The Path of Least Resistance

Chapter One - Nohr: I Began

Or, falling into Fire Emblem Fates and waking up as Corrin when you sucked at the game and have no idea what's going on, and what do you mean 'people are going to die'? What do you mean 'I can't get out'? What do you mean I 'signed up for this' – oh, right. Lunatic Classic mode. Damn it. Self-Insert.

Despite my agonizingly slow progress and the timer counting down to the moment of truth, it was still hard to wake up in the mornings. The air was always too cold for me when I woke up, and leaving the comfort of my bed almost hurt.

And the bed. Oh gods the bed. If I thought the pillow was the bad boy seducing me, I hadn't seen the appeal of the bed. The pillow could get to first base in a second – the bed would have me climbing into the covers in a heartbeat.

I'm being literal there. Bedtime was best time. Who needed all those hot guys this game was full of? The best hubbie was beddie right here. Not sharing my one true love with any of you fuckers, hot as you all are.

I might have been able to get away with staying in bed all day if I was back home, in the real world. Where it was still summer break and I had no summer classes and nobody in the fucking world could have made me budge from sleeping all day and then all night for good measure because why the fuck not.

Un-fucking-fortunately, I was not in the real world. I was not even in a nice story like Sleeping Beauty that would have let me sleep forever (that lucky ho didn't appreciate what she had and she kicked it away for a pretty face kissing her, and that is my official stance on that stupid princess).

No, I was in a game where I had to fight my ass off in a war, and being princess meant shit.

"Lady Corrin, time to get up!"

"No it fucking ain't," I mumbled, and then winced because I probably shouldn't have sworn.

But damn it, it was the day before Xander and Leo came bearing bad news, and I was miserable at my progress – read: lack thereof – and I just wanted to sleep, because it was the one thing in the world that didn't betray me.

Besides, I slept late yesterday. It turned out that Corrin – the real Corrin – kept diaries in case the curse struck, so that when it did and wiped away her memories, she could look at records and try to refresh them, or at the very least avoid an awkward situation with the few people she interacted with.

My retainers brought them for me so I could try to refresh my memories – and then gave me one of those looks, apologetic and pitying and worried, the one that made me feel guilty because I didn't really deserve that from them, when I didn't seem to recall keeping diaries.

They were a little hard to read, with handwriting that was neater than mine, but in cursive and therefore like one thousand percent more annoying to read. Also, the pages were distorted, and the ink blurred in a lot of parts, like the pages had gotten wet and then dried.

So on top of Gunter's crash course in restoring Corrin's fighting abilities, I also had to try and decipher the real Corrin's diaries so I could act more naturally. And it was hard, not only because making out the words on these were like trying to understand what the doctor scribbled on that tiny piece of paper he called your prescription, but also because Corrin didn't write chronologically, or record dates. The notebooks focused less on when she did something, and more on what others did, like when she was struck with a memory she didn't want to forget, she just flipped open a random page and scribbled it down.

Jakob making her tea. Felicia breaking a plate and knocking Flora off her feet, but both being okay. Crying with Lilith – who was a lower-ranked servant working in the stables but an absolute sweetie, in the short time I got to spend with her – when an old horse finally died. Gunter letting her hold a real sword for the first time.

It was hard, going over records so disorganized, and yet so clearly emotional. Hard, because they weren't mine and I had to pretend they were.

I really should watch my language, because from what I could tell, Corrin sure as hell didn't speak like I did.

Luckily, Felicia – or anyone else, really – couldn't out my slurred words. "C'mon, sleepyhead," she teased, tugging my comforter away from me. "Up! Out of bed!"

I opened one eye. Flora was missing this morning, but otherwise Jakob and Felicia were fussing over me. If the past few days had taught me anything, then Gunter was already geared up and ready to beat my ass up just outside my room.

It said a lot for my habits – both mine and the real Corrin's – that every time I had to wake up, everyone always got together to make sure I'd actually get up and at it.

Which meant that I couldn't try to charm them into letting me sleep. They all covered each other pretty well and ganged up on me to get me out. And while they were somehow alert and awake at this unholy hour, I was struggling to keep 'in-character' of a princess that had been locked up in a fort for as long as she could remember. Sure, one cursed to be an amnesiac, but a princess nonetheless, and a very sheltered one at that.

Don't swear don't swear don't swear. I know you want to but for fuck's sake, clean up your language. You can do it. I know you can. You do it all the time in front of teachers and people you want to leave a good impression on.

I raised my head. The curtains were already pulled to the side, and the windows had the spectacular view of a dark, dank world.

Like, no sun whatsoever.

"It's still dark outside," I said. And it was. The lack of electricity wasn't what made the room dark. It was because it was still dark outside and why did all my 'retainers' come to wake me up? Did they not know that the day didn't start until two hours after sunrise?

"It may be dark," said Gunter, and I had to hold myself back from flinching. He was an intimidating man – a combination of his scar, age and knighthood – and I am a coward, okay? Don't judge me. Yes, he's outside the bedroom and not in sight but still. "But it is morning, Princess. And you have practice today."

Jakob smiled reassuringly as he prepared my breakfast – a tray of pretty simple wares, because while I was going to get a workout from the start and needed some energy to kick-start the boot camp, I also didn't want to toss my cookies like I did the second morning. Poor Flora and her shoes.

"Your armor is ready, milady," he said and oh my god his voice. His face was already sexy but his voice, man.

Don't judge me. He's a butler with the whole package – the skills, the face, the absolute loyalty, and the voice.

I would have just done what he said – even sold my soul to the highest bidder – until he continued speaking. "I've also, er, taken the liberty of pounding out the dents from last time. Please try it on later, so we can see if it fits like it should."

"Last time?!" What the fuck happened this 'last time' for dents to be made in armor?

At my face, Felicia and Jakob exchanged looks. From the worried, pitying looks that were being thrown at each other, it was clear that they wrongly pinned the reason for my being upset on having forgotten the cause, rather than the horror of being subjected to a beating harsh enough to dent armor.

Not quite, hot stuffs, not quite.

Jakob cleared his throat. "From sparring against your brother," he said gently. "Prince Xander."

Excuse me, exactly what circle of hell did my so-called brother with the perpetual line between his brows put me through? Yes, it's probably for my wellbeing but dents in armor what.

But no, I rationalized as I calmed down. Armor having dents were better than armor being ripped to shreds beyond repair. Arguably, dented armor was good armor because it did its job of protecting the wearer.

And with that newly found sense of calmness came the urge to sleep once more with my one true love.

"Ugh," I said. "Um, I'm not really fully awake yet . . . can I just sneak an extra five minute more?"

Felicia smiled, almost mischievously. "Oh, I can help with that."

How? I wondered as she reached towards me.

Just before her hand made contact with my skin, snowflakes materialized around her fingers, and the air around them dropped drastically in temperature. One second later, fingers as cold as ice were wrapping around my wrist, and the ice was like a stab through my veins.

I screamed. "Ahhh! Cold! Cold cold cold cold cold! I'm awake! Totally awake now!"

Goodbye, soft, sweet feeling of warmth and sleepiness. Goodbye, and may we see each other soon. We will see each other again, this I swear. Don't forget me, my one true love.

Felicia giggled. "That's how we deal with slugabeds in the Ice Tribe!"

Oh right, she and her sister were from the Ice Tribe. That place I got sent to so I could put down their rebellion. For some reason, being sent to put down the rebellion meant that I could recruit Flora, but joining Hoshido – the country that was very against Nohr and therefore more open to the idea of helping the Ice Tribe with their rebellion – meant she killed herself.

Game logic.

If asked to kill them out for rebelling, I might be a lot more open to that idea now because waking someone up with cold fingers was just sadistic. How dare they deal with poor slugabeds like that up there. Barbaric, that was. Inhumane, cruel, vicious people.

But it was probably cold up there and I didn't really like the cold. So maybe not.

Oh, well, back to grinding like a snail in slow motion.

Finally, it was the day announced by the mission screen. D-day. The day of revelations and the apocalypse and the trial.

Come on, it was the first chapter in the fucking game. Could they not make this easier for a poor player who hadn't intended on being pulled in?

Jakob and Gunter made sure to alert the royals of my, er, recent memory hiccup before I actually got to see them in person, so they wouldn't be surprised or disappointed or accidentally heartbroken or end up hurting me. Through not-so-subtle questioning that I saw right through over the course of few days – and in the case of Gunter, just bluntly asking what I remembered – my retainers had learned that I remembered surprisingly little. As in, I knew their names and some things about them, but little else. Nothing about the time spent together, or what memories.

And sure that sounded like some pretty suspicious amnesia and I sweated while lying to their faces about it, but apparently that was how this weird curse struck, because while they all made some worried faces, they all just accepted it at face value.

Eh. What did I know about amnesia, anyways?

So the official diagnosis was: the curse had struck badly when no one had expected it, and now Corrin remembered very little. As in, the names and faces of those around her, and her affection for them, but very little else otherwise.

I never thought I would say this, but thank goodness I was cursed.

Because of their prior knowledge, Leo and Xander approached slowly and hesitantly, like I was a deer they were trying to take a photo of – like I might bolt for the cover of the woods any second now. They tried to school their features into something calm and controlled, but their eyes were boring holes into my face, seeking out any signs of recognition or confusion I might show.

Luckily for them and for me, I remembered the faces and names of my 'family'. They were important characters, and they kept popping up – either as my strongest allies with good cutscenes and lots of portraits and dialogue, or as enemies with just as good but also ominous and threatening, if not downright heartbreaking cutscenes.

Except Elise. Never Elise.

And she died.

Derp.

But going back on track. There was a metric shit ton of characters with actual faces and names in this game, some of whom wouldn't make the wise decision of siding with me, but I remembered the important people.

Sort of. Were villains important? They probably were, and unlike nice guys wouldn't be polite and forgive me for not knowing their names.

Shit.

Well, the point was, I knew these two, even if they were no longer models or portraits.

"Xander!" I waved at two of the very important characters in the game – terrifying enemies, but great allies, they were, and good-looking too. "Leo! You're here!"

The relief washing over both of them was near-tangible – aw, man, they really loved 'Corrin', I could finally sort of see why they were willing to go to war over getting her or him back – and smiling genuinely now, they made their way over to me, steps lighter than before.

And damn. Garon was an evil son of a bitch (sorry, adoptive Granma I never knew and never will know, and let's keep it that way shall we), but he clearly had some sweet genes in his dragon's blood. Because the portraits of these guys had been great, but seeing them for real was absolutely amazing.

Xander was sharp-featured, and his every handsome stern hair just oozed charisma. This was the face of a badass king. There was a crease between his brows, but when he smiled it smoothed out so that he didn't look so stern – he almost looked fatherly. The kind that you read about in novels, the ones that look super strict but are actually cinnamon rolls to their children, but still raise them properly with the right amount of discipline so they don't end up depraved or spoiled.

Maybe that made him sound too much like a dad, because if every dad looked like that, wow, a whole lot of 'daddy' kinks might start popping up. Kingly, majestic, charismatic face it is. I kind of just wanted to bow down to him.

Leo, on the other hand, was a pretty boy. A very pretty boy. Like, oh my goodness he was a 'face like a K-pop boy group' kind of pretty boy, with an elegant, angelic face that should have made artists seizure with inspiration and vomit out works of art to be considered classics and be labelled priceless. Even when worried and keeping a poker face, his features were 10/10 easily. No wonder his son could get away with looking prettier than any of the children – his dad had some seriously sweet genes.

It wasn't to say that Leo looked like the sweet type. Far from it. If Xander was the picture of a fierce warrior, a hero called by the heavens to stand on the path of fate and fight as a king and a leader, Leo was more of something along the lines of an angel of death. Beautiful but with the dangerous edge bleeding through and adding its own charm to the overall effect, like silk hiding steel.

So, in other words, kind of a high-class pretty bad boy?

Wait, that made him sound like a male escort. Fuck my descriptive abilities, and fuck everything I just said.

I just never thought a guy could look that pretty, and yet still look like a dude for real. I thought that was only possible in anime and video games, and maybe pop stars on television.

Except this was a video game, damn it, and pretty didn't do shit to keeping someone from dying.

Well, at least there was a super pretty boy. Despite the differences in their facial types, I could see they were related. It was the same sharp and clear eyes, the same hair, the same way they carried themselves, like they were better than everyone, but not in a tryhard way, and not like they were being snobby. Their superiority was just a natural part of them, like the fact that the sky was blue and snow was cold and Elise was the best.

Both of them weren't wearing the game's default clothes, which took me off-guard for a little before I realized that, derp, of course they would have casual clothes, and of course they wouldn't go around in armor twenty-four-seven, especially when they weren't coming to fight to the death.

I knew shit about fashion in history, but the tight pants – not tight enough to be hose, but tight enough – and loose shirt with cravats were nice.

Leo huffed out a light sigh of relief and reached out to hug me, and I was a little surprised to find he was taller than I was. Not tower-over-me tall, but definitely tall enough that there would be no mistaking the differences in our heights.

Corrin, according to Jakob, was supposed to be seventeen, soon to be eighteen (which was not my real age, but hey, the younger the better, right?). Leo was the younger brother of Nohr, which meant he had to be at most sixteen.

This sixteen-year-old at most was already in the battlefield, making a name for himself amongst allies and foe alike as he swept lives up with his magic like he was sweeping up some dust.

It occurred to me that Fire Emblem was a strategy game, with perma-death. Strategy, as in war strategy. Death, as in they were dying on battlefields fighting a war.

Despite my, er, rough mouth and slightly tomboyish ways, I wasn't all that fond of fighting or war or conflict or anything along those lines. My parents always said my brother and I were easy kids to raise, because we didn't fight like other siblings did. Truth was we just saw no reason to fight, and if there was a chance for conflict both of us solved and dropped it the moment we saw it. Maintaining peace came easy to us.

And now I was alone, in the middle of strangers I knew only by proxy, in a cruel world that sent children out into battlefields to fight and make a name for themselves because they had the talent to kill people.

No, not the talent to kill people. They had talent, and it could be directed at killing people efficiently, so they were made to by those who were supposed to protect them. That was why.

I held on a little tighter, and Leo returned it before letting me go and stepping back to allow Xander his turn of hugging me. Unlike Leo, Xander was tall as a tree. Not one of those puny little things that people liked to grow so they could say they had tiny trees older than their grandma – abusive assholes, twisting poor trees to be midgets – but an actual fucking tree. He lifted me off my feet easily, making me squeal, and then set me down with a fond smile.

"Little Princess," Xander said. "I've heard that you were training hard."

Yeah, because I could die any second.

I just laughed nervously. "Can't let you down, right?"

Shit did that sound too sickly-sweet? Blame it on the curse, Xander. Blame it on the curse, Leo. Blame my out-of-character acting on the motherfucking curse.

"That's our sister for you," Leo said fondly, and sweet dragons thank y'all for your kindness.

I sighed. "I don't know if I'm going to be able to beat you, though," I said, trying to channel every sad experience I had ever had. My goldfish dying because my brother didn't feed it while I was at camp. My other goldfish dying because my brother didn't feed it while I was at camp the next year. My brother getting hurt – wait, no, that was because he did something stupid and it's funny now that I think about it, take that away. Focus on my murdered goldfish.

Xander clapped one hand on my shoulder. He had large hands that felt strong even through the clothes, but it didn't hurt. Considerate, kind older bro looking after me can I just say that blood-relations or not you are great. Nohr for the win, bitches.

"No need to worry," he said reassuringly. "Gunter tells me that you've made great progress."

Even after the recent return of the curse, went unheard and unsaid, but I could see it in his face. For a guy who looked born to be a king and lead his people into victory and peace, he wasn't the best at keeping a poker face, was he.

Leo was better at it than Xander. "I'm sure you've gotten better since last time."

By last time, pretty boy, I assume that you mean the time when Xander put so many dents in my armor it took Jakob, Mr. Most-Capable-Butler-In-Nohr-Till-His-Son-Came-Around Jakob until yesterday morning to return it back into original form.

The sounds of swords clanging against each other rang in the walled court of the castle's training yard, as the two combatants swung their weapons at each other. Though made from bronze, the blades were still very real, and capable of great damage, if not death.

Normally, such a scene would have had me glued to prime seats, popcorn in hand. In this world, I even had a Butler that got me everything I wanted, and had the mad snack and serving me skills to back it up and make it worth it. It would have been great.

Except, you know, I was one of the fighters, with one of the real blades making those clanging sounds in my hand. And I was getting creamed by the foe, who happened to be the strongest knight in Nohr, the wielder of the divine blade Siegfried, and also Nohr's fucking crown prince.

You sure they picked their heir apparent to the throne by birth? Because it looks like they pick by strength and skill in swordplay.

"You won't beat the strongest knight in Nohr by sleeping all day, Corrin," Leo called from the sidelines, watching the two of us fight with a hawk's eye. Probably picking out flaws in our – and by our, I mean 'my' – techniques, ready to give us – and again, let's replace that with 'me' – an earful on how to improve.

Pretty boy or not Leo was definitely a younger brother. I bit back a 'shut-up' in response to his teasing and exhaled loudly because my lungs were beginning to get mad at me for stressing them.

Why were they stressed? Because they weren't use to being this pushed.

Oh, but Corrin was in good shape before you came into her body and hijacked it right on the turn of events that would lead to a shitstorm any three ways, so what's the issue?

Why, you ask? I'll tell you why. It's because this was one motherfucking tough opponent I was up against. See? Even the younger bro said it – Xander was the strongest knight in Nohr.

Xander raised one eyebrow. "Giving up so soon, Corrin? I expect more of you! Pick up your sword and try again – you are a princess of Nohr!"

About that, Nohrian older bro, I'm actually not. But that's a major spoiler and I as Corrin is not supposed to know that so I'll just keep my mouth shut for now.

Instead, I decided to try and convince him to not beat the crap out of me. "But this is just training!"

Even though it didn't feel like it. When Xander just slipped on some padded shirt and a few leg guards for 'protective gear', I felt insulted – especially because Jakob and the others made me dress in armor. Interestingly enough, not the default armor the game character wore, but the one the Nohr Noble wore – the black one, minus the fan service slits revealing thighs and boobs. Also a proper cape. Shame, because the tattered cloak was pretty cool, but I guess it made sense. Nohr was poor, but not that poor.

Or maybe it was because we were still pretending I was related to the Nohrian royal family, and appearances still mattered.

He gave me a stern look. "No – this is experience. We learn how to fight so we can protect ourselves and our loved ones. It is never 'just' training."

Days of Spartan training under Gunter's tough love and my body having this unnatural yet apparently natural gift in swordplay was not enough to hold up against the greatest knight in Nohr. At least he wasn't riding a horse while sparring with me. At least he wasn't using his fancy sword, the one that had killed Elise by accident.

Shudder.

But even without cool dark fire sword and horse, I stood no chance against Xander. There would have to be a next time, because in my current state, I had no way of defeating him.

There was no choice. I decided I'd throw the match.

Because sure, Garon wouldn't be happy that the freeloader wasn't able to come out of the fortress to work for once, but he wouldn't kill me now, would he? And anything that didn't make him happy sounded good to me, because he was a dick and he deserved an indirect 'fuck you'. Besides, if I didn't go now, then through the butterfly effect the entire game's tragedies might be avoided!

None of the game's shitty shenanigans had to happen for real.

The more I thought about it, the better this idea seemed. I'd build up my strength, and experience, and pass the next time the test came around.

Yes, this sounded good. I can't believe I didn't come up with this genius plan before.

Two seconds after I had come up with the clever idea and was patting myself on my back for that, a screen popped up in front of my eyes, like the same screen that had welcomed me into the world of Fire Emblem: Fates.

[Mission: Defeat Xander!

Xander, High Prince of Nohr, has been training you in combat whenever he could find the time to do so in his busy schedule. Your siblings in Nohr have been lobbying to their father, King Garon of Nohr, on your behalf so that you may leave the Northern Fortress like you have always wished to do. He has agreed, but on the condition that you are able to pull your own weight while in battle. To demonstrate you are capable of meeting his expectations, you must defeat Xander in a spar.

Reward: EXP; permission to leave the Northern Fortress and enter Windmire, Capital of Nohr, where Castle Krackenberg is.

Failure: Death.]

Did I read that last part wrong? No, no, that said 'death' right there. Not something like 'Darth', for a Darth Vader figure to come by saying memorable lines like 'I am your father', or some other similar word. 'Death'.

Say fucking what now.

I silently screamed at that for a few seconds, because um, what.

Was this because of Lunatic mode? Was this because it was Classic? Was it just because my bane was Unlucky? Was it the unholy trinity of all three combined that had the game threatening to sentence me to death if I didn't win this sparring match?! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

How the fuck does winning a spar prove anything, anyways? Nothing beats numbers, man. Or a zombie. I could be the most kickass swordsman out there, and let's face it, if I was facing an army on my own I was going to go down, skills be damned. Especially if that army was made up of never-dying zombies. That's how Ryoma went down in Conquest. All his fancy footwork and skills with the special sword and the room with the healing tiles stretched across the whole floor helped him with shit when faced with the might of a character that kept getting back up from their ashes like a phoenix.

And it wasn't like the outside world was too safe a place either. Death down this path, death down the other path. Hard place and a rock.

Fuuuuuck – of all the games to fall into I had to come into this one.

"Are you alright?" Leo asked, drawing my attention from the mission statement with expectations that needed to be lowered a lot, pronto.

Xander mistook my pale face, evacuated of blood all of a sudden, as a response to his words.

"I know it sounds scary," he said, a lot gentler than the forceful charisma-machine he'd been before the stupid mission screen popped up. "But sometimes, we're forced to make difficult choices, or find ourselves in situations that aren't kind to us. And in that time, it's better to be over-prepared than under-prepared."

He hesitated before he gave a small, slightly awkward but so sweet smile. "I would be more reassured if you were in possession of skills that you never got a chance to use than find yourself in trouble without."

Right there and then it was as if Cupid had fired several rounds of the 'fangirl' arrow into my heart. With a machine gun that fired arrows at the rate of, like, a thousand rounds per second. I don't care if that's not an actual gun, it felt like it.

Shit. Okay, wow. Definitely not choosing Birthright if the time to choose comes despite my best efforts to keep that from happening anytime soon. No way am I letting you die, Big Bro. This dark world needs you. Just listen to Elise, please. She knows the best way. She is the best way.

His face turned . . . okay not hard, but less gentle. Like, more stern maybe. Yeah, that sounded a little more fitting. "But if you cannot defeat me today, Corrin," he said, getting serious once more. "Then you may not leave the Northern Fortress. Ever."

"What?!"

"That's insane!" I began to see just how 'Death' was the penalty for losing. I'd be locked up in this shitty place till I died, and then who knew what would happen. Probably go mad and begin painting the walls with my own poop, if I wasn't killed off quietly.

Shudder.

Xander and Leo's faces dropped simultaneously like very handsome rocks, and I remembered how weird Garon had been before the whole reveal of him being possessed by something that made him a goo monster. They probably noticed that around now, but chalked it up to mental illness.

And of course, they wouldn't go around outright saying Garon was insane, so me saying that was probably like dumping salt water into an open wound for them.

Derp, sorry guys. I probably should have been more sensitive.

Except my life is on the line here and the king is not your daddy anymore, and he wants to kill me in a rather roundabout way, so never mind, fuck that. You could very well say that he is insane. Rip the band aid off and everything. Mental illness is not something to be ashamed of. Stop adding to the stigma. Start embracing the people.

But don't do that to your daddy. Mental illness isn't the problem with him. Just with other people. So hugs and support won't do shit.

Xander recovered fairly quickly, as expected of the High Prince next in line. "Motivated, are we? Then use that fire to best me in battle, little Princess. Defeat me if you would see the outside world, beyond the view from your window. Prove that all the time I've devoted to training you has not been in vain!"

Shit, okay, he was not my usual type of fictional character to fall for but wow this guy was just so awesome. Like, Liam Neeson level of awesome. Except younger and hotter, but you get my drift, yes?

Newly invigorated, I readjusted my grip on my sword and charged at him again. He returned the blows with a slight smile on his face.

Ten minutes later, though, I was seriously pooped and giving more thought to the fate of painting the walls of this fortress with my own poop, because would a life of doing nothing but staying in one place – no need to work or compete in the shitty economy – be all that bad? For all I knew death meant I could exit the game.

Except, you know, I still didn't want to die. But I might not have a choice in the matter.

Fuck fuck fuck stuck between a rock and a hard place, and about to get rekt.

Xander eyed me worriedly, with furrowed brows. I wanted to tell him to stop frowning and fast-forwarding the aging of that precious face, but that would just be too weird. I saw why Gunter was not a unit I used in my Conquest playthrough, because Xander was superior to Gunter in every way except age.

At least in training sessions, I could try to outrun Gunter and poop the old man out and partially succeed. It was impossible to try that with Xander, this tall, defensive bro.

Fuck.

At least I was still faster than he was. Ah, yes, what my luck had been sacrificed for. My – Boon, was it? Something like that. Boon. My speed wasn't half-bad, and I had just spent seven days in Nohrian Sparta working on using it to my advantage. Xander didn't match me in speed, and sure, I knew he was going easy on me, but I was faster.

Except I was losing that edge fast due to growing fatigue, which wasn't good. I had to finish this fast.

Putting all my basketball experiences behind me, I feinted once, twice, and then on the third time I struck. Lady Luck, don't leave me now!

The result?

The bitch left me like a gold digger leaving a bankrupt sugar daddy who was suddenly not so sweet.

Not only did Xander block my strike, but the one after that, and the one I tried after that as well. He then began to push me back, forcing me to go defensive.

"Is that all you've got?!"

"No!" But it's pretty damn close. The HP bar on my status screen is telling me that my health is down by half. At least he wasn't taking it out in huge chunks.

I charged again, and he blocked – but this time I tried to kick him, aiming directly at his crotch. Eyes widening in surprise, he backed off, and I changed the direction of my sword –

And he swung his sword with both hands, met my sword head-on, and the impact was so strong it not only got my sword falling from my hands, ringing with numb pain, but also spun me half around and tripping over my own feet to fall to the ground.

Dazed and hurting, I blinked and tried to not fall over while I was on my knees and butt. "Whoa," I mumbled.

"Are you alright?" Xander asked, concerned, which was nice but bro, you were the one who knocked me down, you know that right? And not just knocked me down literally, onto the ground, but also down to 8 HP out of 19, which is starting to look really dangerous right about now.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, trying to stand – only to wince, because ow. Down to 8 HP means that it hurts bad.

Don't be so fucking realistic, game. This part isn't appreciated. At all.

"That was a clever try," Xander said. "Good enough to deserve this."

He cut his arm on the blade of his sword and I nearly swore, because what the fuck, don't self-harm in front of your younger sister.

The blood dripped from the wound, and then fell to the ground. The pressure of the air dropped, like that feeling I got when on a plane, and a distant thrumming sound boomed like a faraway trumpet from the skies.

And where Xander's blood had fallen, the ground shone lightly with a blue, clean light.

"Dragon Vein?" I guessed, as an alert popped up in my status screen telling me that Xander had activated one. I hadn't expected for actual blood to be needed for activation, but that had to be a Dragon Vein. Nothing else from the game would have made sense.

Shit, did I have to cut myself if I wanted to use Dragon Veins? Because I distinctly remember those being around in a lot of maps, and my brother telling me they could help change the game strategy.

I don't like seeing my own blood. I don't like making myself bleed, either, so fuck.

"Yes. You should have been able to sense it, with the blood of dragons in your own veins. Did you?"

I shook my head.

"Step in it," Xander instructed. "Let the light refresh you."

I did as he said, and read the explanation that popped up in the status screen.

[Healing Zone

Heals 50% of HP per half a minute for those standing in light. Rounded down.]

I guess we weren't going by turns, then.

I stood in the light, catching my breath. The light felt odd, like there was something crawling through my skin and into my bones. But not in a flesh-eating bug kind of way, more like a chill, face pack kind of way that was soothing and nice and wow, the pain was actually fading away, leaving a nice, relaxed sensation behind.

I had a minute to fully recharge my health – assuming that Xander would let me catch my breath that long. He probably would because he was a nice guy and all, but even so, I couldn't drag this too long.

C'mon, think. I know games and strategy weren't my thing but I had to channel my inner twin. How would my brother do this?

Analyze the opponent. He always liked to say that every action had a reason as well as a consequence. Nothing was done for 'no reason' – even doing nothing was because it had meaning.

Xander had reacted stronger than just simply blocking because he had felt a little threatened. Why? Because I tried to go for a crotch shot. Dirty and sneaky, sure, but at the same time threatening and probably not something he expected from 'Corrin'. Having used it once, he would probably see it coming if I tried it again.

Which meant that I had to find a different dirty tactic, using everything I had and then some more.

So, rather literally –

Come at me bro.

Let's turn the analyzing eye onto me. What did I have? Speed, a natural gift for swordplay in my new body, a bro that loved me but wouldn't go any easier on me than he already was, and a healing tile he opened up for me on the ground, which healed pretty nicely but I had my pride, I couldn't camp out on it forever.

And all my time watching action movies, as well as the ground, which was covered in smoothed dirt.

So I rolled on the ground, frantically scraped up dirt as discreetly as I could with a sweep of my left hand, and then got back up. Gripping my sword tighter with my right hand, I charged at Xander –

And then threw dirt into his handsome albeit stern face.

A little dirt wasn't enough to beat the strongest knight in Nohr all by itself, but it was enough to earn me a spare second, which I took and used to the fullest. I charged to his left side, where he wasn't holding the sword, right after I kicked his right knee and fell to my own knees just as Xander swung the blade towards me, nearly stumbling and blinking from the kick and dust, respectively. The sword flew just over my head, and barely missed my head.

Dude, the fuck.

Ignoring that near-brush with death, I swung as hard as I could –

And smacked Xander behind his thighs with the flat of my sword.

Hey, at least it wasn't the ass. He had a great ass. Not that I was looking too closely and outright checking it out. Because, you know, at this point I'm supposed to believe he's my older brother and that would be creepy.

But peripheral vision is a thing and damn, 10/10, solid.

Leo choked, and Xander whirled around to look down at me incredulously when I lifted the sword and rested the tip against his chest. I didn't put enough pressure on it to stab him – heck, he was wearing protective gear, after all, so that would need a lot more pressure needed than this – but enough for him to feel my blade and know that I could.

I always wanted to say this to someone. And now I had a chance to.

"Yield," I said, keeping my face as serious and my voice as regal as I could. Sure, I was still kneeling, and I felt like a kid 'threatening' her dad with a toy sword more than a warrior on equal footing.

But, if you thought about my skill level versus his, that was actually pretty accurate.

Damn, were my eyes sweating? No, wait, those were tears. Oh good, they felt pretty fucking appropriate for the moment right now.

[Mission complete!

Level up!

LV 2.

HP increased by 1.

Skill increased by 1.

Spd increased by 1.

Def increased by 1.

Res increased by 1.

HP: 20 Str: 7 Mag: 4 Skill: 8 Spd: 9 Lck: 3 Def: 7 Res: 3 Mov: 5]

Even when going easy on me, it looked like Xander was a foe strong enough to give me lots of experience points. Playing both Birthright and Conquest taught me that one could never get enough experience points to level up twice at a time, so getting one level up was good enough.

One small step for Corrin . . . still one small step for Corrin.

Shit.

Honestly, if this was Pokémon, I would have gotten a shit-ton of points for beating a super-powered monster straight at fucking level one, and jumped more than a few levels easily.

Maybe I could convince him to spar with me on the way or something? Grind while I can and all.

"Fighting dirty," Xander said, rubbing the back of his thigh that had been smacked with the part of the sword closer to the handle, and I snickered at the pun. Get it? Fighting dirty? Because I threw dirt in his eyes . . . oh gods I'm so pathetic and sad and stuck in a fucking game someone call for help and get me out of here now. Right now.

Now.

My mental plea, desperate as it was, didn't work. Pity. And by pity I mean motherfucking assholes, whoever you are, I had one wish, and you had one job. One.

"Not a bad tactic . . . although I hope you won't rely on tricks through all your battles. Continue to work on your mastery of the sword."

Bro I wish.

"Still, I'm glad you're getting stronger every day."

"Thanks, Xander." I'm now at a whopping Level 2. Amazing, the progress I've made. I could kill dragons with my bare hands. "I couldn't have done it without your, uh, tough love."

But Xander shook his head. "I disagree. I believe you have natural talent."

"You're kidding."

He ignored my interruption, smooth as a mink coat on a buttered rapper calling himself a pimp. "Someday, you could be the greatest warrior in all of Nohr."

"Okay, now you're just teasing me." Bro there is no fucking way. Stop it.

He ignored my pleas. "You know-" he began before cutting himself off. Right, they think I have a curse that erases my memories. 'I' wouldn't know. "I never joke about serious matters," he said firmly instead, moving on to make it less awkward for everyone around. "I mean what I say."

I really wished he would stop there. But he just kept talking and making me feel super uncomfortable with the undeserved praise. Uncomfortable because it felt good being told I was super special, even though I totally knew I didn't deserve it. Ego-stroking was always so nice.

"You could be the one to bring light to our kingdom so long shrouded in darkness."

"Xander . . ."

Had my brother – my real one, the one that introduced me to this damn game – been the one who said that to me, I would have kicked him in his calf. Lightly, but still kicked him, because that would have sounded cheesy as fuck when he said it.

But when Xander said it, it sounded goddamn inspiring. I had the urge to light myself up with Christmas lights and parade in dark places like a madwoman just to bring his words to life. Sure, he didn't mean them literally. Maybe he didn't really mean them at all. But he sounded like he was so sincere and who was I kidding he totally meant that because despite his stern face he was a softie at heart.

Leo huffed lightly, breaking the spell of the warm, glowy feeling that undeserved praise brought me. "Typical. You do know that true strength is more than simple swordplay, right?"

Oh buddy did I know it. I love magic. Special attackers. Mages. Whatever the equivalent was in canon.

Think about it. Setting fire to things with a snap of one's fingers. Waving a hand and letting lightning loose. Ripping open space and shooting light with some mumbled words. Give me that over a sword any day. Let me just light them up from afar so I didn't have to actually fight in close combat.

Xander chuckled. "Calm yourself, little brother. You really are competitive to a fault. You're a talented mage with formidable magical abilities in your own right – as I've always said."

The dawn light was beginning to break, and the golden hair of my 'brothers' were lighting up.

As darkness began to ebb away, I saw something I'd forgotten about until now.

"Hmm," Leo said, clearly appeased even as he tried to keep his words gruff. It didn't work, partly because of his seriously pretty face and partly because . . . "Well, just remember that pointy metal sticks are not the only path to power."

"Got it." I said. Machine guns, airplanes and tanks were yet to come, but they weren't here to break the war scene and be amazing in forging a path to power. "Oh, and Leo . . ."

"Yes?"

I smiled. "Your collar is inside out."

It had been cute in the video game. It was cuter seeing it in real life.

"What?!" Leo's gloved hands flew to his neck to yank at the collar of his cape, and his face exploded into red when he realized it was true.

"It would appear," Xander said teasingly, "someone got dressed while still half-asleep."

"Ugh!" Leo, face red as a tomato, rushed to fix his mistake. In his hurry, he nearly strangled himself.

"You're still lovable, Leo." Xander said.

"Totally!" I added on wholeheartedly. Adorable.

"Hrrgh," was the reply we got. That might have been him still strangling himself.

The morning sun – pale, compared to what I was used to from outside the video game, but pretty bright for Nohr according to Xander and Leo – lit the start of my first step to getting out of this castle.

If you can't avoid it, enjoy it.