Time in Charlotte's company shows Keiji how those under Camilla's command are treated.

Perspective

You've been guided through the Nohrian camp and into the barracks; tis easily the largest building of the bunch thus far. A long and wide corridor stretches out before you from where you stand in the entranceway next to Charlotte. At the corridor's end is a vast central hall with beds lining its and a long gangway through its center. Several beds on both sides are already occupied, and the hall itself is so vast you can't see its end from here.

Interestingly, women and men share this communal living space. A surprising but not unwelcome revelation.

Charlotte jabs an elbow into your bicep, snorting. "What are you gawking at?"

You rub your arm, frowning. "These living arrangements, truth be told."

"What about em?" the blonde wonders, meeting your displeased look with a mean smirk.

You ease your expression somewhat and cast your eyes back toward the central hall. "Men and women sleeping together, first and foremost," you explain. Charlotte nods understandingly and sets off down the hall, a touch of intrigue about her. You keep pace with her. "In Hoshido such things are uncommon, or at least they were in the fortress I was stationed at."

"Yeah, I've heard a little about how you Hoshidans do things," Charlotte informs you, stopping partway down the hall in front of a wooden door with several cobwebs criss-crossing its front. She leans up against it and takes a worn iron key from the pocket of her kitsune fur coat. "Seems a little weird if you ask me, wasting space by having everyone sleeping separately. And too reserved to boot."

"Sentiments I share despite my upbringing, I assure you."

Charlotte hums approvingly. "Had you figured as someone a little less high and mighty than most Hoshidans; guess I was right."

"It's not a matter of virtue or being upstanding," you explain, honestly quite taken by Hoshido and Nohr's differences on this occasion. "Tis because some traditions in my homeland - love her as I do - are lofty and unrealistic. Striving to rise above an aggressor when you've been wronged; being reserved with a lover until you're betrothed to marry," you sigh, pained again by memories of Okashi. "...Being expected as a warrior to forever make sacrifices."

"Sounds like life's thrown its fair share of crap at you too," Charlotte presumes with a raised brow.

You've spoken too freely about your frustrations, and around an enemy no less. Best you get back to the topic at hand.

"More than you know," you sigh. "And to think we got here from talk of sleeping arrangements."

"Hmm." Charlotte nods. "Really though, what's the point of keeping men and women separate?" she asks, putting her key into the door.

"It's supposed to be for the sake of respecting one's decency."

"Decency?" Charlotte scoffs mockingly and turns the key in the lock. It clicks. "Well that makes no damn sense. Soldiers live and die out on the battlefield, and there's no decency there. How us lassies and you men sleep shouldn't make a difference."

"A further moot point when a fair few indulge their desires for romance regardless," you add. "Well, among us commoners at least."

Charlotte snorts. "Uptight Hoshido has whorehouses too, eh?"

"Sake dens," you clarify, an undeniably warm glow building in your chest with of how friendly this chat is getting. "Though they're certainly frowned upon."

"Of course. Dusk Dragon forbid you Hoshidans have some fun." Charlotte rolls her eyes. "Anyhow, stop standing around and get in there! I'm freezing my backside off in this hall." You're shoved somewhat roughly through the open door, the girl following and shutting it behind you.

The room's only source of light is a dimly flickering and halfway burned through wax candle. It sits in an iron holder atop a crate a few paces ahead. Beside it are two more candles. The leftmost one is untouched, and the one to the right of it has seen some use. Behind the trio is an empty lantern within which one of their ilk can sit.

"Alright, let's get some damn light in here," Charlotte grumbles. Bullishly shoving past, she kneels ahead of the box and lights another of the candles with a wooden wick. Then she does the same for the third. The added light lets her head safely across the room and undrawn the curtains. Though the sun is starting to set, the extra illumination is enough to allow a proper look at the wider room.

You stand now in what looks to be a small storage closet converted into a living space. In the left-hand corner is a mattress bed that is elevated off the floor about half a foot by several tomes. A few patchwork quilts of varying colors and sizes cover it; the largest of the bunch is carmine with crudely stitched love hearts sewn into the front. If two people two snuggle close they will probably fit in this bed, though accommodating such a feat will doubtless end up being immensely intimate situation.

A pair of worn out mannequins stand off to the right of the bed, beyond where Charlotte perches. The right one is empty of clothing, while the right hosts a knee-length black ballroom dress with frills at its shoulders and a low-cut bust with a ribbon tied at its center.

Your eyes linger on Charlotte while takes off her coat and puts it on the empty mannequin. Nohrian or no, she would look damn fine in that dress.

"Keep staring and I'll smack you," the lady fighter warns while removing her protective iron neck collar and setting it down. Free now, she breathes a relieved sigh and pops her neck from side to side. "Unless you see something you like, Samurai," she adds with a sadistic smirk.

Arms folded, you roll your eyes defiantly. "My heart is spoken for. And besides, you're-" A sharp pain shoots through your right side, an injury from the recent fight doubtless flaring. You clutch a hand over the spot on reflex and suck in a sharp breath. "Gods dammit all."

"You alright over there?" Charlotte asks, her eyes glinting with the faintest hint of worry.

"I'll manage," you groan, forcing your back straight. "Dammit all, you hit hard."

"Damn right I do," Charlotte announces pridefully, touching a palm to her well-toned chest. Beyond her declaration, there remains the slightest bit of concern in her eyes, however. Stepping around her bed, she kneels in front of a wooden storage chest its front. "And you've not the fortitude to tough it out obviously, so I guess I'll fix you up." Glancing back for an instant, she smiles cruelly. "Just be grateful I don't have you kiss my behind for the privilege."

"Charming..." This lassie is certainly a ruffian through and through, despite her being immensely attractive.

"Who knows?" Charlotte continues, her attention returned to the trunk. "Once I've taken a bath you might just enjoy it." Releasing the chest latch, she lifts the lid and begins rooting around inside. After a short while, she takes out a small clear glass bottle with a cork in its top. Smirking victoriously, she shuts and fastens the lid again. Then she gets back up.

"This outta do it," the blonde says, turning to you and holding out the bottle. It's filled about halfway full with a see-through liquid that resonates with a faint magical glow. You take it and pop the cork. "My last vulnerary," Charlotte explains abruptly. "So you'd better make the most of it. They're hard to come by out here."

A gift it may be, but you're a touch reluctant. "You're sure? Tis your last one, after all. I'll endure if it's a bother."

Charlotte raises a balled fist, smiling. "I can take whetever folks throw at me," she states with flare. "You though? You're strong, but you break easy."

You narrow your eyes a touch. "I'd be fine if you didn't hit like a Faceless."

Growling in warning, Charlotte's fist trembles. "Just drink the damn vulnerary and shuddup already."

No desire for a further scuffle yet, you knock back the healing potion. It's awfully bitter, a taste you never get used to.

You swallow, your face scrunching in disgust.

"Cat got your tongue?" Charlotte laughs, taking back the empty bottle and putting it down at the foot of the bed.

You groan, shuddering with immense displeasure.

"You'd think someone as skilled as an apothecary might make this taste nicer..."

"What matters is it works," the brutish lass comments bluntly, slapping your back. "Was either that or bruised ribs, and you took your pick."

"Indeed I did." You scrunch your face for a second more. The dreadful taste fading a touch, you then smile graciously. "You have my thanks. I sincerely appreciate it."

"It's fine, really." A soft pink tinge colors Charlotte's cheeks. "And I guess I owe you, for sparing me in the Astral Plane. You ain't all bad, Samurai."

"The feeling is mutual." You bow your head.

Silence hangs in the air thereafter.

You raise your head. Flush-cheeked and oddly demure, This side to Charlotte is a genuine pleasure. The glow in your chest grows into something of a quiet surge at the sight of her, even.

Charlotte smirks somewhere between wickedly and teasingly at you. "But you still owe me a rematch," she asserts. "For all of the trouble you caused me."

A challenge. You relish such things.

"A rematch you won't win, I assure you."

Charlotte leans in and grins with sadistic glee. "We'll just have to see about that, now won't we?" Rising onto her toes to bridge the four or five inch difference in height, she touches her forehead to yours. "I'll bet you'll break within the first few punches again."

Coiling an arm around the girl's back, you smile smugly. "I was distracted," you tell her with heat to your voice. "Because Flora was there. Next time, with nothing in my way, it'll go much the same as our fight in the Astral Plane." Pledge made, you tighten your grip around Charlotte's waist.

"Oh really?" the girl questions snidely, staring bloody murder.

"Really," you answer, undeterred. "And I won't spare you." Just as the last time the busty brawler was this close to you in the cemetary, your heartbeat is quickening.

"Someone's brave," Charlotte scoffs. "Or maybe that's just overconfidence."

"Are you willing to find out?"

"You bet I am," the lassie growls with a passionate undertone, pressing her body to yours. "Because I've got something figured about you, Keiji."

Harder your heart pounds, its intensity almost dizzying. "And what might that be...?" you ask with allure, ensnared by Charlotte's coarse charm.

The girl presses an index to your beating heart, and purrs. "That there's a flicker of Nohrian in you; more than a flicker, even. But you'll never admit it."

Disgust and desire mixing as one, you level a loathsome scowl at your handler. Hand slinking upward, you grab a handful of her wavy golden locks. Then you tug lightly in warning. "Say that again and you'll regret it, I swear it."

Undeterred, Charlotte presses her bosoms to your chest and sneers. "Whaddya gonna do, Samurai, hurt me? I dare you."

Restraint snapping, you tug Charlotte's hair and press your lips to hers. Shuddering approvingly, she digs her nails into your shoulders for support. A second passes between you. Two. Three. Moaning into you, the girl pushes her heaving body fully to yours.

Four seconds. Five. Six. You let go of the blonde's hair and pull away, the two of you still joined by a glistening string.

"T-That all you've got?" Charlotte asks between shortened breaths, licking her lips. Her cheeks are flushed an immense pink.

"It's all you deserve," you answer. Drawing back, you lean by the door and fold your arms. "Honestly, you frustrate me... even if you're strong."

Charlotte narrows her eyes, smiling violently. "That supposed to be a compliment or something?"

"Whatever it is I leave to your discretion."

"Sure you do," the blonde laughs derisively. "Gods help me you're annoying."

"Likewise."

Silence hangs in the air for several heavy moments. Then Charlotte smiles. "...You want some dinner?"

As if answering for you, your stomach growls.

snickering, Charlotte nods. "Alright. Lemme take a quick nap, and then we'll go." Returning to the bed, the lassie takes off her shoes and flops against the quilts. She spends a couple of moments thereafter getting comfy against the pillows and shuts her eyes.

Honest curiosity takes you while watching the lady fighter burrow under her heart-stitched quilt.

"A question, if I may," you pose politely, mindful of Charlotte being tired.

"Go on then." Charlotte opens an eye. "Spit it out."

"You're kind one minute, and then angry the next. Why?"

"Just noticed that now, did you?" the blonde wonders, her tone a touch nervous all of the sudden.

"No, I realized it a while beforehand."

"You really wanna know?" Charlotte asks, frowning bitterly. "You really care, with us being enemies and all that crap?"

Cleansing your stubborn pride, you nod. "You're intense and uncompromising; I respect those traits in a lass. So consider me intrigued."

"Ha! I knew it!" Charlotte positively beams at your admission, a face like a cat with bowl of cream suddenly. "You were complimenting me earlier."

Irked by her dwelling on the fact, you grumble, "Do answer the question, before I change my mind."

"Alright, alright." The girl opens her other eye and shuffles nearer the wall, freeing up space on the bed. Smiling at you, she pats the newly made spot beside her. "Kick off your shoes and sit with me; then I'll tell you all about it."

You raise a nervous brow. "Being a little generous, aren't we?"

"I guess I am," Charlotte answers you with a wink.

Your unease persists. "Dare I ask why?"

"Because I hate empty flattery from men. When they're honest like you just were though, especially after seeing the real me... I appreciate it."

"Very well then," you relent. You bend down and untie your boots, taking them off and leaving them by the storage chest and join Charlotte on the bed. She throws the quilt over you and huddles close. Her warmth and perfume bring you a sense of quieted comfort.

Going a step further, she then loops an arm through yours and lays her head on your shoulder. "This will do nicely," she says gently, contentedly.

You're more than a little surprised by her willingness to get close to you like this.

"Hard to believe you tried to kill me with how nice you're being," you tease.

"War's strange like that," Charlotte sighs, closing her eyes and smiling. "Today's enemy is tomorrow's friend."

Moved by her words, you exhale softly. "If only it were so simple."

"There's a chance it might be, if Lady Camilla gets her way."

"By handing her Corrin, you mean?"

"She's an important part of the princess' plans, yep."

"Whatever she intends, I'll have to decline."

Charlotte laughs shortly and mockingly. "You're here now, so it's out of your control."

"You needn't remind me," you grimace. Tiredness weighing down on you now on account of being comfy, you yawn.

"Why'd you do it, anyway? Risk your neck for Flora, I mean."

"Because you intended to kill her, for one."

"I wouldn't have," Charlotte reveals casually. "Camilla wanted her alive. I just used her so we'd fight again."

"Just as you telling me as such makes no difference. I would have strived to save her regardless," you admit resolutely.

"Even after she stabbed you in the back? Gods, you Hoshidans and your morals."

You frown at that. "Morals have nothing to do with it."

Charlotte hums suspiciously.

You open an eye. "What?" Laid against your shoulder, the girl is smug as ever.

"You're bedding her, aren't you?" she asks impishly.

Your heartbeat quickens and your face heats. "Nothing so straightforward. But I do care about her, it's true."

"Knew it," Charlotte says pridefully. "You've the look of a man with many lovers about you."

Caught, you fall silent.

Victorious, Charlotte clings to your arm just a little bit tighter. "You wouldn't have kissed me otherwise."

Utterly disarmed, you close your eyes. How you pray this moment would end. You need a distraction.

"I asked you a question earlier," you recount, all too eager to change the subject.

"Yeah, you did," Charlotte replies smugly. "And now I'm more curious about you. Why all the lovers? Not that I care or anything. You can bed who you like."

"If you don't care then why are you asking?"

"Because one of those women's a princess."

Cornered, anxiousness flutters in your chest. "...You aren't backing down, are you?"

"Certainly not. I never do," Charlotte answers proudly.

You're too tired to keep fighting. "As you like, I'll tell you what you want to know," you concede. "But only if you'll answer me first."

"Fair enough then," Charlotte compromises before yawning. "If it'll make you happy. Being honest with you," she starts, pausing for a second and snuggling even closer to you. "I've always had a temper, got it from Daddy. That and Windmire's slums where I was born are harsh. You've gotta be tough if you hope to survive there, and all of those noble folks in their mansions don't want a girl who's rough around the edges like that; like me.

"So I put on an act for them. I played the dainty flower because it's what they wanted, and I hated every second of it. Or I used to anyway. That all changed when Camilla took me into her service, after the Border Wall fell to you Hoshidans. She saw through me, but she accepted me as I was."

For the first time you feel something of genuine concern for Charlotte. A guilty pang grips your chest.

"It sounds as though life's hard for the poor in Nohr," you comment, trying to empathize.

"You Hoshidans don't know the half of it, with your plentiful harvests and your long summer days. And the nobles never suffer here; it's always us commoners. Only the strong survive under Garon's rule, and so the rich bastards take all they want while the rest of us struggle."

Your guilt grows the more you hear. You always believed the Nohrians cruel and heartless for the sake of it. It sounds like a great many everyday people are not that way by choice. Impoverished upbringings and lives of conflict have shaped them into who they are.

You've been far too harsh about situation you knew little about, it seems.

"If what you're telling me is the truth then I owe a great many Nohrians an apology," you own up earnestly.

"Hmph. You wouldn't be the first Hoshidan to look down us, and you damn sure won't be the last," Charlotte assures you bitterly. "Or worse, blame us for the choices of a few lords in their manors while most of us fight to get by. Enlisting earns you two decent meals a day and enough coins to scrape by, lord depending. For so many girls like me it was either that... or whoring myself out as a bedwench in some dirty pub."

Charlotte's brutal truths daggers to your chest, you unloop your arm from hers and exhale ashamedly. "I've indeed misjudged things, and out of blind anger."

The lady fighter snags your arm and fastens it through hers again, this time quite firmly. "Yeah well, our lives shouldn't be your concern; you'll do well enough regardless," you're told a touch coldly. "Shagging a princess has its perks, I'll bet. And one who shifts into a dragon, too. Her tail's gotta be fun in the bedchamber."

You're noticing a theme here. "You're awfully provocative, Miss Charlotte."

The blonde snorts. "You would be too if you'd not had a lover in months."

"Your ladylike facade hasn't earned you a suitor, then?" you ask with mocking surprise.

Charlotte growls in warning. "Please! I eased back on the 'pretty flower' act when Camilla hired me on. There's hardly a man here who'll take me as I am. They're all thrilled by the idea of ploughing me, but they won't dare duke it out with me first. Cowards, the lot of them... except for you," the girl finishes gently.

You'll quash her hopes before they get out of hand, as quietly tempting as indulging them might be. "My apologies, but I'm spoken for, as you know."

"Didn't stop you kissing me," the blonde reminds you. "And that besides, you still owe an answer to my question, Samurai. Fess up. Why so many lovers?"

Fear to answer lingers in the pit of your stomach. Again, violent flames and desperate screams echo in your mind.

"Well?" Charlotte persists. "Fair's fair. Don't back out now."

You nod. "As you ask." You'll face your innermost wounds, the fear and shame be damned. "A long time ago there was a woman I loved dearly, more than anyone," you begin, your voice small and heavy with feeling. "A soldier, just like me - a lady samurai. I believed our bond strong enough to endure anything. I was younger, far more hopeful. And worse, I was very, very wrong."

"Did she leave you?" Charlotte asks gently, mindful of your feelings despite her usual brutish nature.

"No, nothing so fortunate," you reply, your stomach a touch unsteady now. "She was-" A lump forming in your throat, you swallow hard. "She was subdued by a Nohrian general... and raped, violently. Two of his subordinates held me at knifepoint all the while; they made we watch the whole dreadful ordeal.

"She survived, but our bond wasn't strong enough. We parted soon after, and the pain of it all was too much. Being powerless like I was that day robbed me of something; of the strength to look myself in the eye and face myself. And that is why I'll give my heart to the many woman whom I care for, but never exclusively. Loving someone as deeply as I did her only to have it all fall apart, scarred me. A wound I accept, as weak as I am for it."

Charlotte's grip upon your arm becomes intensely tight. You open an eye and glance over to the girl. Eyes still closed, lonesome tear stains her cheek.

"You certainly aren't weak for opening up about something as heavy as that," the Nohrian lassie tells you at a resolute whisper.

While a shallow comfort, you're grateful all the same. Closing your eyes again, you smile sadly.

"Thank you, Miss Charlotte."

"It's fine, really. And… you can hold me while we nap if you want. I'd hate for you to have a nightmare after what you just told me."

And hold the girl you will.

You untie your arm from Charlotte's and bring it around her back, drawing her close.

"You're alright with this, I take it?" you double check.

"Fine, yep. Now shuddup and get some damn sleep already."

"But of course."

You relax your mind and let fatigue claim you. Cuddling Charlotte, you breathe her perfume. Second by second, you relax

Indeed, the realm of sleep awaits.

You expected abominable treatment by your Nohrian captors upon arriving to the mess hall for dinner.

How sorely mistaken you were.

Your meal of bread and cheese was fine enough. You honestly expected far worse, essentially being a prisoner and all.

What you didn't expect however, was for a small gaggle of very curious mages and soldiers to flock around your table and fire off questions.

"What's it like in Hoshido?" One soldier, a burly axe fighter with a shaved head, asks you. "It true the women all wear long silk robes to parties?"

"They're called kimono," you explain. "And women normally wear then for festivals and celebrations."

"How about the food? I hear you Hoshidan folks don't want for nothin' all year round," a petite lady spellcaster claims.

"There is some truth to that," you tell her. "Our weather is fair and our crops plentiful, so it's rare to find shortages in most townships."

Then there's the most fearless of the bunch. A stocky young lass with messy orange curls and freckled cheeks; she adorns tatty mage's robes. She flat out sits partway in your lap and offers up a mug of beer.

"Name's Elena," she introduces herself with a toothy smile. "Word has it you're a royal bodyguard, that true?"

You accept Elena's offer of a drink and take a hearty swig, handing the mug back to her. "It most certainly is."

"Nice, nice. You're a noble then?"

"Na, he ain't a noble," Charlotte cuts in. "He's a commoner, just like the rest of us."

The blonde's answer earns a fair few surprised gasps.

"They raised you through the ranks? That right there's impressive," Elena compliments.

"I hear Lady Corrin's the most beautiful lass in the world, though I ain't met her myself," one of her comrades says.

"Does being a retainer pay well?" a curly-haired brunette girl likely a few years your elder asks. "I've a little brother back home who needs lookin' after."

These curiosities keep on for a good while. Half the mess hall slowly gathers around your table with tankards, mugs and bottles in that time. What follows is the finest of sports for both commonfolk and nobles alike, as far as you're concerned.

"Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!" the soldiers gathered around your table chant in rowdy unison.

Spurred on by her comrades' encouragement, Charlotte knocks back her second (somewhat large) cup of wine and slams it down on the tabletop. She's met with rapturous cheers for her efforts.

A flutter fills your chest at the comradery on show. You smile, honestly humbled. While you cannot speak for all Nohrians, the ones under Camilla's command seem kind enough.

In a different world you may have even befriend some of these fine folks.

"How wrong I was," you reflect at a whisper, picking up your cup and looking thoughtfully at your reflection in the liquid.

Whatever happens from here on, you cannot say your captors have not been kind.

To be continued...

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