A/N
Ah, sorry about that. I had a busy few days, and it took me longer than I expected to edit and finally get the chance to post this!
But thank you guys so much for your reviews! They were so awesome to read. I'm so excited you all seem to like the idea of this as much as I did :D
And now for Chapter 2! [The third chapter should be out sooner than this one was.] Enjoy!
Jakob was pacing, prowling his quarters like a beast, his head bowed in thought, his fists tensing and relaxing again and again and again.
Two and a half weeks had passed, and Corrin had had no opportunity of returning to town. Jakob was on the point of snapping. He couldn't bear to see her smiles every day when he knew there was no chance of having her. When he knew she loved Silas.
And she had to marry him and be happy! That would be better. He paused in his pacing. That would be better, wouldn't it? Her happiness for his… A fair exchange. No, of course, it has to be this way. He had been taking care of her as much as she had been taking care of him since they were children, and he wasn't about to fail her now. She was more important to him, and if her happiness meant leaving him forever, than he would let her go.
Somehow.
He flinched at the knock on his door, straightened, and turned as Corrin entered.
"Good morning, Lord Jakob. You're up early." He was, really. Usually it was Corrin herself who woke him and sometimes physically dragged him from bed to change his sheets. He'd land on the floor with a grunt, then groan at her, I am the prince in this fortress, you know.
Oh really? Corrin would laugh. Well then I guess it's a good thing you're a nice prince then
He'd snort. Nice? Who claims I'm nice?
She gave him her lovely smile. I do.
"I… wasn't feeling well," he said truthfully, pulling himself back to the present. "Couldn't sleep." Not with her on his mind or Silas in his nightmares.
"Oh," she cooed, concerned, her smile slipping into a line of worry. She closed the short distance between them, raised her hand, and pressed it to his forehead.
Jakob stiffened. She was checking for a fever, obviously, but she was… suddenly so… so close, her cute little nose a few mere inches from his lips. He warmed, heating at the touch of her palm, one cool on his forehead, the other curled around his arm to steady herself. "Are you alright?" She asked. "Do you feel ill? Are you—" She glanced at him, and her eyes… widened, ever-so-slightly. She'd noticed then, just how near they actually were... Close enough to share breath.
Close enough to do other things too. Jakob swallowed.
Whatever question Corrin was about to ask died on her lips… pink and soft. Jakob's senses revved, pins stabbing into his flesh, prickles so acute they almost hurt. Corrin chewed lightly on her lower lip, a nervous habit of hers, and it took him a ridiculous amount of willpower to lift his eyes to meet her again. But when he did, she blinked, startled, whatever trance she had been under broken, and her hands jerked away. She stumbled back a pace, and Jakob grit his teeth against the almost overpowering urge to grab her wrist and yank her back.
"F-Forgive me, my Lord," she stuttered, looking away.
He struggled to find his tongue, too flustered to form a sentence. "N-No—" He shook his head, but Corrin was already moving. She strode to his mussed bed and started ripping the sheets from it violently. "You feel like you might have a slight fever."
A slight fever? His frazzled mind thought. Yes… of course. That made sense. Although he would have said extremely feverish.
"I'll have Cook make some soup." She dropped the used sheets in to a pile on the floor. She pulled out new ones, and Jakob turned from her, his jaw clenched, his nails biting into fisted hands. He stared out the window hardly blinking and yet saw nothing.
"I'm fine." He waved her concerns off as steadily as he could. "There's no need." His breathing was ragged, his heart was racing, he felt like he had just fallen down a flight of stairs. Was that normal? Of course that's not normal, you idiot. He shut his eyes, wanting to bang his head against the glass, and tried to collect himself. He had to speak again. He had to… She had to go. If she didn't soon, there would come a time when Jakob just couldn't stop himself from telling her or showing her how he felt, and that… Jakob was almost sure that would not go well.
"But weren't you supposed to go into town for something today?" The words fell from his lips, and he was surprised by how nonchalant they sounded when it was taking every ounce willpower he possessed to keep his indifferent façade firmly in place.
"Town?" The sheets rustled as she tucked them in place and began smoothing out the wrinkles. "No, my Lord. Why do you ask?"
"Well—" he paused, floundering for an answer to that question. "I thought—ah—Didn't Cook tell you we're running out of-of… rice?" He rolled his eyes. Right. So nonchalant.
Corrin finished one sheet, and flared the other over the bed. "Um… No…? She didn't tell me that. Really? Almost out of rice?"
Well, he could hardly back out now. "Indeed…. Yes, so would you please go to town, order some, and pay a boy to carry it back for you? And—since you're going—you might as well spend the whole day there… if you wish…"
"Ah… certainly." She was distracted, spreading the blankets. "That would be nice, Lord Jakob. I may see Silas for a short while… if that's alright."
He looked at her, her hands gently sliding across the fabric of the quilt; her hair, long and snowy white, tied back in a ponytail, only the shorter wisps framing her face; her kind, caring eyes, a soft violet that shone when she smiled. His chest tightened.
"Of course," he murmured quietly. He looked out the window again.
"Well then… I'll-I'll get right on that, Lord Jakob." She was finished with the bed. She curtseyed to him, a slight frown of puzzlement on her lips, and slipped from the room.
The door shut, and Jakob groaned, feeling sick. His hand slid down the wall, the image of her before him, a concerned tilt to her brows, the cool touch of her palm on his skin. And now… she was leaving on his orders so that she might become engaged to another man.
It hardly made any sense, even to him, and he decided then to go for a nice long ride in the country. And try to clear his head.
Corrin had paid the man for the rice and found a boy to meet her later and wheelbarrow the load back with her, just as Jakob had asked.
She was totally confused by his behavior... First, there was that intense, electrified moment when their eyes met. The way he looked at her made her heart race, her breath catch… and then… silence and… and the strange request for her to come to town for rice! He had never bothered with such matters before. It was like he… He wanted me out of the castle. Corrin's feet slowed. She stopped. She glanced up. Could that be it?
People rushed by, street rats chased each other and snatched apples from baskets when vendors weren't watching, sellers shouted prices, buyers scoffed and haggled, and Corrin stood, still as an ice sculpture, her gray cloak hanging off her stiff shoulders. He wanted me out of the castle. He wanted me gone? What did I… Did I offend him?
Someone knocked into her shoulder, grunting, "Get off the road!" Corrin muttered apologies and continued on, re-evaluating how she had acted, what she had done… She had… had been anxious that he might be ill and checked his forehead for fever. She had frozen when she realized just how close she had gotten… She had hesitated when his red eyes danced across her face, and she had taken a moment to do the same, to trace the lines of his jaw and study the scarlet of his eyes and… emGods/em, she shouldn't even be having those thoughts! It had taken her far too long to come to her senses, and he had seen something on her face! She was so beneath him, and yet she dared to care for him so deeply, so… improperly. She had given it away, and he had… had been forced to remind her of her place.
She arrived at the fountain and sunk onto the edge of it, her throat tightening. Her hands slid over her face, and she took slow, careful many times had she reminded herself that she was a maid? No matter how kind Jakob was to her, he was still a prince. Nothing could ever be between them! She knew that, so why did she insist on torturing herself? Why must I feel this way? He's—He's a prince! He's arrogant and proud. He's dismissive and impatient! He's—He's messy… and charming and unexpectedly sweet. He gets inside your head and captures your heart and refuses to let go… And… And he'll marry a princess… Oh, you'll be there too, of course… polishing the floors. She fought back a sob. This was ridiculous. She couldn't be crying. Not in public, and certainly not over the loss of someone she'd never even had.
"There you are! I got your mes—Hey…" A gentle hand laid itself on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"
Corrin rubbed at her damp eyes and forced a smile on her lips before looking up. "Hey, Silas! Yeah, I'm fine. I just—um… I got some dust in my eyes." Her voice wasn't as strong as it should have been, and she knew her eyes were probably doughy, but there wasn't anything she could do.
He seated himself beside her, concerned "Are you sure?"
For half a second she thought of telling him. Confessing how terribly in love she was with someone… Someone she was a fool to even pine for. She considered breaking down, there, with Silas beside her, and speaking aloud what she had only whispered in her own mind.
But she couldn't… for so many reasons. She mustn't.
So she turned her gaze elsewhere and lied. "Of course I am."
Silas hesitated. He had known her too long to miss the tremble of her words, but he also knew when to let her be. "Alright..." He paused. "You know you can talk to me about anything, Corrin, if you need to."
"Yes," she answered with a slight smile. "Certainly, but there's nothing I need to talk about, so… So how are you doing?
"W-Well… uh…" He seemed suddenly nervous. "I'm glad to see you, actually... I was hoping you'd have a chance to come into town soon because there was something I wanted to tell you…"
She put aside any lingering anxious thoughts and focused on the crinkle between Silas's brows. "Oh, yeah? What about?"
"Ah," he rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. "I'm not sure how to tell you exactly…"
"Is it… good news?"
"Good news? Heh, I think so…" He studied her. "You see I… I met this girl…"
It was late afternoon before Jakob returned from his ride, and it had calmed him . . . not in the least. He was fighting with regret over his decision, and nothing seemed able to distract him. He could feel the touch of her skin. He could smell her soft aroma. She had stood so near, staring right back into his eyes.
When he had returned to the fortress, he asked if she was back, but of course, she hadn't been. Not yet. Now all he could do was stand in his rooms and stare out the windows, the only thing, it seemed, that he could ever do lately.
He sighed and his breath fogged the glass. This wouldn't do. He could not stand there and stare at the same road, the same dark clouds, with the same dismal thoughts on his mind day in and day out. What would Xander think of him? So useless, so wasteful, doing nothing, pining after a girl who was in love with another man and watching constantly for her return.
She could never be his, and somehow, he just had to get used that. What would Xander do? Stand around staring out of windows? Or use his pent up emotions? The answer was obvious.
Jakob strode from the room, a determination in his step that hadn't been there before. The servants bowed or curtseyed, quick to move out of his way, used to the swing of his mood when Corrin was out. He nodded to them as he passed but paid them little mind, his feet taking him the quickest route to his destination.
When his boot touched earth, the door slamming shut behind him, his sword was already in hand, the training dummy before him half destroyed before he even realized he'd begun.
The dampened thwick and thwack of metal hitting wood filled the air and deafened Jakob's ears to the threatening growl of thunder above him. His frustration and hopelessness converted into a flurry of movement, of slashes, of swipes, of cuts, of stabs that focused all his energy and attention, thoughts of Corrin, for a brief time, swept from his mind.
Thunder shook the earth, the clouds billowing and shaking, heavy with rain, a torrent ready to fall at any moment. The storm was rolling in, fast and powerful, but Jakob didn't care. His teeth clenched, his throat growled, and nothing mattered in the world but the swing of his sword, and the wonderful pain of exhaustion mounting in his limbs.
Time passed. He knew not how much, but the darkness of the cloud-covered sky deepened further, his hands grew numb from the jarring pain of assault, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew she must have come back by now, she must be up there, somewhere, possibly at a window, looking down at him this very moment…
But his eyes remained fixated on the lifeless form before him, his feet continued to dance below him, and nothing would stop him. Nothing, that is, but the elements.
The sky, unable to hold its load a moment longer, finally opened. Waves fell down around him just as he let out one final cry and swung his sword one final time. The blade tore clean through the weakened post and dummy, shearing them in half. They collapsed to the ground at Jakob's feet, and he stood over them, breathless, his arms shaking from effort. Looking up into the downpour, he fought to fill his lungs of air and ignore the sting in his muscles.
He heaved a breath, let the sword drop from his hand, and strode back inside.
"Milord!" Felicia squeaked, surprised at his sudden entrance. "You're soaked!"
"Thank you, Felicia, for that astute observation." He replied dryly, his temper in no mood for senselessness.
She shook her head, "Sorry! Shall I prepare a hot bath?"
Jakob waved his hand. "Don't bother. I shall change and dry off. I would like supper in my room tonight please."
"Of course, Milord," she dipped and turned to go.
"Oh, Felicia—Ah—Would you please send Corrin with my supper."
She tipped her head apologetically. "Um, I'm afraid Corrin has yet to return, Milord…" Lightening flickered through the windows, thunder cracked, and Felicia flinched, her eyes wide with fear.
"She's not returned?" Jakob demanded, not expecting such an answer after hours of training. "You mean she's out in this!" Panic seized him, his exhausted body suddenly on high alert.
"I—I don't know…." Felicia muttered. "Probably she—she found shelter somewhere… Or stayed in town!"
"But you don't know that! She could be out there!" Felicia winced at his ferocity, but Jakob didn't have time for gentle words. As often as Nohrian storms arose, Jakob could tell this was of a different sort—this was one to be reckoned with, and Corrin—if she got lost or hurt out there because of him—because he had asked her to go to town—he would never forgive himself.
He turned and swept through the doors again and out into the rain. He paused barely a second before turning and running through the deluge, his booted feet slapping against the already muddying road. Corrin… Corrin… Please, he thought. You have to be safe
His legs screamed with fatigue, worn from a long day of riding, of pacing, of training, but he didn't spare them a thought. Lightening streaked blindingly around him, thunder exploded deafeningly, rain descended in sheets, and none of it gave him a moment's pause. The dirt under his feet turned slick. Once, it gave way beneath him, and he crashed to the ground, to the mud, hands and knees and elbows.
In a breath, he was up again, eyes wide, searching, heart pounding, desperate. It was dark. Too dark in the twilight, too dark in the storm, the clouds roiling above. His eyes scanned, searched, but he was terrified he'd miss her. Still, he kept on. It was the only thing he could do, the only option he had. If he made it to town he would find Silas and demand her whereabouts, and he would run this road again if he had to.
Fortunately, he didn't. Almost halfway there, he finally saw something. The wheelbarrow. It was the wheelbarrow, covered with a dark gray cloak, and stuck, lodged in a ditch turned sloppy with rainwater. Jakob came to it, searching for any sign of Corrin. The cloak—he touched it. It was hers. He was sure of it. She was trying to protect the rice from the downpour, but where was she? He spun in a circle, looking for any hint, and clue. "Corrin?" He called, his word nearly drowned by the rush of sound. "Corrin!" He yelled again, stepping a few paces the way he had come. "Corrin!"
"-Kob?" He gasped, turned. He had heard something. He knew he had. Again, he screamed her name, and again, he caught something, a slight sound on the wind, and he sought it. It came from off the road. He ran to the side, looking down over the gully at the trees. Where was she? It took only a second to spot her, an ashen face, turned up with disbelief, with hope. His heart leapt.
"Corrin!" He cried, carelessly skidding down the ditch. His fine clothes were covered in yet more mud, but he honestly didn't care. He just had to get to her. He reached bottom and turned and started running.
"Jakob!" She stumbled towards him, and they met in a crash, in an embrace, desperate with fear as much as relief. Jakob held her tight against him, eyes shut, body trembling. He could not let go. He could not, Silas be dashed! All that mattered was that she was safe, she was here, he had found her. He stroked her hair, her frighteningly cold face buried in the crook of his neck. "Are you alright?" He pulled back just an inch, just enough to slide his hands down her arms, to hold her face in his palms and look into her eyes.
Rather than answering his question, she stared at him with disbelief. "What are you doing out here? You shouldn't have come! Gunter will be horrified when he finds out."
He shook his head. "I don't care! I don't care about him. Are you alright, Corrin? You're so cold!" He pulled her into his arms again, trying to spread his warmth to her.
"J-Jakob…" she stuttered softly, her teeth chattering.
"I was so worried when I realized you were out in this," he whispered, his breath warm on her ear.
"I—I'm sorry." She shook her head. "I twisted my ankle." Jakob suddenly realized she was leaning on him, clutching weakly at his shoulders, and he shifted his grip to support her better. "I sent the boy home when I realized this storm was coming. I—I foolishly tried to make it back through it, but the cart—It got stuck in the ditch, and when I decided to leave it, I slipped! I tumbled down here. I didn't know what to do! I didn't think I could make it back with my ankle. I thought I would have to wait out the storm, wait for someone to realize I hadn't come home yet." She looked at him, laid her head on his shoulder, and entwined her arms around his chest. "I never thought you would come out in this storm to find me."
"Oh, Corrin," Jakob laid his head on top of hers. "I will always find you." He spoke so quietly the words were probably lost in the storm, but he held her close, slid his hands up and down her back, and his reassurance spread to her in one way or another. "Come," he said. "We must get you back. Get you out of this mess, someplace warm."
"But my ank—" Thunder boomed, and Corrin started, clutching onto Jakob and burying her face in his shoulder.
"Don't worry." He held her just a moment, calming her nerves. "You're safe now. I'll get you back." He bent and scooped her into his arms. She yelped with surprise but didn't even protest like he expected she would. Rather, she wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder. Jakob clutched her to him, taking just a second to steady his pounding heart before starting forward, nothing on his mind but getting the shivering bundle in his arms back home again.
