This time when she approached the tent, she was disheartened by the lack of sound. Silence permeated the training grounds, not a single hint of displaced air or connecting strikes to be heard. Stifling a sigh, she figured it would be as good an opportunity as any to do some actual training for once.
As she entered, she wondered if she had been too forward the day before, pulling him into a hug without asking first. It had been eons since he allowed any physical displays of affection other than his immediate acquiescence to little Elise's pleas for attention, unable to display his gentle nature where it was unwarranted without facing immediate retribution. For two years before she had unintentionally waged war on both nations she remembered yearning for things to be as they once were from her tower. When he would wrap his arms around each of them and squeeze them into tight embraces wordlessly, like a man starved of comfort. When they would all sit and enjoy a meal together in the day, erasing the misery with cathartic discussion and jokes at each other's expense. When they would endure ballroom and music lessons together, complaining to each other with hushed groans and helping each other learn to sidestep father's furious violence should they prove incompetent.
Gods she still remembered how terrible she had first been at dancing at eighteen. Her instructor had been at her wit's end, unable to understand why Corrin had two left feet. Leo and Camilla had tried to assist when the instructor disappeared but she always stepped on their feet and remained out of rhythm regardless, their patience wasted on her inability. On the night before a prominent ball, another one of father's many attempts to divide the inseparable siblings through profitable marriage, her instructor had tried one last time but broke down into a fit of rage when she still couldn't get it right.
"You're not trying hard enough! All you need to do is follow the steps, it's a simple waltz! I should have expected this level of incompetence, you're not a legitimate member of the royal family. They should have just left you on the streets to rot, save everyone the trouble. You'll never find a suitor willing to put up with your lack of refinement. No wonder our illustrious king can't stand the sight of you."
And with that she had spun out on her heel and slammed the door behind her. It was a wonder her glasses didn't fall from their perch on her pinched face considering how quickly she left, her skirts swaying. As angry as she wanted to be with the instructor's words, much of what she said was true. Plus, Corrin was more frustrated with the impossible nature of dancing and the rapidly approaching consequences than the attendant's rage. Why couldn't she get it right? Camilla was always so graceful on the dance floor, twirling about and following the steps with ease. Leo was just as capable, every movement as smooth and lithe as a gentleman's should be. She was the only one that couldn't accomplish the simple task.
Weary from extra lessons, petrified of the king's future wrath, and burdened with self-loathing she sat down on the wooden floor with a sigh, laying her head on her bent knees. She didn't have the energy to trudge to her bedroom just yet. She was so tired of being the stranger, the only one of the five who truly didn't belong and frequently proved inadequate to be a part of the royal family. Sometimes she wondered if she would have been happier with her unknown family, but her heart knew that nobody could replace her siblings. Family wasn't just about blood, it was about the people who loved you more than anything, the ones who were always by your side. Leo and Camilla's adamance was a testament to that. They had spent so many late nights assisting her to no avail that she couldn't stand to see them deprive themselves of sleep for nothing anymore. She had all but shoved them to their beds a few hours ago, telling them she would be fine with more practice from the instructor.
What a lie that had been.
She was about to rise from her place on the ground to head to sleep herself when she heard feet cross the floor in her direction, her mind too hazy with fatigue and drowsiness to recognize the cadence of their steps. She figured it was probably Jakob who had noticed her absence, here to chastise her before sending her off to bed with a warm cup of milk and a radiant smile. Unwilling to move, she waited for him to coax her up verbally. Instead a large, warm hand touched her shoulder, sending goosebumps alight along her flesh as heat suffused her body. Flaxen curls glowed in the low light of the surrounding lamps, gold filling her peripheral vision.
"Xander!" She cried, jumping up and latching her arms around his neck as he steadied her. A chuckle escaped him as his arms encased her waist, powerful arms pulling her close.
"Good evening, little princess. It's been a long time, hasn't it?" He murmured into her hair.
She pulled away with a scowl, her eyes narrowing without any true discontent. "We were worried sick, it's nearly been a year." It was the longest duration he had ever been sent away, and it had proved unsettling for the four of them. Much as they enjoyed each other's company, Xander's absence was difficult to ignore. He had always been a pillar of strength, a source of courage as well as gentle guidance for each of them. She still remembered the time Leo had knocked on his office door a few months ago with a tome in hand. Questions about the realistic implementation of potential battle tactics were no doubt hastily scribbled in the margins, now dark with ink so that he could later consult the most trustworthy veteran he knew. When he was met with silence he looked up with a puzzled frown before he froze, remembering. His hand had lingered on the door, as if hoping a reply would come anyway.
Corrin herself had had trouble sleeping in the second half of that year. Each night her mind conjured images of Xander bathed in his own blood, struck down in the heat of battle. Not because he didn't exercise the necessary precautions, but because she knew King Garon could have him slaughtered on a whim and heralded a war hero as a cover-up. She was haunted by the thought of how easily King Garon could have a blade shoved into his son's back, even if Xander dedicated most of his life to his nation and family. The only time those fears abated was when she could see him standing before her, flushed with life as he was now.
His smile tightened. "Yes, well, my duties to the nation must come first, much as I enjoy remaining here with you all."
The truth went unspoken; father was trying to harden Xander's compassionate heart with war. Each time he returned he looked more and more weary: his eyes were always accompanied by sleepless shadows, his smiles were feebler and rare, and the crease between his brows grew pronounced, as if he was in a perpetual state of worry. A quiet fury would fill her heart every time she saw him in such a state, a protective rage rising to the surface. He may have been a powerful knight, but he had his psychological limits. Despite his obedient silence he hated to kill, each life he extinguished for his father's selfish purposes weighed on him heavily.
There were so many times she wanted to stand before the king and demand he change his ways, if for nothing else then for his son's sanity and well-being. But she knew he was beyond reason, and that her defiance would be unleashed tenfold on Xander. She wasn't sure what was worse; Xander's acquiescence or her powerlessness. The only reason she hadn't protested to Xander himself was because he clearly hoped the king would return to his senses someday. And she wasn't sure how, but she sensed something malignant within King Garon that clung to the vestiges of his humanity, masquerading as the stern yet benevolent father Xander remembered so fondly. Without proof that this change was irrevocable, however, Xander would know no reason, of that she was certain.
"I didn't think you would be here until tomorrow morning," she remarked as she disentangled herself. "You must be exhausted, you should have gone straight to bed." She scolded, moving to push his expansive back towards the east wing. At least he had been self-aware enough to remove his armor she thought as she shook her head.
He turned his head to raise a brow at her hypocrisy, not budging in the slightest. "That was the plan, but I encountered fewer delays than I expected. Why aren't you in bed yourself, Corrin? Camilla, Leo, and Elise have all retired for the night."
She pursed her lips and stared at the floor, unwilling to admit her reasons. She didn't want him to worry about her too, as she was certain he would. He made everyone's problems his own as well.
When she remained silent, trying to come up with a believable excuse, nimble fingers began to chase across her torso, eliciting a squeak and breathless laughter. "Hey! Stop! No fair!" She squirmed as she tried to lean out of his reach with little success.
He kept his face expressionless though humor danced in his mahogany eyes, his tone grave. "It's very simple, little princess. Out with it and the torture ends."
She held out as long as possible before she agreed, hanging her head in defeat. His triumphant smirk would have been hilarious if her confession wasn't so mortifying. "You're evil." She accused, stalling.
"Acknowledged." He grinned. When she still hesitated to continue he sighed, his voice growing soft. "You know you can tell me anything, Corrin. Is there a demon under your bed again?" He teased, hoping memories of fonder times would make her more comfortable to talk about it. Why was it that nobody confided in him anymore? Every time he came to the fortress there was always a subtle reluctance to reach out to him, left to his office and his own thoughts after the first few days of returning. Did he make them feel unwelcome to approach him with their problems?
Much to his relief, it earned him one of his favorite smiles and a giggle. "I wish, I have the best demon slayer in all the realm before me." But then a frown followed in its wake. "No, I just...I've been struggling to learn ballroom dancing. I've been trying for weeks but it seems I'm a lost cause." She glared at her traitorous feet, flushing with embarrassment and unable to meet his gaze. When he didn't say anything, she started to ramble. "It doesn't matter I'll just stay glued to my chair tomorrow, it's not like I don't have more time to learn I-"
"Nonsense," He said firmly before his expression smoothed over with indulgence. "It's all in the leading."
He positioned her arm so that it lay comfortably on his own placed around the middle of her back, intertwining their opposing empty hands. His serene demeanor was incredibly soothing, her shoulders easing at the lack of public scrutiny and immediate judgement. She had been silly to think that he would laugh at her; Xander understood anxiety and the pressure of expectation all too well.
"Ready?" He eyed her carefully.
She bit her lip and took a deep breath. After she exhaled, she nodded. She stared intently at their feet swapping positions for the first few minutes, gritting her teeth each time she made a mistake. But Xander radiated peace from above her, not chagrined in the slightest when she stepped on his feet. When she did, he said nothing, simply continuing on.
"Corrin?" She looked up to meet his searching eyes and upon seeing that he was content as could be, she relaxed again. "Please tell me everything I've missed."
At first, she wasn't sure where to begin. But after she did she couldn't seem to stop. She started to talk about all the annoying suitors that hounded her and Camilla and Leo, or how Elise was growing up so fast and none of them wanted her to be forced into meeting strangers for uncomfortable luncheons like they were just yet, or how Leo wanted more responsibility but she and Camilla wanted him to remain untouched by war as long as possible. And then there were the silly things, like Camilla losing her circlet while Corrin and Leo stumbled upon Elise hoarding it with an envious but good-natured pout. Or Leo wearing his collar backwards to their last collective music lesson, resulting in a hearty scolding from the instructor. Or Camilla threatening to chop Jakob's arms off and feed them to Marzia if he didn't let her fold Corrin's laundry.
His expression throughout her explanations was thoughtful, exhibiting mild changes that aligned with the subject matter. Sometimes he would chuckle, sometimes he would sigh and shake his head, and sometimes the little crease between his brows reappeared for a short duration. He guided her around and around for a long time, while she was heedless of the growing accuracy of her own movements. When she had run out of things to say, she noticed his proximity all at once.
He held her close, the warmth of his arm on her back warding away the invading chill that accompanied the night in the stone fortress. His eyes that guarded unfathomable secrets, as impenetrable as corundum, had warmed to the spectacular shade of Gunter's favorite brandy, every bit as scalding and intoxicating as the aged beverage. The familiar scent of sweat, sandalwood, and just a touch of smoke from the fire no doubt blazing in his bedroom clung to his fresh clothing, blanketing her sensitive senses. She hadn't realized how much she missed the myriad of aromas until now, inhaling discreetly as if to embed them into her lungs. For the first time in so long she felt warm, safe, and unalterably content. Her head lowered of its own volition to rest upon his chest, the steady thrum beneath the silk of his shirt her favorite lullaby.
For some, home truly did have a heartbeat.
"Little princess?" His quiet voice rumbled pleasurably beneath her ear, rough from disuse in the time they had spent practicing.
She didn't move, still inebriated by his presence, her head heavy. "Mm?"
"Look down," he urged.
When she found the strength to do so she watched dazedly as her feet moved in perfect synchronization with his, her eyes widening at the uncharacteristic elegance of her own limbs.
"I-but-how-" She sputtered, unable to understand.
His answer was a delighted chuckle, his beaming expression doing strange things to her heart and once infallible knees. When was the last time he looked so unabashedly overjoyed? She couldn't think of a single instance in recent memory.
"See? You had it in you all along. Your anxiety was just getting the better of your muscle memory. You're more than ready for tomorrow." He explained, as if it was the most obvious and true thing in the world.
Her hands tightened on his arm and hand, old fears surfacing anew at the thought of tomorrow night's ball. What if she was only capable now because she was comfortable with him and an acute lack of a surrounding audience? She could foresee the impending disaster. "But what if-"
In a smooth, effortless twist he dipped her, effectively ending her train of thought. She gazed with surprise at the determined set of his mouth above her as he shook his head. "Trust yourself as I do, Corrin. You are more than capable. It doesn't matter what those power-hungry nobles think. You mustn't let their words deter you, they would find something to criticize no matter how poised you or I proved to be." His stern discourse softened, along with with the hard line of his mouth. "And never forget, Camilla and I shall be beside you every step of the way."
He always knew exactly what she needed to hear, her qualms disappearing as a newfound confidence surfaced. When he steadied her and let his arms fall from their fixed positions she smiled up at him, visibly heartened by his reassurance. "Thank you, Xander. And..." She trailed off, unsure if the request would be met with disapproval.
He raised a brow, a signal for her to continue.
She could feel the tips of her ears reddening. "Can I dance with you if it gets to be too much at times?" Part of her just wanted to dance with him the entire night. If it was as splendid as tonight was, it would take every iota of her willpower to force herself to dance with others.
"Of course." The answer was as immediate as it was undeniable. She would have nothing to fear so long as he was there, he would make it so. "Now I think it's time you and I both slept before morning comes."
He then held out his elbow to intertwine with her own, placing a comforting pat on her hand as he extinguished the lamps on the walls and led her out of the room.
The next day, words of praise regarding Corrin's entrancing abilities spread like wildfire, not to mention the handsome couple she and Xander made together on the dance floor. The onlookers meant it in a purely platonic sense, but the moment she heard it phrased in such a way she began to think more deeply about her relationship with him. From that point on she became actively aware of her feelings and the fact that they did not, and perhaps never did, emulate what she should feel towards a brother. She loved Leo, but she did not crave his presence and affection in quite the same way. They recommended and read books to each other, horsed around, protected each other, and comforted each other but that was it. There was no feeling of loss when he was elsewhere, followed by a consistent yearning to be in his company. Nor did she feel at such complete ease in his presence, content to simply embrace him and remain close to the soothing hearth that was his body. There was no quiet reverence, a silent acceptance and appreciation of each other's strengths and weaknesses. There was no absurd exhilaration that followed any and all of his attentions.
But most of all, she felt zero physical attraction for Leo. The very thought seemed wrong and remained exceedingly uncomfortable to the point where it was unimaginable. Meanwhile the sight of Xander made heat suffuse her body, all broad chest and lean waist and exquisite features. She couldn't remember how many times she had wanted to trace the hard line of his jaw, play with his silky golden hair, or hold his hand. When he was calming her down that night before the ball, she noticed he hadn't been wearing his customary cravat, likely forgotten in his weariness. The urge to touch her lips to the pale expanse of his throat, right at the hollow at the center of his collarbone, had flared. As soon as it did she stamped it out ruthlessly, knowing he didn't feel the same way. She had no right to impose such feelings if he only saw her as a sister.
And so from that point on she had remained silent about the evolution of her love, not at all certain he had the slightest inkling or reciprocated what she felt. She settled for enjoying his company whenever he did approach, always careful to use her siblings when speaking of her fondness to conceal her true sentiments.
But sometimes it had been difficult to hide. When the war had progressed and she remained neutral, the ferocity of his disapproval and the clear pain it brought him to consider her an enemy made each encounter bittersweet. On one hand, she was elated to see him alive and well. On the other, the knowledge that he would never come near her with benevolent intent again had been excruciating. Each time they had crossed paths she had blinked back tears, firm in her conviction but wounded no less by the necessary division. When Azura had suggested that Iago was sent to ambush them under Xander's orders, her heart had cried out in protest. He would never do this! It screamed. His tactics would never be so underhanded! And then he and Leo had appeared on the battlefield, promising to fight by her side and trusting her judgement to achieve world peace. The relief that had coursed through her veins at that moment had been staggering, revitalizing her efforts until they defeated Iago with ease.
From that point on every harsh word exchanged since her disassociation with Nohr had been forgiven. Largely because she knew the words had been a reflection of his anguish and a product of King Garon's surveilling officers. If he had wavered in his dedication to Nohr, he would have been questioned and put to death immediately. What mattered in the end was that he had placed his faith in her. And as soon as he was able to justify his cause to the skeptical Nohrian people and see that his father was beyond saving, he immediately stood at her side without reproach. It had taken everything in her to keep from embracing him as tightly as she was able, to tell him how much she missed hearing his voice laden with something other than contempt. To tell him how glad she was that they could finally fight together again.
Though she never imagined how difficult it would be to conceal her feelings now that he chose to be with her. The more they debated and strategized and talked about an endless array of things, the more she adored everything about him. His admirable character, his unshakeable resolve, his deeply compassionate heart, the rare emergence of his bashful nature. There were no mad kings or backstabbing officials to stop them now, and the depth of her feelings was growing at an alarming rate.
She sighed, annoyed with herself. She was acting like a lovestruck teenager. Even Laslow wasn't so hopelessly infatuated with the women he chased. With a forceful shake of her head, she stopped dawdling and headed towards the grounds. When she crossed the threshold she faltered when her gaze met a pair of conflicted burgundy eyes and a tall form leaning on a wooden sword at the center of his stance, both palms resting on the rounded hilt.
A small smile crossed his face. He was pleased to see her. "Ah, Corrin. I've been waiting for you. I knew you'd turn up eventually."
Her cheeks warmed, stifling the hope that arose with the sight. "Ugh, am I that predictable?" She shook her head with a shrug. "Oh well. Shall we begin?" She invited as she retrieved a practice sword herself.
He nodded. "Certainly."
Without delay, they began to trade strikes, the sound of clattering wood filling the preliminary stillness. His movements were precise and dexterous, but he was only defending against her attacks and retaliating as little as possible. He did nothing to challenge her focus or strategy and he didn't pinpoint any holes in her technique, indicating that his thoughts were elsewhere. She figured he would speak his mind on his own time, so she simply followed through, enjoying the chance to stretch and rid her body of residual tension from the day's activities. Eventually, his tentative voice rang out, a shadow of his usual authoritative tone.
"...Corrin…" She lowered the sword and looked directly at him with an obliging smile. At times she forgot how timid he was by nature, reminding her to show him that he could speak his mind. "Did you mean it when you said you prefer to hear what's on my mind?"
"I meant it with all my heart." She murmured seriously as she let her sword hang by her side, practice long forgotten. She wanted to understand him as much as possible, and that could only be done by listening intently to all that he had to say when he chose to speak. This was the equality she had wanted to establish between them for so long now.
He took a deep breath, as if to prepare himself for her reaction or his own explanation, she couldn't be sure which. Perhaps it was both. "I see... Well, I suppose I owe you the courtesy of explaining a thing or two." He paused, exhibiting the slightest hesitation before his voice returned. "You were right about me taking out my anger at Father during my training. Sometimes being crown prince means following the king's orders no matter what. But there were times when I felt his commands crossed a line. Sometimes it didn't feel like he was trying to benefit the kingdom at all, just himself." His expression became progressively agitated, equal parts weary and belligerent before it cleared just as quickly as it came. "Having to do things I didn't believe in weighed heavily on my heart. Now I'm wise enough and brave enough to stand up to Father. But back then…" He grimaced, as if embarrassed of his own violent ardor and helplessness. "Those were the nights you spoke of, when I swung my blade like a wild beast."
Just as she thought, but the fact that she was right didn't make the truth easier to accept. She couldn't imagine the turmoil he had suffered as a young man, without letting any of them help him carry that burden. It was a reflection of the arduous times she had known trying to rally her families to her once ambiguous cause. She remembered the loneliness all too well, the endless hours spent questioning her intuitive decision. In those days, she truly hadn't been sure what was worse. A life of freedom as a traitor to both nations, or a princess trapped in her tower. "Xander…" The single word held a world of understanding, impossible to be articulated.
His smile was rueful. "I never thought I'd tell you that. I always tried to shield you from such things. A sword is a strange and beautiful thing... Sometimes just one swing of your blade can communicate more than a lifetime of words." His pensive gaze fell to the weapon in his hand before he was able to look her in the eye again. "Thank you for listening, Corrin. Both to my blade back then and my words now."
"No need to thank me. I didn't do anything but listen. And pry." She replied, rubbing her forearm shyly under the intensity of his grateful stare. She really hadn't done all that much but care about him, something that came naturally. She just wanted him to be happy, no matter who he confided in or what that meant.
His answer was as fervent as it was quiet, as if he was afraid to say something so profound out loud. "You did more than you know. It's thanks to you...that I don't feel alone anymore."
Her heart fluttered upon hearing those words. "Xander... It means the world to me to hear you say that. You saved me from my own loneliness when I was a child, locked away from the world... I'm so happy to finally repay the favor. It was always my dearest wish to do so. If you ever feel like talking, about anything, I'm always here for you."
"I don't wish for you to lose sleep over my troubles…" The conflicted look returned, likely the root of his hesitance to reveal his thoughts all evening.
She shook her head vehemently, grinning brightly at him. She wanted to be there for him for the rest of his days, even if it was only as a sister and confidant. "I've been losing sleep over you for years now, ha ha. It's my favorite tradition." She assured.
His answering smile was as tender as it was disarming. "As you wish, Corrin. From now on I promise to let you in."
From that day forward, it was a rare event when the two were not seen together. Whether it was on the battlefield, patrolling the fort, or training the pair was inseparable.