Chapter Text
It’s often said that days in Nohr were short, and the nights were endlessly long. Stepping out of the carriage, Corrin for once considered taking the truism literally.
By her calculation, she should have arrived in time for tea, a late afternoon repast in Hoshido. Yet the sky was tinged with a bleeding vermillion hue, and the sun had long ago descended below the valley, sinking further into the chasm that seemed to surround the kingdom capital. A slight curl tugged at her lips, but Corrin bit it back before feigning a tired smile.
A royal procession composed of tightlipped guards and servants bowed their heads low in greeting. They all filed before a well-dressed woman, whose lilac curls cascaded down the length of her ornately decorated bodice.
“Your royal highness,” the woman hailed Corrin.
The princess started back at the sound of her voice — clipped yet silken, and elegant in her elocution. By her mannerisms, this woman must be a lady of the Nohrian court. Corrin’s nose wrinkled. She had only just arrived in Nohr and already, her knowledge of their etiquette and customs would be put to the test.
Corrin wordlessly nodded back before lifting her hoop skirt by the trimmings. She carefully crossed one leg over her right ankle and bowed a proper Nohrian curtsy. Her eyes focused on the cobblestone path before her feet as she held the form for the five required seconds.
The woman smiled, suppressing a hint of a chuckle at Corrin’s performance. “What a darling,” she said in a long, droning tone, “I’m pleased to see you’ve studied our customs.” She in turn pinched the trimmings on her petticoat, lifting it slightly before dipping into a much lower bow than what Corrin had shown. Her ankles were crossed more narrowly as she curtsied with a dancer’s grace.
Corrin bit her lip and inwardly chided herself. So that was the correct way.
Even beneath such thick purple locks, the lady’s kind expression nevertheless shone through. Her eyes softened at the Hoshidan princess’s addled expression, immediately shifting the tone of their first meeting. She crossed her hands in front of her and approached. “Princess Corrin,” she began, “I am Camilla, First Princess of Nohr. Welcome to Castle Krakenburg.”
Ah! Corrin sighed, realizing now her mistake. She repeated the curtsey, this time taking care to bend her knee low enough to the ground. “That the First Princess of Nohr should greet me—”
“Now,” Camilla interrupted. She laid a hand on Corrin’s, beckoning her closer. “Enough with the pleasantries. You poor thing must be so tired!”
Corrin felt a yank as the Nohrian Princess drew her forward. The two traversed the castle’s bridge, with Camilla practically skipping to a trot while Corrin flailed behind.
“Ah— … wait! I— …” Corrin struggled to keep her balance. She was wearing the traditional clothing of Nohr after all: a tight fitting bodice with a long train for a skirt. She still had to watch her step lest she trips on the fabric.
“We’ve prepared the finest dishes for your arrival, but before dinner we must have you change. Your room is located in the tallest tower — perfect for a sunset view and…”
She could only listen helplessly as Camilla rambled on, spiriting her into the castle in a flurry of introductions and details that were too much for Corrin to remember. Yet what shocked her most was the strength of Camilla’s grip. Corrin had to break into a sprint just so the older woman wouldn’t dislocate her wrist!
The two women crossed through the portcullis, and Corrin could only watch in awe as the iron gates slowly descended with the rattle of chains. In front, a large and looming castle towered over them, a swirl of dark clouds closing in towards the central spire. Corrin flinched as they entered the abode, startled by the stone gargoyles that skulked like cats over the cornices.
“Xander, you must meet our soon-to-be stepmother,” Camilla called out as she dragged Corrin towards the center of the room. “She’s an absolute doll, if not a bit too young for father!”
Corrin barely fell into step when the two screeched to a halt before a much taller man, who stood vigilantly before yet another massive entryway.
“Camilla, don’t speak so casually of father,” the man chided. He had a surprisingly gentle voice, despite the sternness in his tone.
Unfortunately, Corrin had to take time to adjust the lacing on her bodice, which had come undone in the violence of Camilla’s unusual reception. Her hands fiddled with the fastenings as her eyes darted to and fro this new gentleman, whose imposing figure made the mishap all the more embarrassing. Camilla was already a head taller… Were all Nohrians like this? He must have been as tall — no, taller — than her older brother, Ryoma, whom she once considered in childish fancy as ‘the tallest man alive.’
“I’m sorry,” she quickly managed before straightening the rest of her dress and curtsying. “It is an honor to meet you—”
“The honor is all mine.”
He crossed an arm over his breastplate and stood attention — the telltale signs of a military man, if there ever was one. Even in such a casual setting, he donned an officer’s uniform and the familiar black circlet of royalty, which sat perched over a crown of golden curls that softened his otherwise firm countenance. His nose, though crooked, was long and regal, adorning the gaunt and broad line of his jaw. Corrin averted her gaze, bashful once she caught the surprisingly soft look of his dark red eyes.
“I am Xander, Crown Prince of Nohr,” he added, returning her bow. Though polite and observant of etiquette, he neither indulged nor offered a smile. His brows seemed perpetually furled, and his mouth was pulled taut to an unfeeling scowl. “I look forward to welcoming you into the family in the coming months.”
Corrin blinked back at him before turning her attention back to Camilla. The two royal siblings appeared older than her and, by all accounts, much more savvy to the ins and outs of the world. She had grown up sheltered in the safety of Castle Shirasagi all her life. What was her father thinking in offering her as a new bride for the aged King Garon?
“I thank you,” she sheepishly offered, “both of you.” The Hoshidan princess drew back and resorted back to her more timid habits as she bowed her head low. “I didn’t expect to meet my future family so soon.”
“And you can expect to meet more,” Xander replied. His arms straightened on his sides as he turned to Camilla, resuming the stern look as he muttered in a more irked tone, “See to it that Elise and Leo are ready. This meeting is important.”
“Oh my,” Camilla hemmed with feigned excitement, “I wonder what’s holding them up!”
“Regardless of the reason, it’s unacceptable. I will have Jakob show Princess Corrin to her private quarters instead, while you retrieve our siblings.”
Corrin was taken aback by how readily Xander had commanded his sister, who simply nodded her head and wordlessly obeyed. She flurried away, her silent steps barely making a rustle as the two were left to their devices.
“Forgive my sister,” Xander suddenly spoke.
Corrin’s eyes snapped up at him. Her nose wrinkled in confusion.
The stern prince looked askance. “She has a habit of speaking candidly, but she meant no offense. Everyone here is duty-bound to show you the respect and dignity belonging to a queen.”
A scarlet hue burned through Corrin’s cheeks. To hear him refer to her as a queen left an audible pinch in her throat. “Thank you,” she finally spoke, smiling now that the stuffy prince didn’t seem as unfeeling as he appeared. “I appreciate Princess Camilla’s candor and her warm welcome. Perhaps, I can never be her mother,” she paused to laugh, feeling silly in stating the obvious, “but I would be grateful to be her friend — and yours, Prince Xander.”
Perhaps her eyes deceived her, but Xander’s countenance seemed to have darkened with her familiarity. Her heart raced at the thought that she might have said something wrong.
“Until then,” he continued, “you must rest.” The Crown Prince gestured to an approaching servant, whose brocade vest and frilly garters seemed too luxurious for any mere butler. “This is Jakob,” he introduced the man. “He will show you to your quarters.”
“My lord,” Jakob deferred to the Prince. He then turned to Corrin and bowed deeper. “My lady.”
Satisfied, Xander nodded his head as he turned to leave. “Now, if you’ll excuse me...”
Corrin watched as the Crown Prince left. Her eyes stalked his steps, somewhat surprised at the briskness of his gait. They had only met, but already she felt like she was abandoned by the few friends she had made.
The butler Jakob waited patiently for her attention before he addressed her. “I have arranged for your belongings to be moved to your room, Princess Corrin,” he said. His smile was sincere, but it nevertheless seemed restrained, as if held back by the canny gleam in his eye. “We have several hours before we must dress you for dinner, so if you please…”
He twirled his hand forward, theatrically gesturing for her to follow him.
With a bite of her lip, Corrin nodded and followed the butler down the corridor. She kept her head low and her thoughts to herself. Corrin craned her neck over her shoulder, glancing at the direction where Xander and Camilla left.
She was in Nohr now — deep in enemy territory. She was promised as a new bride for the King: the steep price her family paid for peace. She had known of this for months now. For the sake of her family, she had resigned herself to her fate. Yet meeting her future “step-children” (the word alone made it her wince) did much to shake her resolve. Could she really play the wife of a much older man? Could she really fit into this family’s home?
The foreign princess let out a few drawn-out sighs, all of which seemed to have escaped Jakob’s notice. They proceeded up the tower with barely a word, what with Corrin entranced by the interior decor. Krakenberg’s walls were lined with intricate tapestry and paintings, detailing one draconic monarch from another. Their faces flitted past the surface of Corrin’s consciousness, who was lost in the depths of her worries and thoughts.
She had a month before the wedding day; a month to impress her fiance and convince him to honor her father’s treaty. Her heart squeezed in her chest at the mere thought of failure.
“She seems a bit young.”
Laslow hailed Xander with a cavalier wave. He leaned against the doorway, not bothering to greet his lord with proper etiquette.
“So you saw her,” the prince observed gruffly.
“Briefly,” he answered, “when she entered the palace.”
Xander clenched his jaw, not at all hiding his disapproval.
“At least she’s beautiful,” the retainer teased, wistfully leaning back against the wall as he recalled the princess’s likeness.
The scowl on Xander’s face deepened. He shot a stern look at his retainer, who immediately tensed upon seeing his lord glower.
“She is soon to be my step-mother and the Queen of Nohr,” he reminded Laslow, matter-of-fact in his tone. “Seducing her is treason.”
The word echoed hollow in the room, sending a chill down both men’s spines.
“Come on, Lord Xander!” Laslow laughed, playing off the tension in the air like it was all some kind of misunderstanding, “you know me better than that…” The retainer nervously cleared his throat. For his part, he couldn’t deny that the warning was, to put it bluntly, well-deserved. He sure had his fair share of flirtations, but he at least knew if he’d gone too far. Without further ado, Laslow gave a tacit nod to show he understood where, exactly, Xander had drawn the line, and quietly seated himself close to the Prince’s desk. Clearly, Laslow thought, the Hoshidan princess was a subject to be avoided.
Xander took a moment to recollect himself before diving into the pile of reports piled on his desk. He quickly tore open one that bore the royal seal, reading it in a hurry once he realized its import.
“Father says that he’ll be delayed,” he said aloud, breaking the awkward silence between them. “It seems they’ve come to an impasse with Cheve.”
Laslow sighed, stretching his arms as he sprawled all over his seat. “It would bode ill for things to go sour a month before his wedding,” Laslow mused. He kicked his boots back, playfully reclining as Xander persistently hovered over his desk and rummaged through more of the parchment. “Hoshido might see this as a sign of weakness and break the treaty.”
“They won’t,” Xander gruffly insisted. He straightened his cravat as he let a tired sigh roll through her shoulders. “While we have their princess, they won’t.”
To that, Laslow gave a wan smile. “Iago’s doing, you think?”
The very mention of the sorcerer’s name was enough to make Xander tense his already taut shoulders. Indeed, Iago proposed the idea of marrying one of the Hoshidan princesses to the King. Xander had been there at the summit, and he had vehemently opposed on the basis of principle.
“The arrangement clearly favors us,” was all Xander offered in the present.
Laslow raised an inquisitive brow. “Yet you seem displeased.”
The stack of papers slapped the surface of Xander’s desk with more force than either expected. His mouth twitched, as if fighting to speak words he dared not utter. “The poor girl,” the addled prince spoke under his breath, “she has no idea...” He paused to pinch the bridge of his nose, letting out an exasperated sigh.
Lalsow leaned forward from his seat. His hands webbed together, hovering between his knees. “My lord, if I may…”
“You may,” he brusquely replied.
“True, his majesty the King is a frightening man to be sure, and I would not blame any lady who would rather cast away their lives than spend a second alone in a room with him.” Xander shot him an impatient look. The furl of his brows deepened with a warning grimace to keep his voice down.
“But you and your siblings are quite another matter,” Laslow added, inflecting his tone more cheerily. “I have faith you will do your best to ensure the future Queen’s happiness, as you have done for your younger siblings.”
Xander bit his lip. Uncertainty seemed to keep him quiet.
“Don’t you agree?”
Xander abruptly sat up and snatched another scroll from his desk. “I have a lot of work to do, Laslow.”
The retainer stared back, puzzled by his suddenly reticent mood. The Crown Prince was given to surly whims, but something about the topic of the new princess made him pricklier than usual. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” he relented. The retainer crossed his legs as he prepared to doze off, content to nap through another tedious day with Prince Xander.