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Corrin hasn’t been to that many parties before.
Aside from the ball that was thrown in her honour when she was first introduced to Nohrian society, she’s been maybe to two other parties in the interim. Learning how to be a princess in the actual world of royalty and not just safe and sound in her desolate fortress has been hard enough without constant exposure to the most stressful environment she can imagine, and thankfully things have been in general too busy to worry about things like parties.
This is different, though.
This is her engagement ball.
Corrin has quickly learned that most important events are celebrated with a party that the people they’re being thrown for probably hate because it means they can’t just relax and enjoy what they’re celebrating, but rather have to act in a very specific way and spend all night letting people judge them for it. At least, that’s how it seems to be with her siblings. Xander and Camilla are very skilled at cloaking their dislike of the events, Elise is young enough that she can sort of get away with seeming a bit bored or acting out of turn every once in a while as long as she doesn’t make too big a habit of it, and Leo has cultivated this image of bored disinterest that both goes with and against what’s expected of him as a prince of Nohr in a way that Corrin can’t help but admire (mostly because she knows how fake it really is and just what kind of person Leo really is underneath that mask he wears).
The announcement of her engagement wasn’t a popular one. Corrin was actually a little surprised to hear that, because as far as she could tell most people saw her as little more than a fraud. Everyone by now knows that she’s been adopted into the royal family, and even if she hadn’t been, the fact that she’s so clearly awkward in high society would be enough to get the kind of haughty looks down the nose that she usually sees on the faces of the nobility.
Still, she supposes it isn’t that surprising now that she’s had time to think about it. They might not like her all that much, but she’s an easy entry into the royal family; the fact that she has Divine blood even if it’s not Dusk Dragon blood means that she’s still royalty and any children she has would still be able to use the Dragon’s Pulse, which means they wouldn’t be completely disqualified from being able to get on the throne; and the fact that she isn’t Garon’s biological child means that most people assume he doesn’t care much what happens to her in the long run.
She can’t say they’re really wrong about that last one now that she’s actually met him, though as much as it pains her to say this, she’s certain he doesn’t much care what happens to his biological children either…
Now that the dust has settled on the news of her and Iago being engaged, though, people seem to have taken to the news a lot better than expected— because she sees a lot of smiling faces when she looks out at the crowd as the two of them step out and are announced.
“Vultures, every one of them,” Iago says, his voice conveying a sneer even as his face carries a smile. “Just circling and looking for a chance to get what they want.”
“You don’t think they’re just happy for us?” she asks, even though it sounds stupid the second the words come out of her mouth.
“Please. Even your own family isn’t happy for us.”
“Well, you can’t blame them. They do hate you, after all.”
“So does everyone else here.”
“Does it ever bother you? That everyone hates you so much?”
“If it did, I would make an effort to change.”
Corrin can’t argue with that logic.
Things have become… Like this between them since Corrin started living in Krakenburg. With Iago always being around, even if he’s also always busy with his work or one of his own personal projects, the two have actually had time to spend together— something Iago obviously found tedious at first but which he’s grown to like, or at least tolerate enough that he actually relaxes when she’s around.
It’s made way for an easy rapport between the two of them, which has lifted a big weight from Corrin’s shoulders. Her biggest fear about marrying Iago— aside from how much her family clearly dislikes him— has always been that, once the two of them actually have time to spend together, they would just end up hating each other.
She knows this isn’t supposed to be about love, or even necessarily about like. Iago wants to marry her because it will secure his position with the royal family even though every person with a shot at inheriting the throne from her father hates him, with the exception of her and Elise. She’s expendable as far as royalty goes, but she is still royalty, and Iago has ingratiated himself enough to Garon that asking for his adopted daughter’s hand in marriage as a boon for his years of devoted service is a totally reasonable thing for him to do.
And Corrin is expected to just accept it and behave with the dignity and grace of a proper Princess of Nohr.
As much as she loves tales of romance— they’re one of the few things that got her through her time in the Northern Fortress, aside from the company of her friends and retainers— she’s always known that a story like that probably wouldn’t be the one she would lead. As much as that had stung when she was younger, she came to understand just as she came to understand so many other things about the life of a princess that marriage was a political game for someone like her. As much as it would be nice to live a fairy tale, that’s not what the life of a princess really is, and she wants nothing more than to make her kingdom and her family proud.
But the fact that the two of them can actually have a conversation without wanting to kill each other— in fact, that they can playfully tease each other like they’ve been friends for years— is a big relief. Even if they don’t love each other, at least they get along.
Normally at these events, Iago stays lingering off to the sides. Part of his job is to make the royal family look good. He does that by making sure things go as smoothly as possible, planning things out to that end, and involving himself whenever anything goes awry. He’s not the sort of person who is usually the center of attention, which is funny because he clearly loves to be, considering how flashy he is and how dramatic he gets when he does get to have the spotlight shining down on him.
Just one of the many sacrifices he makes when he needs to, she supposes.
Clearly the assembled noble folk aren’t used to him being quite so omnipresent, because there are quite a few uneasy glances back and forth and murmurs that she almost misses passing between people in the crowd. Of course she ignores all of that and just focuses on the smiles and polite but restrained clapping everyone is doing as the two of them walk arm in arm into the room. She smiles politely back and stays holding onto Iago’s arm as is befitting a lady while he politely waves on behalf of both of them.
This sort of party isn’t really designed to be a celebration in the traditional sense. Rather, it’s a chance for the nobles to try and ingratiate themselves to the two of them— to Corrin, the Princess of Nohr, and to Iago, her soon to be husband.
Considering they’ve mostly turned their noses up at her so far and Iago is a person who’s made a game out of how much he can make people hate him, she doesn’t think anyone is going to have much luck with that. But the two of them still have to endure this, and honestly she doesn’t mind it as much as she thought she would because being on Iago’s arm means that everyone looks very nervous about trying to approach them to suck up to them.
Corrin doesn’t know when she got so cynical. Maybe all of the hanging around with Iago and Leo that she’s been doing since arriving in Krakenburg is starting to rub off on her.
Even though it’s a lot easier to do this whole socializing thing with Iago there than it was when she was just on her own, Corrin still finds herself running out of steam fast. Even now that she lives in the palace with her siblings, the number of people at this party is still far larger than the amount of people she ever sees in a single day, and all of them want to talk to her— or, rather, most of them want to talk to Iago and are politely addressing her in the process, because it would be rude to ignore a princess in favour of an advisor even if he is going to be her husband soon.
One thing she’s found out about Iago that has both surprised her and not surprised her at all is that he’s a very perceptive person. Of course, she always assumed that he was in a certain sense— he definitely always seems to know when something is going on that demands his attention, for example— but based on what her siblings have always told her about him, she never thought he would be half as emotionally perceptive as he is.
It makes sense, of course. Iago has built his career on being able to deal with a man who most people would generously describe as stern and some people would less generous describe as volatile, and he has the fickle nobility practically eating out of his hand, all of them eager to earn his favour because they know just as much as anyone that whether Iago likes you or not can make or break your attempts to get the favour of the crown. Of course he would be able to tell how people are feeling, because if he didn’t then how would he manipulate them as masterfully as he does— and she does mean that as a compliment even though it doesn’t necessarily sound like one.
He just doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would use that gift for good instead of evil.
And yet, even though she says nothing and does her absolute best to maintain her composure and not let it slip even slightly that she’s already starting to get tired of the attention less than an hour into the party, Iago still finds an excuse to pardon themselves from the company of the current noble trying to butter them up (from his nervous demeanour and his familiar sounding name she’s pretty sure he’s the father of a certain noble she had a not too friendly run in with a few months back during her introductory ball) and guide her off to the side of the room.
Even though the event is supposed to centre on the two of them, people can obviously tell from Iago’s determined stride that they’re not currently available for chit-chat. Corrin has no idea what he’s doing until he leads her over to a table of refreshments— and to a server with a bottle of wine in hand.
“A glass for her ladyship,” Iago says with all the haughtiness one would expect of a retainer to the king who had been more or less running the menial backend of the kingdom for years now, someone who knows just how important he is. “And one for myself as well.”
The server is all too happy to pour them each glasses of wine, which he fills far more than any of the glasses of the other folks milling about— but considering this comes from the royal stores she supposes she and Iago are a bit more entitled to it than everyone else, right?
The wine is sweet and fruity and goes down easily, which is good because she’s not a fan of wine in general. Iago makes a slight face at the taste of it— he’s not fond of sweets, as she’s learned about him since they started spending more time together— but he still drinks it.
“You can tell all of these idiots love the sound of their own voice,” Iago mutters as the two of them linger near the table of food, and no one seems to dare want to approach the two of them even though it’s obvious they’re all eager to bend their ears even more than they already have. “I thought they would never let us get out of their grasp.”
“Thank you,” Corrin says as she continues to hold onto Iago’s arm even though the two of them are out of the crowd and there’s no need to do that anymore, according to all of the rules and formalities she’s learned just for this event— and all of the other ones leading up to it, of course.
“You say that like I didn’t want to get out of there just as badly as you.”
“You’re good at this, though. Complain all you want—”
“And I certainly will.”
“—But everyone in this room respects you. As far as they’re concerned, I’m pretty much just window dressing.”
Corrin doesn’t feel any kind of animosity towards the people in this room because of that. She already knew what to expect from them because of her siblings and because of Iago himself. She doesn’t take their judgement as a measure of her self-worth.
If even Garon, notorious for being incredibly strict, hasn’t said a word about how well she is or isn’t doing? Then she must be doing just fine.
Iago doesn’t seem to share the same sentiment. (Not about her doing fine. She’s sure that even more so than her father, Iago would happily speak up if she was doing anything that was unbecoming of a princess. After all, he wouldn’t want to marry someone who would be an embarrassment for him, whether she’s his ticket into the royal family or not, right?)
“The respect of these people isn’t worth a damn,” Iago all but spits, and he’s not even trying to hide his disdain behind a carefully practiced fake smile anymore. Not that he needs to; the people in the room know he doesn’t like them, they’re just hoping that he dislikes them more than he dislikes everyone else in the room.
“This dog and pony show is just so I can see who even bothered to show up, anyway,” Iago drawls, his tone bored as he sips at his wine and looks over the room, quite possibly going through a mental checklist of some kind. “It’s always important to know who thinks paying their proper dues to the royal family is a waste of their time.”
Corrin knows better than to think that means they’re not going to have to go back out there sooner rather than later so that they can mingle some more and Iago can get an even better idea of what people think of the two of them, but she’s still glad for the momentary reprieve.
With a sigh, she finally lets go of Iago’s arm (albeit a bit reluctantly, and only so she can better turn her attention towards the snack table behind the two of them) and turns to look at the spread that’s been laid out, with servants every so often whisking trays in and out so they can walk through the crowd and offer some of the food to the guests who are mingling and haven’t made their way over to the table yet.
She thinks that Iago is going to ignore her in favour of the crowd, but much to her surprise, as soon as she lets go of him he turns his attention back towards her.
“I’m certain you’ve been eating much better here than you ever did in that damp, drab fortress,” he says as he admires the food laid out in front of them, even though she’s never seen him stop to actually enjoy a meal— the wine is one thing, she’s seen him enjoy plenty of that, but he always seems to treat food like a necessity and never indulge the way he does with her father’s wine cellar.
“Jakob and Flora did a good job with what we had,” she says, almost defensively, because she hates when Iago applies his usual insults towards the people who more or less kept her alive and sane in the confines of that place for so long. “Just because it was hard to get fresh ingredients all the way out there doesn’t mean the food didn’t taste good.”
It’s not easy to get fresh ingredients here either, but Krakenburg has the best selection of anywhere in Nohr, so she can hardly complain. It’s still worlds better than it was back at the Northern Fortress, just like Iago said— she just doesn’t want to give him an excuse to insult some of the most loved people in her life after her siblings, that’s all.
“And yet, I doubt you ever had something like this.”
Iago lifts something on a stick from one of the trays. It looks like seafood of some kind, a skewer with what looks like a shrimp and a vegetable of some kind. She wouldn’t be able to really identify it if her life depended on it, but when she reaches for one, Iago puts his hand out to stop her— and instead offers her the one that he’s holding, as though he’s picked it out especially for her.
Well, she can’t complain about that, right? She reaches to take it from his hand instead, but he stops that too— and instead holds it out towards her face.
It takes Corrin a second to realize what he wants her to do, and as soon as she does her face starts turning a bright red.
“Iago! I can’t—”
“Oh? Can’t you?”
Iago is the person who is probably the hardest to please in the entire castle, and his word is law when it comes to her father. In truth, if he wants her to do something, it’s probably better for her to do it even if it’s not exactly proper manners— and this is exactly the sort of thing Camilla would have her doing in private, and if she could get away with it in public she most definitely would. So it’s not like she has any personal issue with it beyond the fact that it’s definitely not what a proper princess is supposed to do, and she’s been trying her best to act like one.
But, if Iago wants her to…
With her cheeks flushing red, Corrin leans in just as Iago guides the skewer into her mouth. She worries that he’s going to poke her or put it a little too far in and end up gagging her, but he just feeds her as though this were a perfectly natural and normal thing to do, and when she ends up with a spot of sauce on her cheek he nabs a handkerchief from a passing server and dabs it away for her like a fussy mother.
“So?”
“It, uh… It’s good,” she says, not sure of what else to really say about it— because from the look on Iago’s face, she has a feeling a review of the food is not necessarily what he’s after in this case.
“Much better than whatever they could have fed you there, hm?” he reiterates, and then reaches for something else from a different tray. “Try this one next.”
He again feeds it to her by hand. Then he has her try another one, and another one— feeding her by hand each time. After a few little appetizers it even starts to feel weirdly natural for her to literally be eating out of his hand.
And she doesn’t even notice that most people have stopped looking in their direction and are very much trying to mind their own business until Iago finishes wiping her face and she looks at the crowd and doesn’t meet a single eye— in fact, someone who just happens to be looking over in their direction immediately looks away when he sees that she’s looking his way.
“Uh…?”
“There,” Iago says, sounding quite proud of himself as he cleans his fingers with another pilfered handkerchief. “Nothing to keep people’s attention away like a little uncomfortable public display of affection.”
“Is that why you were…?”
“Why else would I be?”
That’s a valid question, and honestly Corrin feels a little silly for not thinking of it sooner.
Oh well. She thought they might be having a moment there, but it’s not like she has any illusions that Iago actually has feelings for her. That would just be ridiculous.
She reaches for another one of those shrimp skewers, but she fares a little worse than Iago in actually getting everything off the skewer and ends up getting sauce all over her fingers— as she reaches for the handkerchief to use for herself, Iago intercepts her hand and raises it to his own mouth.
“Allow me,” he says, his voice almost a purr— right before he takes her fingers into his mouth, one at a time, and licks the sauce off.
If no one was looking at them before, everyone is really looking away now.
Corrin knows that she’s red from head to toe, and Iago just smirks triumphantly and kisses the back of her hand before letting it go.
“Well then,” he says. “Let’s go see if anyone is still feeling bold enough to chat with us, hm?”
Corrin doesn’t argue as Iago offers his arm to her, just goes along with him and lets him lead her into the crowd that is much more docile and much less eager to come up to them than it was before.
That’s definitely one way to deter unwanted conversation…