Corrin enjoys a celebration. Sakura goes for a nighttime stroll. Leo details his angst.

As the music swelled around her, Corrin let it swallow her whole. Her partner, a broad-faced man who'd nearly lost his lunch when he'd asked her to dance, spun her. The faces of the dancers around her blurred. Candlelight streaked across her vision, breaking into a thousand shooting stars against the cavorting shadows.

I wish I could spin forever, she thought, imaging herself at the epicenter of a vortex and watching the pressures of reality fade into the forked lighting of the tempest. Then, her partner stepped on her foot, smashing the joint of her big toe beneath the heel of his boot and shattering her fantasy in one fell swoop. She cursed aloud and then her partner leapt away from her, backing into a couple dancing nearby. That couple then fell into another and then another until the merriment had withered and the music had dwindled to a single, prolonged, out-of-tune chord. Under so many eyes, Corrin blushed. Her foot throbbed. She began gnawing on her lip, but then thought better of it upon catching sight of Jakob in the gathered crowd. She could practically hear his reproach of, "Absolutely disgraceful!"

"I'm so sorry!" her partner gushed. His throaty voice was made even more unbecoming by the gaping silence hanging above them.

I would hope so, she thought but, after a quick survey of the crowd, said, "It's alright! If I wore shoes, it wouldn't have even been an issue!"

There was mingled laughter from the crowd and then tension dropped from shoulders and cringes vanished from faces. The musicians started up again. Corrin's partner stared at her. His face was awash with panic. He looked as though he might cry. She smiled at him good-naturedly and then said, "I think I'd like to take a break."

He nodded vigorously and then darted from the dance floor. She sighed.

"Poor bastard," Kaze said, appearing beside her.

Corrin jumped, releasing a strangled yelp. Then, she shouted, "Don't do that!"

Kaze bowed his head, but the movement didn't conceal his wry smirk.

"Apologies."

Then he led her from the swaying mass to a table tucked at the far end of the tavern. Eyes followed her as she moved through the crowd. Some nodded to her, others inclined their heads as she passed. She sat. Dozens of gazes levelled upon her. Few had the decency to lower their stares.

"You're holy to them," Lilith had told her once. "You've given them a chance at a future they didn't think they deserved."

But Lilith was a hopeless flatterer and these people didn't stare at her with reverence.

It's more like perverted interest, Corrin thought as she swept an errant strand of hair behind her ear. Her fingers crested the aberrant point and then fell back into her lap. She had always known she was different, that she looked different. Much of her childhood had been spent in front of mirrors, staring and imagining. She had longed of having straight blonde hair and warm violet eyes. At night, she dreamed of talking and walking like them, of being one of them, but every morning she awoke to a face that was never Nohrian. For years, she'd lived with a split life. She knew she was intrinsically different from them, but still desperately believed the lies they told her.

They had claimed she hailed from an old noble house, one that dated back to the time of the Dusk dragon, but no matter the hours she spent scouring the portraits of her supposed mother and father, she found no similarities in them, only unease and confusion. As the years passed, she believed them less and less.

"Hinata's going to get himself in trouble again," Kaze observed. He jerked his head to the right and, when Corrin turned, she saw the samurai arguing loudly with the bartender. From what she could hear over the cacophony, Hinata was pissed off that they still weren't serving sake.

"What do you mean you don't have a good recipe?" he shouted. "All you need is rice and yeast!"

Corrin laughed, but it was loud and barking in the cresting vibrato arising from the musicians. She said, "He's going to get himself banned if he keeps on like that."

"We can only hope."

Corrin rolled her eyes.

"Well I hope not. Hinata's fun, unlike you."

"You wound me," he drawled, taking a drink from his cup. When he set it back down, she saw that it was water.

"It would be inappropriate to get drunk on duty," he said.

"How many times do I have to tell you three that I don't need a babysitter?"

"If it were up to me, you wouldn't even know that I was watching you."

She scowled at him. Then, she turned her attention to the exposed beams overhead. She liked to watch the shadows lurch on the ceiling. Sometimes, she'd try to count how many distinct forms she could make out. It helped to calm her when the amount of people became stifling.

Having spent years in the company of no more than four or five people at a time, it had been a shock to exist in such a space, but, ever since it had been built, the tavern had aided her greatly in coming to grips with large crowds. She'd found she rather liked the presence of so many people.

It's the anonymity, she thought but then, catching sight of a man staring unabashedly at her chest, amended, It's the illusion of anonymity.

"Ah! Corrin!"

A chair was pulled over, its scraping legs audible above the music, and turned around so that its back was pressed to the table. With a low sigh, Camilla straddled the seat, defying the limitations of her skintight outfit. She folded her arms over the back of the seat and then she perched her head on top of her arms. It was utterly undignified and a shade away from being hedonistic, but Camilla somehow made it look the epitome of elegance and regality.

If I tried that, I'd look like a failed contortionist, Corrin thought and then, on a passing whimsy, imagined Kaze attempting to do the same in a similar gauzy outfit. She smiled.

"It's so good to see you in such high spirits!" Camilla chirped. "I was beside myself with worry that you'd be in quite a state after that dreadful encounter in Cyrkensia earlier!"

And then Corrin could smell the burning town and the acrid wind of battle recently ended and she was chasing after him, believing that she could convince him.

Laslow and Peri stood between them, but they let her shove past. She grabbed Xander's arm and he halted, standing so still and tense that the briefest murmur of breeze threatened to topple him. The sculpted metal of his vambraces carved divots into her skin as she clung.

"Come with us to the Bottomless Canyon!" she cried. "If we join our forces, we can end this senseless war!"

For a moment, he had no response, only stood in the haze and ruin in silence. Siegfried radiated malice from his hip. She tightened her grip on his arm and then exhaled, "Xander?"

With a sharp jerk, he tore free of her grasp and then said, "You started this war."

Then, he was walking away. She couldn't make herself follow.

"Corrin?" Camilla asked. The clamor of the tavern drowned Corrin's ears once more.

"Sorry, it's so loud in here! What'd you say?"

Camilla repeated herself, practically shouting. Corrin forced a laugh and then said, "I'd nearly forgotten all about that, what with our victory and the celebration and everything."

Camilla nodded, but, before she could respond, a soldier Corrin had seen her flirting with approached and then bent down to whisper in her ear. She touched her hand to the side of his head and then her smile turned devilish. When he drew away, she rose, announcing, "You'll have to excuse me, darling. Something's come up that needs my attention."

"Of course, I'll talk to you later!" Corrin said with a smile. Then, she watched the crowd devour Camilla. It had only been a few weeks since Camilla had joined their ranks, but it felt like it had been forever. She treated Corrin the same way she always had, refusing to acknowledge the strangeness that had grown between them during their separation.

Corrin turned from the crowd to ask Kaze about the jaunty Hoshidian tune that started up, but fell short at his expression.

His stare sliced her into pieces. It saw into the fears that haunted her mind. It stirred the stress that lay coiled in her chest. It told her everything she couldn't admit about herself.

Kaze had witnessed the aftermath of her interaction with Xander. He'd watched her adrenaline plummet until she'd been left with nothing but clawing despair in her belly. He'd watched her shake until she'd crumpled. He'd watched her sob until she couldn't breathe. He'd watched her rage until she was numb.

He saw too much, Corrin thought. He knows I'm weak.

Suddenly, the tavern was too small and the air was too thin. The dancers pushed in around the table. One of them cackled at an unheard joke. Another brushed against her arm as he passed. She shuddered.

"Stop staring at me," she commanded in a tight voice. Kaze stared a moment longer and then his eyes shifted to the unruly mob. As he watched them in silence, Corrin sat very still and very cold, feeling much smaller than she had in a long time.

When Sakura was nine years old, Mikoto had taken her by hand and into the garden. They ate beneath budding cherry blossoms, the very same ones for which she had been named, and she was so happy to be spending the day with her. She was still a horribly shy child, but Mikoto encouraged her to speak her mind and she did. She really did.

They talked about her studies, how she liked some tutors better than others, how she was making strides in calligraphy, but suffering in arithmetic, how the shrine maidens had approached her a week ago to suggest she consider pursuing a life of medicine and devotion.

They talked about her siblings, how Takumi had been cruel to her the day before but he had apologized and played with her for hours afterward, how Hinoka had taken her to the stables to see the pegasi, how Ryoma had promised to read with her later that day, how Azura was teaching her to sing. There was no progress, and never would be, but she loved to listen to the older girl sing and so she pretended that someday she might do the same.

They talked about the coming spring, how it was almost upon them, how beautiful it was already, how soon there'd be spring festivals to hold and attend, how wonderful the birdsongs were overhead.

They talked about Corrin. It had started innocently enough, a poorly worded question on her part, a solemn response from Mikoto, and then, "Sakura, do you miss your sister?"

She hadn't known how to respond. How could she miss someone she had little memory of? Sometimes, she thought she remembered a bright smile, gentle hands, a quiet laugh, but other times she was certain those were memories she'd stolen from her siblings. When she thought of her missing sister, she thought of someone that was softer than Hinoka and more honest than Azura, but she could never picture a face. They told her, of course, what the missing princess looked like, but it never took. Corrin was a shadow in her thoughts.

Even now that she knew what Corrin looked like, sometimes, she still saw shadows. And sometimes, those shadows flooded her sister's face, jagged and angular, emphasizing her ruby eyes and pointed ears when she thought no one was watching her. But she didn't look scary. Just distant, thinking about things that no one else would understand.

With a delicate curve of her wrist, Sakura finished off her sentence and stared down at her work. The ink had a liquid sheen in the candle light. When it had dried, she closed the cover and ran her finger along the imprint on the front. The gold foil shaping the kanji of her name had long since faded, but it was beautiful in its age.

On many occasions back home in Shirasagi, she'd attempted journaling but never quite got into the routine. She'd journal every night for weeks and then would cease for months. Now, the pages were nearly full. There was an entry from every day since the outbreak of the war, over a year ago. Before, journaling had been an attempted hobby. Now, it seemed to be all that kept her from going insane. She spoke more and more each day, she had to, but she said less and less. There only seemed so much she could say to the stream of wounded she attended to. The battles were the worst. There was nothing to be said about them.

She stretched. She reached, open palmed, towards the ceiling, and felt the tension break, relief settling into her shoulders. She wondered at the time and then peered through her window, up at the endless sky. The stars shone strong and unblemished, not unlike the Hoshidian night sky but here they were suppler, virgin and unseen. The moon balanced high in the sky.

Ten o'clock? She guessed, letting the starlight fill her eyes.

Humming to herself, she returned her journal to its place on the shelf and then began to undo her bed, preparing to sleep. As she fluffed her pillow, a knock sounded twice in rapid succession. If the candle had been extinguished, she might not have answered, would have pretended to be asleep, but it burned bright so she opened the door.

"Sister," said Takumi by way of greeting. She responded quietly in kind and then he asked, "Care for a walk?"

His tone suggested it was not much of a question. Timidly, she responded, "I was getting ready for bed."

"Walk with me."

Her lips pulled towards the right, but she blew out her candle. They walked side by side though not shoulder to shoulder. She lagged only slightly, the tip of her toes traveling adjacent to his instep. For a while, they walked in silence, listening to the stirrings of nighttime, the celebration coming from the tavern, the whisper of the wind. She stared at the side of his face, saw the tension around his eyes. When he spoke, she lengthened her stride.

"Ryoma was in Cyrkensia today."

"Oh," she said, "Nobody told me."

Her heart hurt. No one had even bothered to tell her. She wasn't that far from the front lines. She could have made it to see him.

Didn't he want to see me? Why didn't anyone tell me? Does he think I'm a traitor?

The thoughts came unbidden, one after the other. They caught in her chest. She'd never considered before that Ryoma disapproved of her decision, just assumed it was only a matter of time before Ryoma joined himself, that he was only biding his time.

But he called Corrin a traitor and I'm with Corrin now.

But Takumi was here now and Saizo and Kagero too. They'd been here for a while.

Does Ryoma think we're all traitors?

"I'm telling you now," Takumi stated, stopping. They stood before the steps of the throne. The throne seemed ridiculous to have. No one ever sat in it but it was there all the same. Still, the steps were a nice place to sit and enjoy the sunlight, or moonlight. Takumi stared up at it now, eyes hooded and endless.

"Did you talk to him?" she asked. His head whipped towards her.

"What?"

"D-did you talk to Ryoma?" she asked again. The stammer was minimal but embarrassing all the same. She focused on her knuckles.

"Just barely," he answered. His fists clenched, unclenched, and then he sat on the steps, legs splayed. Propping his elbow just above his knee, he leaned over it, holding up his head with a knuckle beneath his jaw. His dark eyes were pointed to the sky. Starlight swirled in the sticky amber of them. She sat beside him.

"By the time I got there, the Hoshidian army was in full retreat," Takumi explained. "We talked for a couple minutes. He asked how you were. Said he'd see me again soon."

"He's going to j-join us?" she asked, the excitement catching in her throat. Takumi shrugged and then muttered, "I guess."

"You don't seem happy about that," she observed quietly. Takumi turned to her. He seethed, "He should be with us now."

"I want him here too."

"No that's not what I mean. Corrin didn't say two words to Ryoma. She ran off after that damn Nohrian."

"Oh," she said. She knew which Nohrian he was referring to without him having to say it. There were a lot of them but there was only one whose name made Corrin's eyes burn and mist at the same time.

I don't understand and I hope I never do. I don't need to know what it feels like to have the person I admire most hate me, Sakura thought.

"If she had just talked to him, he'd be here," Takumi said. "She would have convinced him."

"Why didn't you convince him?"

The accusation was unintended, but it was there. Her fingers curled against the smooth jut of her knee.

"I tried!" he cried. "I tried but all he wanted to do was talk to Corrin."

His voice trailed off, dejected. He stared outwards.

He's too still, she thought, staring at the motionlessness etched into his being. He was never still, always fidgeting, moving his fingers, tapping his toes, something. The only time he was ever still was when he was firing the Fujin Yumi or hurting. And right now, he was hurting bad.

She wanted to hug him, wanted to hold her older brother and let him know that she loved him, but didn't. She was too shy, too scared of his rejection. All she could do was be with him. It wasn't much but, for the moment, it seemed to be enough.

Two weeks have passed since Camilla and the forces she commanded turned traitor as I'm sure you're well aware. The firestorm left in her wake has yet to be calmed. Questions of my father's rule, health, and sanity have arisen but he does not address them. Protests and riots have torn through the heart of Nohr, demanding that he abdicate his rule. At least three avaricious Lords have recalled their troops from the field and sent them against the capital. But, still, my father makes no effort to defend himself. His sole concern is the absolute conquest of Hoshido. And so, at Xander's behest, I have played courier and, within the past two weeks, I have run the circuit of noble estates. At each, I remind them of the many annexations made and the spoils reaped under my father's rule and boast of the great boon the conquest of Hoshido will bring.

But there has been no boon, Leo wrote with a flourish. Only blood spread across the countryside.

The wet ink glistened in the candle light. Leo leaned back in his chair, staring out the window at the city below. Twilight was settling across Windmire. Lanterns blazed through curtained windows and smoke rose in slow curls from chimneys. Windmire was at peace. Leo was not.

The past two weeks had been nothing short of hell. His body throbbed from the pains of extensive horseback riding and bruises not yet faded. His eyelids drooped with exhaustion. His mind was a churning tempest of unease and worry.

Time had become a torment. It marched on and on without reprieve to those that struggled to survive its eternal grinding. Each ticking second brought Nohr closer to civil war.

The end of the nation, Leo thought as he imagined the bloodshed and chaos generated from the noble houses turned against one another. His thoughts invigorated his quill and then he set to fervidly penning another paragraph.

Corrin, what is your aim? You've bested the army at every battle and converted more troops and civilians to your cause than you've killed. Hoshido ravages our borders as more troops defect. Is this not enough? Will you not rest until all of Nohr has paid for the sins of my father? Your aim so confuses me that I've turned to scrying for answers but the spirits refuse to speak of "the devil that has torn the house of the king asunder." Your betrayal is so poignant that even my ancestors have felt it.

Sometime after Izumo, addressing Corrin had become his solace. It soothed the knot of trauma that weighed on his throat and allowed him to think of things that he could not afford to in every other instance. The pages of Corrin' journal that had lain empty were now full of verbose, daily accounts and heated accusations. Now, as he scrawled, his words turned rabid.

Do you know what hell you've wrought? Do you know that Elise has been sent to the eastern front? Xander believes she will be safest there, in the middle of a damned battlefield, because the tensions here are so great. Do you know that he had to designate an entire regiment for the sole purpose of finding and extraditing Camilla? If she's found, he'll have to execute her himself. Do you know that neither of us can leave our chambers without the company of at least eight veterans of the King's Guard? Do you know that father has taken to bea—

The fresh bruise staining his cheek throbbed and then the notion to detail the long reaching consequences of Corrin's betrayal left him as quickly as it had come. His fingers still clung fast to the quill but the word went unfinished.

A yawn overcame him and then he released it with little grace. His study twisted around him. He blinked it back into focus and then dragged his free hand across his face, staring at his haggard reflection in the windowpane.

When was the last time I slept the whole night through? he wondered. At least a year, to be sure.

Too often, he found himself awakened by a severe ache in his chest or a pang of cold through his spine and then would spend the rest of the night imagining shapes in the dark and wishing for sleep to take him. It never did. It laid in wait until his waking hours. So, now, as he scribbled hastily on the empty pages of a threadbare journal that didn't belong to him, it came to claim him with sweet peace and honeyed dark.

His head bobbed once, twice, then he jerked awake in alarm. Blinking sleep from his eyes, he stared at the paper beneath his pen and the weeping slash he had accidentally emblazoned across the neat paragraph he had written. For a moment more, he stared at the ruined entry and then seized the paper in a single, strong pull. The page tore from its binding but it took crucial threads with it. The journal fell apart.

"Damn it!" he cursed, beating his fists against the table over and over. The jolting percussion of his fists persisted until his eyes grew hot. Hands falling still, he squeezed his eyelids, praying for the heat to recede. Several boiling tears escaped the confines of his eyelids and snaked across the planes of his face.

"Leo."

Jerking upright, Leo swiped an arm across his eyes and then stood from his chair, saying, "Ah, Xander. I was wondering when you might return from Cyrkensia. Did you stop off in Nestra again? It must truly be—"

Leo finally turned. His ramblings fell short. Xander stood just inside the doorway, flanked by two of the King's Guard. His face was dour. His stare was solemn.

Leo scowled.

"Brother, what is the meaning of this?"

"The king has ordered your execution."

The words raked across Leo's chest. He took a shambling step backwards, banging the backs of his thighs against his desk. Disbelief wracked his body. He struggled to speak over it. When he managed, it was a booming demand for an explanation, much more boisterous than he felt.

"On what grounds?"

The two King's Guards moved in unison at his outburst and drew tomes with great speed. Xander calmed them with the flat of his hand.

"Izumo."

As horror began to steep in his veins, Leo stared at the King's Guards, knowing them both as the most powerful mages the King's Guard had to offer.

Any minor hex or glamour I could conjure without a tome might catch Xander, but it won't even phase them.

"You let Corrin go. He's commanded me to bring you before him."

Leo did not ask how his father had discovered his transgression. His thoughts fixated on the dull hum of power emanating from atop the chaise longue in the corner and just how quickly he could reach it. He raised his right hand as if he intended to ward them off. It was more pathetic than it was intimidating. His fingers shook.

Leo was painfully aware of the proximity of Xander's fingers to Siegfried. Sweat cropped up across his body. He could only think, Does he intend to strike me down himself?

And then, What will he tell Elise?

Leo had never been frightened by his brother. His brother played hide-and-seek and hated the dark and shied away from crowds and attended too many bad plays and tried to read all the same things as Leo and sat still as Elise threaded flower crowns through his hair and liked her dogwood flower crowns best of all and he'd lied about being able to kill Corrin.

But that was just as the war had broken out, when he was still himself. He's been the Crown Prince for too long.

"Brother, this is madness," Leo said. He raised his right hand in a configuration for casting, his pointer and middle finger splayed and taut above the other bent fingers. His entire hand shook.

Xander said nothing. He grabbed Siegfried instead.

Leo took off. He cast a glamour of darkness and then lurched towards Brynhildr, concealed in the black. His fingers brushed the cover just as the glamour was dispelled. Light flooded the study once more and then the King's Guards were devoured by a mass of roots. Blood sprayed the walls in a fine mist.

On bended knee and panting, Leo cemented his grip on Brnyhildr, laying his palm firmly across its weathered binding.

"Don't make this harder than it must be."

Leo sighed. He stood and then drew himself to his full height. His stance was confident. His mind made up. Without turning, he mused, "I've always wondered which of us would prevail against the other."

He heard Xander move towards him. He closed his eyes, letting Brynhildr take full force of his being, sapping strength and mind alike. As the roots broke through the stone beneath him, Leo said, "But that'll have to wait."

Then, he was falling through the dark, barely conscious and without any idea of what came next. He knew that he was now a fugitive and that leaving his brother alive was a horrible mistake of his bleeding heart and that every mage within a ten-mile radius would have felt the massive burst of magic that he'd unleashed.

I can only hope that Odin isn't too busy playing make believe to notice, Leo thought as the floors rushed past him. When he slammed into stone three stories below, the dark came too fast for him to have any parting thoughts and so he laid, prone and unconscious and completely at the mercy of whichever mage reached him first.

A/N: And so Leo falls into a deep, dark hole. Literally AND metaphorically.

Allow me a moment to vent about how I completely forgot that Hinoka does not join the party until the whole lava fields adventure and how I had to rewrite Corrin's entire section TWICE because Hinoka played a very big role in the first rewrite (this being the second) but then I realized she SHOULDN'T BE THERE. A similar issue of a character erroneously being present happend FOUR TIMES as I worked on revisions for the next chapter. It's MADDENING. But it's all spick and span now and nobody makes strange cameos anymore lol.

Numinous-Alqua: Thank you so much for saying so! I hope you continue to enjoy it!