubling you, were they?"
"Ah, no, it was nothing," Robin lied through his teeth.
Though, now that Leo was here, a thought occurred to him. "Actually, I'd like to ask—how long has Odin been in your service?"
"Hmm," Leo murmured, raising a hand to his chin. "I was young—over a decade, perhaps. He was assigned to me by my father, as were Selena and Laslow to my siblings. I must admit, I hated the man at first. I tried to send him away, ordering the retrieval of the most implausible relics—even some I'd made up. Yet, he always returned."
Leo chuckled, shaking his head. "Pardon my musings. You'd best fill me in on this plan of yours quickly, we're off to present it to Xander."
King Garon… over a decade… Robin filed the information away for future reference. "Right, of course, the plan— wait, what?"
After Hinoka finished with the last few dents in Corrin's armor, it wasn't long before she excused herself to get changed. The loose, flowing clothes of Hoshido were comfortable, no doubt, but there was something about the familiar weight of her armor and deep blue cape at her back that just set her at ease.
With that task complete however, she was left at a loss for what to do the rest of the day before tomorrow's festivities. Hinoka's words still weighing on her heart, she supposed she shouldn't have been surprised when her feet carried her to the training yard.
Correction, this seemed to be an archery range. It was a rectangular field on the ground floor of the castle, open to the sky. Corrin blinked as she breathed deep, enjoying the crisp rush of afternoon air. Targets ran along the far side of the range, racks for bows and arrows spaced intermittently.
Also, Takumi was here.
He was on the far-right, Fujin Yumi slung to his back as he fired off arrows into the heart of the target. Come to think of it, his divine weapon would just burn straight through them. You certainly couldn't get much practice in if you ran out of targets.
"Hi, Takumi!" she called. He didn't respond at first, finishing off the last of his quiver—bullseye, bullseye, bullseye.
He turned to face her with a raised eyebrow, expression perturbed. "This isn't a training hall, you know."
"I know!" she responded brightly, despite the fact she'd probably be better off there. "I'm here to shoot."
Shrugging, Takumi turned back to his target. "Just don't distract me."
Corrin stepped up to one of the racks on the other side and picked up a bow. The ones here in Hoshido seemed a bit different than those in Nohr, but it didn't seem too difficult to get the hang of. She'd had some archery experience in the past, after all.
Not enough to tell exactly what was different about the bows, though.
She held it forward, gaze locked forward, and drew an arrow. Knock like this, draw like that, and loose.
The arrow sank into the grass to the left of the target pitifully.
Corrin frowned. Apparently she was really out of practice.
Ten minutes of painstaking focus later, she'd finally gotten the hang of hitting the target. Well, most of the time. It wasn't quite like training with a sword, but the end result was the same—taking her mind off emotions she'd yet to properly unravel. One of her shots even sank into the edge of the inner circle, prompting a soft whoop of accomplishment.
"What did I tell you?" Takumi groaned, his voice cutting through her concentration.
"Er," Corrin replied, turning to face him. "Not to distract you?"
"Exactly," he said. He lowered his bow to the ground and crossed his arms. "You failed."
Corrin opened her mouth to reply, but he continued on with a frown. "Also, you're letting your elbow fall. Keep your arm straight."
"Oh," Corrin said. She nodded in thanks, turned back, and rolled her shoulder—keeping her arm rigid. A few more arrows landed marginally closer to the bullseye.
"No, you have to—" he started, then cut off with a huff. "Here, just let me—"
He started forward, crossing the training range with swift strides. Stopping just behind her, Takumi nudged her limbs into what must've been a proper stance (in her defense, she'd been pretty close).
"You can't shoot a yumi like those Nohrian bows," he grumbled as he stepped back. "Try that."
Humming acknowledgement, Corrin gave it another shot. A bit better, and then, bam! Her third arrow landed dead-on, proudly poking out from the bullseye.
"I did it!" she exclaimed with a grin. She spun to face Takumi, lowering the bow. "How was that?"
He crossed his arms, gaze locked on the arrow. "That was alright, I guess," he relented. "You're not terrible."
Takumi turned back towards her. "You really should be wearing sandals, though."
Corrin laughed lightly. "I, uh, don't do—"
He raised a hand hastily. "Trust me, I've heard enough of your embarrassing baby stories for one lifetime."
"Hah," Corrin murmured. "Yeah, I guess you would have."
Takumi went back to frowning. "You're doing the kitten thing again."
She tilted her head. "Kitten thing?"
"Like you're a kitten, and somebody kicked you," he explained. "You had that look on your face the entire time you were trying to shoot, so I—" he abruptly fell silent, grumbling. She was starting to realize Takumi did that a lot.
"Oh," she said. She placed her bow back on the rack, taking the time to collect her thoughts. "Yeah, I guess I've just been thinking. About… all of you."
Takumi didn't respond, but he didn't turn away either. Swallowing, Corrin took that as her queue to continue.
"Hinoka was telling me stories," she explained. "From when I was a kid. I believe that I'm the Corrin you lost, that I'm your sister, but—"
"Half-sister," Takumi corrected.
Half-sister. Mikoto had explained the story a few days into her stay. Sumeragi's first wife had been Queen Ikona—Ryoma, Hinoka, Takumi, and Sakura's birth mother. She'd passed away when Sakura was born, and Sumeragi had married Mikoto sometime later.
Given that Corrin was a middle child, she supposed that meant Mikoto had been his concubine. That might've been why she'd seemed so nervous when she told her, wringing her hands the way Corrin was now self-consciously aware she did as well.
Maybe she'd expected her to take the news badly. But, honestly it was nothing new to her. She'd always known her siblings—her Nohrian siblings—were only connected by Fa— er, King Garon, and they were as close as could be. It honestly would've come as more of a surprise if they were all fully related.
They were family. That's what mattered.
"—Corrin. Hey, are you listening?"
"Huh?" Corrin said, snapping back to the present. "Sorry, what did you say?"
"I said," Takumi repeated, drawing out the word. "You can keep going."
"Er, right. Sorry," she said. "I guess it's just…"
Corrin turned her head, unable to meet his gaze. "It's as if there's a void, in my mind. Ryoma, Hinoka, Queen Mikoto—they all have so many memories of me. They love me. And I just— I don't have that. I don't know where it went, and…"
Takumi's scowl deepened, and she briefly worried she'd opened up too much. But he spoke up again after a moment, his voice lacking any of the bite she'd braced for.
"I have an idea."
Corrin tilted her head. "What sort of idea?"
"You could…" he trailed off, closing his eyes. Whatever answer he was weighing in his mind, he snapped back a moment later. "You could sit on the throne."
"Did I used to do that a lot, or something?" she asked, confusion evident. "Do you think it will bring something back?"
"Let me finish," Takumi huffed. "It's called the Throne of Truth. It reveals a person's true form and heart. So, maybe it'll reveal your memories too. Or something."
Corrin's mouth fell open. "Really?" she exclaimed. "You think it will work?"
"Can't hurt to try," Takumi shrugged. "If you really care, that is."
By the way his shout echoed down the hall, he must have realized he was talking to empty air a moment later. "Hey! Slow down!"
Corrin had been to Shirasagi's throne room a few times before. The towering double doors were coated in intricate golden engravings, the first sign that this was the most opulent room in the castle. Pushing those aside revealed a grand hall, banners and lanterns heralding the path to the throne. It reminded her a bit of the throne in Krakenburg, though it traded blacks and reds for silver and gold. The dais held it much closer to the ground level, decorated with a rainbowed pattern. Corrin wondered briefly if the color scheme held any significance.
Thankfully, Queen Mikoto was already here, as was Ryoma. Corrin paused in the doorway, catching her breath before hurrying the rest of the way down the hall to meet them.
"You look as if you're feeling better after a while to yourself, Corrin," Mikoto greeted with a smile. She stood on the dais to the right of the throne, Ryoma on her left.
"I am, yes," she nodded, still panting a little. "Um, actually—"
"What's sent you running all this way?" Ryoma inquired. "Did something happen?"
"No, nothing bad," Corrin assured. "I just…" Now that the adrenaline was fading, a bit of her old trepidation speaking to Mikoto began to creep in. She swallowed and shook her head—she had to do this.
"I wanted to ask a favor of you," she said. "I want to sit on the throne."
Whatever Mikoto had been expecting to hear, judging by the surprise in her eyes it definitely wasn't that. Ryoma glanced at her, and the two shared a look.
"Corrin," she began slowly. "What do you know about this throne?"
Corrin shifted on her feet. "I know it reveals a person's true form and heart," she echoed. "Takumi told me."
"So he did," Ryoma murmured.
Mikoto dipped her head. "I am pleased to hear you two have spoken." She stepped down from the dais, standing just within arm's reach. The thought came to her that, without the crown, Corrin would be a little taller than her.
"Yes," Mikoto continued, her voice dipping into a serious tone. "Takumi is correct. The throne is infused with the power of the First Dragons. It is said that those who sit on it regain their true form and mind."
Corrin's eyes lit up. "Right! So I was thinking, what if it…"
Ryoma's eyebrows shot up as he caught on. "The throne could restore your memories."
Mikoto's mouth drew into a thin line. "Corrin," she said. "Your memories of Nohr. Are they pleasant?"
The question caught her off-guard, but she answered nonetheless. "They are. All the time I spent with my siblings, even though we lived apart…" she trailed off. She wasn't sure what drew her to speak so honestly to Mikoto—this was the first she'd spoken of her siblings to her since she'd arrived. But Mikoto didn't seem upset at her answer, only nodding for her to continue.
So, Corrin resolved to remain truthful.
"I love them," she said. "I always will. But my family here, in Hoshido, if there's a possibility— I need to know."
"Mother," Ryoma spoke up. He had begun to pace back and forth as they talked, arms crossed. "I believe we should try it. If there's a chance the Nohrians—"
Mikoto shut her eyes and raised a palm, silencing him. She remained there for a few moments, ruminating before her eyes blinked open once more. They seemed somehow sadder than before.
"Corrin," she said in a gentle tone. "I considered the possibility that the throne might return your memories. But I feared…" her words caught in her throat, and she only seemed to deflate further. "I feared what peace they might bring would pale, in comparison to the pain they could inflict."
"You already told me what happened," Corrin insisted. "I believe you. So if there's a chance I could regain what I've lost, to remember the Corrin you lost, I have to take it."
"My sweet child," Mikoto murmured, almost to herself. "Always putting others before yourself."
The words sent a shiver down Corrin's spine, and she flinched involuntarily. Mikoto seemed to notice she'd spoken out loud and winced, turning away. Her gaze fell upon the throne.
"The throne reveals the truth of one's being," Mikoto said, her voice carrying across the hall. "Losing memory of your younger years is not uncommon. If it were natural, the throne would do nothing for your memories. If it does reveal them…"
Mikoto exhaled solemnly.
"It will be because someone in Nohr sealed them away."
Corrin's blood ran cold.
But what else could she do?
"I have to," she repeated, clenching her fist.
"I have to know."
Mikoto bowed her head. "…By all means. I would not stop you."
Corrin approached the dais slowly, feet brushing against the smooth wood paneling. The throne looked fairly comfortable, as thrones went—the embellishments were carved of wood as well, though the throne itself was some sort of metal. She brushed her hand against it, and a strange sensation tingled up her arm. It was as if her very blood sparked at the contact.
She turned forward. Mikoto stood on her left side, Ryoma her right.
"Worry not, Sister," Ryoma intoned. "We will be right here."
"Corrin," Mikoto suddenly said, the words spilling from her mouth. "I—"
She blinked, shaking her head. "No. It's nothing."
Corrin opened her mouth to respond, but…
She wouldn't know what to say.
Taking a breath, she clutched the arms of the throne and sat.
"Mama! Mama!"
The pitter-patter of Corrin's feet echoed across the courtyard as she ran, sliding to a stop before a familiar figure. She tugged on the ends of her white dress, eagerly shoving her hands into the sky.
Mikoto brushed a strand of black hair out of her face as she knelt. "Corrin, what's this you've brought me?"
"Mister Sumi called it a," Corrin paused, scrunching up her face. "A sa-kur-uh," she proclaimed, proudly holding the pink flower.
"Sakura, sweetheart," she said, ruffling her hair. "A very pretty name, for a very pretty flower."
"You like it?" Corrin said, looking up at her.
"Of course," Mikoto said. "I'm sure Sumeragi would as well."
Corrin's eyes lit up, sparkling crimson in the morning light. "I'll bring him one! Miss Ikona too, and Ryo and 'Noka!"
She frowned. "Not Takumi though. He's gonna eat it."
Mikoto rose a hand to her mouth, stifling a chuckle. "Clever girl. Off you go, then."
Corrin took off back towards the sakura tree, laughing as the wind whipped her hair and tickled the tips of her ears.
"Corrin!" Mikoto called after her.
Corrin skidded to a halt, turning back.
"I love you!"
She grinned. "Love you too, Mama!"
"What's going on?"
…
"Is Miss Ikona okay?"
…
"Why is Mister Sumi crying?"
…
"Mlem," said Sakura.
"Aah!" Corrin yelped, leaping back from the mat the baby was laying on. "She ate it! Ryo, she ate it!"
"What!" Ryoma shouted, long brown hair billowing as he leaped into action. "What happened, what did she eat?!"
"A-a," Corrin tried to speak, eyes wide in horror. "Sakura ate the sakura! Is she gonna be okay?" Corrin clutched at the ends of Ryoma's robe, eyes brimming with tears. "Is she gonna d-die?"
Ryoma froze, his expression stone-cold for a still moment. Then he shook his head, life returning to his eyes. "No. No, it's alright Sister. Sakura flowers aren't poisonous."
Corrin sniffled, wiping her face on his sleeve. "You're sure?"
"Positive," he assured her, patting her head. Corrin giggled, reaching up on her tip-toes to pat him back. She wasn't quite tall enough, so she just sort-of rubbed his cheek.
"Now then," Ryoma laughed. "How about we play a game until Mother and Father return?"
"A game!" Corrin exclaimed, clapping her hands. "Okay, let's play hide-and-seek! You hide, okay?"
"Alright sister," Ryoma grinned. "But be warned. I will not yield easily!"
As he departed, Corrin leaned close to Sakura. "Ryo's hair is too big," she whispered conspiratorially. "He's the worst hider in the entire castle."
"Blegh," said Sakura.
"Hey, 'Noka?" she asked from her spot on the bedroom floor. "Why don't you like pegasus?"
"Pegasi," she corrected. Corrin hummed in acknowledgement. "Pass me the yellow." Corrin pushed the dish forward, and Hinoka dipped a finger in and started working on the sun. "I don't like heights."
"Oh," Corrin said, tongue stuck out as she smeared more blue paint onto the paper. "Okay."
Several moments of silence passed. "But what if I got stuck in a tree, and also lost, so you needed a pegasus to save me?"
Hinoka squinted back at her. "Why would you be lost in a tree?"
Corrin shrugged. "I like climbing trees."
"Corrin!" Sumeragi called, eyebrows wrinkled in concern. "Won't you come down?"
"Nuh-uh, Papa!" Corrin called back. The branch of the sakura tree she was perched on swayed a little as she adjusted her balance.
Sumeragi frowned, scratching his beard. "Is there nothing that will convince you?"
"No shoes!" Corrin shouted down.
"No shoes…" Sumeragi murmured. "Yes, perhaps your mother was right. This pursuit is utterly hopeless."
"Very well then, Princess Corrin!" Sumeragi replied, raising his voice once more. "But I have a request of my own!"
Corrin frowned, crossing her arms. "State your terms."
"You must stay to watch my training with Ryoma!" he said. "It will serve you well!"
Corrin's face broke into a grin. "Okay!" she called, already scrambling down the tree. Watching Papa swing his katana was probably her favorite thing ever, next to Mama and Papa and Ryoma and Hinoka and Takumi and Sakura, of course.
"That's my little dragon," he chuckled, patting her on the head as she ran up. "Now, take a seat in the grass over there, alright?"
"Right!" Corrin exclaimed. "Don't beat Ryo too bad, okay? He'll pout."
Sumeragi let out a boisterous laugh, shaking his head. "I can make no promises, my dear."
'No promises' was right. Ryoma took forever to show up, and Sumeragi disarmed him in twenty seconds flat!
"As expected," Ryoma hissed, panting heavily. "I am no match for you, Father."
"Of course not," Sumeragi chuckled. "I am a samurai in his prime, Ryoma. You are yet a boy."
Ryoma looked somewhat miffed at this. "Father—!"
"Do not misunderstand me," he intoned. "One day, you will defeat me. And far surpass me, I should expect! But until that day, you will learn."
Ryoma frowned, but bowed his head. "Of course, Father. I understand."
"Don't worry, Ryo!" Corrin shouted from across the field. "You looked super cool!"
He turned towards her, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. "Ah. Thank you, Sister."
"Come on, please?"
"I'm unsure of this, dear," Mikoto said, pacing back and forth across the throne room. "She is too young. Cheve is too far."
"She is a princess of Hoshido," Sumeragi rumbled. "She must see the world outside her room eventually. Besides," he continued. "This is not the first time we have met with King Garon. He is Arete's husband. And he is a just man."
Corrin's wide eyes swiveled one way, then the next in her effort to keep pace with the conversation. Sumeragi looked down at her, then to Ryoma standing dutifully at her side. His gaze softened.
"They are the future of our kingdom," he said. "If we are to forge a lasting peace with Nohr, I would have them there to see it."
Mikoto closed her eyes, brow knit in rumination. "I don't like it," she finally spoke. "But I concede to your point."
Corrin cheered, rushing forward and wrapping her arms around Mikoto's legs. "Thank you, Mama!"
Mikoto chuckled, lifting her up into her arms. "Your father will be very busy in Cheve," she said. "You must be on your best behavior, alright?"
"Alright!" Corrin said, nodding seriously.
Mikoto tilted her head to the side. "Look after your little sister, Ryoma."
He nodded, bowing at the waist. "I won't let you down, Mother."
She chuckled, pressing her lips to Corrin's forehead before setting her down. She gestured for Ryoma to step forward, then wrapped the two in an embrace.
"You are both my darling children," she murmured. "And I know you will be strong, and brave, and good."
She closed her eyes, holding them tight for another moment. "I love you both so much."
"I love you too, Mother."
"Love you, Mama!"
Corrin sighed, rolling over on her bed for the sixth time. (They slept off the ground in Cheve. It was like sleeping on a table!) The afternoon sunlight shining through the window was a bit dimmer than back home.
Cheve was boring.
It had been exciting at first! They'd sailed here on a big ship, and she'd loved it! The wind in her hair, the smell of the sea, nothing but water for miles and miles. She'd even seen a whale—who knew animals could be that big?
Once they were back on dry land, they'd rode for a few days before arriving in Cheve. Its towering walls and weird-looking houses were nothing like anything she'd seen in Hoshido. After getting to where they were staying, Papa had to go meet with King Garon, which was boring. But once he came back, they'd gone to a restaurant and eaten all sorts of new food! Corrin was pretty sure they'd made some of them up on the spot, but 'tangy coleslaw' was pretty good anyway.
That was yesterday, though. By the time she'd woken up today, Papa was already gone again—and he'd taken Ryoma with him! Which meant sitting around her room all day, bored.
Maybe she'd go look for Kaze. There were a lot of shinobi here after all—maybe he'd stayed behind too. Kaze was always fun to play with, even if he insisted on calling her 'Lady Corrin' and bowing deeply whenever she looked at him.
That settled it. Sitting up, Corrin made to slide off the bed—
BANG.
Corrin yelped, flying to her feet as the door slammed open. Sumeragi stood in the doorway, panting heavily, his gaze wildly scanning the room. Raijinto was unsheathed—he held the katana in his right hand, lightning arcing idly up its blade. He wore a second sheath at his belt, the golden hilt of another blade poking out of it. Something was splattered across his armor.
"Corrin!" he exclaimed, advancing quickly and wrapping an arm around her. "Thank the gods you're alright."
"P-Papa?" she stammered. "What's wrong, what's going on?"
"It's going to be alright," he said hastily. "But Corrin, I need you to listen to me very carefully. Can you do that?"
Eyes wide, she nodded.
"Alright. That's good, Corrin," he murmured. "I need you to stick with me. No matter what happens, stay behind me and listen to what I say."
Heart racing, she nodded again.
"Very good. You are brave and strong," he said, patting her head gently, the way he always did. "And I am very proud of you. In all my years, I have known no greater honor than the privilege of being your father."
"Now," he said, rising to his feet. "Remember what I told you, and follow me."
Squeezing his hand like a lifeline, Corrin followed her father out of the room.
"Papa," Corrin murmured as the two ducked into an alleyway. "Where's Ryo? Is he okay?"
Sumeragi held a finger to his lips. Soldiers marched past—were they the Nohrians? Corrin didn't get it, weren't they supposed to be friends?
Once they'd passed, Sumeragi responded. "He's already outside the city. We're going to join him, alright? Be brave for me, little dragon."
Corrin nodded her head wordlessly. They waited there for a moment longer, then slipped back onto the streets. A left turn, then a right, they had to be almost out, right? Corrin didn't like Cheve at all, everything looked the same. They turned a bend, and—
"Fire at will."
Arrows whistled through the air like rain. Sumeragi threw himself forward, blade drawn—Corrin remembered what he'd said, she stayed right behind him, even as…
Even as he fell to his knees, gasping for breath.
"I'm disappointed in you, Sumeragi."
King Garon stepped forward, his archers holding their ground. He was tall—taller than anyone she'd ever seen, encased in a shell of black armor. His horrifically-oversized axe peeked out from beneath his fur cloak, metal screeching as it dragged across stone.
"That wasn't even my best trap."
Something glimmered in his bloodshot eyes as he glared down at her father, heaving his axe off the ground effortlessly. "Ah. How kind of you to bring that wretched relic before me."
Sumeragi attempted to respond. He coughed, blood splattering against the street.
"Peace for our nations," he wheezed. "Yato is the key— peace, for our—"
King Garon rose his axe high in a two-handed grip and swung.
Father crumpled to the ground.
Father was—
She couldn't think.
Father was…?
"You poor thing."
Corrin jerked her head to the left. King Garon leered over her, golden blade sheathed to his belt.
His axe was still buried in the chest of— of her—
She couldn't move.
"Orphaned at such," he stepped forward, boots thudding against the pavement, "a tender young age."
He reached out with one pitch-black gauntlet, unable to conceal his grin.
"You are my child now."
The shadow blotted out the sun.
"I want to go home."
For the sixth time that day, Corrin pounded on the door. Her hand was starting to get sore. If it was a door back home, she'd be able to tear right through it. Nohrian doors were different though—they were thick, all wood no screen.
There were some blocks with the toys. Maybe she could just start throwing them.
"Hey," she tried again. "Hey!"
The door swung open. Corrin wasn't expecting that—she stumbled, falling back onto her hands. A masked man in armor stood in the doorway, towering over her.
"What is it?"
Corrin stared up at him indignantly. "I want to go home!"
The man turned away, reaching for the door.
"Wait!" Corrin exclaimed.
The man paused.
"My papa's the King of Hoshido!" Corrin proclaimed. "If you keep me here, he'll—" Corrin paused, thinking up a serious threat. "He'll beat you up! And all his shinobi will, too!"
The man simply stared at her.
"Wouldn't bet on that, girl," he said. "Your father's dead. Ain't nobody coming to save you."
The door slammed shut.
Corrin stayed there on the ground for a long while.
Six days after Corrin arrived in Nohr, her door opened. She knew it was six because she'd been counting every time she woke up. At first, she'd moved her blankets to the floor to feel more like home, even if it was colder, but the men outside had yelled at her until she put them back.
King Garon had not been to visit her once.
Absently, Corrin wondered what she'd do if she hit a hundred days. She didn't know how to count past one-hundred, so she guessed she'd just start from zero again. It probably wouldn't matter, though. One hundred days was a long time. Someone would come to save her before then.
Right, the door. Normally people only opened it to give her terrible food or yell at her. This new visitor, though, did neither. He wore pitch-black armor, like most of the soldiers, but he didn't have a mask or helmet. His face was scarred, his pale-blonde hair streaked with silver.
"Good afternoon, milady," he said in a gruff voice. "My name is Gunter. I've been assigned to your care."
Corrin shrunk back into the corner of her bed. wrapping her blankets tighter around her.
Nohr was too cold.
There was a persistent chill that crept through the castle halls like a ghost, refusing to depart. The sun rarely shone through her window, and when it did it was sickly and gray—nothing like it had been back home.
"How are you feeling?"
Corrin stared back blankly, and Gunter sighed. He shut the door behind him.
"I am told," he said, stepping closer to her bed. "They have not been feeding you well."
Corrin perked up a little. Gunter seemed nice, she thought. Nicer than anyone else she'd met here.
"So," he continued, reaching into his cloak. "I fetched this for you."
He retrieved a small parcel, handing it to her. Corrin accepted it hesitantly, slowly unwrapping the paper. Whatever it was, it smelled good.
"Freshly baked bread, straight from the royal kitchen," Gunter said. He gestured to the bed next to her, as if asking permission. Corrin stared at him in surprise for a moment, before nodding jerkily. He eased himself down with a sigh.
"Go on then," he said, nodding to the bread. "It's for you."
Hesitantly, Corrin took a bite.
Oh, that was delicious.
The poor bread did not last but a few seconds longer.
"Hahah!" Gunter chuckled, grinning broadly. Corrin met his gaze and tilted her head.
"You smiled," he explained. "That bread really must be better than the slop they've been procuring for you, mm?"
Oh! Corrin nodded, wiping the crumbs off her mouth. It really had been good, even if it wasn't food from home.
"The food here is terrible," she murmured. "Everything's all rough and hard and dry—they don't have fish. I asked them."
Gunter bowed his head. "Indeed. Seafood is costly to transport this far inland."
"I…"
Corrin frowned. "I really miss fish."
She rubbed her eyes. They stung at the contact.
Was she really about to cry over fish?
Gunter stripped off his gauntlets, laying them on the nightstand. He hesitated a moment, silently asking permission before wrapping an arm around her.
For the first time in six days, Corrin sobbed, burying her face in Gunter's cloak.
He patted her back, and held her close.
Corrin clutched the ends of her dress in her fists, sprinting to avoid the bitter chill of the castle stonework as her bare feet hit the floor. A few more weeks had passed since she'd first arrived in Nohr, and with Gunter's help everything was starting to feel a little better.
Not good, but better.
For one, she was allowed out of the room now. She couldn't move around the entire castle—someone would always stop her if she got too far. But it was miles better than being locked up all day with nothing to do and no one to talk to.
That last point hadn't improved much, though. Gunter was the only one who ever said more than two words to her. Sometimes she saw other people in the halls—soldiers and servants, but they always turned the other way to avoid her.
Corrin was well-used to having her entire family a moment's notice away. Loneliness didn't suit her.
That was the real reason she walked around the castle. If she wandered long enough, eventually she'd find someone who wanted to be her friend, right?
A noise echoing down the near-silent halls brought Corrin to pause.
Someone was crying.
Corrin followed the sound down the hall a ways, right up to an ordinary-looking door.
She raised her fist to the wood and knocked.
No response.
She tried again, a little harder. "Hello?"
The stifled sobs continued.
Frowning, Corrin reached up to the doorknob and twisted. The door swung open to an ordinary-looking bedroom, just like the one they were keeping her in. The only immediate difference she noticed was a worn doll flopped over on the bed, and the girl in the white dress.
She was about Corrin's age, by the look of it. She leaned against the bed with her legs tucked into her chest, long blue hair spilling out behind her. Golden eyes peered out from over her knees, wet with tears.
"Are you alright?" Corrin said.
The girl stirred, noticing her for the first time. She stared back at Corrin for a long moment.
"You don't care," she finally said. Her gaze returned to the floor.
"Yes I do!" Corrin exclaimed indignantly. She marched forward, plopping herself down on the floor next to the girl. "Why are you sad? I wanna help."
She started at the motion, but continued to stare back silently.
Corrin tentatively extended a hand. "I'm Corrin. What's your name?"
The girl sniffled. Her mouth hung open for a bit before she found her words. "My name is Azura."
Corrin grinned. "That's a pretty name."
"Oh," Azura said. She folded her hands in her lap and was silent for a long moment.
"Are you going to leave now?"
Corrin's smile faltered. "What?"
"Everyone always leaves me," Azura explained. "That, or they—"
Her face went still. She stopped talking.
"No way!" Corrin said, shaking her head emphatically. "We're friends now. Friends don't leave friends when they're sad."
Azura simply stared at her again. "Oh."
"It's okay," Corrin continued. "I get sad when I'm alone too. That's why I'm so happy I met you!"
Azura continued to stare, though her face shifted from expressionless to confused. "You're happy?"
"Mm-hm!" Corrin hummed. "And I want you to be happy too." Corrin extended her hand once more.
Azura twisted her head away, closing her eyes. "Why are you being so nice to me?"
"Well, that's what friends are for," Corrin explained.
Azura turned back to her, golden gaze glowing with a different light.
Hesitantly, she wrapped her hand around Corrin's, squeezing tight.
"Azura!" Corrin hissed in an exaggerated whisper.
It had been about a month since Corrin had first met Azura. That meant she'd been in Nohr for…
Corrin's eyes widened. She'd turned six! She was six years old!
As quickly as her heart rose, it tumbled back to earth. Nobody had celebrated her birthday.
It was easier though, with a friend. Corrin went to visit Azura whenever she was allowed to leave, and a few times she wasn't. Like right now.
A few moments later, the door creaked open. "Corrin?" Azura murmured, one eye peeking through the crack in the door. "It's late."
"You're still awake," Corrin helpfully pointed out. "Come on! I want to show you something."
Nodding, Azura slipped out of the room and shut the door behind her. Corrin offered her hand, and together the two of them crept through the shadowed halls of the castle.
"Where are we going?" Azura asked, gripping her hand a little tighter.
"Gunter showed me this once," Corrin explained. "You'll love it, I promise."
Even with the castle's ever-present crimson glow, it was a little tricky for Corrin to retrace her steps. A familiar staircase around a bend proved she'd managed it though, and she sighed in relief.
"Up here," she said. Azura followed silently. The staircase spiralled upwards for a long, long time. Azura didn't complain, but Corrin could tell she was getting tired—even her legs were starting to hurt.
It was all worth it though, for the look on Azura's face.
"We're out of the pit," she murmured, eyes wide in wonder.
Windmire stretched out before them, the pale red glow of the castle faintly casting its light over the rest of the city. But Corrin hadn't brought Azura all the way up here for that view.
"Azura," Corrin said. "Look up."
They were perched on one of the towers lining the castle's upper wall, open to the sky.
Corrin patted the ground next to her, and Azura took a seat next to her. The two leaned against the tower wall, staring up in wonder.
"The stars…"
An endless expanse of blues and blacks stretched out before them, interspersed with tiny pinpricks of light. The colors swept across the night sky like the sea, and for a long moment neither of them could do anything but stare.
"My mama used to take me to see the stars," Corrin said in a hushed voice. "We'd climb to the top of the tallest tower, and she'd tell me all their names."
Azura tore her gaze away, glancing at Corrin. "Do you remember any?"
"Uhm," Corrin said, resting her chin in her hands. "Oh!"
She raised her finger eagerly, pointing off to the west. "Do you see that really bright one?"
Azura squinted for a moment before nodding. "Mm-hm."
"That's Naga," Corrin explained. "They're bright, but they're the one that left. So they're also really far away."
Something melodious and sweet echoed from Corrin's side, and she realized Azura was giggling.
"Stars don't leave, silly," Azura gasped when she caught her breath.
"Well, this one did," Corrin insisted, crossing her arms. "My mama said so."
Azura giggled a little more, and Corrin mustered up her best exaggerated pout. "If you say so," she conceded.
A comfortable silence hung over the tower for some time. Corrin tilted her head towards Azura. She was staring up at the stars, a strange expression on her face.
"Azura?" Corrin said. "What's wrong?"
Azura blinked, stirring from her thoughts. "It's nothing. I'm okay."
"Are you really-really okay?" Corrin pressed.
Azura sighed, shaking her head. She was silent for a long moment.
"My mother used to take me to see the stars," Azura murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "But she… she left."
"I'm with you," Corrin blurted, the words spilling from her mouth. "I'll always be here for you."
Azura stared back. She was beginning to look like she always had when they'd first met, her expression blank. "You can't promise that."
"Says who?" Corrin replied. She grabbed Azura's hand, squeezing comfortingly. "I'll never leave you. Promise."
A small smile spread across Azura's face. "Alright," she said. "Promise."
Back and forth, Corrin paced anxiously across the room. Something had happened—she knew something had happened. Gunter hadn't been to see her for days, and the guards outside had doubled. She couldn't sneak past the one that always fell asleep anymore.
She hadn't seen Azura for days.
So Corrin paced, because she had too much energy and nothing to do. If this room had a window she might've tried climbing out by now, even if it was really really high—
The door swung open
"Gunter!" she exclaimed, because nobody else came to visit her. "Where have you—?"
A towering shadow stood in the doorway, tinged with red by the light of the hall.
"Follow me," King Garon ordered.
Corrin froze, unmoving. Memories flowed back unbidden—Cheve, her father—
Garon growled, reaching forward with one clawed gauntlet. Corrin yelped as he grabbed her hand, dragging her out of the room and down the hall.
"You are no longer safe here," he rasped as they walked. More stumbled in Corrin's case—Garon walked with wide, purposeful strides, and it was a struggle for her little legs to keep up. "You will be moved to the Northern Fortress for your protection."
Finally, Corrin managed to find her words. "Wh-where's Azura?" she forced out. "Is she alright?"
Garon stopped dead in his tracks, almost sending Corrin toppling to the ground. "You were told not to consort with that girl. I will not suffer disobedience—even from a princess of Nohr."
He hadn't told her. This was the first time she'd so much as seen Garon in the castle.
A hint of bravery fluttered in Corrin's heart. She puffed up her chest. "I'm a princess of Hoshido."
Garon stared at her for a long moment. "Still stubbornly clinging to that," he growled. Suddenly, he wrenched her to the side, turning around and heading down the opposite hall. "You are my daughter."
They continued on in near-silence, the only sound the weighty echo of Garon's breath. Perhaps it was enough to tell when he was coming—they didn't pass a single guard or servant on the way.
Corrin's breath hitched in her throat. She would not cry in front of him.
Descending down a flight of stairs, they came to a halt in a part of the castle she'd never seen before. Garon threw open a door, and his thundering voice followed: "Iago!"
A man with oily black hair appeared from the room, brown eyes wide. "Your Majesty! Whatever can I be of assistance with?"
"Hoshido has accelerated our timetable," Garon rumbled. "Prepare her for the Northern Fortress."
What?
"Your Majesty?" Iago said, confusion written across his face. "Far be it from me to question you, but you were considering exchanging the princess for that Azura girl but moments ago. What has—?"
"If you care for your life, Iago," Garon interrupted, "you had best cease with this prattle. "
"B-But of course," he stammered. "Quite right, Your Majesty. Though, er, the spell is far from fully developed—"
"Inconsequential. See it done."
Garon's grip on her hand vanished, and he turned to depart. At last, Corrin's body caught up with her mind.
"W-wait!" Corrin cried. "What are you going to do? Where's Azura?"
Garon did not turn back.
Iago turned back into the room he'd come from. "Don't just stand there, girl. You'll freeze to death in those halls, and then King Garon will be very displeased with the both of us."
He was going to do something to her. Garon was gone, she could make a run for it, she could—
With a sigh, Iago grabbed her arm and dragged her inside.
"What are you doing?" Corrin asked for at least the fourth time.
She was in a different room now, fastened to a chair. Iago had been joined by another figure, cloaked in similar dark robes. Were they mages?
"Couldn't have brought her to me unconscious," Iago murmured. "I'm sealing your memories, girl." he explained. "Their continued existence runs contrary to King Garon's plans."
"Wh-what?" Corrin sputtered. Her eyes widened. "You're gonna make me forget my family."
Iago sighed, his voice laden with exasperation. "Yes, that is the idea."
"I— I won't let you!" she exclaimed. "You can't make me forget!"
Iago ignored her, turning to the other figure. "Will you shut her up?"
They nodded. "Silence."
The staff concealed beneath their cloak sparked with violet magic. Corrin would've raised her hands to her throat, but they were still bound to the chair.
She couldn't speak.
"Now then," Iago continued, sounding noticeably more comfortable. "Close your eyes, Lady Corrin." He and the other sorcerer stepped closer. "This will take but a moment."
Corrin shook her head, staring him dead in the eyes. They'd already taken Father. She wouldn't let them take her home, her family, not in a million years.
Shadows pulsated through the air around her.
My name is Corrin. I'm six years old. I have two brothers, and two sisters. I'm the second princess of Hoshido.
The world began to grow fuzzy. And maybe a bit crooked.
My name is Corrin. I'm six years old. I have two brothers, and two sisters. I'm the second princess of…
"Lord Iago, are you sure—"
Princess of…
" Enough, you imbecile. Can't you see it's working?"
Princess of Hoshido.
"The spell should've taken by now. With the way she's resisting, I'm worried continued strain will—"
My brothers are Ryoma and Takumi.
"Be silent. You're here for your power, not your sympathies."
My sisters are Hinoka and Sakura.
"If I must show you how it's done…"
It hurts.
And I love them all very much.
Corrin's vision returned slowly, eyes stinging and aching like she'd stared at the sun too long. As the fog cleared, she twisted her gaze back and forth. Someone was on the ground to her right, and they weren't moving. To the left, an armored figure towered over her, pinning another man to the wall by his neck.
"Explain yourself with haste, Iago."
"Y-Your Majesty," Iago choked out. "I did only as you asked! The spell—"
"You dare lie to your king?" the man's voice thundered. "I ordered no such— " he cut off, dropping a wheezing Iago to the ground as his hand rose to his brow. "I didn't…"
The man slipped to his knees, head bowed. Iago coughed and sputtered, running a hand across his throat as he crept towards the door.
"Excuse me," Corrin called out to the man. She would've walked up to him, but she was still stuck in the chair. "Are you okay?"
"I…" the man murmured, looking up at her. His mouth hung open, but no words came.
Corrin nodded reassuringly. "It's okay! Sometimes I can't talk when I'm sad too. Like when—"
It hurts.
She shook her head. "Anyways, what's your name?"
The man blinked, then cleared his throat. "I am Garon. Your—"
He paused for a long moment.
"Your father."
Father. Her father.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, smiling brightly. "Hello, Father!"
He rose to his feet slowly, then bent forward as he undid her restraints. "Come, my child," he intoned. "Let's get you home."
Right. This wasn't her home. Home was probably… warmer, she hoped. She wrapped her hand around one plated finger of his gauntlet.
Delicately stepping over the mage's corpse, Corrin, Princess of Nohr, followed King Garon out of the cell.
"—Corrin!—"
The world burned.
"—pull her off—"
Her heart burned.
"—she's in pain!"
Her blood burned.
Then, all at once, the flames were quenched. Something cool gripped her wrist—not viciously, not like Garon. It was gentle, and kind.
Corrin shakily drew breath. Someone was pulling her up, helping her stumble to her feet.
Her eyes fluttered open.
"Azura?"
"Corrin," she said. She stared back at her, golden eyes wide with concern.
Right. Corrin was— she was in the Hoshidan throne room. Ryoma had been here, and Mother— where were they? She tried to step forward, but nearly fell off the dais. Azura gripped her shoulders tight, steadying her.
"Corrin!" she repeated. "Please, be careful. I don't know what—"
"I— I need to," Corrin tried to explain. She grit her teeth—her head felt like it was made of iron.
She managed to cast her gaze back to the throne. Violet flames licked its surface, sloughing off the metal and onto the floor. Once expelled, they quickly faded away.
She wanted to vomit.
"Breathe for me," Azura said. "Deep breaths."
Corrin nodded and tried her best. In and out—deep breaths. With each one the fog began to clear, her grip on the world a little more firm.
Familiar faces filled the throne room. Lucina, a step away from Azura, rubbing her hand across the hilt of her sword restlessly. Ryoma, Hinoka, Takumi, and Sakura, staring at her with concern. An unfamiliar man with green— wait, no. That was Yukimura—Father's tactician. He was turned away from her, exchanging hushed words with—
With—
Corrin stumbled forward, slipping free of Azura's grip. Ryoma looked ready to grab her again, but froze once he realized who she was looking at.
She turned away from Yukimura, warm brown eyes failing to register her for a moment. "Corrin?"
Corrin collapsed into her stunned embrace, weeks (years) of stifled emotion flowing free in moments. She didn't know where it came from—there was no conscious thought behind it, but it hit her like a tidal wave nonetheless. It was a roiling storm, and Corrin could do nothing but be helplessly swept away.
Her wracked sobs echoed through the throne room.
"Mother!"
Mikoto responded automatically, raising her hands to Corrin's back and rubbing circles soothingly. "Shh. It's alright, Corrin. It's alright."
"I— I forgot you!" she gasped. "I forgot you, and— and I hurt you, I—"
"My sweet daughter," Mikoto murmured. "This is not your fault. It has never been your fault."
Takumi's voice came hesitantly from across the room. "Does she—?"
"Ssh," Ryoma said. "Give them a moment."
Takumi's tone turned incredulous. "Are you crying?"
"Perish the thought. I—" Ryoma's voice cut off as he cleared his throat. "Also need a moment."
Gradually, the shudders began to fade with Corrin's tears. Her face stung, her throat was hoarse, and her body ached.
Yet, wrapped in her mother's arms, something began to settle in Corrin's chest.
She thought it might be peace.
What felt like a long moment later, Corrin managed to speak up again. "What happened?"
Mikoto squeezed her a moment longer before gently stepping back. "You fell unconscious the moment you touched the throne," she explained. Her voice was solemn, but still carried across the chamber. "You were there for several hours. We didn't dare wake you up, until…"
Corrin turned back towards the Throne of Truth, her legs finally beginning to support her weight. The shadowy aura had all-but vanished—only its faintest whispers lingered in the air.
Daringly, Corrin ran a hand across the armrest. Her entire body tingled at the contact, and she quickly pulled away. Deep grooves were dug into them—had those been there before?
They were almost like clawmarks.
"I remember now," Corrin thought aloud. "Most of it, I think. They did something to me in Nohr—cast a spell."
More recent memories rang in her mind. Her excitement at the prospect of fighting on the front lines with her siblings. The rush that ran through her when she gripped Ganglari's hilt.
Corrin shook her head. "Right after Azura was taken."
Azura stepped to her side, eyes wide. "You—?"
"Yeah," Corrin nodded. "I remember."
Azura said nothing, but even she couldn't mask the smile blossoming across her face.
Suddenly, something else sprung to the forefront of Corrin's mind. She spun around, pointing an accusatory finger. "'Noka! You're afraid of heights!"
Hinoka froze, entirely caught off-guard. "Wh-what are you talking about?"
Corrin marched up to her. "You told me you were afraid of heights, and you became a pegasus knight anyway!"
"I was a kid!" Hinoka insisted. "I got over it, sis. Promise."
Corrin squinted. "If you say so."
All too suddenly, her adrenaline gave way to exhaustion. Those hours on the throne felt more akin to years, as if she'd relived each and every day returned to her.
"Hinoka," Corrin said, clearing her throat. "Can I…?"
Hinoka barely had time to nod before Corrin threw her arms around her, head buried in her shoulder.
"It's just," she said, voice wavering. "It's really good to be back."
"Yeah," Hinoka said, staring past her as she returned the embrace. "It is."
Hinoka made a gesture over Corrin's shoulders, and suddenly Ryoma was there, wrapping his arms around them both. Sakura followed hesitantly, and in the face of much insistence, Azura and Takumi joined in as well.
Casting her churning thoughts aside, Corrin allowed herself to simply enjoy the moment. She breathed, in and out. In and out.
She was home.
Corrin couldn't sleep.
Despite her exhaustion, she supposed she should've expected this. As utterly spent as her body was, her mind had clearly not gotten the memo.
After the others had been convinced Corrin was going to be alright, she was strongly encouraged to go get some rest. Mother had opted to postpone the festival for her, sending a jolt of guilt through her heart. But she'd assured her that it was no trouble at all—her wellness was the priority.
She really needed to get some sleep.
It was a strange thing, regaining years of memories in a matter of hours. Her bedroom, which had been a stranger's only that morning, was now filled with reminders of games and bedtime stories, and trying to teach Takumi how to play shogi.
Corrin was pretty sure she hadn't known how to play shogi either, but that was beside the point.
As much as she had tried to know her Hoshidan family—for both the world's sake and her own, the efforts of the last few weeks couldn't compare to this. They couldn't compare to the overpowering ache in her heart when she'd stared at her mother, an almost alien sensation that she nonetheless knew to be her own.
Inevitably, of course, this line of thought led her to the rest of her family.
Her Nohrian siblings—by bonds if not blood, they were her family. Unlocking her past hadn't magically changed that—what they had was real to her. She'd gotten used to not seeing them for months at a time, quarantined in the Northern Fortress, but this was so very different.
Gods, they might not even know if she was alive.
She knew why she'd been quarantined, now. Why she'd been sick for years, why Robin had sensed an aura of darkness permeating her.
The man she'd called Father had done horrible things. All for—what, leverage against Hoshido? Maddened acts of cruelty at the whims of the Demon?
She didn't blame Gunter for not telling her. How could she? He'd done all he possibly could for her, eased the pain of losing everything she'd known and loved. He could've been killed, or worse.
King Garon was responsible for this. Iago was responsible for this. She had to remember that.
Because the alternative, the chilling thought that they had been complacent—
No. Not an alternative, because it wasn't an option, so it wasn't worth considering in the first place.
Family didn't do that to each other.
Corrin sat up, freeing herself from her cushioned cocoon. She needed air.
Leaving the warmth of her blankets behind, Corrin slipped on her kimono before sliding open the door. The hall was, predictably, dark—they didn't use their Dragon Vein for light in Shirasagi. Corrin had always had good night vision though, likely courtesy of her years in Nohr.
What she hadn't predicted was slipping out of her room at the exact same time as Azura.
Her mouth parted in a soft 'o' of surprise. "Corrin? What are you doing up at this hour?"
"I could ask you the same thing," she grinned. "I uh, just needed some air."
Azura pursed her lips. "You really should get some rest. You've had a long day."
"I've been trying," Corrin chuckled wryly.
Azura stared back at her for a moment, brow knit as her eyes glimmered in the dark.
"Come on, then," she said. Grabbing Corrin's hand, she led her back into her bedroom. "I'm going to help you."
Corrin's eyes widened. "You really don't have to," she insisted. "You need your sleep too!"
Azura paused, turning back as she squeezed her hand.
"Let me help you, Corrin."
Staring back in silence for a moment, Corrin nodded. "Okay."
Once inside, Azura took a seat at the edge of Corrin's mat, leaning against the wall.
"Here, let me—" Corrin rifled around in her closet, pulling free a spare cushion. "This should be more comfortable."
Azura accepted it gratefully. She patted the mat, and Corrin slid back into her nest of blankets.
"So, she said. "Does your magic song double as a lullaby?"
Azura giggled, the pleasant chime of her voice echoing through the room. "Not that song."
"When I lived in Nohr," she began, and her gaze grew distant. "If I had a bad day, I usually didn't want to talk about it. My mother, however, knew I was," her voice wavered slightly, "in pain. So, on those nights, there was a song she sang for me."
"Azura," Corrin started. "Are you sure—"
She nodded, silencing her. "I want to share it with you."
Azura sighed, closing her eyes. She began to hum an unfamiliar tune, reacquainting herself with its rhythm
And she sang.
"I sit by the harbour,"
"The sea calls to me."
Something passed over Azura in that moment, an expression Corrin had yet to truly appreciate.
"I hide in the water,"
"But I need to breathe."
She was always different when she sang. Azura was always calm, assured yet soft-spoken. Some would call her distant. Yet when she sang, it was as though the music permeated her very being.
"You are an ocean wave my love,"
"Crashing at the bow,"
"I am a galley slave my love."
"If only I could find out the way,"
"To sail you,"
She was the song, in all its ebb and flow, its joy and its sorrow.
"Maybe I'll just stow away."
Azura paused a beat, opening her eyes. A breathless smile graced her face. "Usually, this is the part where someone asks if I only do songs about water."
Corrin let out a yawn, grinning back. "I'm just… going with the flow."
"You are an ocean wave my love,"
"Crashing at the bow,"
"I am a galley slave my love."
"If only I could find out the way,"
"To sail you,"
"Maybe I'll just stow away."
"Stow away,"
"Stow away."
"Eventual Romance", I tagged (on AO3). You know, like a liar.
Azura's song is "All About Eve - Martha's Harbour".
Y'all (and poor Corrin) deserved it after that though, haha. This chapter was a rough ride. Feel free to leave a review, or hop in our Discord and talk to me there: discord .gg/9XG3U7a
Up next is Chapter 10: Heart of Thorns.