Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Papa! Look! They’re so PINK!” Kosuke screeches, twirling around a handful of the flowers he’d plucked from a small tuft of grass where stone had once been. The road they walk is old and broken—and missing cobblestones are commonplace.

“Yes, they are, Ko,” Sumeragi smiles down at his son. “But flowers are living things just like you and I. When you pick them, they die, and then no one else can see them bloom. So next time, just watch them from a distance,” he finishes with his authoritative yet loving voice.

Kosuke gasps dramatically, and his eyes well up with tears. “Oh no! I’m sorry flowers. I just wanted to show you to Papa! Please don’t be dead!”

Sumeragi sighs and kneels down next to his son, halting their stroll through the town and inadvertently catching his daughter’s attention as she’s roused from her nap on his shoulder. Kamui sleepily turns to Sumeragi and Kosuke—who is now cradling the flowers like being gentle might raise them back to life.

“Listen, my children,” Sumeragi starts quietly, “Death is permanent. Once something dies, it can never live again. Do you understand, Kosuke?”

Kosuke looks at his father with a wobbly frown and gently lays the flowers back on the ground. “They can’t be turned alive anymore,” he replies, sulking to the point that it’s hard to understand him.

Sumeragi suppresses a smile at his son’s words. “They live no longer. We should never try to take any more lives than we have to, so let’s all be more careful from now on.”

With a last sniffle and a nod, Kosuke drags an arm across his face to dry his tears and he takes his father’s hand. Sumeragi stands and readjusts his grip on Kamui so she can rest her head on his shoulder again—which she does, but not so she can sleep.

“Papa? Is that why you have to go to the meeting?” Kamui says quietly, looking up at her father with curious eyes.

“It’s called a Peace Summit, and yes. This way, we can lessen the tension between Hoshido and Nohr and hopefully avoid outright conflict. In truth, I was hoping to do something like this for years, but I never thought King Garon would agree to it. I am happy that I was mistaken. It is never easy to initiate diplomatic relations with another country, and I’m glad he was willing to try despite that in order to organize this,” Sumeragi replies. He knows his daughter is more observant than her twin, and he isn’t surprised by her question.

Kamui mulls over his answer. They pass a food cart selling slices of some kind of melon, and a sign that Sumeragi walks by too quickly for her to read. “Will there be kids to play with?” Sumeragi doesn’t miss the anxious twinge in her voice.

“There will be one—though in truth he’s almost a young man. The king of Nohr claims his eldest son and heir will be in attendance so he can observe proper etiquette at the Peace Summit,” He felt Kamui relax into his shoulder at his response. That was good. It wouldn’t do for his children to appear intimidated at such an event.

“Is he nice?!” Kosuke said, tugging on his father’s arm excitedly.

“I cannot say; I’ve met neither the king nor his heir.” Sumeragi replies. They were nearing the center of the village—which is where the Peace Summit would be held—and there were much less people around than he’d hoped for. Sumeragi stifles a sigh. It was to be expected, though it was still disappointing. Relations between Nohr and Hoshido wouldn’t change overnight; the townsfolk probably saw the Nohrian banner and fled. Sumeragi hoped more would come out once they realized he wasn’t walking into a fight—in fact, he wasn’t armed at all. It was to be a sign of welcoming and goodwill—as was bringing some of his children. He hopes Ryoma won’t be too long—the boy had wanted to wander about the town on his own before the summit began, and he was old enough now that Sumeragi had agreed, so long as he wasn’t late.

Kamui looks around them and frowns. Where was everyone? She supposed that she thought this meeting would be something of a festival—tense at first, maybe, but still a celebration of two countries coming together for diplomatic talks for the first time in…well, a REALLY long time. So shouldn’t there be more party guests? She was going to ask her Papa about it until he set her down—much to her displeasure—next to her brother, who immediately latches on to her closest arm and starts swinging it around, full of energy despite the long walk here. Kamui scowls up at him, yawning as she’s pulled around by her brother.

Her Papa smiles at her apologetically. “It’s traditional to walk in together,” he says by way of explanation.

Kamui’s expression further sours. “Can’t be traditional if you’ve never even done it before,” she pouts, stumbling over the word ‘traditional’. Her father just pats her head in lieu of a response and walks ahead of them, leading the way down the street.

“Come, you two, it’s just past this next corner…”

Chapter Text

Kamui woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for air that felt like it wouldn’t come fast enough. She wraps her arms around her still blanketed legs and buries her head into her knees, trying to stop the violent shaking that always accompanied the nightmares. She hears a set of footsteps coming towards her door—and then her door is opened and light from a candle held by a grandmotherly old servant named Betty floods the room.

“Oh Cyrille, nightmares again?” The old woman tutts with barely concealed annoyance, placing what was probably meant to be a calming hand over her shoulder—which she flinches away from as if she’d been stricken. In Kamui’s defense, if Betty was in a particularly bad mood, she usually would have been.

“You are MY children, now!”

Kamui felt tears well in her eyes. Why wouldn’t this stop? Why did she have to keep reliving that day?! Betty kept rubbing her back with her wrinkled, spindly hands—pressing into her back too hard for it to be of any comfort. She’s cooing at her as if Kamui’s a toddler throwing a tantrum. Kamui hates it. She hates Betty for not letting her leave. She hates the Tower because it was her prison. And though she could not bring herself to hate Kosuke, she hates that the Tower was not his, too.

A place cannot be your prison if you feel that you are free.

After a little while, anger completely replaces her fear, bitterness her sorrow, and hate her tears. The old woman takes her even breathing to mean she’s doing better, and she excuses herself. Kamui stares out the window, noting how it would still be much too early for her to be allowed to stay awake but knowing she would get no more rest. This would be yet another night that she would lay in bed until sunrise. Resigned to her fate, she stares at the cobbled ceiling, willing the memories of her family to comfort her until dawn. It’s as futile as it has always been.

All she ever saw were the arrows and the Grey Man.

When she sees the first signs of dawn creep across the horizon, Kamui pulls herself from bed to get dressed. The first few days in the Tower had been difficult in part because when she refused to get up, Betty and some of the other servants simply pulled her from bed and dressed her themselves. The lack of agency that made her feel was overwhelming, so every day after that she did it herself—though she refused to wear the dresses packed in her closet. She supposed they were some Nohrian style of formal wear, and she refused to wear anything too overtly Nohrian—at least as much as she could help it. Plus, she took a small amount of satisfaction that Betty seemed to like the dresses and would never see her wear one.

She wore a simple blue tunic that had long sleeves and a collar that required no strings—she could not lace them up by herself yet and she didn’t want Betty to catch her with improperly worn clothing—and light grey dress pants that were only visible below her knees due to the length of the tunic. Her hair—long and tangled despite the numerous times that she’d brushed it the night prior—was the most difficult part of her mornings. Betty had wanted to cut most of it off when she had first arrived at the Tower, but Kamui staunchly refused—and surprisingly, Betty did not push her on it. Or perhaps it wasn’t that surprising—some of the other servants with more seniority had warned Betty to lay off. Kamui had had long hair for as long as she could remember, and she was afraid that if she cut it too short, she’d eventually forget her family.

Once she finally finished brushing through her hair, she puts on a pair of socks and the garters to keep them from falling off. Then, she exits her room. She could not immediately see Betty, who must have gone back to sleep, so she made her way to Kosuke’s room next door.

Kamui was concerned for her brother. He had always been carefree and kind—and he still was—but he had given in far too easily to the new name they decided to call him and though she had no proof, there seemed to be something wrong with him. She didn’t bother knocking—she did not want to wake Gunter—Kosuke’s Betty—on accident. The man slept in the servants' quarters past the door in the sitting room—just as Betty did—but he was an extremely light sleeper for such an old man. Instead, she slips into his room and quietly shuts the door behind her, making her way over to his bed where he was (predictably) still asleep. It was next to impossible to wake her brother before he was ready to get up, but she had to try. This might be the only time for the foreseeable future that they could have a conversation without supervision, and she has to know what was going on with him. It had already been over a week and a half since That Day, and they hadn’t been left alone once during that entire time.

“Kosuke?” she says, shaking her brother’s shoulder with one hand. He grumbles in response and tries to turn over, but her hand on his shoulder doesn’t let him. “Kosuke, please wake up. I want to talk to you,” she tries again, voice barely above a whisper. To her surprise, red eyes blink blearily up at her.

“Oh, hi Cyrille,” he says through a yawn, rubbing his eyes with a small balled up fist—presumably to get the sleep out of them. Kamui feels her face sour upon hearing that name escape his lips. “What’s wrong?”

“Kosuke, that’s not my name. Why do you call me that? Why do you go by a name that isn’t your own?” Kamui asked, trying to keep the heat from her voice.

Kosuke looks at her in confusion. “I dunno what you mean, sister. My name’s Corrin and yours’s Cyrille. How come you’re messin’ with me?” Kamui feels herself grow cold at his words. He seemed to be sincere—but how could that be true?

“Do you—do you not remember Papa?” she asks hoarsely. Kosuke looks at her with concern, sitting up with a frown.

“Well, we don’t see him too much but ‘course I do. He’s King Garon at castle Krakenburg. Are you all right, Cyrille? Did you hit your head? Should I go get Gunter?” Worry makes his words come faster as he continues. Kamui feels rage and despair intermingle and her eyes well up with tears for the second time that morning.

“That’s not my name! How could you forget?! HOW COULD YOU?!” She shouts, wailing. Kosuke’s eyes widen and he starts saying something, but when he reaches out to her she turns tail and flees his room, slamming his door. Gunter is already coming through the hallway door that led to their rooms and rushes towards her in alarm—but she ignores him and heads to her own room, letting herself sink against the door after she slams it shut.

It was true. He really doesn’t remember their Papa or his name or anything. How could that have happened? Did he do it on purpose? Did he not like their family enough to remember them? Did he remember their brothers and sisters? Mama?

Was he even still her brother if he had forgotten who she was?

There’s a knock on her door soon after, but Kamui ignores it, continuing to sob into her hands, back to the door. Eventually, she hears a muffled sigh from the other side and receding footsteps, and she’s left alone with her thoughts.

She’s not sure how much time passes before she hears another knock at her door—only that she’d fallen asleep on the floor and that it had roused her—this one closer to her ear and a higher pitch.

“Cyrille? C-can I come in?” Her brother’s meek voice sounded from the other side. Kamui didn’t answer. That wasn’t her name. None of this was right. None of it was fair. She hears a sniffle on the other side of the door and feels a small pang of guilt. “Please? Please? I didn’t mean to make you cry,” she hears his voice grow higher in pitch as it wobbles, and the guilt grows larger. Against her better judgement, she stands up and opens the door, and her brother immediately slips through the opening before she shuts it again.

He wastes no time in pulling her into an embrace, and though it makes her tense up—all contact had, since That Day—she doesn’t push him away. He sobs loudly into her shoulder, and she suddenly feels horrible for making him feel this way—and anger at her own guilt.

“I’m sorry, sister. I don’t know what I did to make you sad but I’m sorry and I didn’t mean to. Please don’t be mad at me! I’m sorry,” he cries, sniffling. She can feel his tears soak into her tunic.

“Ko…Corrin,” she corrects herself with immense displeasure. He lifts his head up and looks at her, red eyes puffy but full of hope. “Do you want me to call you that?” He frowns at her and sniffles, considering.

“Is that what made you sad?” he asks, voice cracking as his head tilts lightly, a tear dripping silently off his chin. She resists the urge to snap at him. It’s not his fault. Something happened to him to make him forget, but he’s trying and he’s her brother and it’s not his fault.

“No,” she lies.

He sniffles again. “Then yeah. It’s my name and Gunter thinks it’s cool,” He smiles, unsure but clearly happier, before continuing. “What do you want to be called?” The question takes her off guard, and she blinks. He giggles at her expression. “If you’re gonna call me by my cool name then you get to have your cool name. Then we can be cool together!” he says, happily.

It’s not perfect. He still doesn’t understand. But he’s trying, and it’s a compromise that she thinks she can accept—at least until he goes back to normal. “I like Kamui. Cyrille is dumb,” she says, forcing a smile. He grins back at her, and the weight in her chest eases up a bit.

“All right! Then you can be Kamui and I’ll be Corrin and we’ll be the greatest and most amazing twins with the coolest names ever in the whole WORLD!” he says dramatically, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he gestures broadly with his arms.

It really isn’t fair, but this was a start. “Yeah,” she lies again, fake smile becoming just a bit more genuine. “I’m sure we will.”

Chapter Text

A few more days pass and the routine stays the same: she wakes up, dresses herself, the kitchen staff serves her breakfast, and then she and Corrin find something to occupy themselves with in the sitting room until lunch, after which Betty tries to engage them in schoolwork. Kamui always ignores her during that time, but she seems too distracted with helping Corrin to care. She’d always excelled at reading and arithmetic, and the content Betty tried to teach them she had learned long ago on her own or with help from her older siblings. Once her mother had realized how intelligent she was, Kamui had received private lessons from a kindly man who wore spectacles and talked at length about strategy and tactics. Try as she might, she could not remember his name.

She supposed it no longer mattered.

After dinner, she would wash up, and then they were sent to bed. Back home, they had shared a room, and she always had taken comfort in Corrin’s proximity: his futon was on the opposite side of the room, so all she had to do to know he was safe was look to the right. Now, if something happened to him, Kamui wondered if she would even know before it was too late to help him. Perhaps all she would find is a corpse—like that of Papa’s.

This morning, Kamui felt on edge, because for the first time in the half a month they had been in the Tower, the routine changed. After breakfast, Betty smiled at them and asked if they were ready for a surprise—which made Corrin extremely giddy but did nothing to lighten Kamui’s mood—the last time she’d been surprised, well…

Betty stood up and left the sitting room, and for the second time that Kamui could recall, the twins were left alone together.

“What do you think the surprise is?!” Corrin asks, looking at her with his signature optimistic expression. Kamui’s frown deepens as she shakes her head. Something was wrong. She couldn’t shake the pit that had dug itself into her stomach—a nauseating mix of dread and guilt. After a while, Gunter opened the door to the sitting room and nodded at the two of them, who were seated next to each other on one of the plush couches in the room. Then, he opened the door completely, holding it open for someone behind him—and when Kamui saw them, she paled.

“Prince Corrin, Princess Cyrille, this is your eldest brother Crown Prince Xander,” Gunter announces, quietly shutting the door behind the young man. That’s what Papa had called him—a child who was almost a young man. A…a brother?

“Kamui? Kamui? Hello-o?” Corrin was waving his hand in front of her face, trying to get her attention. She didn’t acknowledge it—she just kept staring at the person in front of them, who seemed like he was going to say something until he caught her expression. Her chest was starting to burn.

I can’t breathe. Why is he here?

The young man clears his throat and she flinches backwards, hitting her head on the back of the couch with a loud thunk in the process. The boy’s expression morphs into one of concern, and he takes a step forward—but that is all it takes to set her into motion. She hastily pushes herself off the couch and moves to stand in front of Corrin, holding an arm out in front of him—despite his objections—to keep him behind her. She notices with more than a little irritation that she’s shaking, but at least she manages to suck in some air.

The concern changes rapidly to confusion, then to understanding, and finally settles on pity. He stops in place and kneels where he stands across the thick rug she’s standing guard on. His position causes Gunter to tense at his position by the door, but he says nothing to stop the boy.

“Gunter?” the Heir calls out softly.

“Yes, Prince Xander?”

“Could you leave us alone for the duration of this visit? There are things that I would speak with them about,” the Heir continues, his eyes never straying from the twins.

“I shall be at the base of the Tower, my Lord,” Gunter replies, but before he shuts the door behind him, he says in a quieter voice: “be careful, my Lord. The girl likes to run.” And though that wasn’t a lie, it stung. She likes Gunter.

The Heir doesn’t acknowledge that he’d even heard him. After a few moments, when Gunter’s echoing footsteps completely fade, he begins to speak. “Little princess, I mean you no harm. My name is Xander, and I wanted to speak with you two without overwhelming you,” he stops, then after consideration, adds “our other siblings wanted to see you as well, but I thought it best for this to happen slowly.”

Oh, she knew who he was. She recognized the Grey Man’s son from That Day. The child Corrin had been oh so excited to play with—the one her Papa had been sure would act politely as the heir of Nohr. Kamui doesn’t reply. Her glare sharpens into something like hate—but it fades some when her brother rests his chin on her shoulder, sitting on his knees on the couch to peek over at the Heir.

“Hi! I’m Corrin and that’s Kamui! You’re our brother? We have other siblings?” Corrin rushes out. Kamui’s more focused on what Corrin doesn’t ask: if this boy was their brother, why hadn’t they met him before now?

But then, she knew the answer to that. For what must have been the millionth time this week, she asks herself how her brother could forget everything they’ve ever loved.

The Heir blinks, the response apparently not what he had expected, and smiles gently. “Yes. There’s three others, little prince, though the youngest isn’t able to travel much just yet,” the Heir says, relaxing just a bit at the warmth in Corrin’s expression.

“Wow! We have FOUR siblings! Did you hear that? And look, he even has armor! I bet he can fight, too! I wanna do that! Do you think the other ones do too?” Corrin prattles on.

Yes, that’s what I’m worried about.

Kamui’s harsh expression melts further at the unrestrained glee in Corrin’s eyes. They already have siblings—and they weren’t these Nohrian kidnappers who violated a Peace Summit. She reminds herself that she could tell him at any point—he would listen to her—he had to. But how could she? She wasn’t going to be able to escape anytime soon—she’s already looked for openings and come up empty (or scolded). How could she ruin his happiness? But how could she let them steal him away?

Is it wrong not to tell someone something that would only serve to make them miserable?

Kamui takes a deep breath and looks away from the Heir. Perhaps it was unfair to blame this boy for That Day, but he didn’t need to act like they would ever be anything but the prisoners they are. There was nothing forcing him to interact with them—which meant he wanted something. But what could it be?

What did they even have left to take?

Kamui feels a rush of despair and dug the fingernails of her hand still at her side into her palm.

“Um…Kamui?” Corrin taps her arm, so she turns around to look at him. “Xander asked what we wanna do, but you looked like you weren’t listening so I told you what he said. So, uh. Whatcha wanna do-o?" He says, stretching out the question.

What? Kamui frowns and looks back over at the Heir skeptically. He appears to be trying to keep his face blank, but she was no fool, nor was she as trusting as her brother. Perhaps he was just trying to assess their worth? But if that were true, he’d likely have picked the activity. Just what game was he playing, and how could she shield Corrin from it?

“What do you want?” She tries to make her question come out as a demand, but the tremble in her voice makes her sound as scared as she feels, and the resulting sympathy on the Heir’s face shows he knows it.

“Just to get to know you both,” he says placatingly. Soothingly. Like she was some crying infant and not in the presence of the family who had ripped them from their home and killed their father.

Kamui’s eyes narrow at him distrustfully. She doesn’t believe that could possibly be all that he wanted from them. Corrin shifts from behind her and he wiggles his way off of the couch to stand at her side. He looks at her curiously from behind his short, off—white bangs and hums. “You didn’t answer. What’s wrong?” He sounds so innocent. It hurts her to hear his question. What wasn’t wrong with this scenario? How could Corrin not remember?

Kamui has had enough. “Corrin, I don’t want to do anything with him,” she says to her brother, who frowns in response.

“Um, but he’s our big brother. We should do something fun while he’s here!” He says joyously, but his smile is forced. Irrationally angry at her twin for not understanding, yet at the same time wanting to spare his feelings, Kamui starts to her room. She’s stopped by his hand gripping the back of her sleeve and she has to resist the urge to yank it away. “Hey, wait! Don’t go, it…it’ll be OK. I’ll be here too,” he pleads with her. She’s having trouble hiding her irritation—and the set of eyes observing their exchange in silence from across the rug does nothing to lighten her mood.

“…I didn’t sleep well last night,” she grits out, which—while true (because she never slept well here) was not why she wanted to avoid the Heir.

Corrin finally lets go of her sleeve at that, but she can hear the disappointment in his voice. “Oh. Ok. Well, have a good nap? I’ll tell you all about big brother later then,” and his previous cheer is gone and for a split second she feels terrible for it—but she can’t be around the Grey Man’s son any longer. She forces herself down the hall and into her room without looking back, taking great care not to slam the door.

That’s as far as she makes it before the impact of it all hits her full force. She clutches at her chest and throws herself face first onto her bed, trying and failing to even out her breathing. The panic makes her chest ache and tears spill from her eyes, and she has to bite her lip so she doesn’t whimper. She doesn’t want to let the Heir hear her cry. Never show weakness to your enemy.

She is so exhausted by the end of her panic attack that she didn’t notice the scabbed, bloody indents left in her palms from her nails until Betty wakes her for dinner hours later and cries out in alarm, and to her relief, the Heir had left by then.

Corrin was wrong. It isn’t going to be OK. It would never be OK again.

Chapter Text

“…hey. Hey!” Corrin is trying to get her attention, speaking softly and shaking her shoulder. Kamui grimaces, opening her eyes. She had finally, finally gotten herself close to sleep after spending half the night tossing and turning. Now she was going to have to start all over again. It had been a few days since the Heir had visited, and she still felt on edge

She hums at him in question (and annoyance), but he’s obviously distracted by something because he doesn’t immediately apologize for it like he used to—he’d always apologize and then drag her off to see something ‘cool’ like a weird bug or a dog or the sunrise. It was as endearing as it was annoying. Today, though, he looks like he can barely contain his excitement. Kamui just hopes Gunter stays asleep and Betty doesn’t check in on her.

“Come on, come on, come on!” he says in a giddy whisper that makes her snort in amusement. She gets up and follows Corrin, and they both quietly head out of her room and into his, where his window is wide open. For a split second, she thinks he’s going to jump out of it and she’s prepared to physically stop him—that was a quick way to shake off any remaining sleep she had—but he stops short of the window and looks back at her. Kamui sees a lit candle in a candleholder resting on the stone windowsill.

“Look!” he says, pointing outside at…some shadow? Kamui frowns. There doesn’t seem to be anything out there that warranted his behavior. “No, look!” he repeats more fervently than before. Kamui squints, looking for any sign of movement in the darkness before she spots it. In the distance, a lone figure sits with a candle or some other small flame and Kamui can just make out a face.

“That’s my new friend!” Corrin says happily, picking up the candle and holding it below his hand. Kamui guesses it’s so the silhouette can see him wave. She’s not sure if that actually works until the figure does it back. Corrin bounces in place. “See?! We have a friend now!”

Kamui offers him a half—smile. It was really far more likely that they were an assassin or spy, but they’d have to be a pretty bad one to be intentionally seen like this. She supposed stupid people existed in all occupations, though. If the figure hasn’t killed Corrin yet, they probably weren’t going to. Perhaps they wanted to kidnap him?

Wouldn’t that be something?

Corrin holds the candle out and nods at her, and she waves to humor him. Whoever was out there must have pretty good vision if they’re able to tell what the two of them are doing from so far away.

“Corrin, it’s ok to talk to them like this, but don’t do anything reckless,” she warns.

He hums. “What if you come with?”

She looks at him tiredly. “How do you know they’re trustworthy?”

“Look at how friendly they are!” Kamui sighs. Corrin apparently takes that as some form of approval because he grins.

“I’ll make sure you come with when I meet them!” he says excitedly—then turns back to her quickly. “Don’t tell Xander, ok? I don’t know if he’d like them.” Kamui shrugs in response.

Don’t have to tell me twice.

It might be good for Corrin to have a friend—even a weird one that played with candles in the middle of the night. Plus, if this was a prank or something, they probably wouldn’t return. Kamui couldn’t see the harm in keeping this a secret (though it’s not as if she would have told the Heir, anyways). As long as Corrin didn’t actually try to meet with the stranger, it was fine.

Probably.

“Hey Kamui?”

She hums.

“Do you think we’ll ever get to play outside like they do?” he says, pointing to the figure.

Kamui bites her lip. She wanted to tell him the truth—that they were probably never going to be allowed outside on their own—at least, not for the foreseeable future. But he looks so full of hope that she can’t do it.

Maybe one day, all of these lies she tells him—all of these secrets she keeps—will come back to haunt her, but if she could help keep him happy…
“Yeah, I think so. What are you going to do when we can?” she asks. Corrin’s eyes light up with glee as he begins.

“I want to climb trees! BIG trees—ones even taller than the whole fortress. And also we can go exploring—I wanna see caves and swamps and an ocean—oh, and we should play hide and seek outside because there’s like a billion hiding places so I bet you couldn’t ever even find me—and…,”

Kamui listens in silence as Corrin continues describing things that will never happen. What he doesn’t know is that the two of them used to do all of these things together—sometimes with Ryoma and Hinoka and sometimes Takumi, too—though it wasn’t as grandiose as he was describing.

Hinoka used to offer them a boost to get into the tallest tree by the lake behind Castle Shirasagi since there were no branches low enough to the ground that they could use to get up into it on their own. Then the three of them would race to the top—Hinoka would always win and Kamui always made sure that Kosuke came in second even if she would have beaten him sometimes. Then Takumi would come out and get jealous that they were playing without him and he’d run inside to get Ryoma, who would let Takumi ride on his back as he climbed up. The best nights she could remember were when the five of them were all up there, chatting until they watched the sunset together. She remembers it was always so beautiful as it reflected off the surface of the lake.

Hoshidan sunsets and sunrises were a beauty unlike any she’d seen in Nohr—not that she'd seen much of Nohr outside the Tower.

Then, when they’d finally climb down and go inside, Kosuke and her would sneak into Ikona’s room to see Sakura. Kamui did not actually remember much about Ikona—she was Papa’s wife before Papa married Mama—and she had died in childbirth when Kamui was still a toddler. She only remembers that the woman did not like her or Kosuke.

Sakura was too young for them to play with then—even now, she was only a bit over two years of age—and Kosuke was so hyperactive that they didn’t get to see her that much. Kamui liked the baby, though—she was the quietest one of her siblings, and when she got overwhelmed, she enjoyed the few peaceful evenings they spent together. Sakura’s caretaker wouldn’t ever let the visits last very long—babies had to sleep a lot—but that didn’t bother Kamui much.

She was never sure why Sakura didn’t stay with her own mother: Mama loved all of Ikona’s children as her own, even if Hinoka didn’t really want her to, sometimes. Whenever Kamui asked about it, though, it made Mama sad. The best answer she had ever gotten was that Ikona didn’t want Sakura to think Mama was her real mother. Kamui didn’t understand it—Sakura had gotten her very name from Mama and Papa—but she couldn’t get Mama to say anything more than that.

“So, what would you do?” Corrin asks, looking at Kamui expectantly. Kamui blinks. She’d been so lost in thought that she’d forgotten what they were doing. Still, she knew what she would do.

“I would climb the tallest tree I could find and watch the sunset,” she answers quietly. Corrin nods in understanding.

“I can’t wait to try that! It sounds pretty!” he says, turning back to his ‘friend’. Kamui’s smile becomes forced.

Oh Corrin, you already have.

Chapter Text

It’s another week before the schedule changes again, and this time Betty doesn’t even warn them about it beforehand—Kamui thinks she must have figured out what had happened the last time and decided against anymore ‘surprises’.

Kamui and Corrin had been sitting side-by-side on the floor in front of one of the couches with their legs under the expensive wooden coffee table and were working on what Corrin had dubbed ‘their masterpiece’ all morning. Sharing a pot of ink and a giant piece of parchment, they were trying to copy the landscape in an illustrated encyclopedia that Kamui had found in the library in top of one of the shelves—one of the shelves that Gunter had looked both irritated and mildly impressed that she had managed to get herself on top of.

The second bath that night had not been particularly pleasant, and evidently the dust had been so thick and old that it had ‘ruined’ her clothes (she still wasn’t sure why they couldn’t keep them—it’s not like stains made them unwearable), but the outcome had been worth it. The book was thus far a much more interesting read than the books that Betty had been forcing her to browse, even if it was a bit challenging at times—but the pictures were Corrin’s favorite part—and for good reason. The artist had obviously taken a horrifically long time to make them appear as accurate to reality as possible. The place they were copying on their paper was called “The Bottomless Canyon” and it was painted as close to the cliff as the painter dared get, showing the massive black of the pit below and an alarmingly worn bridge that spanned across its two halves.

Corrin had originally wanted to tear the page out and have it framed as a decoration for his room, but Kamui did not want him to ruin the book, so they compromised on making a copy of it themselves. Unfortunately, they had no paint, but they did have black ink pots and quills and Gunter was able to find them this giant sheet of parchment with the help of his new assistant, so they were doing their best with what they had.

She has to admit that neither of them are very good at it, and she mostly sticks to drawing the details on things Corrin already drew: the ridges on the cliffsides, the separations between the planks of the bridge, patches of grass that grew intermittently near the canyon’s edges. That meant that they constantly have to switch places or that one of them has to work their way around the table (and not under it, as Betty had scolded once when she saw Kamui’s head pop out on the other side).

They must have been around halfway done with it when the Heir opens the door to the sitting room. Betty’s lack of a reaction made it clear she had simply decided not to share the visit with them, and Kamui is reminded yet again why she does not like Betty. Corrin puts his quill to the side once he sees the Heir, a large, toothy grin on his face at his arrival—only to pause as someone walks in behind him.

Kamui tries her best to ignore the intrusion—maybe if she made it clear she didn’t want him there, he would go away—and so only watches them out of the corner of her eye, but she feels her shoulders tense when she spots the girl following behind him. She has long, wavy purple hair that came down far past her shoulders and a black and purple high collared dress with long sleeves—it was similar in design to some of the ones in Kamui’s closet, where—if she could help it—they would stay forever, collecting dust.

She still doesn’t look directly at the two of them, so those are the only details she picks out about the girl except that she is a full head shorter than the Heir and yet still far taller than either of the twins. She isn’t sure how old the girl is—Kamui’s figured out that the Nohrians tend to be taller at younger ages than Hoshidans had been, and so far whenever she has tried to guess anyone’s age she’d been off.

Noticing Corrin had left his quill on the table, where it drips ink on the wood, Kamui grabs the damp rag that Gunter had given them to wash the quill off and gently pats the tip of it clean, then does the same with her own before she replaces the lid on the ink pot. Satisfied at least that they won’t spill ink everywhere now (which Betty would likely never let her live down), she folds the rag once and uses it to clear the still wet ink from where Corrin’s quill had been sitting. The Heir, the girl, and Kamui’s brother were having some sort of conversation, but she deliberately refused to listen to it. She replaces the writing supplies in the basket Gunter had brought them out in and stands, hoping to make a quiet exit while Corrin still has their attention.

She should have known that it wouldn’t be that easy. Corrin sees her walking to her room and calls out to her. “Hey! Wait up, Kamui, you should come talk with us,” Kamui suppresses a sigh and tries to think of some excuse that her brother might buy—she didn’t care if the Nohrians knew it was a lie, but she’d rather spare his feelings—except her train of thought is cut off by Betty, who stalks towards her angrily.

“Now, child, I heard about how you treated the Crown Prince last time he came to visit and I just won’t have it!” the old woman said, coming from where she’d been knitting across the room to grab her by the shoulder and turn her around. “And you, Corrin. I’m not sure what’s been going on with you, but you need to call her by her name—“

“Her name’s Kamui,” Corrin spat. Kamui’s head shoots up in alarm at his defiant tone. She had never heard him sound like this before—so angry and disobedient. He looks at Betty with a fierce expression.

Uh oh. This could get bad.

The woman doesn’t often put her hands on her, but she has a temper—one that Kamui doesn’t want to test too much because she’s afraid of what might happen should the woman snap as she occasionally did. At one point, Kamui had refused to come out of her room because she hadn’t slept at all the night before, and Betty had gotten so angry that she’d been dragged out of the bed, head smacking the ground with a resounding thud and forcibly dressed for the day. She had a headache from it that had lasted for days after, but she never refused to come out again.

Betty gets red in the face and Kamui swallows, face paling. She doesn’t want her brother to get in any kind of trouble—not over this, not over her—so she opens her mouth to say something—but is cut off by a new voice that is soft, feminine, and unassuming .

“Is there a problem, miss?” the voice cuts in sweetly, and Kamui feels sick when she sees the speaker is none other than the girl. She doesn’t want Betty and the girl to have this conversation—doesn’t want to explain why she didn’t go by the stupid new name the Nohrians chose for her—doesn’t even know if she can talk about That Day without breaking down. She also doesn’t think Betty will care.

“Oh, my lady, it’s nothing to worry yourself over, this one’s just a handful at times and gets these strange ideas of hers into her brother’s head,” Betty says placatingly, gripping Kamui’s shoulder harder and shaking it just a bit when she mentions her.

“Oh? Because it sounds like my darling sister here wishes to be treated differently and that the person hired by our family to make sure she is comfortable here is scaring her half to death and threatening my younger brother,” the girl says, her voice that same, carefree tone as when she started. Kamui blinks, then turns towards the girl in astonishment.

Betty sputters, the hand on her shoulder clenching even more—and Kamui bites her lip to keep from yelping. The girl seems to have taken notice and within a few strides has planted herself in front of Betty, the kind smile still on her face. It doesn’t touch the girl’s eyes. “With respect, my Lady, the girl needs to learn some manners. She behaves as if she was raised in a barn,” the old woman says derisively, adding in a quieter voice. “And knowing where she came fr—,”

“That’s quite enough,” The Heir cuts in sternly, still standing by the door where he’s been since he came in.

The girl cocks her head with a small frown, as if she’s just remembered something. “Did you forget that that girl is technically your employer?” she asks casually, but Kamui doesn’t miss the dangerous lilt to her voice. Judging by the way Betty had released her grip on her shoulder as if it had suddenly caught fire, so did she.

“You may go,” the girl said, the look on her face fading into one of bored neutrality—so different looking than the Heir’s expression, yet still somehow just as authoritative.

“I-I beg your pardon?” Betty asks incredulously, adding a quick ‘my lady’ after the girl’s head cocks ever so slightly. In response, the girl turns to look back at the Heir, who meets her gaze evenly.
“Gunter can handle the twins on his own until a suitable replacement can be found, don’t you think, Xander?” the girl asks lightly.

“I-I—,” Betty starts, but the girl cuts her off again.

“There’s a world of difference between the words ‘may’ and ‘will’, don’t you think? So, for now, I’m saying you may go,” The girl starts without turning back from Xander. That was apparently all Betty needed to hear. She walks towards the other end of the sitting room—towards the doors that lead to the servants’ quarters—and disappears behind it.

Kamui looks to Corrin with a frown, and he meets her gaze, cocks his head, and then turns to face the girl.

“Um…so I can’t remember what I was gonna say…oh yeah! My name is Corrin, and she’s Kamui, but you can’t talk to her too much or else she’ll get tired, I think? Anyways, she doesn’t talk much, but she’ll stay out today?” He sounds so hopeful it makes Kamui feel guilty all over again—which she finds irritating, since none of it’s her fault—but before she can find the words to respond, the girl starts talking again, and unlike with the Heir, she can’t find it in her to ignore her.

“That’s all right. You do whatever makes you comfortable,” The girl says with a smile. Kamui’s face scrunches up in wary confusion. The girl smile widens, and there’s no trace of the danger from before anywhere in her expression. “My name is Camilla. I’m your older sister,” she says softly.

And maybe, maybe, Kamui doesn’t hate this one just yet—though she is in no way her sister.

She isn’t quite sure how to reply to that, however, so she stays silent. A few seconds later, she notices Corrin has made his way over to stand next to her and is suppressing a grin—probably because Kamui still hasn’t retreated to her room.

“So uhh…why’d you guys come visit—wait no that sounded rude, lemme retry—what brings you here this fine…uh…afternoon?” Corrin had turned around and glanced out of one of the sitting room windows as he finished speaking, presumably checking the time of day. Kamui raises an eyebrow at him for the way he words his question—that was from one of the literature passages that Betty had him read a few days ago.

“I just wanted to meet my sweet little siblings,” Camilla replies, bending down so she’s more on his level.

A flicker of disappointment flashes across his face, gone as quickly as it came. “Oh. That’s all?” he asks with confusion.

Camilla smiles and chuckles at him, and to Kamui’s alarm, she reaches out and pats his head, smoothing his hair. Corrin makes a questioning noise at the contact but doesn’t react any more than that. “You’re just so cute!” The girl says with obvious delight. Corrin glances at Kamui in triumph—as if to say, ‘she thinks I’m cute’. Kamui snorts at him quietly.

Corrin hums thoughtfully, then turns towards Kamui so quickly that she startles—which makes him grin. “Come on we should finish our masterpiece!” He says, making his way back to sit at the coffee table. Once he’s settled, he looks back at her expectantly. Kamui hesitates. She feels like she owes this ‘Camilla’ for getting rid of Betty, and though she had offered Kamui the choice, it was clear she would prefer her to remain out with them, but Kamui did not want to be close to the Heir. She bites her lip and then decides that if she has to spend time near them, this was at least a situation where she wouldn’t be expected to interact with them much. She can at least try, for Corrin.

Ignoring the pleased looks on the faces of the girl and the Heir, she makes her way back over to sit next to Corrin, who grins cheerily as she plops down next to him. Corrin’s already digging in the little basket for the quill and ink when the two older children make their way to a couch facing them around the coffee table. Kamui pretends she’s not watching them, doing her best to pay attention to what Corrin’s saying.

It doesn’t take Camilla long to try and engage them in conversation. “So, what are you two drawing?” Kamui can’t blame her for asking—the picture they’ve drawn looks almost nothing like the Bottomless Canyon in the book, which is propped up on table using another book to hold it up so they can see it better.

“It’s that place,” Corrin says, leaning forward and gesturing to the illustration in the book with the quill, which leaks a drop of ink on the table. He goes right back to outlining the skyline, so Kamui’s pretty sure he hasn’t noticed it. She grabs the rag from the basket and wipes up the ink, careful not to get any of it on her hands as it tends to stain, which would make Betty unhappy—

And then she remembers that that will no longer be an issue. She wonders how that will work. Kamui rests one of her elbows on the table, slouching over it as she holds her chin in one hand, watching as Corrin works. It really is a hideous drawing.

“I see. It looks nice so far,” Camilla says. Kamui frowns but says nothing. Kamui noticed that older people (besides Betty, but Betty was mean) tended to lie to them about certain things—how well drawings or crafts were made or how well they cleaned up a room or dressed themselves. She isn’t sure why; maybe they think the two of them are too dense to figure it out, or maybe they think they have poor judgement. Maybe it is just a thing people do to try and make her like them. Knowing their current situation, she supposes that seems like a reasonable conclusion.

Corrin laughs at the reply. “No it’s not, it’s ugly!” He says to Camilla, grinning up at her. Kamui keeps her eyes on the quill in his hands, so she doesn’t notice her expression, but she assumes it changed based on what she says next.

“No, it’s clear you’ve worked so hard on it, why would you say it’s ugly?” the purple haired girl says sadly. Kamui’s frown deepens at the way she emphasized her words; it seems patronizing.

At that, Corrin cocks his head, still looking up at the two on the couch. “Um, but it doesn’t look right? It doesn’t really matter though,” he says, turning his attention back to the parchment and pointing at a cloud he just finished. Kamui understands and, getting a quill of her own, she sits up a bit and starts adding the details to it.

“And why is that?” the girl asks curiously. Kamui feels the girl’s gaze flicker to her, but it doesn’t stay on her for very long, a fact that she’s grateful for.

“Well, cuz it’s so BIG and cuz we made it together, so it’s like a really cool kind of ugly!” He says happily. Kamui feels her lips upturn at that. She hopes he will stay like this forever, carefree and kind.

“Oh, that’s so cute!” the girl exclaims, suddenly reaching over the table. Kamui, not expecting it, flinches hard, inadvertently drawing a jagged , misshapen line down from the cloud in the process. Camilla pauses at that, then continues forward and ruffles Corrin’s hair.

Corrin glances at the mistake just once before speaking up. “Look, now it’s lightning out, too,” he says to her. She can tell by the slight change in his expression that he noticed what happened but didn’t react—probably out of kindness. He had always been more perceptive than people gave him credit for. She let the smile fall from her face.

When people reached out in her direction now, it reminded her…

“You are MY children now,”

Kamui bites the inside of her mouth hard to ground herself. It helps a bit, and she continues working on the ‘lightning’ like nothing had happened. It’s what Corrin would want her to do. For a while longer, they work in silence. It’s not exactly comfortable, but with something to focus on and with her twin so close by, she can’t say she hates it, either.

When Corrin can no longer write without smearing the ink with his sleeves, he grabs the rag and pats the quill dry, reaching out silently to collect Kamui’s as well. This time, he cleans the quills and ink and replaces them in Gunter’s basket, and once he’s done he turns to look at Kamui.

“What now? I don’t think we can finish it today since it’s so inky,” he says, gesturing to the entire parchment with his hands. Kamui lifts her arm up and points to the back of her wrist through her sleeve, then nods at him. After a moment of confusion, he notices the deep black ink stains on each of his arms. He gasps upon seeing them. “Do you think this is gonna come out when it gets washed?” he asks sadly. Kamui shakes her head with a pitying frown.

Corrin huffs out a sigh, then stands up. “I gotta go change my tunic,” he announces to the two on the couch, then rounds on Kamui, pointing at her accusingly. “Don’t go anywhere, ok? I’m gonna be right back!” and then before she can respond, he bolts towards his room, tripping over the coffee table leg on the way there, which has her wincing at the resounding thud.

And then she’s left alone with them. The tension that had eased somewhat for the short amount of time they were drawing comes back in full force, and she feels her shoulders tighten. In an effort to do anything besides interacting with them, she reaches over the drawing and grabs the encyclopedia, flipping it back to the page she’d been on before.

She hears the girl sigh as she starts reading, and—against her better judgment—Kamui glances up at her questioningly. Camilla has a frown on her face as she watches her, and upon making eye contact, she answers the unspoken question, “You know, we’re not going to force you to speak with us. You don’t need to pretend to read that,” she says sadly.

Kamui makes a questioning noise and cocks her head, still frowning. “…I’m not,” she says quietly.

Camilla smiles and gets a look on her face like she’s certain that Kamui must be lying—condescension, a voice whispers in Kamui’s head. “Come now dear, that’s a very big book with words that are too hard for you to know just yet; you’re just too little,” Camilla says, still with that irritating smile.

Kamui’s eyes flatten, and without thinking much about it, she responds. “This section’s about ballista, plural ballistae, which are these big adjustable arrow shooting weapons that, in Nohr, are often mounted on installments of castle walls in order to repel wyvern riders and Pegasus knights, though they’re actually more effective against less mobile military units because they require more effort to move, aim, and fire then a standard bow and arrow, but deliver more force upon impact. I know that because I read it,” she finishes, voice laced with irritation.

It's only after she falls silent that she realizes exactly what she’d just said. Camilla blinks at her in surprise while the Heir stares at her in shock. Then Camilla laughs with genuine mirth, which makes her flinch. “Oh, I adore the two of you!” she says happily. Kamui frowns, raising an eyebrow. She’d expected to get yelled at or punished in some way—after all, these were the first and second in line for the throne, the royal family of Nohr. She’s puzzled by Camilla’s response.

Camilla’s smile widens a fraction at her confusion. “How old are you, dear?” Kamui’s frown deepens. Did they actually not know their age? But at that moment, Corrin came back into the sitting room, running all the way to the coffee table.

“See, I was quick!” He says, slightly out of breath. He looks down at Kamui and scratches the back of his neck with one hand. “ Why are you sitting on the floor still?”

In response, she holds up the encyclopedia, which he promptly snatches from her hands, closes, and lightly hits her on the head with. Kamui makes a startled noise and glares up at him.

“You can’t read right now, it’s rude,” he says. She snorts, pointedly ignoring the two sets of muffled laughter from across the coffee table. “Did you decide what you wanted to do yet?” He asks.

Kamui’s gaze flattens again and she reaches across the table, picks up the other book, and wiggles it in front of her as if to say ‘read’. Corrin huffs and the laughter across the table gets louder.

“Come on, can’t you think of something else?” he asks impatiently. Kamui stares up at him in silence, and because he’s just as stubborn as she is, they stay that way until Camilla clears her throat. Corrin turns to look at her, and Kamui flips open the unknown book, trying to get a sense of what it’s about.

“Well, if you two can’t decide on something, we could always go riding. We’d have to borrow the carriage horses, though,” Camilla says, adding the last part like an afterthought. Kamui freezes. They probably wouldn’t get their own horses since neither of them knew how to ride, and the idea of being in such close proximity to these people makes her stomach turn.

It really wasn’t fair. She wants to leave the Tower—the only time they’re allowed outside is when they walk to the bathhouse or when Gunter takes them for short walks, and even then he always makes sure to keep a hand on her arm. She wants to leave, but not with them.

“That sounds AWESOME!” Corrin says loudly. Kamui felt sick. Of course he has to say that now. “I haven’t ever been on a horsey before!” He says giddily. He’s wrong. Mama had taken them both riding before. He just can’t remember it.

“Cyr-Kamui, are you feeling all right?” the Heir asks suddenly, correcting himself when he starts calling her by the wrong name. She doesn’t answer, not wanting to talk to him. If she could make herself disappear like the renowned magician she’d read about in a book once, she would have. The other two are silent now, too, seemingly invested in her answer.

Biting her lip isn’t helping, this time, and there’s only so many ways she knows of to calm herself. She has to get out of here—but how?! They aren’t just going to let her leave—
No, actually they would, Camilla said so, that wasn’t the problem. But why bother? They would just keep coming back! They’re going to do that anyways—there’s still two more of them to meet—they’re going to keep coming back forever and make her forget everybody she loves just like Corrin.

That’s not even his real name!

Camilla was willing to let her retreat to her room because she was already trapped. Kamui can’t hear them anymore can’t hear anything over the pounding of her heart in her ears and her own strained sobs that come in short bursts with her breath because she can’t get enough air and this was it, she was going to die here and Corrin would forget her, too.

Someone touches her shoulder and she wrenches herself from their touch—her vision is far too blurry to determine who it’d been—and uses her legs to scoot back against the foot of the couch even though it makes the burning sensation in her lungs even worse.

I’m sorry Papa, I let them see me weak. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry

She coughs and pulls her knees to her chest and buries her head in them, gripping her thighs through her trousers with white knuckles. Bits of conversation and sound seep through—‘poison’ and ‘calm down’ and the cries of someone else, rapid footsteps in several directions and ‘help’ and Gunter’s deep old voice—and for a moment she focuses on that—desperately trying to will the ache in her chest to ease. She can’t hear her own cries anymore and assumes that must really mean she’s dying—maybe they were on to something with the poison—and for some reason, she finds the idea equally calming and horrifying at the same time.

It's odd, then, when she suddenly hears the singing. It’s probably close to her, but she can’t really tell—doesn’t really try to because she’s just so tired—and decides to tune everything else out to focus on that.

We met at the vill-age dance
You held me close, my dear
And when you sat down next to me
You whispered in my ear
Life is just an ebb and flow
Of ever shifting time
And if fate parted us so soon
Well, that’d just be a crime

It’s pretty. She likes it. The lyrics don’t make much sense to her, though. She sniffles. Her skin feels funny—like she sat on her leg too long and it fell asleep except it felt like that everywhere. She’s so sleepy…

Come along, we’ll see the sights
Let’s just enjoy the show
For when fate takes you away again
I’ll be sad to see you go

Had Kamui ever seen a show? Hinoka talked about one once—some play she’d seen with Mama, but she said it was boring. The tingly feeling was going away. She feels warmer now.

Time is such a fickle thing
As far as I can see
If come morn, you are still there
How happy I will be

Kamui wonders why morning was so special. And what ‘fickle’ means. The warmth came from a blanket—it’s draped over her shoulders. There’s something carding through her hair—she'd protest if she weren’t so tired—she told Takumi to stop playing with it. He never listens…

Life is just an ebb and flow
Of ever shifting sands
And if fate parted us again
I’d never feel your hands

What a weird song. Where did Mama hear this one? For some reason, she doesn’t think she’s asked her yet. She’ll have to do that once she…wakes up.…

Camilla

She should not have brought up riding. When Xander had told her the girl was wary of them, she thought that gaining her trust would be relatively simple—let her do as she wished, then offer her something it seemed like she wanted. The girl obviously hated being cooped up in the Northern Fortress—Camilla could not fault her for that—so a temporary reprieve had seemed like a reasonable suggestion.

She was wrong. The girl didn’t just want to leave the Northern Fortress—she wanted to leave them. How far she wanted to go and for how long, Camilla did not know. She knew Xander had kept some important information about the two of them to himself—she respected his choice to do this as the heir—but she hadn’t realized just how much of it he’d kept from her until she saw them.

They were obviously not fully Nohrian—that wasn’t exactly unheard of among her father’s concubines, but it also wasn’t common, either—and the fact that they were being raised so far from any of her other siblings in Castle Krakenburg and that she’d never heard of them before now most likely meant that their mother had recently passed.

That was something she had at least figured out beforehand—but ‘wary’ wasn’t the right word to describe the girl. Wary is when a child meets a new person and hides behind their mother’s skirts or when they test boundaries to see what they could get away with.

Wary was not the full—on panic the girl was experiencing now—curled up in a ball and sobbing her cute little eyes out, refusing to calm down enough even to breathe properly. Gunter had assumed the poor dear was poisoned—likely by the irritating servant woman that Camilla had dismissed upon their arrival—but Camilla knew better.

She doesn’t know exactly what to do about it, though. The girl only had only become more panicked when Corrin tried to touch her in an attempt at comforting her—so that was off of the table. Her cries were tearing at Camilla’s heart—she truly only wanted to help her new little sister, but she did not know how.

Finally, after deciding that no one else knew what to do, either, Camilla moves to a seat on the couch nearest to where Kamui is huddled on the floor and begins to sing. She hadn’t given much thought as to what song, so it was just some common folk melody that she’d recently learned to play on violin.

Xander pauses when they see the girl is visibly calming to that—he was the only other person left in the room. Corrin had become inconsolable upon seeing his twin in such a state—the poor dear—to the point that Gunter had picked up and taken him to his room to settle down. The old man had not returned yet, so she could only assume that he is still in there with him.

Soon after she starts, Xander approaches them with a blanket and carefully lays it across the child’s shoulders. She’s so adorably small that it pools on the ground at either side of her. After another verse, Camilla risks touching the girl’s unruly hair, smoothing it with a hand in what she hopes is a soothing manner.

By the time Camilla’s repeated the song a few times over, she’s certain that the girl is asleep. She doesn’t want to wake the girl and have her panic again but finds she’s unable to resist scooping her up into her lap. She weighs even less than she looks, and the girl doesn’t even stir as Camilla gently wraps the blanket around her small frame, pressing the child’s head into her shoulder. She had been worried for nothing; her sister was so exhausted that Camilla could see the deep, purple bags under her eyes.

She really is just the cutest little thing.

Camilla stands carefully with the girl and Xander is already ahead of her, opening the door first to the hallway and then to the girl’s room, where Camilla lays her down gently on her bed. They both return to the sitting room in silence and sit across the coffee table from each other.

The two books the girl had leafed through still rest on the table, as well as the drawing that the children had been working on when they had first arrived.

For a moment, neither of them speak. Xander has a serious expression on his face—which would not be unusual for him save the almost lost look in his eyes. Eventually, though, Camilla speaks up.

“Brother, dear, is there anything I should know about the two of them?”

And to her surprise, Xander pinches the bridge of his nose and slouches over, resting his forehead in the palm of his hand and sighs heavily.

“….There is not much I can say on the matter,” he says after a time. He sounds tired.

Camilla closes her eyes, acknowledging the answer in silence. She wonders how the girl could be so traumatized while the boy clearly was not, or why both of them insisted that her name was ‘Kamui’ and not ‘Cyrille’? Knowing she would get no more information on them, she decides to check on the boy.

One of them already liked her. That, at least, was a start.

Chapter Text

“Come, you two, it’s just past this next corner…”

Their father turned his back to them and started walking towards the intersection in the road that the Peace Summit was supposedly past. It made Kamui smile when Kosuke yanked her forward to keep up with their Papa’s larger paces. His armor made his feet click on the cobblestones with every step. Normally the Raijinto hung from the sheath at his waist, though today it was noticeably absent.

Kosuke was ecstatic. Their father had told them of the importance of acting civil and (particularly for Kosuke) not hyperactive for the Peace Summit. He also told them that being excited was a good thing—that one day, Peace Summits wouldn’t be necessary and they could all live in harmony—which Kamui thought was a bit optimistic, because everybody argued every once and a while, but it had made Kosuke’s eyes sparkle, so she kept that to herself.

They followed their father, turning left as he did, Kamui lightly holding Kosuke back with the arm he still clung to so he didn’t run into Papa—they had to ‘be presentable and respectful at all times’, and that probably meant making sure her brother and father did not end up in a heap on the road before they even arrived at the plaza.

She managed to get a look past her father to see a portly, older looking man with white hair and matching beard in jet black armor with an imposing looking black, thorny crown atop his head. He had a sickly pallor and was smiling—which Kamui thought might be a good sign—until she saw the axe in his hands. Perhaps they were worried about coming to Hoshido unarmed—Kamui would probably want to bring a weapon with her if she ever visited Nohr, what with all the tension between the two nations—so maybe that was fair.

As they continued, she noticed several other things: all of the guards were also armed, but their weapons were holstered at their sides or across their backs or, if they had spears, planted firmly on the ground. And she noticed the boy beside the Grey Man, who wore a set of similar armor, a smaller but similarly styled crown, and a long maroon cape that came down past his waist. He seemed to have a sword hanging from a sheath at his waist, but his hands were clasped behind his back. He had a neutral, frowning expression, and Kamui briefly thought that it might be fun to play a secret game with Kosuke to see who could get him to smile the quickest, but she remembered that that probably wouldn’t make them look ‘presentable’.

Thinking on it, the Grey Man’s son looked presentable…at least, she thought that’s what presentable must look like—and with that, she got an idea! Discretely nudging her brother with the arm he still hung on to, she nodded in the direction of the boy, and judging by Kosuke’s bright smile, he understood what she meant. Still walking side by side, they mimicked the boy’s stiff posture and pose, clasping their own arms behind their back and staring straight ahead. Their Papa was going to be so proud when he saw them! The thought almost made her smile—but then she wouldn’t look neutral—like the boy, so she didn’t.

Then things started happening all at once. The soldiers—who had all parted around the Grey Man and his son, all pulled out their bows and knocked their arrows, pointing them ahead. Kamui felt her eyes widen…was it some kind of test to see if they would flinch? Oh, but then she failed! But if it was a test, then why did the king’s son look like he’d failed, too? Surely he wouldn’t test his own child, as well. She caught the boy’s gaze from across the plaza and saw the alarm—the way brown eyes widen when they briefly lock with crimson. It was at that moment she knew for sure something was about to happen. Something bad.

“Papa—“ she started to warn, but Sumeragi cut her off with a sharp hand gesture. Kosuke still looked on, eyes fully fixated on their Papa and the king.

“What is this?”

And that was all he managed to get out before arrows flew and she grabbed onto her brother again just for something to hold onto, but they both dropped like sacks of flour behind their father, who had bizarrely thrown his arms out, like he was trying to catch as many as he could. She wanted to cry, wanted to close her eyes and block out the world and wake up from this dream because this isn’t happening it can’t be happening but all she managed to do was stare straight ahead, arms curled tightly around her brother as their father toppled over—and she realized that he’d been trying to shield them.

Arrows clatter around them, striking stones and whizzing by out of sight and sinking into trees beside them, but none of them hit her or Kosuke. She’s not sure she would have noticed. She’s watching her Papa, on his knees, hearing him gasp for air as the Grey Man walks forward, idly twirling his axe.

She dully notes that it’s black, too.

“I’m disappointed in you, Sumeragi, that wasn’t even my best trap,” the man says casually as he stops in front of Papa, who’s sputtering. And she knew he was going to kill him, she knew it as soon as he’d started walking forwards—but the swing still drags a gasp of horror out of her. Kosuke doesn’t even flinch—not when the large axe slashed across exposed neck nor when his body thumped unceremoniously to the ground. She stares at her Papa, now unmoving, blood draining out on the stone, and is startled by the Grey Man’s voice from beside her.

“You poor things, orphaned at such a…tender young age,” he says, still smiling, looking at the two of them from where they’re still huddled on the ground. And to her horror, he reaches out and grabs her arm and she’s too scared to even scream. “You are MY children now.” And she’s so very afraid that she doesn’t move, doesn’t think, doesn’t breathe as he pulls her up and on her feet—she has to drag Kosuke with her because he’s not moving at all and she still hasn’t let go of him—scared that if she did let go of him then she’d never see him again. He’s like a doll in her arms—which are holding on to him tight enough that she can’t feel her hands.

There’s movement but it’s all so much it’s too much it’s nothing it’s not real it’s not happening there’s a carriage and an elderly knight and the blood has soaked into her clothing and—Kamui wakes up, drenched in sweat. It’s the terror that stays with her on these nights, the expressionless look on her brother’s face, the alarm in her Papa’s voice, the quick slash of an ornate black axe, the smile of a Grey Man. The feeling of claws around her arm as a beast carries off its prey.

And the shock in the eyes of the Heir.

Chapter Text

After the disastrous visit from the Nohrians, Kamui becomes even more on edge than she’d been before. Sleep became something of a novelty—one she only had access to after lying in bed for hours on end. Gunter tries to help—even has a healer come and look her over—but nothing he tries has much effect save some extremely bitter tea that knocks her out cold. He would rarely give it to her though, because the first time he had she’d slept for almost a full day. She still maintains her original schedule, but since Gunter has taken over their education (truly the only good thing that came out of the Nohrians visit had been getting rid of that vile old woman), he’s adjusted her curriculum so she’s actually learning new material again. She’d expected some backlash from Corrin about it, but he only speaks words of praise without even a hint of displeasure or jealousy.

Sometimes, she wishes she could be more like her brother. Every few days, the Heir or Camilla or occasionally both of them will come to visit the Tower, but Kamui always retreats to her room when they appear. She’s gotten very good at identifying the sound of hooves slapping against the rocky path leading to their prison—it’s the main reason that she insists they keep the window open—though Corrin seems to think that she likes the breeze. She feels bad about avoiding them for a couple of reasons: Corrin obviously wants her to stay out with him and get to know their…’siblings’, and she doesn’t have much reason to hate Camilla. Unfortunately, the carriages that the two of them take to get to the Tower look identical to Kamui—and in her eyes, the prospect of accidentally greeting the Heir is far worse than any potential gains of getting to know Camilla. Besides, just because she didn’t hate the older girl didn’t mean that she liked her, either—she was still an imposter, claiming to be their older sister.

Kamui knew better.

Today, however, Kamui is lying in bed—trying in vain to get more sleep—when her door is suddenly flung open. She sits up with a start—prepared to tell Corrin to go away—but freezes when she sees the person standing in her doorway.

“Your twin is only interested in childish games! I was told you were more smar—more intelligent,” the blonde boy corrects himself, adjusting his hold on a thick book. “So you must come and entertain me. I wish to assess that claim myself.”

Kamui raises an eyebrow. Who was this kid? She suddenly remembers Gunter’s new assistant—she still hadn’t met him, but heard he was around their age and ill-mannered. Well, the description certainly fit: the boy in front of her is slightly taller than her, has a youthful face, and she can see why Gunter thought he was rude.

What a way to meet him.

Kamui pushes herself up to a sitting position—it’s not like she was going to get to sleep any time soon, anyways—and looks the boy over. He’s in a white dress shirt and black dress pants, complete with black dress shoes that are laced up neatly. She’d assumed that the servant boy would dress more like Gunter—in plate mail or some other sort of armor—but he was probably too young for such garments.

The boy huffs in irritation. “Well? Do you truly have nothing to say? And why are you even still in bed—it’s well past midday,” the boy says judgmentally. The more he spoke, the more she thought about how peculiar he was. She supposed Betty acted in a similar fashion, though. At least he doesn’t look strong enough to drag her from her bed like she’d been.

“…I don’t feel like talking right now,” she answers tiredly, suppressing a yawn. She pushes herself out of bed and makes her way to the chair she’d dragged to the window so she can read and grabs her book, sitting cross—legged in the chair as she idly flips to the page she’d bookmarked the night before. Technically, she’s supposed to wear a nightgown to bed, but ever since Betty left, she took to wearing a loose fitting tunic as a nightshirt and a baggy pair of trousers instead.

A few moments pass in silence. She does not bother turning back to look at the boy—servants were supposed to leave their lords and ladies alone when they requested—her Mama had told her so, once, and starts reading about the history of butter because her encyclopedia only covered letters A through C. Kamui’s frown deepens when she realizes that he still hasn’t left. Oh well. She can be stubborn too.

“Unbelievable! How DARE you just ignore me! Your brother might be an idiot,” Kamui’s eyes snap to the boy’s face in anger “but at least he had some common sense—do you even know who I am?!” the boy says, raising his voice as he continues. “I’ll teach you that I am not to be trifled with!”

Kamui was about to start a heated conversation with the boy for insulting Corrin—and then make her way to the library to find a dictionary, for she did not know what ‘trifled’ meant—when the boy pulls a book out of the satchel hung across his shoulder and whips it open. She has just enough time to open her mouth in confusion when a jet of flame shoots out of it and hits the stone wall near the window she sits at. Kamui stares at the newly charred spot in the rock, mouth open in shock—before rounding on the boy, intending to take the book from him.

But when she turns around in her chair, she watches the boy panic, trying desperately to put out the rapidly growing fire that is consuming his cape. Kamui darts up, her encyclopedia clattering to the ground with a thud, and rushes to her end table, where she always keeps a pitcher of water and a clean glass so she doesn’t have to leave her room at night if she gets thirsty.

With two hands, she heaves the pitcher off the end table and towards the boy, soaking him with water and putting out the fire in the process. The boy turns back to her, expression a mix of shock and fury, when her door slams open a second time—

And in rushes the Heir, who sees her with an empty pitcher and a soaked boy.

Looking between the two of them, Kamui has the sudden realization that this boy is not actually a servant. And the Heir does not look happy.

Uh oh.

The Heir is between the two of them in seconds and rips the pitcher from her hands, replacing it on the end table, and grabs both of them by their forearms, forcing them out of her room. She has to fight down the sheer terror that threatens to overwhelm her when the Heir grabs her arm, willing herself not to panic—they’re not in the plaza, this isn’t the Peace Summit, everything’s fine. She tries to focus on anything else and realizes that she’s still in her pajamas with tangled hair and no shoes. It does nothing to ease her growing discomfort.

He pulls both of them to the sitting room and releases them, gesturing to two couches on opposite sides of the coffee table. Kamui reluctantly sits down where the Heir had gestured, relieved beyond measure that he’s let go of her arm. Corrin is sitting on Camilla’s lap in an armchair by the hallway door—noticeably facing away from the hallway that led to her room, a large children’s picture book spread between them that neither of them are paying attention to anymore. Corrin stares at them, gaping when he sees the boy, who is still dripping water onto the floor even as he sits. Camilla is frowning, but other than that she does not react.

The Heir looks between the two of them with obvious displeasure. Kamui doesn’t look at him, but she can see his expression out of her peripherals. She was hoping that over time, she would grow less afraid of him—if she was ever going to escape, she couldn’t fear her captors—but it had been over a month since she’s last seen him and it’s all she can do to maintain her composure.

“I left to speak with Gunter for just a few moments and the two of you could not behave for even that long. What happened?” he asks, anger and authority sharpening his words. Kamui suppresses a flinch. She could not have answered him even if she wanted to—her throat is too closed up for speech. The boy across from her looks uncomfortable arms crossed in front of him. He looks kind of like he’s pouting.

“Nothing to say, either of you?” the Heir says in irritation. The boy huffs, setting his two books down on the cushion next to him so he can attempt to dry off his hands on his pant legs. Kamui notices that the boy is sitting on most of his cape, keeping the singed parts of it from view. It’s honestly pretty clever of him.

“She poured water all over me!” the boy grumbles.

“So I’ve noticed,” the Heir says icily, turning to her “what I want to know is why.”

Well. He wasn’t going to hear it from her. Her lungs felt like they could cave in at any moment.

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.

“You two haven’t even been introduced yet—how could you treat him like this already?” the Heir says after a long moment of silence. He sounds increasingly irritated. “He is not even a full year younger than the two of you. Do you hate all of your siblings so much that you will continue to act with hostility no matter what—”

“Hold a moment, Xander,” Camilla cuts in smoothly. The Heir looks to her with his serious frowning expression, but he stops talking. “You’re scaring her,” she says quietly, and Kamui hates that she’s right.

The Heir sighs in irritation, eyes still on Camilla, and opens his mouth to speak, but she keeps talking.

“Leo, dear, what is that book you have?” Camilla asks pleasantly. The boy freezes for a split second, then taps the damp book on the top of the stack.

“It’s a book on Nohrian law. My mother gave it to me—and she nearly ruined it,” he responds defensively. She notices that the Heir is looking at the books now, too.

“Aww, that was cute, Leo," Camilla coos, "but you know I meant the other one.”

Leo doesn’t respond for a moment and slouches into the cushion, then reluctantly pulls the second book out and shows her the cover. The Heir shifts, like he realizes what it is. Kamui had never seen a book that could conjure fire before, but she knew such things existed—her bespectacled tutor back in Hoshido had told her about them and their similarities to Hoshidan scrolls.

Corrin’s face scrunches up in confusion and he looks at Kamui. “How come you tried to mess up a book? You love books.”

Kamui doesn’t answer him—can’t answer him because of the invisible needles that stab her lungs from the inside.

“…Leo. You did not try to use that tome, did you?” Xander asks, voice quiet. Leo hunches over, arms crossing again.

“…yes, I did, but—” Leo starts, but is cut off.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? You could have seriously injured her—not to mention yourself—or caught this whole Fortress…on…,” the Heir trails off, stiffening in realization. “Leo, stand up,” the Heir’s tone left no room for argument.

The boy makes a noise of displeasure, arms tightening around his torso in defiance. “Mother says I do not have to listen to you.”

“And perhaps that is normally true—but you agreed to do as I said before we left for the Northern Fortress. I will not ask again,” the Heir says firmly. Leo grumbles, but stands, his wet and scorched cloak coming into the Heir’s view. The Heir’s gaze hardens like steel.

“Do you mean to tell me that the reason you are covered in water is because Kamui was trying to put out the fire that you created?”

Leo doesn’t offer a verbal response—he just shrugs unhappily, looking off to the side.

Everyone grows silent. The Heir closes his eyes for a moment in contemplation before he turns back to her, making her tense.

“Kamui, you have my apologies. I should not have been so quick to place blame—especially since you were trying to help him,” the Heir says, voice soft. She doesn’t even glance at him.

“It’s not fair!” Leo suddenly snaps, stomping a foot on the rug. The Heir glares at him, but it does nothing to stop his tantrum. Leo turns to look at Kamui. “I just wanted to talk to you and you ignored me—you’re supposed to be the mature one because you’re older than me—Camilla told me that you’re more like me than your stupid twin—”

“Leo—” The Heir starts.

“He’s NOT stupid! Why are you acting like such a spoiled brat?!” Kamui snaps, the anger that’s been building for this entire confrontation finally spilling out. It felt good to breathe properly again, even if it was because she was yelling.

“Me?! You mean you! What, you can’t even be bothered to talk with your siblings after—,”

“You are NOT MY SIBLINGS!” Kamui shouts, shaking with anger. She sees the Heir stiffen out of the corner of her eye, but she no longer cares about upsetting him—she apparently does that without even trying. Leo, however, does not react as she expects.

He snorts, arms crossed in front of him. “Just because we have different mothers doesn’t mean we’re not siblings, fool,” he says, rolling his eyes as if he were stating something so obvious it shouldn’t have been said out loud.

Kamui seethes. He wasn’t going to understand, and talking to him was vexing. She pushes herself off of the couch and starts walking back to the hallway door.

“Are you serious?! After all that you’re going to shut yourself back in there?” The boy says loudly.

“Yeah, I am. Leave me alone,” she snaps, not even glancing back.

“Kamui, wait he’s sorry!” Corrin interjects. She hears a thump and assumes he pushed himself off of the armchair he shares with Camilla. That irrational anger starts eating at her again, and she knows she needs to leave before she snaps at him.

It won’t fix anything. Don’t yell at him just because he doesn’t understand.

“No I’m not,” the irritating boy retorts.

“You’re not helping,” she hears Corrin hiss under his breath.

Kamui must not have been paying as much attention as she thought she was, because she finds she is unable to open the door leading back to the hallway. She stares at it in confusion before she sees a shadow above her head, and looking up, the Heir stands with a hand on the door, holding it shut with ease. She feels her anger spike—what did she have to do to get these people to leave her alone?!

The Heir looks down at her and—without removing his hand from the door—uses his other hand gesture to the door that led to the servants’ quarters. Kamui frowns up at him in wary confusion. She hasn’t been allowed through that door without a servant to escort her since she’d first tried to escape the Tower just a couple days after they’d first arrived—it was one of the only exits besides the door at the end of the hall that led to the sitting room—and that door Gunter kept locked at all times unless he was expecting company.

“I don’t know how to talk to you,” the Heir admits, staring at the door to the servants’ quarters, “so we’re not going to talk. You can either follow me or I’ll carry you.”

Kamui grimaces. He doesn’t sound threatening, but she knows from the look on his face that he’ll follow through. She releases the doorknob, and the Heir gestures her toward the door. Once she’s a few paces away, he removes his hand from the door and holds the door to the servants’ quarters open, looking at her expectantly.

Surely he wasn’t just going to let her leave, right? Not that she would without Corrin, anyways. She moves slowly and doesn’t take her eyes off him.

“Xander….,” Camilla says quietly. If Kamui did not know any better, she would say it sounds like a warning, but that couldn’t possibly be right.

Could it?

The Heir responds without looking back at her. “She will be fine, Camilla.”

Well. That wasn’t reassuring at all.

Kamui pales. She hears Camilla hum uncertainly, but she makes no move to follow them, instead turning to Leo.

“Leo, let’s have a talk about your books, all right?”

The last thing she hears before the door closes behind her is the irritating boy’s groan.

The hallway was empty—which didn’t surprise her; there were very few servants in the Northern Fortress and most of them kept to the kitchen unless it was late, which was supposedly located near the base of the Tower. Kamui and Corrin had rooms almost all the way at the top. She watches the Heir carefully. She’s not stupid enough to think bolting would actually work, but she is almost scared enough to try.

He doesn’t even glance back at her as he walks down the hallway, and after a few turns Kamui is not sure she could navigate back to her rooms anymore—all the doors look the same to her. A few minutes of silence pass before the Heir makes another turn—and Kamui blinks in surprise at the sight of a well—worn stone staircase that leads up to someplace out of sight. It’s so long that the stairs curve around the inside of the Tower. A few brass wall sconces are the only things lighting the way.

It’s not the staircase that the Heir looks to, though. While she stands staring up at the stones, he opens the nearest door to the base of the staircase—a large, old wooden one that creaks loudly as it swings into the room it leads into—and enters the room. She’s not sure how he knows where to go—there are no windows or lighting of any sort that she can see, and the whole room looks dark to her—but after a moment he returns from the room with…

Two steel swords?

She blinks, momentarily forgetting her fear. He says, nothing, but gestures for her to walk ahead of him up the stairs. She looks them over with a critical eye before deciding to head up. She’s at least pretty sure they won’t crumble under her bare feet and she’s more than a bit curious to see where they lead. Besides, it’s not like the Heir would have let her leave, anyways.

They walk up in silence, and she has to really focus on making sure her feet fall in the right place—the staircase is very narrow. She realizes with some annoyance why he had her take the lead—her Mama had the two of them walk in front of her whenever she was scared they were going to fall.

Kamui really wishes she’d put on shoes—the stone is cold on her soles—and it only gets colder as they ascend. Sometime later, she sees a peculiar looking door—it’s on the ceiling at the end of the staircase. She walks up to it and feels around, finding a handle that she pulls on. It’s a lot harder to open than she’d expected, but with a few sharp tugs using both of her hands, she manages to get it unlatched with a loud clang that echoes down the staircase, causing her to wince. The Heir reaches in front of her and pushes on the door, which flips open like the lid to a chest to reveal…the sky!

Kamui rushes up the stairs and takes in a breath when she realizes that they are on the roof. The view is amazing—like a drawing from her encyclopedia. She feels something nearby—it’s unusual, but she remembers the feeling from Hoshido, too, so she walks over to stand in the center, which is slightly elevated from the rest of the roof. Kneeling down, she touches the stones of the roof in front of her. There’s nothing visually special about it, but the blood in her veins thrums at the contact and pulses when she runs her hand along it. She startles when a light shoots from the tile—it really was just like what Papa had shown her—and it hits the ground by her hands, spreading along the surface of the tower in a small puddle at her feet—though it wasn’t wet. She smiles down at it in wonder.

“You found one of the Dragon Veins,” the Heir says quietly. Oh. She’d forgotten he was there. She stands and turns back to him, eyeing the swords in his hand cautiously. He walks over to her and makes to hand her one. She looks at him in confusion, not accepting the sword. It’s somewhat similar to what Ryoma and Papa used to practice with—and sometimes Hinoka, but she had never seemed all that interested in learning to fight.

After all, Hinoka had explained to her, Hoshido has historically had almost no conflicts with other nations, and with the barrier, they were protected from any direct invasions. Why learn a skill she wouldn’t need to use? Kamui frowns at the memory, but she’s shaken from it when the Heir pushes the hilt into her hand. She takes it from him, but the moment he releases his hold on the flat of the blade, the tip falls to the stone below—only her awkward grip on the hilt keeps even part of the sword upright.

He nods at her, looking amused as she lugs it up, having to use both hands. “You’ll get used to the weight. Actually, I’ll find a practice sword for next time,” he adds quietly. “I didn’t see any meant for children as young as yourself in the storage room.”

She was still trying to wrap her head around how he’d seen anything in that darkness at all. Perhaps it was because everything in this country was so gloomy. He takes a step forward and before she can back away, he pivoted on his heel to stand beside her, moving his left hand out of the way so she could see the way he deftly swings his sword up into the air.

“This is how you hold it,” he says quietly. That’s what they’re doing? He’s teaching her sword stuff? Why? She looks at him like he’s grown a second head, but he just looks down at her patiently. She gets the feeling that he’s not going to say anything else until she mimics his posture, so she tries it, carefully retracting her left hand from the hilt once she’s got pointed in the air in a similar fashion as the Heir.

The blade dips down upon her release, and her right arm shakes violently—Papa had said she and Kosuke were too young to practice with Ryoma and Hinoka and she’d never understood why until just now. How was she supposed to get this thing to stay up with only one hand?! It wasn’t that heavy—but it was awkward to hold—and when she extends it away from her body, it feels heavier than it is.

Ryoma could probably do it at your age. She huffs in annoyance.

Eventually, she manages to get it sort of right—her wrist is much closer to her waist than the Heir’s is, but she doesn’t think she can help that considering the sword is almost as tall as she is. The Heir gently taps her elbow, bringing her arm up higher, and she does her best to keep the sword in place as he adjusts her grip on the hilt. She looks at the way he holds his and realizes that there’s no way she can hold the sword right—her hand is too small for her thumb to wrap around the hilt like his is.

“I’ll have to show you this again once we get a more appropriate sword,” he says quietly, dropping his stance and moving across from her. He brings the sword back up and her eyes widen when she thinks he’s going to strike her with it, but he just keeps it there.

“This is what another swordsman would look like to you during a spar,” she looks at the way he stands, the way his sword is angled. She thinks that if she could manage to get her own that high, it might look like the letter ‘X’ from someone standing to the side. He probably holds it like that to protect his head and chest. Papa had said once that injuries there tended to be more dangerous.

I wish Papa could teach me this. He was always so patient with Ryoma during their lessons.

The thought makes her uncomfortable, and she wills it away. There wasn’t a point in dwelling on something you couldn’t change. Even so…

Kamui bites the inside of her lip and takes a deep breath.

Never show weakness to the enemy.

They spend the rest of the afternoon on the roof, and the Heir teaches her all kinds of things about sword faire. She learns how to put power behind her swing using her ring and pinky on the hilt—though she’s certain that hers are much too small for it to have much effect. She also learns that the longer she holds the sword up, the harder it becomes to keep up. This was not something she had considered before, and since part of what the Heir has her do is just stand there holding the sword up properly for long periods of time, it was something her muscles were learning the hard way.

She has no idea how much time has passed when the Heir finally takes the blade back from her—much to her relief. He hadn’t actually had her swing it yet, so she has no idea if she could even manage it. She’s so preoccupied with her thoughts on the matter that she follows the Heir in silence, and once they make it back to the door leading to the sitting room, she realizes just how exhausted she is.

When she walks inside, she sees Leo and Corrin sitting on the couch together. It looks like they’re studying? She wonders how Leo managed to get Corrin to agree to that. Corrin hated sitting still unless it was because he was doing something he wanted to do. That’s why he used to get in so much trouble back home: he’d sprint across the entire castle with no shoes and jump on Ryoma’s back while he was meditating or drag Kamui around by the arm as he spouted off some ‘secret plan’ to get more sweets at dinner—oblivious to the fact that he was practically shouting it loud enough that the common folk from the surrounding city could probably hear him. She notices, suddenly, that he didn’t do things like that in the Tower. While he was still full of energy, he acted on it in more subdued ways. It used to irritate her beyond belief that he’d interrupt her studies or sleep at seemingly random intervals back home.

Now she’d give anything to get that back.

The Heir clears his throat from behind her and she tips her head back to look up at him—and realizes what he’s trying to communicate. She’d froze in the doorway once she’d seen Corrin and Leo together. She walks over to the couch she’d been seated on before and sits when suddenly Corrin speaks up.

“Why are your feet so dirty? Did you get to play outside?” He asks. She blinks, looking down. Ah. She’d forgotten to put on shoes.

I’m just like how you used to be.

That realization shouldn’t have been as demoralizing as it was. She feels a lot calmer about it now that she has no energy left to panic. She’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

“What, did you hit your head or something? You just stared at us without saying anything for an extended period of time. It was creepy,” Leo says accusingly, disgust obvious in his expression. Kamui thought for a moment on how she wanted to respond. She could tell him off—probably would have earlier—but now? She’s too tired for that. So, after the Heir finishes lecturing Leo—who looks angry about it—she speaks up.

“Sorry,” she says, picking at a loose thread on her nightshirt.

The rude boy’s eyes snaps back to her incredulously. “I beg your pardon?” In Kamui’s opinion, he did not sound like he was begging for her pardon at all.

“For calling you a brat, I mean. I...was mad about something and yelled at you for it even though it’s not your fault. So. Sorry,” she finishes lamely, looking back up as she apologizes because Mama told her it’s how you show you mean it.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment—actually, no one does. The silence makes her increasingly uncomfortable, and she starts to pick at the thread again, pulling on it until some of the stitching comes apart.

The rude boy grumbles something that Kamui doesn’t understand, but she’s too sleepy to care.

“What was that, Leo?” Camilla suddenly chimes in. There’s an ominous quality to her voice that puts Kamui on edge—though she’s pretty sure it’s not directed at her. She’s still seated in the armchair she had occupied with Corrin earlier, though now she’s doing…something with yarn? Kamui isn’t sure what she’s doing. Or making.

The boy lets out an exasperated sigh and repeats himself louder. “I said I’m sorry for trying to catch you on fire. I wasn’t actually trying to hurt you, I just figured it’d prove my superiority so you’d listen to me and we could talk.” Kamui snorts a laugh. That was by far the strangest apology she’d ever received.

“What he means is that he loves you and wants to be best friends now.” Corrin adds helpfully. The boy’s cheeks grow red in embarrassment and anger as he rounds on Corrin.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” he hisses.

Corrin cocks his head. “Um, why?”

“Because we’re both boys. That means we’re on a team,” he explains.

Corrin hums thoughtfully, hand on his chin. “No, I don’t wanna do that.”

“And why is that?"

“Well, if we’re all on a team,” he gestures to the two of them and the Heir, who took a seat in the armchair by the window, “then that means they’re on a team, and I don’t wanna fight anyone.”

“Ok, well, you have to fight someone—it’s a team game,” Leo says without explaining what game it is that they are apparently playing. “So if you had to pick, then you’d be on my team because it's boys vs. girls.” He finishes. It’s not a question.

“No I wouldn’t.” Corrin replies, wrinkling his noise.

“I told you, you can’t say no team—”

“No, not ‘cause of that, it’s ‘cause then we’d have to fight Camilla and sometimes she scares me.”

That makes Camilla laugh and the Heir smile. Leo just groans.

“Well, I guess that means you’re on my team,” he tells Kamui.

Don’t sound so excited by it.

Ignoring his tone, she cocks her head, looking for an explanation. “You read a lot, yes? What types of books do you like?”

What an odd change of subject.

That wasn’t really something she’d thought about before—she tends to tear through anything with words without much thought about whether she liked it or not. She shrugs one shoulder in answer, and he clicks his tongue.

“Look, you have to talk. You know, with your mouth? I don’t want to have to enrage you to ensure you’ll respond to what I say,” ahh, so that’s why he had kept saying things to irritate her. That reminded her of…

Of Takumi. Her actual little brother.

Oh.

She couldn’t find it in herself to get angry about it in that moment—could barely find it in herself to lift her own arm and rub at her eyes while she yawned.

“Do you always stop paying attention when people are conversing with you? It’s quite rude.”

Not thinking much about it, she responds through another yawn. “Do you always reference a thesaurus before you talk with people you think are dumber than you?”

There’s more laughter but she doesn’t turn to look. The rude boy looks at her with a raised eyebrow. He seemed almost impressed. “Maybe you’re not a lost cause…yet.”

Kamui hums absently, looking at Corrin. “Can I go to bed yet without you getting all….,” she twirls her hand in a circular motion, at a loss for words.

“Oh! You actually do look tired except for real now. Or maybe just more sleepy than before? It’s hard to tell ‘cause you always look like that,” He muses to himself, gesturing to her with a hand.

How flattering.

Kamui pushes herself off the couch and starts walking to the door behind Camilla—the one that led to the hallway with their bedrooms—when Corrin suddenly interrupts.

“Wait! What were you mad about earlier? You said to Leo that you were angry but I thought it was at him but then you said it wasn’t at him and then I got confused—but wait, were you just saying that to be nice?” He says, talking so quickly that he had to suck in a deep breath at the end. Well, at least he still rambles like he used to.

Is there a point in sharing something that would only make him miserable?

“…it probably doesn’t matter. Night,” she says without glancing back, hating the weight that suddenly appeared in her chest as she spoke those words. As the door to the sitting room shuts behind her, she hears one last thing.

“It matters to me.”

Chapter Text

Tink! Tink!

What?

Tink! Clang! Tonk!

It’s too early for whatever that is…maybe it’ll go away?

CLANG!

Or not.

Kamui sits up in bed, lamenting her loss of sleep as she rubs her eyes. In the past couple of months, she had been getting a lot more sleep than before—it seems that even her nightmares weren’t enough to rouse her after a training session with the Heir.

Her relationship with the Nohrians had become strange. She did her best not to interact with them. She’d even tried refusing the Heir when he’d knocked on her door a few days after he’d taught her to hold a sword on the roof—and found out the hard way that he had not been bluffing when he said he would carry her there.

Now, whenever he showed up (which was very often early in the morning or late at night) she begrudgingly joined him—and so did Corrin. That had put her on edge like nothing else—but she was beginning to realize that the Heir really did mean them no harm.

It didn’t mean she had to like it, though.

The other two she saw less frequently. Camilla must have said something to Corrin and Leo, because neither bothered her when she stayed in her room—which she made sure she was in whenever she heard the carriage. Sometimes, she’d come out if she got bored of reading or needed to eat, and sometimes when that happened Corrin would talk her into staying out with them.

But those were rare occurrences. It’s not like she wanted to get to know them better. She was a little curious about them, and there were things she’d figured out through observation—like when she found out none of them shared the same mother or that Leo was learning the same things she was—but she was curious about everything. It didn’t mean anything.

It couldn’t mean anything.

The one she was still the most reserved with was the one she found herself spending the most time with. At least he didn’t expect her to talk to him. Thank the gods and goddesses for Corrin and his extraversion.

Most nights either ended with her sleeping like the dead after training, being unable to fall asleep at all, or falling asleep and waking to nightmares.

Except that wasn’t what woke her tonight.

What was that noise?

TINK! Clang, clang, clang!

It sounds far away and like it’s coming from outside the Tower.

Kamui moves to her window, which she almost always has open—and that’s when she sees the source of the noise. A bit off into the distance in a well-kempt training area, the Heir slashes a sword through the air and occasionally into a training dummy. His swings are violent and full of force, and some of the sandbags that the dummy is partially constructed out of leak to the dirt of the practice field below.

Kamui watches him train in fascination. He was never this violent when he was training them on the rooftop. He was extremely careful not to hurt them—and she could tell he always held himself far back when they sparred. Well, to call what they could do so far ‘sparring’ yet was probably an insult to swordsmanship, but the point still stood.

I wonder if something's upset him. Or maybe this is just how he trains when he’s alone.

Either way, this seems like an opportunity to her: here was a practiced swordsman who did not have to hold back that she could watch practice. She grabs the chair in the corner of the room she sat in to read and drags it over to the window with one of the few unused journals Gunter had given her and the quill and inkpot that she always kept in her room, placing them on the windowsill. With the moonlight, she should be able to make out what she was writing.

She wasn’t entirely sure what sorts of swings he was doing—he moves much faster and uses far more complicated techniques than he has shown them yet—but as she watches him, if she sees him repeat a swing a few times, she makes a name for it and draws a quick sketch of what it was supposed to look like. Maybe if she could replicate him, it would help her improve quicker. There was no reason to spurn an education—especially if she was forced to learn.

By the time the Heir finishes and puts his blade back in its sheath, the sun has just crept across the horizon and Kamui has five different techniques that she’s recorded in the journal. The easiest looking one was probably the Sky Attack—the one where he lifted the sword vertically into the air and quickly brought the edge of the blade on the top of the dummy—she supposes that would hit the head of a real person. That was one you probably shouldn’t use unless you were trying to kill someone—though if you were fighting someone outside of a tourney, that’s exactly what you’d be trying to do.

There were four others that seemed more complicated: Neck Chop, Left Slash, Up Slash, and Circle. The Neck Chop would be easier if she were taller, but as it stood there wasn’t a way for her to cut that high up like the Heir did—the technique he used was like an angled version of the Sky Attack, except instead of straight up, the blade came down at more of an angle—she’s pretty sure it would hit the neck or maybe the side of the head of a real person.

Well, a real tall person. It’d miss Corrin and I by several paces.

The Left Slash was weirder—it started the way he had taught them to do a thrust—which he said was the most basic kind of attack you could do with a sword. He had them take a step forward with their right foot with the sword pointed straight ahead of them—like an extension of their arm. That was pretty much it, except that in a real fight that would cut into an opponent if they didn’t block it. Instead of finishing the lunge as normal, though, as the Heir took the step forward, he changed the position of the blade very quickly and brought it down in a slashing motion from left to right—like it would cut from the shoulder to the waist of whoever you were fighting. Kamui wonders if it looks like a lunge on purpose.

The other two were too complex for her to wrap her head around yet, so she decides to save those for later. She’s sure by the next time the Heir has them spar with him that she can maybe attempt at least the Sky Attack. She might not be very tall, but even if that one went wrong, the blade should still hit something important. The Heir had brought wooden practice swords from Castle Krakenburg with him after their first training session, and now she was sure that even if she really messed up, no one would get injured too badly.

Kamui puts the journal away in a dresser drawer and gets dressed for the day. Corrin would get up at some point soon and he claimed that he had something to show her, so she might as well be ready for it.

Sure enough, not long after she’s brushed through her hair a few times, she hears a small, quick knock on her door. Kamui sets the brush down and leaves the room, making Corrin jump as she opens the door.

“Woah! You scared me!” Corrin says with wide eyes. In his hand is a sheet of parchment paper. She waits for him to continue. He smiles and beckons her into the sitting room, where—to her surprise—Camilla sits in her favored armchair doing cross stitch. Kamui knew little about the hobby besides its name. When they walk into her view, Camilla smiles at them warmly.

“Hello, you two,” she greets quietly. “I requested the servants bring up some breakfast for us all. Xander should be up shortly.”

Kamui barely stops herself from grimacing at that. Now it was either spend time with them or forego breakfast entirely.

It occurs to her suddenly that if the two of them were both here this early in the morning, they might stay there all day. Kamui thinks about that for a moment.

Do I really need to eat every day?

“Come on! I wanna show you my list!” Corrin says, snagging the sleeve of her yellow tunic and dragging her to one of the couches. As long as he was quick, she could make some excuse about being sick or tired and hopefully slink back into her room before the Heir arrives. When she caught a look at the list, though, she knew from the sheer amount of ink on the paper that that idea wasn’t going to pan out.

How did he even manage to write that small?

“Ok, so this is my list of everywhere I wanna go when we go outside!” Kamui notices Camilla pause out of the corner of her eye. “Oh, you can add stuff too ‘cuz you have to come and we should do what you wanna do too. So first we gotta find the biggest tree to climb, and then we also gotta go to a town, and then we gotta go to a festival. Leo told me that Nohr’s Founder’s Day is a big one—and then we should go see an ocean, and then a swamp—I don’t know where one of those is, though. Actually, I don’t know where an ocean is, either. Can you go get your book and find one?”

Kamui blinks. He could talk very quickly when he wanted to. “Um, but it doesn’t go to ‘O’.” She replies, referencing the encyclopedia he was referring to.

Corrin hums contemplatively, then turns to Camilla, who is watching them with something like pity. Kamui’s heart sank. She hoped Camilla would at least be gentle about crushing his spirit. “Big sister, do you know where a ocean is?”

Camilla set her cross stitch down and folded her hands on her lap. “Corrin, dear, you can’t leave the Northern Fortress,” she says softly. Corrin cocks his head at her.

“Well, not yet, but Xander said when we get strong like you guys that we can, so this is for later.”

For the first time since she had known the older girl, Camilla looked uncomfortable. Kamui’s eyes narrow. There was something she wasn’t telling them.

“…right. You understand that that may take a bit of time, right Corrin?”

“…”

Kamui looks over at Corrin, who doesn’t return her gaze. He looks confused, and maybe lost. Several moments pass in silence. Kamui frowns and nudges him with her arm, and he turns to her, looking dejected.

“Are we really that much weaker than Leo?” he asks her softly. Kamui bites the inside of her lip.

No, but that’s not why we’re trapped here in the first place.

“Aww, don’t look so glum, my sweet little brother. This is just father’s way of protecting you two. The world isn’t a kind place. You’ll get there eventually.”

Kamui’s eyes harden when Camilla mentions the Grey Man.

Corrin smiles weakly. “Y-yeah, you’re right. We’ll just have to get super good super-fast, right Kamui?” Kamui offers him a nod, feeling that ever present guilt rise up to the surface once more.

I could tell him.

She could. But it would change nothing. Kamui felt hollow. Perhaps the real nightmares happen when she is awake instead of asleep.

A few moments later, the Heir walks into the sitting room, and his eyes widen in surprise when he sees Kamui is present. He takes a seat on the couch across from the two of them. Corrin smiles and gives him a half-hearted wave, but he doesn’t meet his eyes. The Heir seems to notice something is off about him.

“Is there something wrong, little prince?” he asks with genuine concern.

Corrin’s smile looks just a bit more forced, but he shakes his head. “No, I’m just hungry. Can’t wait for the food to get here.” He says with false cheer. The Heir looks troubled at his response, but he doesn’t press him on it. They all sit in awkward silence until the servants arrive with the food—though Kamui doesn’t miss the look the older two children exchange with each other or Camilla’s subtle shake of the head. ‘Not right now’ it seemed to say.

Halfway through a bowl of oatmeal, Corrin suddenly breaks the silence. “Hey Xander?” the Heir looks over to him, “What’s your favorite color?” The Heir looks confused for a moment before answering.

“I haven’t given it much thought.”

Corrin makes a displeased noise. “Well, I like rainbow—but only the kind in the sunset. The colors are really pretty together.”

The Heir smiles with amusement. “That’s not a single color, little prince.”

“It’s still a better answer than yours,” Corrin says defensively. Camilla chuckles.

“And what of you, Kamui?” Camilla says gently. Kamui shrugs without looking up from her food.

Corrin knocks into her side with his shoulder, and she grumbles when it causes her bowl to move. “She likes red. Is yours purple ‘cuz of your hair?” Corrin asks curiously.

Camilla laughs again. “I actually prefer black, myself.”

“Ohhhh. That makes sense,” Corrin says, nodding.

The silence that follows isn’t quite as stifling as before. They finish their meal and the servants come and take their empty dishes and cutlery away. Corrin looks down at his list with a small, thoughtful frown. He’s again the one to break the silence.

“Camilla?” She looks up from her needlework, hands still deftly moving along despite her change in focus. Kamui finds it impressive. “What’s your earliest memory?”

Camilla hums thoughtfully. “I suppose that would be the first time at court when I was officially recognized by father in front of the other nobles.”

“How old were you then?”

“Oh, I was quite young—maybe three or four years of age.” Kamui sees the Heir turn to look at Corrin curiously, suddenly more attentive. Kamui wonders why.

“Oh,” Corrin said in a small voice. Camilla’s hands still.

“Is something wrong, Corrin?” He doesn’t immediately reply, and Kamui’s gaze flickers to his face. Corrin glances at her, then back to his list.

“Kamui, do you…I don’t…,” he says in a near whisper.

Oh.

Now she understands the Heir’s sudden interest. Corrin finally seems to realize that not remembering anything from before he got to the Tower wasn’t normal. Kamui frowns. She was so sure that once he’d figured that out, he would get his memories back. But he obviously hadn’t.

“Corrin?” Camilla calls with concern.

Corrin looks nervous for a moment before he abruptly stands up.

“I’m not feeling very well. I’m going to lay down,” he says, looking at no one in particular as he makes his way to the hallway door.

Kamui watches him leave, troubled by his sudden change in behavior. Maybe this was normal for someone who is getting their memories back?

She’s acutely aware that she’s been left alone with the Heir and Camilla again, but she can’t blame Corrin for it this time.

Guess the sick act probably won’t work.

They’re both looking at her now. Great. He could have at least picked a different excuse. She doesn’t even have a book this time. She’s found that books contain answers to a lot of questions, but she has yet to find a book that has helped her with this specific situation.

Well, this is uncomfortable.

“Kamui, do you know what’s wrong with Corrin?” Camilla asks. She sounds cautious.

Kamui hums in affirmation. “He can’t remember anything from before he got here. I think he thought that was normal.”

Camilla looks surprised. “…what do you mean, little sister?” Kamui’s look turns into a glare.

You aren’t my sister.

“There’s no need to get so upset over a question, dear,” Camilla says, lightly scolding her.

“I mean what I said.” She practically spat.

Instead of looking irritated—like Kamui’d expected—Camilla’s expression morphs into something…odd. It reminds her of how some of the servants in Castle Shirasagi treated her when they said she was acting childish. “Are you upset because your playmate is gone?” Kamui’s patience is running dangerously thin.

Calm down, she’s probably just trying to get a rise out of you—or she genuinely believes you need a ‘playmate’.

“Aww, there’s no need to be upset, your big sister and—”

And there went her restraint.

“You’re not my sister.” She states plainly, careful not to let the anger through too much. Apparently the only way to get them to listen was to say it directly.

“Oh, little one, none of us have the same mothers,” she says reassuringly. “Don’t you remember what sweet little Leo told you?”

Kamui shakes her head growing more frustrated by the second. “That’s not what I mean, we’re—”

“Kamui.” The Heir calls her.

She turns to look at him and doesn’t bother trying to mask her anger. He stands up.

“Come.”

Like I’m a dog.

“I don’t want to. What’s the problem?” she says, challengingly.

If looks could kill, Kamui thinks she’d be dead where she sat. The Heir’s face is stone. He looks mad. That’s fine—Kamui was mad, too! She’s so tired of pretending—pretending with Corrin that everything is fine, pretending that she could even occasionally tolerate any of them, pretending that the Heir brushing this conversation off because it made him uncomfortable was acceptable. It wasn’t.

Nothing is fine!

She does not back down, and before she can react, the Heir walks around the coffee table and pulls her up by the arm—even as furious as he appears, he takes care not to hurt her—and for some reason, that just makes her even angrier. He should at least have the decency to give her more to be mad about!

“Xander—”

“Not now, Camilla.”

He releases her arm when she’s upright and nudges her along with a hand on her back, taking the now—empty bowl from her hands and placing it on the coffee table. It irritates her—really irritates her—but she does as he directs because she knows if she doesn’t, he can just force her to go, anyways. The walk to the storage room is made in tense silence, the walk up the stairs is worse, and when they finally get up to the roof she feels like she’s going to snap.

The Heir holds out a wooden practice sword to her in silence, but she just glares at it, making no move to take it from him. Visibly frustrated, he takes her right hand and wraps it around the hilt, releasing the sword. She lets it fall to the ground.

They both stand in silence after that. He wants to play a waiting game? Hah!

I have all the time in the world to stand on this Tower—but you get to leave here eventually.

Kamui wonders if he regrets beginning to teach her to use the sword, because now, she’s not nearly as afraid of him as she was all those months ago. Now, she’s just angry. So very, very angry.

“You haven’t told your brother.” The Heir states after a moment. Kamui looks up at him hatefully. “Why is that?”

Why? Why?!

“So he can be as happy as I am?!” she says, anger sharpening her words.

Something like understanding flashes through his eyes. It’s gone so fast she can’t tell if she’s imagined it or not. “You want to protect him, right?” Kamui doesn’t answer. He continues as if she had. “I am trying to protect them, too.”

Kamui’s tilts her head slightly, then slowly shakes her head.

“You’re not protecting them, you’re protecting him!” she spits. The Heir’s eyes harden. He knows she isn’t talking about Corrin.

“…when I was around your age, our father,” he holds up a hand sharply, cutting off her retort, “sat me down and explained something important to me. There are some things that rulers must do to ensure the livelihood of the people they preside over. Sometimes, they are not always straightforward. Sometimes they are not fair. And sometimes, they are cruel. But they are always done with good reason. I will not pretend that I know what that reason is; I often do not. But our father is a good king. He has spared your lives and taken you into our family, and that means that you are our sister—whether you object to it or not. You are a princess of Nohr, and I expect you to act like one. Now pick up the sword.”

Kamui looks at him blankly.

Fine, I’ll pick up the sword.

Kamui kneels down on the cool stone of the roof to grab the wooden practice sword—and then starts walking away. The Heir must have taken that to mean she was getting ready—the last time the three of them were up here, he had just started showing them how to parry—because he started walking in the opposite direction. Kamui was not getting ready to parry.

“Kamui? What are you—STOP!”

Kamui casually glances over the side of the Tower, makes sure there’s no one in sight, and lets the practice sword go, watching with no small amount of satisfaction as it plummets to the ground. The Heir arrives a moment too late—even with his height advantage, he was still too slow to sprint all the way across the roof before her hand released its hold on the hilt.

Kamui rests her head on the stone wall, feeling its rough, gritty texture scratch her chin as she watches the descent. She can feel that slight pull in the stone—like its urging her to go in certain directions. The Dragon Veins. She finds them oddly soothing.

Maybe I should do this more often. That felt great.

The Heir is silent next to her—probably dangerously so, but she can’t find it in herself to care.

Maybe if he gets angry enough, he’ll just kill me. His family is good at that.

Some quiet voice in her mind whispers that she shouldn’t be as indifferent to that idea as she finds she is, but she ignores it. At this point, she may as well say more—he’s already mad.

"Family doesn’t lock children in Towers and leave them alone. Family wouldn’t have killed Papa. And family wouldn’t act like everything is ok when it’s not. I want to go home.” She says, her voice cracking at the end. She hadn’t realized how upset she’s become until she says it, but she forces the tears down.

We’re not family, we’re enemies. And you should never show weakness to your enemies.

She should know—her real family had told her as much.

Guess I won’t be trying the Sky Attack after all.

Chapter Text

Xander had seemed somehow angrier than before after their last sword lesson had ended. She was expecting to get yelled at or maybe for him to actually try and attack her, but after several long moments of silence where the two of them both stood looking over the stone wall that lined the roof at the sword on the ground far below, he simply led the way back to the sitting room in silence.

Once they arrived, he left in silence—and Camilla followed him not long after, an oddly concerned look on her face. Kamui didn’t care. The anger she’d felt on the roof had vanished once she let go of the sword and now, well.

She just felt tired.

I have to get out of here. We have to get out of here.

And with that thought, Kamui began trying to find ways out of the Tower once more. Neither the Heir nor Camilla had come to visit since they’d left in silence after the incident on the roof—though Leo came once a few weeks later with one of his mother’s servants to teach Corrin to play some sort of strategy game. That’s how Corrin had described it to her later, anyways. The two of them had apparently been getting along better, because when he visited, she could hear laughter and occasional bits of conversation from the sitting room all the way from her room. It made her feel strange, but she refused to think too much about it.

If the two of them were going to leave, it was best they didn’t get too attached. She might not be able to control what Corrin does, but she could stop herself from growing closer with them.

The absence of the older two Nohrians works in her favor—she didn’t have to confine herself to her room if there was no one she had to avoid—but despite her searching in the library, the sitting room, and her own room, she has yet to find another exit. In the best books she read, there was always a secret passageway that the hero found in order to escape the bad guys—and it was always hidden in plain sight. You just had to look for it.

Another week and a half pass by before she lucks out—after checking the door to the servants’ quarters every night after Gunter had gone to sleep, she opens the door without resistance.

He’s forgotten to lock it!

Kamui excitedly returns to her room and grabs the notebook she’s been filling with useful information and a small piece of charcoal—Camilla had bought them both a set of drawing charcoal sometime after they worked on their masterpiece in front of her again.

There were two doors that led out of their quarters and to elsewhere in the Tower: there was the door at the end of the hall where their rooms were in that Gunter almost always had locked unless he was expecting someone—and even then, he made sure it was immediately locked after someone entered or left (she knew that at least the Heir and Camilla both had keys), and then there was the door to the servants’ quarters off of the sitting room. That door was locked only when no servants were nearby, and usually that meant at night. Lots of other people had keys to the door, too, so in terms of an escape, it would probably be the easier of the two options.

The window in the sitting room gave a decent view of the front entrance, and it was always guarded. That was the only door that she’d seen the Heir and Camilla use to access the building, so if she had to bet, she’d say that using the locked door at the end of the hall would only give her access to the front entrance. That probably wouldn’t work out well for them should they even manage to get that far: the guards would catch them in a heartbeat.

The door to the servants’ quarters was more promising because she’s seen Gunter use it and end up outside before, and he had not used the front entrance. She’s glad that Corrin’s taken her newfound interest in all of these doors as curiosity because it was proving impossible to hide the fact that she was watching them all so carefully from him.

The plan for the night is simple. She’s going to do her best to map out the servants’ quarters, being as quiet and elusive as possible. It was so late at night that the servants should all be asleep—save perhaps any guards she runs across. She read in a book once that you’re only supposed to take the same turns in a maze. The only problem is that she can’t remember which direction the turns were, so she decides to turn right every time and hope for the best. It’s a bit messy, but she manages to get a good start on her map.

The stone below her feet is cold as she moves along. The hallways are all lit with sconces at even intervals along the walls, so she can see what she’s drawing pretty easily. She must have passed through six or seven different turns before something inevitably went wrong.

BANG!

Kamui jumps at the obscenely loud noise that comes from past the next turn she was going to make. It echoes off the walls. She winces, trying to find a place to hide before one of the servants catches her when she hears someone curse.

This wasn’t in the books.

Something about the voice makes her pause, and despite every instinct screaming at her not to, she decides to approach them.

When she turns the corner, she’s met with the disgruntled face of a slightly older boy. He’s dressed formally—though his vest is buttoned incorrectly and his shirt is untucked—and he’s surrounded by shards of ceramic. It seems that he had been the cause of the noise—broken plates and glassware littered the area around the boy.

“What, come to berate me?” the boy snaps. Kamui frowns, shaking her head. The boy clicks his tongue, tilting his head back. “You come to watch your masters throw my ass out on the streets, or were you hoping they’d dismiss me?”

Throw him out? Masters? Why’d he say ‘dismiss’ like that? What is he going on about?

Kamui hears footsteps racing towards them from somewhere far away, and the boy tenses. He seems stressed, and Kamui feels bad for him even though he’s rude and she has no idea who he is. Thinking in a panic, she looks around and spots a different looking door nearby. She walks over to it and it opens into a storage closet full of cleaning supplies: large wooden buckets, rags, and mops fill most of its interior. Without thinking too much about it, she grabs the boy’s arm and pulls him as hard as she can.

The boy yelps—obviously not expecting her to be able to move him—he was almost a full head taller than her, after all, but before he can retaliate she quickly shoves him inside and pushes her journal and charcoal into his arms, holding a finger to her lips as she quietly shuts the door. Her hands are smudged black and there’s probably some on her face, too, but there’s nothing for it at the moment.

A man in plate armor appears around the corner moments later, and upon seeing her he stops, frowning. Removing his helmet, he scowls down at her.

“Girl, what are you doing up at this hour?” the man orders.

“I-I wanted to get some water and thought I’d take these dishes with me but they were too heavy,” she says sheepishly. She hopes he won’t see through her lie. The man’s eye twitches and he reaches forwards and roughly snags her arm, dragging her forwards. She clenches her jaw so as not to cry out as her bare feet are pulled through the sharp glass shards below her. She’s sure they are bleeding now since they feel wet, but she won’t look down to check.

“Clumsy little bitch,” the man spits, picking up his pace to the point that he’s mostly dragging her along behind him. Kamui gapes.

That was a bad word! What did I just get myself into?

The man has an iron grip on her arm, and the more she struggles to get out of it, the tighter he holds on. She eventually stops trying altogether.

“Had I known the servants here were such morons, I never woulda taken this position,” the man says.

She’s lost count of how many turns they’ve taken, and he drags her down several flights of stairs—sometimes literally—before they apparently arrive at their destination, because the man opens the door and shoves her inside. Kamui lands on her hands and knees, the man using so much force that she’d lost her balance.

She pushes herself up on her knees and looks around. It seemed they were in the kitchen—she’d never been in the kitchen before. It smelled like bread and spices, and the few servants inside had stopped what they were doing to look at the two of them.

“This one is useless. I’ll send someone to Castle Krakenburg to request a replacement—but she’s gotta go. The dumb shit broke more dishes than I’ve seen anyone break in my life.” The rude man is pointing at her from his position in the doorway.

She’s never seen any of these servants before—and they all seem confused.

“Did you let her sneak in?” the one in charge—a heavyset woman with twin auburn braids and an apron covered in flour asks him, looking at her in confusion. “She’s not one of ours’.”

Guess he really must be a guard then.

“’Course I didn’t. What in the gods do you mean she’s not yours’s?”

The man turns to look down at her, sneering, and he takes a step forwards, arm grabbing her nightshirt collar at its neckline. He pulls her up just a bit and she suppresses a wince as the move cuts off some of her air supply. “Who the fuck are you, little rat? And don’t start bawling either, or I’ll give you somethin’ to cry about.”

Kamui blinks some of the tears out of her eyes—her feet really sting—and opens her mouth to answer, but stops herself when she sees a figure in the doorway.

“Cyrille?! What are you doing down here?” Gunter says in shock, taking in her appearance.

This whole experience is almost made worthwhile by the way the man in plate armor pales whiter than a sheet at Gunter’s words. He releases his hold on her collar immediately, and she flops back down on her knees. Kamui frowns up at Gunter, eyes watering.

“I just wanted water…” she lies, letting the tears fall from her eyes now that she knows the mean guard can’t hurt her. Crying should help her story seem more believable, plus her feet really do hurt. She moves to stand up and Gunter inhales sharply at the state of her bloodied feet. Gunter turns to the guard in the doorway.

“Stay put, little rat,” he spits—making the guard sputter in apology before Gunter cuts him off with a hand, “I’ll deal with you when I return. Acasius, bring some bandages and strong liquor, I must tend to her wounds.”

Gunter was apparently good at dressing wounds—the only time she felt much pain was when he poured the alcohol over her feet. That stung, but she knew it was necessary to clean it. By the end of it, Gunter had carried her back up to the sitting room with a glass of water. She was glad she’d had the prudency to chug all of what remained in the pitcher of her room beforehand—she had planned on telling any servants who caught her out that she was going to get water and thought the bit of proof would be better safe than sorry. She is almost disappointed when Gunter doesn’t even go to her room to check it but pointing that out would seem suspicious.

She had not expected to run into the older boy, and certainly not into a guard who did not recognize her. She had never seen Gunter look angry before—and she understands now why the Heir seemed to trust him so much.

It’s bad I can’t remember the way down there, though.

Or maybe it isn’t: she still doesn’t know if the closest exit to the kitchen was the main entrance or not. She’ll figure it out eventually.

After all, she has the time.

Gunter sits down on the couch across from her with a sigh.

“You are a handful, my lady,” Gunter says, looking tired. She feels a bit guilty that she’d lied to him.

“Sorry.”

They sit in silence for a while, Gunter looking out the window and Kamui quietly sipping on her water. “Gunter? Thank you for helping me,” she says with a small voice.

The old man smiles, but it just makes him look more exhausted. “It’s of no consequence, my lady.”

Kamui drums her fingers on the glass in her hands. Camilla had said that the king would let them leave when they grew stronger, but with the absence of the Heir, she’s not sure how they can. She didn’t really believe Camilla, anyways—there was obviously something she wasn’t saying during that conversation—but she feels she shouldn’t give them an excuse to keep her here.

“Gunter? Can you teach me to use a spear like you?” she asks, looking hopeful.

He seems surprised at her request. “I thought Prince Xander was teaching you the basics of combat.”

“I um. I made him mad last time so I don’t think he’s going to anymore.”

Gunter hums. He doesn’t seem surprised that she’d done that. “I’m sure that no matter how angry you believe you’ve made him that that isn’t the case, but if you still wish to learn, I would be honored to teach you.” Kamui beams.

And so Kamui is reminded once again of why she likes Gunter.

Chapter Text

A few weeks after her adventure to the kitchen marks an entire month since she’s seen the Heir or Camilla. She’s perfectly fine with that. It’s not like she liked them anyways.

After all that time when they came over regularly, though, she can say it feels odd never to have them present in the sitting room. It feels odd not to go up to the roof with Corrin and the Heir and practice the sword—though she’s been learning the basics of using a spear from Gunter instead.

She’d asked Corrin if he wanted to join them, but for some reason, the question seemed to upset him—though he tried to hide it by changing the subject. Kamui still isn’t sure why. Now that she thinks about it, Corrin’s been acting weird lately—like he’s trying too hard to be cheerful. She doesn’t like it-his extreme enthusiasm is part of what made him himself, and she’s worried that something’s wrong with him. Well, something besides losing all of his memories of his family and his home, anyways.

Gunter’s training session today was particularly long-and she was developing blisters on her hands from holding the pole arm for so long. It was really more like a staff-he didn’t seem to think she was ready for one with an actual pointy part, yet. She’s not sure she can blame him for that. She decides that when it’s finally over, she’s going to take a nap.

I wonder if that was his goal?

Gunter usually held their training sessions at night, but today it started early in the morning when he found her fully dressed and reading a book by candlelight in the sitting room. Corrin had shown her how to light them using the wall sconces-something she was immensely grateful for and had only burnt herself once when she tripped on the chair she’d used to get up to it. When Gunter had asked her why she was up so early, he hadn’t seemed surprised when she told him she hadn’t been to sleep yet.

Unlike most times she tries to sleep, she’s out almost as soon as she’s under the covers-exhaustion induced sleep really is the best kind of sleep. It doesn’t stop the nightmares completely, but she’s noticed they happen less often if she goes to sleep when she’s so tired that she can barely move.

Her dream isn’t the usual nonsensical mess that they usually are. For one thing, she’s aware that she’s dreaming, and usually if that happened she’d wake up almost immediately. This…this was different. She’s looking at Castle Shirasagi one moment, then inside the throne room the next. The change is jarring. An odd fog envelops the edges of her vision, and she can’t see too far in any direction. It looks exactly as she remembers-except this time, Papa didn’t sit on the throne, which currently sat vacant. The areas not directly in her line of vision are obscured by some kind of thick, grey fog. She hears a voice behind her and turns towards it.

“…don’t understand how that could have even happened!” the redhead exclaims with a scowl, fists clenched tightly at her sides.

Hinoka!

Kamui feels relieved to see her sister again, even if it’s just in this weird, messed up dream. She’s never seen her sister quite like this before, though. Hinoka’s always had a temper—it used to drive Papa up the wall because she’d yell so loudly it would echo from anywhere in the castle all the way into the throne room, where he often held meetings with tacticians and the people who fought the monsters in the north. But the way she was talking didn’t match how she sounded when she was angry—there’s was sadness and frustration and something else that Kamui can’t quite figure out. She looks mad, though.

Kamui hums in contemplation-and jumps when it makes no noise. Startled, she tries to look down but finds she can’t. She holds up her arms, but they’re not there!

What’s going on?!

She doesn’t have time to figure it out before the man Hinoka’s speaking to answers. He’s dressed in the same way all of the castle guards dress.

“We still don’t know at this time. Your mot-Mikoto asked us to brief you before we made any formal announcements as she knows you’re concerned—”

“Concerned?! Concerned?!” Hinoka snaps, cutting the man off. “My father is dead, Ryoma isn’t old enough to take the throne, Kamui and Kosuke were kidnapped, and you think I’m just concerned?!” If Kamui could have, she would have gasped. Hinoka had started crying in the middle of her tirade—tears drip down her face and off of her chin, making a wet spot on her shirt. Kamui has never seen Hinoka cry. Kamui’s seen all of her brothers, Sakura, and both of her parents cry, but never, never Hinoka. Kamui had always assumed she just couldn’t. It was unnerving to watch. “And we have the wrong child! How could we have let this happen?!”

The man looks increasingly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, princess, but I must go make accommodations for the hostage. Please excuse me,” and the man bows, taking his leave.

…Hostage?

Hinoka sobs quietly to herself, now alone in the throne room. She puts her face in her hands and sniffles, and Kamui notices with growing alarm that the colors are starting to fade around the edges of her vision.

No, wait! I want to keep watching my sister! Please!

But pleading with the gods and goddesses has never worked in her favor before, and it doesn’t start now: black overtakes everything around and then including her sister. The last thing Kamui hears is something she whispers under her breath.

”How could I have let this happen?”

And Kamui finally recognizes that other emotion in her voice: guilt.

Kamui wakes up sobbing. She rolls her head over into her pillow and desperately tries to picture Hinoka again. She looked the same as she had always had-and that comforted Kamui even though she knew it was just a dream. She wants to hold on to that mental image for as long as she can. When she calms herself down, she turns onto her side, prepared to get up for the day even though it was probably almost dusk. As she moves her head to look out the window, she flinches so forcefully that she nearly falls off her bed in surprise.

The face of a toddler rests on the side of her bed, head held up by pudgy little hands. Kamui’s never seen this child before in her life, and she’s starts to think that she’s still dreaming until they address her.

“Why cry?” a girlish voice bumbles as the girl cocks her little head. Kamui’s not sure what to say-this was bizarre. Why was there a toddler in her room?

“Um,” she starts, eloquently, “I-who are you?”

“Mmmm, why cry, why cry?” The girl says, rocking her head back and forth on the mattress. This wasn’t getting her anywhere. “Is sad? You sad?” the girl points at her face.

“I-hello. My name is Kamui. What’s your name?” Kamui tries instead, changing tactics.

“Eese. Eelees. Elly? Sssss,” the girl babbles to herself. Kamui can’t tell if that was supposed to be an answer or if she just got distracted. Suddenly, the girl looks directly into her eyes and lifts her arms into the air. “Up!” she says, looking at Kamui expectantly. When Kamui didn’t respond, the girl frowns at her, then wiggles her fingers in the air. “Up-p!” she repeats, dragging out the word.

Like…like look up? What could she want on the ceiling?

Wait. She probably wants to be picked up. That would make more sense.

Can I even hold her weight though?

She gets the sense that the girl might cry unless she tries something here, so Kamui decides to give it a shot. She pushes her legs off the side of the bed and carefully grabs her under her armpits. The girl is wearing a black and yellow striped dress that reminds Kamui vaguely of a honeybee. She’s also heavier than Kamui had expected she’d be—though she had never actually held a child before, not even Sakura.

“Yayy!” the girl squeals once she’s standing on Kamui’s lap. She turns around and it freaks Kamui out because she’s not expecting it: what if she falls?! Kamui awkwardly hovers her hands around the girl to help her balance, very aware that the girl is far too close to her for her liking. Once she’s facing Kamui, she quickly moves her head forward and Kamui’s worried she’s going to headbutt her-

She presses a gross, wet kiss to her cheek and wraps her arms loosely around her neck. Kamui blinks, startled, then slowly wraps her arms around the girl—at least this way, she won’t fall.

The girl pushes away from her after a few moments and Kamui lets go—but keeps one of her arms behind the girl, unsure of what she’s supposed to do. The girl smiles at her, mouth half full of milk teeth.

“All better?” The girl asks. Kamui blinks. “No cry! All better?”

Oh. That’s why.

Kamui’s heart clenches. The girl wanted to comfort her. That was…actually pretty sweet, now that she thought about it. Kamui offers her a soft smile.

“Yeah, all better,” she says quietly. The girl brings her hands in front of her and claps, swaying back and forth and making Kamui lose a few years off her life when she think the toddler might fall to the floor. The girl’s blonde curls bounce as she moves.

“Yay-y!”

Gods…can I keep her? She’s so cute!

And that’s how Camilla finds them when she opens Kamui’s bedroom door.

Camilla smiles upon seeing them and Kamui blinks. She’d figured she’d never see her or the Heir again—and is mildly repulsed because of the relief she feels upon seeing the purple haired girl. Camilla angles her head towards the side.

“Boys! I found her for you!” Camilla calls out, and turning back to the two of them, she says in a playful voice, “I think you won, Elise!”

The toddler gasps dramatically, hands coming to her cheeks. “Win, win, we win!” she says in a songlike voice. Camilla laughs as she walks forwards holding her arms out to Elise as she kneels besides them.

“Come on Elise, I think Kamui was trying to sleep,” she says quietly. That statement felt like a cruel joke—there’s no way Kamui would be able to sleep after that dream.

To Kamui’s surprise, the girl suddenly latches onto her again, this time tighter than before. “NO!” she says loudly…right into Kamui’s ear. Kamui looks at Camilla in panic—she has no idea how to handle that. Camilla looks amused.

“Elise, don’t you want to go back to playing with your brothers?” she says, looking like she’s trying not to laugh.

“Mmmmm,” Elise makes a noise like she’s thinking about it-then somehow tightens her hold on Kamui—were all toddlers this strong?! “Mm-mm.”

“Elise, you don’t want to upset Corrin and Leo, do you?”

“Mmmmm…” Elise pushes away from Kamui, and she thinks the girl will go along—which makes her kind of sad—until Camilla reaches for her and she tightens her hold on Kamui again, making a weird, disgruntled noise that sounds kind of like she’s pouting. Elise stays like that for a moment and pulls away again—and Kamui thinks maybe she’s turned this into a sort of game until she suddenly locks eyes with her again. “Come?”

“Uhh. What?” Kamui answers.

Elise makes a grab for Kamui’s hand that’s still floating near her and pulls it in front of her, tugging on it. “Come? You come?”

Camilla laughs. “She wants you to come with, dear,” Camilla says quietly.

Ohhh. That makes sense.

Kamui feels a spike of anxiety upon the prospect of seeing the Heir again after the rooftop incident, and she’s about to tell the girl no until she looks back into her eyes.

“Um. Ok,” she answers quietly.

“Yay-y!” the girl says, swinging Kamui’s arm around. She can’t help but grin at that-she has no idea why the child is so happy but it’s contagious. Camilla looks momentarily surprised by her answer before she smiles at the two of them—at least until Elise moves to jump off Kamui’s legs. That has them both saying ‘no’ in alarm and grabbing onto the girl. It’s not like her bed’s that far off of the ground, but Kamui’s not sure how breakable babies are, so she wants to be extra careful.

Camilla helps Elise down and Kamui grabs her hairbrush off of her nightstand and starts combing through her hair—it never stayed untangled when she slept—as she follows them to the sitting room.

Corrin and Leo are sitting, and Corrin looks relieved when he spots Elise.

“I thought she ran away! How’d you find her?” he asks Camilla with a smile.

“Oh, it’s really more like she found Kamui,” she replies, moving to sit in the armchair she likes.

Corrin beams at her. “We’re playing hide and seek, wanna play?”

Kamui cocks her head. “There’s no where to hide, though. There’s only five rooms we can use,”

“That’s what I tried to tell him,” Leo says miserably.

“You’re just mad ‘cuz I found you first!” Corrin teases.

“Shut up,” Leo says, looking back to him with a glare. It makes Corrin smile wider.

“You got beaten by a baby!”

“Ugh,” Leo replies, rolling his eyes.

“Ok, so what do you wanna do?” Corrin says, rocking gently on the couch in excitement. It kind of reminds her of Elise.

Kamui shrugs, then, upon consideration, opens her mouth to answer-

“And it can’t be reading!” Corrin adds. Kamui’s mouth snaps shut and Leo’s eyes flatten.

“Seriously? That’s not a gam-an activity we can all do,” he says, correcting himself before he says ‘game’.

Kamui sighs, scrunching up her face in thought.

What is there that we could all do, anyways?

“We could draw?”

“Oh YEAH! I forgot we got pastels now!” And with that, Corrin’s off, running to the hallway.

Leo turns to her with an eyebrow raised. “You look horrible: did you just crawl out of a grave? Also, is he always like that? It’s exhausting.”

“Leo—” Camilla says, starting to scold him, cutting herself off once she sees the half-smile on Kamui’s face.

“I mean, kinda, I just woke up. Are you always moody at this time of the day?”

“Are you always asleep?”

“No, but I wish I was,” she laments. Leo snorts and Camilla laughs at them, then goes back to her needlework.

“You could just sleep at night like a normal person,” he says unhelpfully.

Why didn’t I think of that?

Kamui sighs, sitting down on the couch across from him with a yawn. Elise follows her, looking up at her expectantly and raising her arms. Kamui smiles and helps the girl settle next to her, and the girl attaches herself to her side. Kamui’s not sure where to put her arm now, so she starts brushing her hair with her left hand instead.

Leo looks unphased. “You know she usually has her servants do that. That’s probably what she think you are,” he says, smiling like he’s winning something.

Kamui shrugs. “So?”

His smile fades as he looks at her questioningly. “You don’t care?”

“No. Besides, she wouldn’t be the first one to make that mistake, anyways,” she says, remembering the guard from the hallway.

He looks confused at that, and she notices Camilla’s perplexed frown. “Is that supposed to be a joke or something?”

Kamui shakes her head, covering her mouth as she yawns again. “No, I broke some plates and stuff on accident and this guy got really mad cuz he thought I was a servant or something. That was a weird night.”

Leo looks like he’s about to respond (probably with another jab) when Camilla cuts in.

“What do you mean, dear?” she says, overly pleasant. Kamui’s eyes flicker to her warily.

“Um. I dunno,” she says nervously. There’s something in her tone she doesn’t like, and it’s putting Kamui on edge. She doesn’t want to get Gunter into any trouble.

Camilla frowns at her. “I’m not angry with you, little one.”

It’s not me that I’m worried about.

Kamui shakes her head. “Um. I know.”

It makes Camilla laugh. “Aww, dear, you don’t have to be so jumpy around me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Kamui hums uncertainly, but she doesn’t offer any other answer. At that point, Corrin rushes back in with his boxes of coloring utensils and a stack of paper.

“Come on guys, we gotta make something cool!” and just like that, the tension leaves her shoulders. Camilla’s turned her attention back to her needlework, and it seems like she isn’t going to press the issue anymore.

Goddesses bless you, Corrin.

Corrin kneels by the coffee table with a thump and excitedly removes the oil pastels from their containers. Leo looks unimpressed.

“Are we actually going to sit on the floor for this? Don’t you have a table somewhere in this Fortress?”

“Uhhh. I don’t know,” Corrin flips around on the rug to face Kamui. “Do we have a table somewhere? You said you went on that adventure one time, so you’ve seen more than me.” Kamui winces internally.

Goddesses curse you, Corrin!

Leo looks at her smugly. “You know you’re not supposed to leave the Northern Fortress, right? I bet you got in so much trouble.”

He doesn’t have to sound so happy about it.

“I didn’t leave the stupid Tower, I was just trying to get some water. That’s when I met that guy, and then he dragged me all over the place! It’s really big in here, by the way,” she adds to Corrin before turning back to Leo, “And there are tables, but they’re in the kitchen, and also I think they were covered in flour and stuff, so I don’t think we should use them to draw on.”

“What do you mean by ‘dragged you all over the place’, Kamui?” Camilla asks.

Oops.

“Uh. Gunter stopped him?” she adds uncertainly. She sounds unconvincing, even to herself. Camilla raises an eyebrow.

“Stopped him from doing what, exactly?” Kamui frowns at the question.

“Well, he thought I was a servant, but like a bad one, so he wanted to do whatever it is to people who don’t work as servants anymore.” She explains, face scrunched up as she tries to remember what the man had said.

Camilla pauses at that. “Is that what he said?”

Kamui hums, “No, but I thought that was the implication.” She’s growing increasingly more confused as the conversation continues.

“Well what did he say, dear?”

Kamui shakes her head. “I can’t repeat that!”

“Why ever not?”

Kamui thinks. “What’s that word that you use to describe words people aren’t supposed to say? Uh…ex- something…Oh! Because it had a lot of expletives!” she smiles as she remembers, but it disappears after she sees that Camilla is not smiling. In fact, she doesn’t look happy at all.

Uh oh.

“Would you three be dears and watch Elise for me for a bit? I have to go talk to Gunter,” she says after a moment.

Kamui panics. “Wait, it’s not his fault—”

“Shh, shh. I know. He’s not in any trouble. I just want to ask him about it, all right?” She says soothingly. She looks…worried, and Kamui realizes she must look pretty scared. She nods after a moment.

“That’s a good girl,” Camilla says approvingly, patting her head. “I’ll be right back.”

Leo’s looking at her oddly.

She cocks her head at him. “What?”

He turns his head slightly to the side before he answers. “You do know what happens to servants that are sent away, right?”

Kamui frowns. “No? Should I?” No one had told her about it.

Leo doesn’t answer, and Kamui starts to feel sick as she tries to work up the nerve to ask.

What happened to them?

“Um. Guys? I set up the oil pastels,” Corrin says weakly, gesturing to the papers on the table.

“Color!” Elise says happily unlatching herself from Kamui’s side, and Corrin hastily helps her get off of the couch so she doesn’t hurt herself.

Kamui smiles at her, and though she’s very much dreading whatever it is Leo hasn’t said, she turns to Corrin with a forced smile.

“Thanks, Corrin,” and the grin she gets in return is worth it.

Leo gets off the couch and kneels on the floor, looking defeated. “Just make sure Elise doesn’t try to eat any of them, ok?”

What would have happened to that boy?

Chapter Text

After the meeting with Elise, Camilla started visiting regularly again, and she often brought Leo with her. Elise wasn’t allowed to travel very much yet as she was so young, so she never joined them. It grated on Kamui’s nerves that the toddler was allowed to travel at all given their situation, but lately, Corrin had seemed more withdrawn than before, so Kamui kept her irritation to herself.

Kamui mostly avoided them as she had before—though sometimes, the boys would ignore Camilla’s warnings not to mess with her and she’d end up unhappily accompanying them to the sitting room.

Well. She tried being unhappy with it. Corrin made it very difficult to stay angry when he was so positive all the time. His stupid mood was infectious, and that was kind of a problem for Kamui because she didn’t want to get closer with these people. They should just be strangers—in fact, they should probably never have met them at all. She didn’t want to like them, but it was hard not to find her conversations with Leo more engaging than with most other people simply because he could keep up with her thought processes. It was hard not to like Camilla when she was so infuriatingly kind to her all the time—even if she could also be irritating and scary.

And most of all, she was starting to feel kind of lonely: whenever one or both of them visited, if she just stayed in her room the entire time, she never got to see Corrin. She was used to him being right by her side and causing all sorts of problems, laughing about how fun something was the entire time. That didn’t happen when the Nohrians were over more than half the days in a week.

Corrin told Kamui he’d asked her about where the Heir was—apparently, Corrin missed him—but Camilla just told them he was on a ‘mission’. Whatever that meant. Camilla had apparently finished her own mission (hence her renewed visitations to the Tower), but when Corrin asked her for details about it, she simply told him it wasn’t anything he needed to worry about-though she phrased it a bit differently.

These were the thoughts that she entertained herself with tonight because once again, she couldn’t sleep. She’d laid in bed for hours, watching the stars come out and move across the sky wearily as the night dragged on. She had slept for a while, but she woke up to a nightmare-the same one that had haunted her since she'd been put in this prison.

She didn’t want to worry Gunter, so she’d decided to stay in bed until morning. The older man seemed more concerned for her recently, and she decided that she'd do what she could to alleviate his worries, even if she was only pretending to get sleep. It’s in her bedroom, now, that she’s staring at the ceiling idly wondering if she could touch it if she climbed on top of her wardrobe when she hears the noises from outside.

Clang! Clash! Tink, tink!

Kamui closes her eyes.

Huh. He came back.

Corrin would probably be happy. At least she knew to stay in her room today.

Tink! Clang, clang, clang!

Kinda reminds me of Ryoma practicing with a katana early in the morning. Papa was never happy about that-he was always so loud, and sometimes he'd wake Takumi…

She yawns, thinking about her older brother. Papa had said he was supposed to come with them That Day, but he never showed up.

Would it have changed anything? Would he have died, too, or would he be here with me?

Kamui loves Corrin, but she feels so utterly alone when it comes to their family.

What…what if he knew? What if Ryoma didn’t show up because he saw the soldiers and…and what if he'd left them?

The thought makes her stomach turn. Kamui shakes her head, biting her lip. That’s…it’s surely not what happened. Ryoma loved them. And he would definitely come to save them.

What if…no one is coming?

Maybe they don’t care…

But she had that dream about Hinoka. It had felt so real, and she desperately wants to believe that her Mama and her siblings were looking for them—that they were coming and they missed her and Corrin as much as she missed them.

Clang! Clash!

If she closes her eyes long enough, she can forget that she’s trapped here. She can pretend that Papa is rushing down the halls with an annoyed frown, going to stop Ryoma from waking the entire castle up with his early morning training.

Clash! Crash. Tink!

Or maybe this time, it’s Takumi and Corrin who are throwing things in the throne room again. The last time that happened, Kamui’d walked in to the two of them dejectedly sweeping up the remains of one of the ornate sculptures that had been displayed—Takumi swept while Corrin used one foot to keep a wet rag in place, catching the smaller clay fragments. Papa was quietly lecturing them the entire time while collecting the larger clay shards into a pile at his side.

Tink, tink tink!

Maybe Hinoka’s cursing up a storm again. Why else would it be so loud…

…

Kamui blinks groggily and then sits up with a start, staring out her still open window. Daylight spills into her room from the sun above. She’d fallen back asleep. Imagine that.

She was surprised that she was able to get back to sleep. It had been quite a while since she had slept this well, and while she wasn't complaining, it made her wonder if the reason that she had such problems with sleeping was the lack of noise in the tower. She yawns sitting up and rubs at her eyes.

I suppose now is as good a time as any to get up.

Kamui pushes herself out of bed and gets dressed. She isn't surprised to hear the stirring from the sitting room as she pulls on her tunic. She had assumed that the Heir would come in for a visit when she had heard him outside. She was however surprised that Corrin hadn't woken her up before now. After all, it has been hours since she'd heard the Heir practicing outside.

I wonder if anybody else is here.

After adjusting the garters that hold up her socks, Kamui starts the arduous process of brushing her hair. She still hasn't cut it since they arrived at the tower, and she wasn't planning to, either. Her Mama used to love sitting and brushing her hair in the early hours of the day, and despite the large amount of split ends and timely morning routine, she couldn't bring herself to cut it.

By the time she finishes, her right arm is sore but her hair falls straight against her back, almost to her waist. Gunter told her recently that if she planned on actually fighting then she should consider either cutting her hair or putting it up. Apparently, It wasn't unheard of for bandits or mercenaries to use an enemies long hair to their advantage: they would pull on it or rip it out from someone's scalp if it meant that it would make it easier to slit someone’s throat.

I should learn how to style it on my own.

Such was something that she had never had to consider before; at the few formal events that she had ever had to attend, her Mama had put her hair up for her. Kamui replaces the brush on her night stand and pulls on her shoes. After the guard in the halls had failed to recognize her and had dragged her down to the kitchen, cutting her feet in the process, she always made sure to wear her shoes. They honestly weren't something that she cared for, but if it meant that she could avoid injury, then she tried her best to remember to put them on.

Corrin was another story. She understood why he wouldn't wear his shoes; She liked to be able to feel the dragon veins with her skin. Something about that skin contact was calming. Maybe it's because it made it easier to tell what the Dragon Veins would do, or maybe it was because it gave her some small semblance of control, but being able to physically touch the magic spots had always felt soothing to her. Kamui doesn't feel like dealing with her Nohrian siblings, so instead she flips open her encyclopedia and picks up where she last left off, dragging the chair to the window so she can feel the breeze on her face.

She isn't surprised at the knock on the door once she finishes a few pages; in fact, she's surprised that it had taken them this long in order to come bother her. Disliking the idea of them barging in, she stands replacing the bookmark on the page where she had left off and setting the book down on the chair, moving to the door. She isn't surprised to see Corrin at the door, but she is surprised to see both Elise and Leo.

“Kayyy!” Elise says as soon as the door is open, holding her arms out and closing the distance between the two of them. Kamui blinks and awkwardly pats her on the back.

I thought she wouldn’t remember me since we’ve only met once…and what’s ‘Kay’ mean?

“Kamui guess what?!” Corrin starts excitedly, giving her no time to answer before continuing, “it’s our birthday and Camilla says the servants are bringing cake soon and everybody’s here AND we’re gonna have a huge party!”

What?

“He’s saying you have to come out now. And stop sleeping so late; every time I come here someone either has to wake you up or you just sleep all day. What are you, an owl?” Leo says, arms crossed in front of him. He looks unimpressed.

“Kayy-y! Kay, Kay, Kay Kay-y!” Elise calls from her position at Kamui’s feet.

Leo raises a brow when she doesn't answer, a smug grin appearing on his face. "I ask because they are nocturnal, though I suppose I should have explained that given how clueless you are."

Kamui narrows her eyes at him, but before she can think of a response, she realizes that Elise seems to be talking to her.

Is that supposed to be me? Wait, never mind that…

“It’s not our birthday, Corrin.” Kamui says, turning to Corrin.

Corrin blinks at her, face scrunching up in confusion. “Wait, yes it is, Camilla even said so!”

Kamui’s eyes flatten. “And?”

Leo huffs a sigh and reaches forwards, grabbing her by the arm and lightly pulling her forwards. Elise moves with her, glued to her legs, and it makes walking difficult. “Move, Elise, or else we’ll never get the bear to come out of its den.”

Kamui frowns in annoyance at his comment and attempts to corral the toddler to the side, but the girl just makes a displeased noise and hangs on tighter.

This is going to be a long day.

“Elise, come ON!” Leo says, releasing Kamui’s arm and latching onto the toddler’s shoulder instead, trying to pry her off. It isn’t very effective, and Leo is left grunting in frustration as Elise makes increasingly louder sounds of anger. Kamui looks at Corrin flatly, and he laughs.

“Is there a problem, dears?” a soft voice calls in from the sitting room.

“Yes, Elise won’t get. Off!” Leo says, pausing as he tries again to pull the girl from Kamui’s side.

“Mmmmmmmmmgh!” Elise hums angrily. Leo tries once more before he gives up, throwing his hands in the air as he stalks out to the sitting room.

“Yay-y! I win!” Elise says, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Kamui can’t help but smile down at her. She decides to try and offer her a hand to hold on to instead of her legs, and Elise snatches it within both of hers, swinging it at her side. Corrin beams at them.

“I think she likes you!” he says.

I think she likes everyone. Well. Maybe not Leo.

“We tried telling her your name but all she says is ‘K’.”

I guess it’s not the worst nickname I could have gotten.

“Kay-y, Kay-y!” the younger girl chants, stretching out the name. Kamui sighs, realizing she'll have to fix this birthday nonsense. Still holding Elise’s hand, she makes her way into the sitting room while Corrin follows behind.

She blinks in shock once she enters: the coffee table had a fancy looking fitted black tablecloth covering it and is covered all across with an ornate tea set, different kinds of pastries, bread, and steaming mugs full of some brown substance. She’s pretty sure it’s not tea since she can’t see through it.

“Hapbudday!” Elise says, grinning up at her from her side.

Oh boy.

“Uhm. Camilla? It’s not our birthday.” She says timidly, turning to the older girl with a slight frown.

“Oh, I know dear, but since we don’t know your actual birthday, we just decided we’d celebrate it when a year passed by since we met you!” Camilla says with a soft smile.

“It’s not our birthday?” Corrin says in shock. The truth is that their birthday had passed months ago, and Kamui’d given Corrin a little drawing of some flowers she’d seen growing out the sitting room window. She’d originally tried to draw the ones he’d picked for Papa, but found she didn’t have the stomach to finish the sketch. She hadn’t thought to mention why she had gifted him the picture, but then she had assumed he knew what the significance of the day was.

Kamui shakes her head, refocusing on the conversation at hand. Camilla frowns at Corrin thoughtfully. “Well, I suppose it could be, but you would know better than I would.”

Kamui suppresses a wince.

No he wouldn’t.

Corrin frowns, looking deep in thought before Leo suddenly rolls his eyes and walks over to him. “Does it really matter what day it’s actually on? We’re all here now, we’ll celebrate now. And you,” he says, pointing at Kamui, “just shut up and pretend or something, will you? You’re ruining the mood.” Kamui glares at him, starting to retaliate before she stops, looking back to Corrin. He was so happy just a moment ago, preparing to celebrate with all of them.

I guess…Leo’s kind of right?

As much as she hated to admit it, mostly because he annoys her. She offers a begrudging nod, and he hums in smug satisfaction.

Ugh, I already regret that.

She might appreciate Leo’s wit from time to time, but he had a knack for getting under her skin. She purposely pushes down the memory of someone else who’d had the same ability. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on it if she wanted Corrin to be happy.

“Now come on, there’s lots of food and the cake will be here soon-sit!” Leo orders them. The smile had returned to Corrin’s face, and she finds her mood softening just a bit.

And unfortunately for her, that’s the exact moment the Heir walks in and she remembers why she wanted to stay in her room today. Before their argument on the roof, she’d mostly gotten over her fear of the older boy, but she hasn’t even been in the same room with him for months now. She isn’t exactly scared of him like she had been before, but she is kind of dreading any sort of conversation they might have because of the whole roof thing. He hadn’t been very happy about that.

Maybe he’ll be nice since it’s our ‘birthday’?

Kamui isn’t betting on it.

Avoiding eye contact with anyone, Kamui takes a seat on the couch and struggles to pull Elise up beside her. The girl had gotten heavier in the months they’d been separated, and though Kamui’s been training with Gunter, most of it wasn’t focused on building strength.

Corrin sits across from them and grabs some sort of pastry—Kamui hasn’t seen something like it before-and bites into it, grinning with an open mouth at Kamui with jam spread on his face.

Leo groans in distaste from his position at Camilla’s side, opting to sit next to Kamui on the couch across from Corrin. It makes the grin on Corrins face wider and he kicks his bare feet across one of the arms of the couch, effectively splaying over half of it. It makes Kamui snort, and for once she doesn’t suppress the grin his antics put on her face. Leo elbows her in the side and she turns to look at him.

“Don’t encourage him, that’s uncivilized,” he says, sounding annoyed.

“Nuh uh-hh, it’s fun,” Corrin corrects, looking up at the ceiling. His bangs stick to the single cushion of the couch that he takes up, making his hair look as wild as her own does before she brushes it in the mornings.

Leo sighs in exasperation, but says nothing else about it. Elise twists to look at him from Kamui’s other side before she looks up at Kamui, hands opening and closing repeatedly before she looks at the table of food in front of them.

Kamui decides to mess with her a bit and points to the pastries that Corrin got. Elise wiggles in excitement, making happy cooing noises. Kamui then points to the bread. Elise pouts, glaring up at Kamui and pointing to the pastries.

Kamui switches what she points to back and forth, and Elise responds each time she changes her target. Even Leo is smirking from next to her as Elise grumbles in frustration each time Kamui points to anything other than the pastries.

“Aww, are they picking on you, Elise?” Camilla says with mirth. Elise turns her attention to the older girl in an effort to get her help instead. Camilla laughs and rises, gracefully scooping the youngest into her arms to rest on her hip. Elise babbles happily when she finally receives the object of her fixation, and she tears into the fruit-based sweet with surprising ferocity.

Kamui notices Corrin is grinning over at them and she smiles back.

“What are you gonna try?” He asks her, face still covered in crumbs and a smear of preserves.

Kamui shrugs; she didn’t usually have much of an appetite when she first woke up. Corrin nods like he was expecting that, the motion looking awkward from his position on the couch. He tilts his head up to look behind him.

“Aren’t you gonna sit with us, big brother?”

Kamui suppresses her unease. Perhaps her appetite would be greater if her stomach wasn’t doing so many flips in her gut.

This would be so much more comfortable without him here.

The Heir looks at Corrin in surprise. He hadn’t moved from his place by the door.

“I did not know whether you would want me to join you or not, little prince,” the Heir says quietly. He looks almost sad.

“Huh? Why not? I haven’t seen you in forever, and Camilla said you did missions and stuff! You gotta tell me about them!” Corrin says happily, sitting up so his hands draped over his knees that were still hung over the arm of the couch.

The Heir blinks. “…I thought my absence might have upset you.”

“No, I get you’re busy, but you’re here now, right? That means you still like us!” The Heir seems troubled at his response.

“Corrin, the missions I do have nothing to do with th—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Now come on!” Corrin says impatiently, patting the other couch cushion beside him.

The Heir smiles at him, expression softening at Corrin’s earnestness. He walks across the room and sits down next to Corrin, who lays back down as he had been. He’s small enough that the Heir isn’t close enough to touch him…at first.

Corrin gets a mischievous look in his eyes and he braces his feet on the arm of the couch, launching himself backwards. He knocks into the Heir—who looks down at him in surprise—and lands halfway onto his lap before wrapping his arms around the older boy’s shoulders, pressing his head into his breastplate.

“I missed you. Thanks for coming back,” Corrin says sincerely. The Heir’s shock fades into something softer, and he runs a hand through Corrin’s now messy hair, wrapping his other arm around his small frame and shifting the boy into a more comfortable position on his lap.

“Always, little prince.”

“Aww, isn’t that sweet,” Camilla coos from her chair. Elise had finished a second pastry and sat happily kicking her legs on Camilla’s lap.

“Sure, sure. You,” Leo says, addressing Kamui. She turns to him, waiting for the rest of his response. “Do you have any skill using tomes yet? I’d like to spar at some point.”

Kamui frowns, shaking her head. The only weapons she could use so far were swords and pole arms (she’d discovered from Gunter that spear was not actually his weapon of choice), and she wasn’t proficient with either yet.

Leo clicks his tongue. “Pity. I suppose we could just use swords, but it’s not really my specialty.”

Kamui’s frown deepens.

How can he even have a specialty yet? He’s younger than I am!

“Leo,” the Heir calls from across the room. Kamui stiffens.

“Hmm? What is it, brother?”

“They’re not practiced enough with the sword for an actual spar. You’ll have to wait.”

Leo looks back to her, eyes narrowing with distaste. “Well, I guess you are both locked up here for a reason . If you ever want to leave, though, I suggest—”

Kamui’s anger was starting to flare up again when Camilla cut him off.

“Leo, dear, when did you become an expert in swordsmanship?”

“What?”

“Well, if you know enough about it to be making recommendations to people, you must be an expert, right? Because surely you wouldn’t offer advice on something you don’t know much about?”

Leo flushes and looks away. Kamui’s anger fades into exhaustion.

I should’ve stayed in my room.

She notices that Corrin had further buried his face in the Heir’s chest—probably so he didn’t have to look at Leo.

He really bought the whole ‘you two are stuck here because you’re weak’ thing, huh?

The Heir only strokes his hair softly, and some of the tension leaves Corrin’s shoulders. For some reason, it irritates Kamui.

How can Corrin be so relaxed around them? They’re keeping us here.

Kamui contemplates returning to her room when Corrin turns his head, looking at her.

“I bet Kamui could beat you with a spear,” Corrin says, not turning to Leo as he speaks.

Evidently, the others didn’t know about Gunter’s training, because three sets of eyes turn to look at her in surprise. The Heir looks perplexed. Kamui decides not to correct Corrin—after all, she'd thought Gunter used a spear, too, before he began training her.

“…I wasn’t aware either of you knew how to use other weapons,” he says quietly. Kamui barely manages to hold his gaze.

Corrin shifts to look up at the Heir, shaking his head.

“No, only she can. Gunter teaches her sometimes since she can’t ever go to sleep.”

That’s not why, Corrin...actually, maybe it is a little bit why...

“I see.”

“Well, why don’t we find out then? I’d love to see what you can do—and Xander and Camilla could give you some pointers. If you can hurry up and get better, then maybe you can come live with us so we don’t have to make this bothersome trip every time we want to see you,” Leo says casually, though his eyes scan her critically.

“Can you, can you?!” Corrin says excitedly, looking at her with a new light in his eyes. Kamui shifts uncomfortably.

I don’t know about this…

She hears Leo scoff in amusement. “What, are you scared or something? Don’t worry: if you’re going to be a baby about it, I can go easy on you,” he taunts. Kamui glares at him.

“Hey, don’t be so mean!” Corrin says angrily. “Gunter says she’s getting pretty good.”

“Well if he’s such a good teacher, why aren’t you learning from him, too?”

Corrin frowns, lowering his head. “I didn’t want to learn that because I wanted Xander to come back and he wouldn’t have a reason to if both of us had another teacher.”

The Heir winces at his admission. “Little prince…”

Corrin rests his head back against his chest, and the Heir holds on to him protectively.

‘Hahaha! Got you!’ Kosuke says, arms thrown around Ryoma’s shoulders. Ryoma sighs, grabbing Kosuke’s arms and swinging the boy over his head and into his lap. Kosuke squeals in amusement.

‘Ko, must you do this while I meditate?’ Ryoma asks, suppressing a smile.

‘Yeah! It’s fun! Come play with us!’ Kosuke says, pulling lightly on Ryoma’s arm.

‘Kosuke,’ he says, sighing, ‘Meditation is important. You shouldn’t interrupt me.’

Kosuke looks up at him with a frown, large red eyes growing wide. ‘Please, big brother?’

Ryoma says nothing for a moment, then ruffles the younger boy’s hair, cracking a smile. Kosuke laughs, and suddenly Ryoma stands, tossing Kosuke over his shoulder.

‘Woah! You’re REALLY strong!’ Kosuke says, his head behind Ryoma. Ryoma laughs, turning to look at Kamui from where she stands near the doorway.

‘One day, you both will be just as strong as I,’ he says, walking over to her. She offers him a small smile as he kneels down in front of her. She steps forwards and he wraps his left arm under her legs and stands up, holding her like Papa usually did. She reaches over and pokes Kosuke on the back of his knee, making him squawk in surprise.

‘Hey-y, how come you picked her up like normal but you grabbed me like I’m a bag of rice?’

‘Because she didn’t interrupt my meditation,’ Ryoma says as he slides open the thin door, moving out into the hall.

“…hey? Hey!” Kamui blinks at the hand in front of her face, recoiling at its proximity. Leo rolls his eyes at her, shaking his head as he pulls his hand back to his side. “You didn’t answer, are we going to spar or not?”

“…Sure,” she says, not wishing to argue. Her voice is barely above a whisper. She feels the eyes of everyone in the room, but can’t bring herself to meet them. No one speaks for a while, and Kamui contemplates going to get the encyclopedia when suddenly Corrin pushes himself off of the Heir and onto the floor.

Kamui looks up when she notices he’s in front of her, and he beams while trying to hand her a roll from the coffee table.

“You gotta eat something!” he says, wiggling the bread in font of her. Kamui frowns up at him.

“Um, but I’m not really hungry yet,” she replies quietly.

“I bet it’s good,” Corrin says, tilting his head.

“Probably?”

Corrin doesn’t respond, but he keeps waving the roll in front of her face. After a few moments, Kamui sighs.

“Are you gonna keep doing that ‘til I take it?”

“No, I’m gonna keep doing this ‘til you eat it,” he says cheekily. Kamui’s gaze flattens, but she snatches the roll from his hand and starts eating it, which causes Corrin to let out a little cheer. She hears Camilla laugh. Corrin turns on his heels and jumps back on to the Heir, who startles at the contact.

Kamui still isn’t very hungry—and the memory of her oldest brother did nothing to help her appetite—but Corrin was right. The roll is pretty good. She’s about halfway through it when Leo speaks up.

“So, are we waiting until after the cake then?” he asks, legs crossed. Kamui glances over at him for a moment, then snaps her gaze back to him once she notices something odd.

“What is it now?” he asks with irritation.

“Why’s your collar look like that?” she asks, pointing to the visible seams.

“Oh, someone else noticed,” Camilla says cheerfully, shifting Elise on her lap. The youngest looked as though she was trying to find a comfortable position to take a nap.

“Noticed wha—ugh,” Leo groans as he yanks on the fabric and turns his head to get a look at it. “Why didn’t you say anything, Camilla?”

“Oh Leo, it’s part of what makes you so fun,” Camilla says, smirking.

“You mean fun to make fun of,” Leo grumbles. He stands and leaves the room. Kamui’s not sure why he doesn’t just fix it in there. Maybe Camilla had hurt his feelings.

Kamui finishes her roll in silence, staring out the window.

Has it really been a year?

On their last real birthday, Mama had taken them out to visit the town just outside of Castle Shirasagi. It was one of the larger settlements in Hoshido, and because of this it was always busy. Ryoma and Hinoka were both allowed to go to town by themselves as long as it was still daytime, but the rest of them were too little to go alone. Mama and Papa had reluctantly agreed to allow them out with Ryoma after Corrin had bothered them about it for months, but Ryoma was often quite busy with sword training and government, strategy, and tactics lessons-not to mention his schooling and meditation, so the two of them (and sometimes Takumi) didn’t get to visit the town very often.

Kamui had never been a fan of crowds, but Corrin loved them, and she liked seeing her brother look so happy. Besides, the town had a really good roasted potato place that Ryoma made a point to stop at whenever the two of them went into town with him. She never directly said she'd liked them, but her older brother had a knack for learning all of his sibling’s preferences.

Ryoma’s so nice. I miss him.

“Kamui, are you ok?” Corrin asks, peeking out from behind the arm the Heir has wrapped around him.

“Just tired,” she replies, turning back to the window. Several moments of silence pass before the conversation continues.

“Little princess,” the Heir starts. Kamui bristles. “I’m sorry.”

Wait, what?

She turns to the Heir in surprise, waiting for him to continue.

He sighs, the hand smoothing Corrin’s hair stilling atop his head. “I did not like when you threw that practice sword from the roof—and you should not have done so,” he adds sternly. “But I should not have handled the situation like that in the first place,” his gaze softens, “and I should not have let you believe that I was angry with you this entire time. I am not, and I apologize for doing so.”

Kamui sits in shock. This was not what she had envisioned their next conversation would be like. She watches him blankly for a moment before pulling her legs up on the couch, resting her chin on her knees.

“…it’s ok,” she says. In truth, even though she didn’t regret her anger, she does feel like she should have expressed herself in a different way. She’d thought that if someone had walked under the sword when it was falling, it probably would have hurt...or worse.

And if she was being really, really honest with herself, she felt a little, tiny bit bad for the Heir—though she wished that he wouldn’t say they were siblings since he was apparently the only one of the Nohrians who knew any better. She also wished that he didn’t try to stop her from telling Camilla about it.

But…if Papa or Mama did something so horrible; would I want Takumi to know?

A part of her screams that her parents would never kidnap children like the Grey Man did.

The other part whispers memories of a too-realistic dream where quarters were prepared for a hostage.

Kamui feels queasy—and she knows Corrin is going to make sure she eats some of the cake.

I hope I don’t throw it up during this duel.

Were duels the same thing as spars? She supposes she could ask—

A knock sounds at the door leading to the servants’ quarters. A feminine voice calls in, letting them know they have the cake. Camilla calls for them to enter, and as all three of the older children in the room besides herself have turned to look at the open door, Kamui is able to hide her surprise at seeing the rude hallway boy. They lock eyes and his widen for a fraction of a second before he averts his gaze and his expression changes to one of cold neutrality.

“Jakob, clear the used dishes,” the middle-aged woman says as she makes her way to the coffee table, placing the serving tray in the center and lifting the lid.

“Please enjoy!” she says with a curtsy, nudging Jakob to react similarly, which he does after some hesitation.

Jakob leaves with a small stack of dishes, and Kamui hopes he doesn’t drop them this time.

…I’m glad he’s all right. Leo never did tell me what would have happened to him, but…

Well. She always did have an overactive imagination.

Leo comes back in soon after they leave, his collar put on properly. Kamui thinks it looks kind of stupid but decides to cut him some slack since he’d seemed so embarrassed about it earlier.

The cake is a small, simply decorated chocolate circle that had been pre-cut into six equally sized pieces. When Leo retakes his seat on the couch beside Kamui, Corrin gets up and looks at the Heir in excitement. The Heir offers him a gentle smile and stands up, using the pie knife to place each slice of cake on one of the small plates that Jakob had brought in.

Corrin beams when the Heir hands him a piece, and Corrin snatches up a fork and runs over to Leo, offering the plate to him.

Leo raises an eyebrow. “I can get my own, you know,” the boy says—though he still accepts the plate from him.

“I know, but I’m helping!” Corrin says happily as he runs back to the Heir. Amused, the Heir offers him two more plates and Corrin delivers these to Camilla, who has just woken Elise up.

The toddler gasps when Corrin hands her the plate. “CAKE! Is for me?” Corrin laughs and gives her a nod, and Camilla smiles, playing with a ringlet of the young girl’s hair.

“What do you say, Elise?”

“Thank!” and with that, she unceremoniously tears into the cake, foregoing the fork entirely.

“It’s ‘thank you’, Elise,” Leo corrects with a smile.

When Corrin walks over to Kamui, he doesn’t bother handing her the plate, he just sets it on her lap and then points at her. His hand is so close to her face that she instinctually pulls her head away from it.

“You have to eat it, too,” he says wiggling his finger in her face like a parent scolding their child.

“Errm. Thanks,” Kamui says, slightly embarrassed by the treatment. When she takes a bite, Corrin nods approvingly and rushes back to the Heir to get his own piece.

The cake was fine, but it’s far sweeter than the foods Kamui normally eats. She’s picking her way through it slowly, trying her best to finish it so as not to upset Corrin when Camilla speaks up.

“Aww, you don’t have to finish it if you don’t like it dear. I can have another made if you want.”

Please don’t.

“It’s, I mean, I like it but it’s really sweet,” she stumbles, praying to the gods that Camilla doesn’t immediately call in a servant.

“Oh good, I thought I was gonna have to eat the whole entire thing since I made you take some,” Corrin says, setting the plate down on the coffee table. Relieved, Kamui follows suit.

Leo hums. “Truly? I don’t find it sweet enough,” he muses, glancing at the plates.

“Um, but it was good. Can we go say thank you?” Corrin asks Camilla, idly kicking his legs.

Camilla chuckles. “I’ll make sure someone lets them know, little one.” Corrin closes his eyes and bobs his head from side to side. Elise babbles something Kamui can’t quite make out-probably because she’s absolutely covered in cake and frosting.

She looks like someone let her loose in a painter’s study.

Kamui looks back out the window. Even daytime looked dreary and desaturated in Nohr.

She was forgetting how it was supposed to look.

“Well, I’m done now. Xander, will you take us to the roof?” Leo says, shaking her out of her thoughts.

The Heir hums uncertainly, eyes flickering to hers. “I am not certain this is the best idea.”

Leo huffs in irritation. “How else will they know how much better they need to get before they can leave? You’re too skilled with the sword for such a comparison. If all they must do is surpass myself-and seeing as I am unconfined as they are, this should be true—fighting me would be the most logical way to see how far they must go.”

Kamui cocks her head slightly, mulling over his response. He had a point—and she suddenly realizes what Corrin had done.

Brother, you are far smarter than you are given credit for.

If this was truly about their strength and not a means of imprisonment as Kamui assumed it was, then upon beating Leo in combat, she should be able to prove that she was strong enough to leave.

How does the saying go? ‘A chain is only as strong as its weakest link’?

If she could beat the weakest Nohrian sibling (the weakest that could actually fight, anyways), they should be set ‘free’—or at least be able to leave this accursed tower. Corrin must suspect something is off for him to suggest this-he despised conflict.

The Heir frowns, but he stands, gesturing for them to follow. Corrin giddily follows behind him, grinning back at her. It makes her heart drop.

Or Corrin really believes they’ll let us leave this place with them should I win.

Kamui really, really hopes that’s not the case. She’s not foolish enough to believe that she can beat Leo—she’s never seen him fight, and if he was so confident as to suggest this, then he must be at least somewhat skilled. But if she did win…

Kamui suppresses a sigh and grabs the door to the sitting room behind her, locking eyes with a curious (and sugar-filled) Elise before pulling it shut behind her.

Let’s just get this over with.

Chapter Text

Kamui was losing.

This does not surprise her, though she still finds it upsetting. Leo uses a wooden practice sword-one of the same ones that Kamui and Corrin practiced with back when the Heir would train them-and she was using the wooden two-handed practice staff that Gunter had her use. Leo’s already hit her several times with the wooden blade, and in a real fight she’s sure she would be bleeding all over the place now. The Heir said the spar would end when someone was either knocked down, surrendered, or when he decided they shouldn’t continue any more.

The thing that bothers her the most is that Leo isn’t even that good with a sword-not when compared to the Heir. It was clear that he hadn’t sparred against someone who wasn’t wielding a sword by the clumsy way he tried to block her staff whenever she swung it at him. This wasn’t to say that she was good with the weapon-far from it, compared to Gunter-but she had the added advantage of understanding the basics of sword faire from the Heir’s lessons. This made it easier for her to predict what Leo tried to do-and she was still losing, because even if she knew what he’d do next, she didn’t know how to stop him. Gunter would also use a staff whenever they sparred, so she had a similar lack of skill in this type of cross combat as Leo.

Even so, the idea that she had any advantage over the boy was shocking. She had expected him to beat her soon after their spar started because of the self-assured way he spoke about himself, but as time goes on she sees the frustration laced in his expressions and attacks. He must not have thought that she knew how to fight back at all-an idea that she finds profoundly irritating.

What did he think I was learning from Gunter, anyways?

Clack!

Leo swings the sword at her. Unlike the Heir, he prefers using two hands to wield the sword-something that appeared to irk the oldest boy when he saw it, though he has said nothing of it so far. Kamui did not know much about the weapons-the fighting style and shape of the blade were quite different in some ways than their parallels in Hoshido-but she thinks the sword isn’t meant to be wielded like that. It makes his strikes hit harder, and though Leo is apparently younger than her, he is both taller and stronger than she is-which he uses to his full advantage when he leans into every strike, pressing his body weight as well as the blade into her every time their weapons collide. Blocking his attacks head on had quickly stopped being a valid approach to their fight. It simply cost her too much energy-so much energy that she occasionally chose to let the sword hit her if she could not dodge completely. The scratches and newly forming bruises on her shoulder, hip, and knee attested to that. If she were stronger than him, the fight would be much easier since she could just throw him back using the staff. She’s also not much faster than him, and though he’s growing more frustrated as the duel continues, he’s still exceptionally skilled at dodging her own strikes, which are few and far between because observing him requires most of her attention.

They’re in one of Castle Shirasagi's larger courtyards. It’s late afternoon and the sun has just started to slip out of view from behind the castle walls. A cool breeze brushes her hair from her face from her position on a large rock. She’s sitting with her legs crossed while watching Ryoma and Papa spar.

‘Son’ Papa says, casually hitting Ryoma's unguarded side with a sharp swing. Her older brother grunts, but he doesn’t give up as he moves out of the reach of their father’s katana. ‘In a real battle, what would you do against a foe who is faster, stronger, and more skilled than yourself?’

Ryoma doesn’t answer, instead opting to make an attack of his own. Kamui watches in awe as he darts forward, swinging his own blade first at Papa’s side before changing its trajectory near the end of the swing to slash up at his chest instead. But Papa’s too fast-Papa's impossibly fast-and instead of blocking Ryoma’s attack he sidesteps around the weapon and lunges forward, striking Ryoma’s right shoulder with his own blade.

Ryoma cries out and the blade wobbles in his hand from the shock of the impact. Papa has his sword to her brother’s neck in an instant, and Ryoma goes rigid. It’s the first time she has felt afraid for her brother before, and though their weapons are simply for practice, it all feels too real for her to just watch.

Papa must know what she’s thinking, because his eyes snap to her own and she freezes just like her big brother had. The fear only lasts until Papa smiles at her, brown eyes gently soothing her worry. This is when she understands that whatever it is he’s doing here, it won’t hurt her brother and it’s important. She watches, mesmerized by how easily Papa had won their spar.

‘Well, Ryoma?’

‘What.’ Her brother grits out. He hated losing almost as much as Corrin hated sitting still.

‘Listen to me, boy’ Papa says, removing the dull blade from Ryoma’s throat. ‘If you ever face an opponent that is more skilled than you are, you have two options. Do you know what they are?’

Her brother doesn’t answer, but she can see the thought behind his eyes. Another breeze shakes the leaves and the branches of the nearby trees, chilling her legs through her hakama.

Papa ended up answering his own question. ‘You can either run,’ he starts, cutting her brother off with a hand before he could interrupt, ‘or outwit them.’

Her brother looks confused and agitated at the answer. ‘Is it not dishonorable to run or to fight like a coward?’

‘Is it not dishonorable to let your people die because you are unwilling to see the state of a battle?’

‘I thought you meant in a one on one situation only,’ her brother counters stubbornly.

‘If you are truly fighting someone as I’ve described, that will not be the case.’

‘I don’t understand. How can one man fight an entire army?’

‘They cannot. But one man can lead an entire army.’

Her brother frowns. ‘I don’t understand where you’re going with this, father.’

‘Should you fight someone who is stronger than yourself in on a real battlefield-in a situation where your life is on the line-you as the oldest will probably be leading an army. Your people will be counting on you for direction. It is not cowardice to retreat if it means that doing so will save the lives of your countrymen. Do not get yourself killed for your pride.’

Her brother is silent for a moment, but he looks more contemplative than angry. ‘And if you cannot retreat?’

Papa smiles at him with a wild look in his eyes. ‘Then you must get creative.’

Kamui blinks, barely moving her staff in time to block another blow from the sword. She grits her teeth, heels digging into stone. She’s begrudgingly thankful that she remembered to wear shoes-this would have seriously hurt her bare feet.

Why did I have to remember that now?!

It’s not like she was leading an army-and she never would, either. She remembers being disappointed after that talk because it wasn’t something that was ever going to matter to her.
Leo must have taken her delayed reaction as her slowing down, because he grins at her cockily. “What, you done already? We’ve barely even begun!”

I don’t think that’s true. Most practice battles would be over by now.

At least, she thinks that should be the case. Papa and Ryoma only ever exchanged ten or so bouts before Papa inevitably won their actually serious spars, and had she been fighting against the Heir, she’s certain he would have won within moments after they started.

If only Leo weren’t so strong. Then maybe she’d—

Kamui’s eyes widen in realization.

Gods, I’m an idiot.

Leo swings again and she moves to block as she’s done before-staff perpendicular to sword-but this time, as the sword almost meets the staff, she jumps to the side as fast as she can, making Leo stumble forward.

If you can’t run…

She doesn’t waste a moment as she swings the staff at his back, putting enough force behind it to knock him to his hands and knees.

….get creative.

She brings the end of her staff from his back to his neck, and he freezes. Kamui pants but doesn’t move to wipe the sweat off her forehead, keeping the staff firmly in place even as exhaustion threatens to topple her over. She forces herself to breathe through her nose even though each inhale burns her lungs.

In the silence that follows, reality sets in.

Did I actually just win?

No one speaks for a long moment, and Kamui uses the time to slow her breathing. She’s just barely able to stop her arms from shaking with overexertion-though she can already feel how sore she will inevitably be tomorrow.

She looks at the Heir, who is looking at her with an odd mix of surprise and…pride? There’s something darker in his expression, too, and she knows without explanation that this is because of Corrin.

Corrin’s gonna want to go back with them now.

The thought leaves her uneasy, and she internally curses herself for her lack of foresight.

I should have thrown this, but I didn’t think there was a chance I would actually win.

If the Heir let them come with them now, there was no way that they’d be able to escape. Not from the capital of Nohr, not from the Grey Man’s lair. She’s suddenly afraid that she really will throw up that cake.

“WOAH! That was AWESOME!” Corrin says, whooping and bouncing on his heels at his position by the Heir’s side.

Kamui suddenly realizes that she still hasn’t removed her staff from Leo’s neck and pulls it away with some embarrassment. She shouldn’t have kept it there this long, and the younger boy’s position doesn’t look that comfortable. Leo stands in irritation, brushing his clothing off as he moves to retrieve the practice sword from where it had clattered to the rooftop. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, examining the blade and his garments for damage before he turns to the Heir. The two stare at each other for a moment, and the Heir’s expression becomes unreadable.

“Should I go pack?! Oh, can Gunter come? I like him and he teaches Kamui stuff and it helps her sleep. Oh wait-Kamui is probably tired,” Corrin says, turning to her thoughtfully before continuing. “I think I can probably pack her stuff though—”

The Heir clears his throat and looks at Corrin, who beams up at him with a smile that could outshine the sun. A brief look of discomfort flits across the Heir’s face before it reverts back to his usual expression. For once, the look fills her with relief.

Ah, I forgot. Beating Leo doesn’t actually matter-that was just an excuse for them to keep us here.

She never thought that she’d be grateful to be stuck in the Tower, but considering the alternative…

The Heir turns to her and she meets his gaze, hoping that he’ll be gentle with Corrin since he seems to like her twin. To her surprise, he approaches her and looks over her carefully. It leaves her feeling vaguely uncomfortable-she didn’t like being the center of attention, and all three of the boys were watching the exchange. Then she realized that the Heir was examining her injuries, and she felt embarrassed upon remembering just how many times Leo had hit her. She was pretty sure nothing was broken, though she was bruised in quite a few places. A particularly large, reddened area on her left arm by her elbow caught the Heir’s gaze, and he sighed.

“That was good. I wasn’t aware you knew how to feint, and waiting for your opponent to grow irritated with you before beginning your attack was smart. You used your speed to your advantage and avoided directly engaging him once you realized the disparity between your strengths. Observing him until you could judge his skill level was also astute of you-though I would not recommend such a method in the future unless you’re certain you can dodge most of the attacks made against you. In a real battle, I do not believe you would be capable of standing due to all of the hits you took,” the Heir says, watching her with a critical eye.

Kamui frowns. That…was not what she was expecting. Well, Leo had said that the two oldest Nohrians would offer her pointers, but she hadn’t really expected the praise. She was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice the Heir’s movement until she felt something touch her hair, and she froze as she realized he was patting her head. She forces the memory that it elicits back down into her mind. She cocks her head, looking back up to him like he’d gone mad. For some reason, his gaze softens at her response, though she notices that he also seems sad.

“You have grown, little princess. I am proud of you.”

Kamui blinks, and in her shock doesn’t see Corrin approach until he’s just a pace away, and he throws his arms around her.

“Thank you, Kamui,” he whispers to her sincerely, voice so quiet she is certain that the others cannot hear him. His words fill her with guilt.

They’re not going to let us leave, Corrin.

She should have just surrendered; she should have thought through the consequences of her actions. Her stomach flips, and she suppresses a wince. She must look uncomfortable enough that something shows on her face, though, because Leo sighs and tugs on Corrin’s sleeve.

“You’re going to make her sick if you keep that up,” he grumbles. Corrin withdraws, hands clasping behind his back as he rocks on the balls of his feet with a grin.

“Big brother, can you help me decide what to bring with?” Corrin says, looking up at the Heir. Kamui can’t suppress the wince this time, and the Heir’s eyes flicker to hers before locking with Corrin’s again.

“Little prince, I must speak to father before anything is decided,” he says simply.

…hold on, what?

Kamui’s eyes snap back to the Heir’s, and he frowns down at her, perplexed.

“Is there something wrong, Kamui?” he says, voice filled with concern.

Yeah, you're not supposed to actually go along with this-don't tell me he actually wants us to go live with them? He knows we're just prisoners.

They are just prisoners, right?

Leo snorts. “She didn’t get her standard three days of sleep, brother. She’s probably just tired.”

Kamui’s gaze flattens at him, and Corrin giggles.

“When will father let you know when we can go with you?” Corrin says innocently, head bobbing from side to side.

“I am unsure. I will have to seek an audience with him,” the Heir answers honestly. Kamui’s suddenly filled with dread.

Did they actually mean it when they said we could leave when we got stronger? Was Corrin actually right?

“Wait, will you come back and train us until then?” Corrin says. He sounds like he's trying very hard to remain casual, but Kamui can see the hope in his eyes.

The Heir smiles down at him, patting his shoulder, and Corrin returns the look, peering up at him through messy bangs.

“Of course. But for now, I think we should get back to our sisters.”

Corrin grins and races to the hatch leading back into the Tower. The Heir blinks and hurries after him-Corrin’s sense of direction was questionable at best. Kamui moves to follow when Leo taps her shoulder. She turns to look at him.

“Well fought. I don’t think brother suspected anything,” he says, eyeing her with a smug grin.

Kamui’s eyes widen. “…you lost on purpose,” she says quietly.

He snorts, but his expression softens. “Of course I did-what kind of idiot uses an arming sword with two hands?”

Kamui nods, conflicted. It's not like she can tell the boy she's unhappy with this-they all know she hates living in the Tower, and if they start suspecting that she's planning something...well, it probably won't end up very good. Leo nudges her forward and starts moving, and the two make their way to the hatch.

Since Leo walks a few paces in front of her, and she can’t see his expression when he starts speaking again.

“…I know you don’t view us as siblings, but I do, and Corrin does, too,” he starts. Kamui blinks, but he doesn’t turn around to look at her. “And I’m not going to pretend like I understand why that is, but you’re one of the only people who can keep up with me. So do me a favor and at least pretend to enjoy our company, all right?”

The statement leaves her feeling remarkably guilty. In the entire year she’s been here, she’d never stopped to think about how her attitude might be affecting the Nohrians. She hadn’t really cared enough to consider it, but she imagines it would hurt for someone you consider family to constantly refuse to acknowledge you as such. Or shut themselves away every time they saw you or get angry whenever you tried to connect with them. Kamui digs her nails into her palm, suppressing the urge to apologize. This wasn't her fault-she was reacting how anyone would in her situation. It was OK to push them away.

Right?

I don't know what to think anymore.

They walk back in silence, taking larger strides to catch up to Corrin and the Heir.

Quietly enough that only she can hear him, Leo speaks up just before they re-enter the sitting room. “By the way, I might have thrown the spar, but your last attack really did catch me off guard. I don’t often use physical weapons, but you’ll have to teach me that move…you owe me now, after all.”

Kamui offers him a half smile that the blonde returns, and the two of them walk back into the sitting room, closing the door behind them. She keeps the look plastered on her face even as the dread from before starts to invade her thoughts. If the Heir really did talk to the Grey Man, and the Grey Man orders them to move to the capital, they’re never going to be able to go home. She’s going to have to figure out how to get out of here-and fast.

Time is running out.

Chapter Text

As promised, the Heir begins to visit more regularly after their ‘birthday’. Out of all of the Nohrians, he appears the most often, and he occasionally brings Leo or Camilla along with him. Whenever he comes by himself very early in the morning, he’ll often wait to enter the Tower until daylight, opting instead to practice out in the practice yard outside. She would never admit it to him, but she finds that she is able to sleep better when she can hear the faint sounds of swordplay from out of her window. She supposes that it must remind her of Ryoma, and lately, that doesn’t make her as upset as it used to.

When one of the others comes with the Heir, they all train together on the rooftop, and this is how Kamui learns how strong a fighter Camilla is. She uses a large axe-one that probably weighs more than Kamui does-and apparently favors mounted combat. It’s one of these mornings with Corrin, Camilla, and the Heir that Kamui finds out exactly what that means.

“Big sister?” Corrin starts, cocking his head up at the purple-haired girl.

“Yes dear?”

“How come you never bring your horse like Xander?”

Lately, the Heir had brought his mount with him to their sparring sessions-apparently, he normally fought mounted and decided that he would start sparring with them on horseback for a more authentic combat experience. Kamui really likes his horse-she was large, black, and had incredibly ornate yet practical armor. The Heir had noticed and found it amusing, so he would occasionally bring carrots or pieces of lettuce and let Kamui feed her.

“Oh Corrin, I don’t ride horses,” she says, smiling down at him while examining the blade of her steel axe.

“Huh? I thought you had a mount?”

“I do, little one, but it’s not a horse. It’s a wyvern,” Camilla says smoothly.

“What’s that?”

Camilla pauses, one visible eye alight with confusion. “You’ve never seen a wyvern?”

Corrin frowns, scratching the back of his neck. “Uhm, if I did I don’t remember how it looked.”

“Well next time, I’ll bring her with so you can see her.”

“Cool! Thanks.”

Camilla laughs melodically.

She rides a wyvern? That’s actually pretty impressive.

From the few things Kamui’s read about mounted combat, the wyvern is supposed to be one of the most difficult creatures to take into battle-mostly because if they didn’t like their rider, they tended to drop them into an early grave. There were numerous stories about it-so many that some people likened an assignment to a wyvern unit to a death sentence, calling them the 'Gallows of the Sky'. That said, if they liked you, their tough scales and shockingly fast fly speed would make one a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield.

“Shall we continue?” The Heir says, recapping his flask of water.

And so they finish their training session and head back to the sitting room. The Heir apparently had a short mission to attend to-much to Corrin’s dismay-and had to leave shortly after they arrived back in their quarters. Kamui was going to get her encyclopedia-lately, she’d been spending much more time interacting with the Nohrians-especially when Leo was there as their rooftop conversation had left her feeling so guilty-and so she figures she deserves a break from them. Before she can leave the room, however, Camilla calls out to her.

“Kamui, hold on. I want to show you two something,” she says, voice alight with excitement.

Kamui looks at her expectantly, and once Camilla sets her axe down, she leads the two of them to the library. To Kamui’s surprise, the layout had been slightly adjusted-one of the bookshelves had been moved from the wall and in its place sat…some sort of large, oddly shaped wooden thing. There’s a bench under it that Camilla pulls out and gestures to, signaling that one of them should sit down.

What is this thing?

Corrin runs to it giddily and clambers over the back of the bench, which causes Camilla to laugh before she instructs him on how to sit properly. Then, she does something odd-she pulls some sort of cover out from over a long row of white and black. Corrin gets distracted from what Camilla is saying and presses on the newly uncovered buttons, and Kamui flinches back in surprise as a sound emits from the wood. Corrin grins in delight and Kamui frowns thoughtfully at the object in front of them.

So it’s some sort of instrument, then?

“What is it? Why does it make sounds and stuff?”

“It’s a piano, Corrin. It’s designed to make different sounds so we can turn them into music,” Camilla explains as she gently brushes a lock of hair from his face. Kamui ponders her answer-she’s read about pianos in some of the books in the Tower’s library, but none of them had explained how one actually looked-perhaps its appearance was common knowledge in Nohr?

“Are you going to play for us?”

“Better than that, dear. I’m going to teach you two how to play.”

Corrin gasps in excitement, clacking away on some of the keys. Camilla chuckles and after a moment she instructs him on how to place his feet on the ‘pedals’. Kamui decides to watch as Corrin goes first, and Camilla lightly adjusts his hands on the keys, teaching him the names of the notes and the correct way to shift his hands about the keys.

This seems pretty complicated.

There were a lot of different sounds the instrument could make. Kamui had never actually seen a piano before today-there weren’t any that she could remember in Castle Shirasagi, and it definitely hadn’t been in the Tower before today. She would know-she’s pressed every stone, pulled out every book, and sifted through each of the rooms they had access to multiple times in order to find a secret passage. She had assumed that there would be one since there was always a secret passage that the heroes found in the books she read. The thought has her suppressing a frown. She hadn’t found one-not during any of her attempts-and was starting to believe that they were just a thing of fiction.

Camilla suddenly wraps her arms around her, and Kamui cocks her head, causing the older girl to laugh at her. Kamui relaxes involuntarily at the sound. Camilla-when she wasn’t being scary-could be very gentle.

“You looked like you could use a hug,” she says, brushing some of the hair out of Kamui’s face. It leaves Kamui wondering when she had gotten so used to the girl’s touch that she no longer flinched away every time it happened. Corrin grins back at them before gesturing to the ivory keys in front of him. He seems eager to continue.

After some time passes-after Corrin’s turn ends and her own begins, Kamui’s come to two conclusions.

The first is that Corrin seemed to pick up the instrument easily-to the point that Camilla seems impressed.

The second is that she did not.

“Kamui,” Camilla says through a sigh, delicately adjusting Kamui’s fingers to rest on the correct keys, “you can’t just use one finger to play; most songs require the use of multiple fingers and the use of both hands.”

Kamui frowns, trying to remember how Corrin held his hands. When Camilla laughs again, she knows she must be doing something wrong. Eventually, Camilla is able to guide her through the scale she’d been trying to get her to play-though Kamui still wasn’t sure what that was.

This ‘scale’ is one of the most boring songs I’ve ever heard.

Mama said that once they were older, she would teach them to play the koto, but they had still been too young to learn when…

Kamui grimaces at the thought, and Camilla, mistaking her expression for a reaction to the piano, laughs.

“Oh, little sister, we can stop for today if you’d like. I found a teacher who will come twice a week to teach you two to play.”

“Wow, really? Will they come with us when we move into the castle?” Corrin asks excitedly.

Kamui freezes.

Camilla hums. “I’d have to ask father-but I don’t see why not. Just remember that Xander hasn’t been able to get an audience with him yet, so that may take some time.”

Corrin’s smile becomes strained, but he nods and the discussion ends…for now. Kamui had hoped he would drop the idea, but Corrin asked the Heir about it every time he came to the Tower. Corrin was extremely excited by the prospect of leaving the Tower-something Kamui completely understood. She was decidedly less keen on the idea of moving in with the Grey Man, though her efforts to formulate an escape plan have admittedly not yielded anything of substance.

I have no idea how we’re going to get out of here.

Worse than that, she had no idea how she was going to convince Corrin to accompany her. She doesn’t like the idea of lying to him, but she’s starting to believe it might be her only option. What would she even tell him? Kamui chews on her inner lip.

Not that getting him to come is even going to matter without a plan.

The only promising thing about this entire situation is that the Heir seemed to avoid giving Corrin anything concrete about meeting with the Grey Man. He always had an excuse prepared whenever Corrin brought it up: he has a mission, his father wasn’t scheduling any meetings yet, he wants to train Corrin more before he brings them before the king. They all seem believable, but to Kamui, it seems like the Heir was trying to drag this process out-if he was even planning on speaking to the Grey Man at all.

Unfortunately, she’s also sure that his excuses will eventually run out. He’s already told Corrin that he will speak to his father, and the Heir doesn’t seem like a liar.

Unless you counted lies of omission. Then he’s a huge liar.

A gentle hand on her shoulder dispels her thoughts. Camilla is trying to guide her out of the room and judging by the confused look on Corrin’s face from his position at the library door, the purple-haired girl had already tried getting her attention. Kamui lets herself be led back to the sitting room, and Corrin rushes out something about his studies and bolts to his room.

Kamui is about to retreat to her room until Camilla speaks up, turning to her with her hands clasped over her knees.

“Are you all right, dear? You seem out of sorts,” she asks, looking at her with concern.

Kamui shrugs noncommittally, refusing to meet her eyes.

Hopefully Corrin comes back soon to distract her. Camilla seemed to like him better, anyways.

That didn’t bother Kamui-the less they cared for her, the easier it would be to leave.

She tries at that moment not to think about how that would make Elise and Leo feel.

She hears Camilla hum, but Kamui remains facing the window, trying and failing to think of a new idea. She can’t steal Gunter’s keys to leave through the main entrance-the old man was too perceptive and Kamui would hate herself if she ever got him in any trouble. Plus, what kind of escape would it be if they left through the front door?

A super dumb one, that’s what.

Kamui chews on her lip, exhaling through her nose.

If only Leo was our brother, too-we’d be able to make the best escape plan ever if the two of us worked together.

She’s pretty sure Leo wouldn’t help her with this, though. And a little part of her feels guilty for not considering him family yet-it had seemed to upset him.

Corrin runs back in too quickly and he stumbles over the coffee table. Kamui winces at the sound.

I wish he’d slow down sometimes, but then I guess he wouldn’t be Corrin if he did that.

“Ok, so I need help with some of these I think but you gotta let me try them first,” Corrin says, placing his workbook down on the table by the inkpot he’d never put away the day before.

“Oh, I can help you with them, dear, but first Kamui and I are going for a walk, alright?”

Kamui turns back to her, face scrunching up in confusion. Camilla just smiles at her-but it doesn’t seem to touch her one visible eye.

Why?

Camilla must notice how tense she’s gotten because her expression becomes more sympathetic. “You’re not in trouble, dear, I just haven’t gotten the chance to get to know you very well.”

The words do nothing to ease her nerves, but she offers her a nod.

Come to think of it, I’ve never been alone with Camilla. Maybe she really does just want to talk.

“Like we did a while ago? Ok! Then I’m gonna start these while you guys do that,” Corrin supplies from his spot on the floor. It drove Leo crazy that he wouldn’t sit on the couch whenever he was doing something with the coffee table.

“That’s good, Corrin,” Camilla says, standing. “Come along, Kamui.”

Kamui doesn’t really have a choice-and she’s a bit curious-so she follows behind the older girl. They take the main door, which Camilla unlocks and closes behind them, and they walk down the long, winding staircase that leads to the main entrance. It’s the same one they use whenever they walk to the bathhouse or go on walks with Gunter-which is how Kamui knows it’s always guarded.

Unlike Gunter, Camilla doesn’t hold her hand or arm after they pass the Tower guards. She either trusts Kamui isn’t going to make a run for it, or she was sure she could catch her if she did. Kamui’s not stupid enough to figure out which was the truth.

Probably both.

Camilla leads her up a hill-the same hill, Kamui realizes that Corrin’s mystery candle friend liked to stand on at night. Corrin still “talked” with his friend regularly, as he put it. Kamui isn’t worried about his candle friend anymore-it had been well over a year since they’d first started communicating with them, and nothing bad has happened. She would know-Corrin still liked to drag her out of her room every few months to prove his friend was still there.

It’s probably just a really bored guard or something.

“Let’s sit,” Camilla says, gracefully settling on the dry looking grass on the hill. Kamui follows suit, looking up at Corrin’s window and imagining his friend. They sit in silence for a few moments, and Kamui tries to relieve some of her discomfort by picking at the grass, occasionally examining one of the strands she pulls from the ground.

“I’m worried about you, dear,” Camilla says carefully. Kamui looks at her, trying to keep her face blank as she fiddles with one of the uprooted strands in her hands. Camilla watches her and sighs. “You’ve been coming out of your room more often, but you only stay when Corrin is out,” she pauses, mulling over her words before she continues, “I’m not trying to upset you, little one. I just don’t know how to help.”

You could start by letting me go home.

But that wasn’t really fair, was it? Camilla didn’t even know that they weren’t actually related-let alone that they weren’t even in their home country. Kamui looks away, pulling the piece of grass in half. Her fingertips are smeared with dirt, but she’s not bothered by it. She can feel the thrum of Dragon Veins nearby and tries to focus on the sensation.

“Kamui, there’s not…” Camilla trails off like she’s having difficulty saying what she wants to. It catches Kamui’s attention: she doesn’t often hear the confident older girl sound so unsure. Camilla closes her eyes and takes a breath before continuing. “Has someone hurt you dear?”

Kamui blinks in surprise. When she doesn’t respond, Camilla’s frown deepens.

“You always act as though you’re afraid someone is going to snap at you, you never get enough sleep, you don’t usually speak to Xander or I unless we address you, and when you do respond, you seem like you want to run away,” Camilla says softly, leaning on one arm. Kamui isn’t sure how to respond. She was sure they noticed-but they weren’t…

They’re not supposed to care.

Kamui doesn’t want to delve into why that is, she just knows it’s true. It has to be.

Camilla seems like she’s expecting some sort of answer, and Kamui tries to think. She ends up answering her first question. “I’m not—I mean, no one hurt me or anything like that.”
Camilla nods, but she seems unconvinced. “Then what has you so sad, little sister? Is it something from before you started living in the Northern Fortress.”

…in a sense.

Kamui can’t tell her that, though. The Heir wouldn’t like it and…a part of her is pretty sure it won’t matter. Camilla wouldn’t help them leave. She’s convinced they’re siblings, and even if she wasn’t, the Nohrians seem steadfastly loyal to the Grey Man. If he wanted them here, they would stay.

End of story.

So what can I even say?

Apparently, saying nothing was an answer in and of itself because Camilla sits up and pulls Kamui into her lap. It doesn’t bother her like it would have, once.

“Kamui, you don’t need to tell me what happened if you don’t want to,” she starts, running a hand through her hair. It’s soothing. Kamui stares at the spot where she’d just been sitting, watching as pieces of grass randomly snap back up after being flattened. “But I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore. Let your big sister handle the bad guys, all right?”

Kamui feels a pang of guilt but can’t discern why. She’s suddenly too tired to try and figure it out.

A part of her knows that she shouldn’t be so exhausted all the time. She never used to be…she thinks.

Lately, it’s getting harder to remember.

She’s not sure when it happened, but she must have fallen asleep in Camilla’s lap because the next time she wakes up, she’s on the couch under a thick blanket in the sitting room. All of the candles have been extinguished, and neither Corrin nor Camilla are in sight. That pang of guilt returns and Kamui isn’t able to place it until she remembers the last time she felt comfortable enough with someone to fall asleep in their arms, she had been with her mother.

Her stomach flips so impressively at the thought that she’s half convinced it’s learning gymnastics.

That would explain why I can’t ever sleep.

The window is open, and Kamui briefly wonders why the sun isn’t shining through until she sees the stars hanging in the night sky and realizes how late it is.

Kamui sits up and rubs at her eyes, intending to go to her room and pretend to sleep for a few hours, but startles at a sudden inlet of light into the room. She squints at the figure in the doorway until her eyes can adjust, and in that time, they walk in and shut the door to the servants’ quarters behind them.

“I thought that was you I saw-there isn’t anyone else awake at this time, is there? Gunter informed me you have bouts of insomnia,” the figure says.

“Uh, Jakob, right?” she says, voice raspy from sleep.

The figure hums and the room further lights up when he uncovers a lantern. Sure enough, the rude hallway boy is standing by the door, holding a lantern and—

Oh, my map!

“I’m taking that as a ‘yes’. Anyways, Gunter had to look into something, so he’ll be away for a few days." The boy walks over to the coffee table and sets the lantern down, opening her old notebook up and flipping it to the page with the start of her map. She sees where she had suddenly stopped-probably when she'd investigated the crash in the hallway.

“Am I correct in assuming that this is supposed to represent the rest of this floor?” Jakob says, pointing to the hastily made lines of charcoal. Kamui eyes him warily, considering how to respond. The slightly older boy rolls his eyes and flips to the next page, and Kamui gapes.

“I asked to make sure that this was drawn in the correct orientation,” he says, showing her an entire page filled with neat ink lines that she can only assume depict the rest of the floor. “I’m not sure why you were out at goddesses know how early in the morning just to make a map, but since I know the area better, I did my best to finish the floor. It should be quite accurate.”

“I…why?” She asks, befuddled.

“To help you, my lady,” he says sincerely. Kamui looks at him like he’s grown a second head and his eyes flatten.

“Do you have any idea what they would have done to me had you not intervened?”

She blinks. “Well, no, but I didn’t help you so I could force you to work for me. And can you talk like you used to? The change is weird.”

“You haven’t forced me to do anything-and I’m afraid I cannot revert to my previous speech patterns if I am going to help you escape.” He says casually, like he’s talking about the weather instead of what is arguably treason. “Servants don’t generally curse or talk back to their lords and ladies.” Kami’s eyes widen like saucers.

“Wait, wait, you’re—how did you…” she starts, trailing off as she realizes she probably shouldn’t admit to her plan.

Or lack thereof.

He snorts in amusement. “I’m sorry, what else would a Nohrian princess be doing at such an early hour with charcoal and a notebook in a place she is not supposed to be? Besides, Gunter must keep that door locked for a reason-it’s a huge pain in the ass every time we have to come in here. He also holds on to your arm like you’ve just learned to walk every time you’re outside.”

Kamui narrowly suppresses a wince. She supposes it probably was pretty obvious-but the fact that he’d picked up on the fact that she was making a map and was able to determine where it started was impressive-if not a bit irritating. That paired with the fact that instead of turning her notebook over to Gunter he’d finished her map signaled he really did want to help her.

Kamui laughs, and for the first time in a while, it’s not forced.

“You might get in trouble for this,” she warns, smile still on her face.

He spreads his hands. “I already owe you my life. There’s not much more they can take from me besides that,” he says matter-of-factly. “Now, where should we start?”

Kamui shoots him an amused, lopsided grin.

Maybe there’s hope after all.

Chapter Text

Ever since Jakob had decided to help her develop an escape plan, Kamui has been in a much better mood. The best part is that it doesn’t seem suspicious-when Leo saw how much happier she seemed, Camilla explained it away as a byproduct of their ‘talk’.

For some reason, that makes her feel a bit guilty, but that’s all right. Hopefully, she and Corrin would be out of there fast enough that it wouldn’t matter.

She still has trouble sleeping, but since the Heir trains so often outside of the Tower before his visits, she still gets enough to function-lulled to sleep by the sounds of steel on wood. Corrin seems pleased at the development-as does Gunter, who lightly teases her about how she doesn’t seem as sluggish during their occasional training sessions. She’d opted to continue learning from him-she’s no fool: the outside world is dangerous, and she knows little about it, so the more prepared she was to face it, the better off she and Corrin would be.

Corrin all but runs in to her-literally jarring her from her thoughts. He grunts and takes a step back to steady himself.

“Sorry! I was just going to get my list!” Corrin says, and—

And in his hand is a familiar looking paper-one he’d started working on sometime last year. If she remembers right, it’s a list of all of the places that he wanted to travel to once they left the Tower.

“Um, are you ok? I don’t think I hit you that hard, but you look kind of dizzy,” Corrin says teasingly, though his smiling expression makes a poor mask for his concern.

“I’m fine. Why do you need that?” She nods at the paper in his hand.

“Oh, I asked Leo what else we should do when we leave-he just got here. I mean, we’ll be able to travel, Kamui! We can go anywhere we want-probably!” he adds the last part as if something had just occurred to him. “Wait, actually, is Nohr at war with anybody? Cuz’ maybe we shouldn’t go there then-Gunter told me once that nobility makes good hostages, which he said was kinda like a prisoner for, like, political stuff.”

Kamui gapes at him, and he cocks his head at her.

“Stop that, you’re gonna catch flies-come on!”

Kamui snaps her mouth shut with an audible click.

Did that actually just happen? In what context would Gunter tell him that?

A small part of her thinks it’s kind of funny, but a larger part is insulted-it’s not her brother’s fault that he can’t remember anything-

Wait. Does Gunter even know?

Betty had seemed to, way back when they first got in the Tower, but even she had given no indication that she knew exactly where they had come from-only that it wasn’t from Nohr.

Corrin pulls her into the sitting room where Leo is already seated on one of the couches.

He huffs upon their entrance. “Look who it is, passed midday and you've only just left your room. Typical.”

Leo is facing away from them, so she can’t see it, but she’s positive his arms are crossed.

“I just woke u—why are you dressed like that?” Kamui says as she walks around the couch. He’s in an unbuttoned black tailcoat that would hang past his knees if he'd been standing, a pair of black dress pants, a black button up shirt and tie, black shoes, black socks, and black gloves.

It’s all black-all of it.

He seems nonplussed. “Because I just came back from a funeral and didn’t have time to change-though I guess it might have been rude to put something else on, now that I think about it. There's supposed to be a period of mourning and all.”

Kamui blinks. That…was not the answer she was expecting. Her gut reaction is to prod him about it-why would he dress this way for a funeral? But then she remembers he was just at a funeral.

Even I can have some tact.

“Oh, how come?” Corrin asks, stepping around Kamui. He examines Leo’s outfit curiously.

“Because my mother died.”

Oh.

Corrin’s eyes snap back to him, twisting in sympathy. “Oh no! I’m so sorry, Leo!”

“Hmm, why?” He responds, frowning at them in confusion.

Um, what?

“…because your mom died?” Corrin says uncertainly.

Leo shrugs, casually turning his head to look out the window. “It’s fine. She didn’t care for me anyways.”

Gods-how can he be so casual about this?

But Kamui doesn’t say that. Instead, she sits across from him and looks back to Corrin-who, for once, looks as lost as she usually is.

”Didn’t you want to ask him about something?” she presses him lightly.

“Yeah, but that was before…,” he trails off when she gives him a look.

Corrin shifts uncomfortably and then looks back at his list. “Uh, Leo? I’m making a list of all of the cool places we should visit, can you look at it and add anything we missed?”

Leo doesn’t even look back at him as he reaches a hand out. Corrin puts the list in his hand and jumps onto the couch next to him, lightly rocking in his seat while he waits.

It’s only after he starts reading the list that his gaze flattens and he turns to Corrin. “A bug? How is a bug a cool place?”

Corrin lights up, and his discomfort vanishes. “Actually, I got that idea when I saw this huge grasshopper on the fortress wall and now I want to see the biggest bug. I didn’t get to touch it…” he adds sulkily.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah! I really didn’t! I mean, I tried, but it was too far below my window to reach-even when I hung out the side-OWW!”

Leo pulls his hand away from Corrin’s head in irritation. He’d knocked along his temple like one would a door.

“What’d you do that for?” Corrin says, rubbing at the spot that Leo rapped his knuckles across.

“Just checking there was actually something in there,” Kamui coughs to hide a laugh. Before she can tell Leo to be nicer-Corrin wasn’t stupid, just impulsive sometimes-he continues. “Why in the goddesses’ names would you think that was a good idea?! What if you’d fallen? A fall from this height would surely kill you.”

Kamui marvels at the scene.

He’s actually just concerned about him, isn’t he?

“Well, I mean, my feet were still inside,” Corrin says sheepishly.

Leo sighs, solemnly shaking his head. “It can’t be helped. I’m going to have to tell Camilla.”

Corrin pales and waves his hands in a placating fashion. “W-wait, please don’t do that-she’ll never let me see daylight again!”

Leo laughs at him. “Yeah, maybe that’s what you get for playing the fool,” Corrin looks over to her for help, but she only smirks at him. Leo notices and laughs harder. “Relax, brother, it was a joke.”

Corrin lets out a breath like he’d just found out he’d been spared the noose.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” Corrin says pleadingly.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

And Kamui can’t stop her fit of laughter at the look of abject horror on Corrin’s face. She feels a little bad-but she knows Corrin isn’t taking any of it personally by the content look in his eyes when Leo joins in. Once they settles down, Corrin looks contemplative.

“Hey Leo?” he starts.

“Yes?”

“Why did you come here alone today?”

Kamui hears the real question.

Why did you come here after your mother’s funeral?

“…I suppose I was just irritated. All of the people at Castle Krakenburg offered their condolences and tried to shimmy up to Father or make it out to be that they knew her so much better than they truly had for political gain. They kept saying ‘Oh she was such a great woman’ or ‘you must be so heartbroken’. Well, she wasn’t and I’m not. I just wanted the stupid thing to end so I didn’t have to hear the drivel come out of the mouths of all of these people I barely know-and I was pretty sure you two wouldn’t say anything you didn’t mean. And," he adds reluctantly, "…I enjoy your company.”

Corrin looks touched. “Aww, Leo! You do like us!” and Kamui watches as her twin wraps Leo into an overly-tight hug. On purpose.

“Wha—HEY! Get off! Do you have any idea how much trouble I’ll be in if this overcoat gets torn! Corrin!”

Kamui laughs. This was turning out to be a fine day after all. Leo gets them to play noughts and crosses after he realizes Kamui doesn’t know the rules for draughts, and they have a tournament of sorts that Leo wins effortlessly.

Neither Corrin nor Kamui had played the game before, but Kamui studied the moves Leo made during his games with Corrin and concluded that there must be a trick to it since he started each of the first couple turns the same way-taking control of the corners on the right side of the grid. She decides that after Leo leaves, she’ll teach it to Corrin so that their next tournament goes better.

After Leo leaves hours later, Kamui realizes how much fun she’d actually had.

Maybe he would…

Kamui refuses to finish that thought. Leo wouldn’t want to come with them-wouldn’t, even if she asked him to, and that would put their plan in jeopardy. She had originally thought that she liked him because he reminded her of Takumi, but she’s come to understand that, though they had much in common, they had a lot of differences, too.

Takumi had been a lot clingier than Leo ever was-he insisted he be included in every game or trip or anything he found his older siblings to be doing in the castle. Leo never really seemed to care unless the activity was something he actually enjoyed. Takumi also liked to give and receive hugs and liked to be carried and went out of his way to do so whenever possible, while Leo would rather lose his big toe than let Camilla pick him up.

I wonder if that’s still true. Is Takumi still like that?

She wouldn’t know. The thought strengthens her resolve: she’ll probably miss Leo, but he would be OK here with the others-and ultimately, she wouldn't wish the fate of a hostage on the younger boy, even if (and especially because) he was her friend.

I’m coming home, little guy, just you wait.

Kamui didn’t really like them, but she’d let her stupid little brother give her all the hugs in the world if it meant she could see them all again.

That night, Jakob returns with the leather bound notebook. He’d mapped out another floor, but not even he knew what was in every room. That was OK. They only needed to know about any exits, and they were unlikely to exist so high up in the Tower, anyways.

She’d asked him a few days ago if he knew of any secret passages, but he’d given her such a look that she still got embarrassed when she thought of it now.

Maybe the real reason he’s helping me is because he thinks I’m an idiot.

Oh well. It’s not like she was in any state to refuse his aid, anyways. Lately, Gunter had noticed that he had been spending more time with the twins, but to Kamui’s surprise (and relief), he seemed pleased about it. When she’d asked Jakob about it, he’d huffed and muttered something about becoming a good butler. He actually had been learning how to do his job better, but it was a slow process, and the tea he served was absolutely horrid. She drank it with a straight face whenever Gunter appeared, however, which seemed to amuse Jakob to no end.

“There are still quite a few floors to mark, as well as any exits that may exist on any of them,” Jakob muses with a frown, rereading his own notes. “You’ll have to hold on to this for a while-and keep it out of sight. I don’t want to be accused of theft. Still, I wish this process could be sped up.”

“Can’t I just go with you? We could go twice as fast.”

Jakob snorts. “Yes, because that went so well the first time you tried it.”

Kamui sighs, getting the point. “Sorry you have to do most of the work.”

He waves her off dismissively. “It’s no trouble. Besides, this is far more interesting than most of the things I do all day.”

The two of them sit in silence for a while before Jakob speaks up again, and there’s an edge to his voice despite its softness that has her uneasy.

“Have you told your brother yet?”

Ahh. No. I don’t want to get his hopes up.

When she tells him as much, Jakob gives her a reproachful look.

“His hopes, huh? He seems rather taken with y-the Nohrian siblings,” he starts, correcting himself. “Are you quite sure he’ll even want to go?”

And no, she wasn’t, but the thought of what his reaction might be makes her queasy every time she thinks about it.

She swallows, hoping it will clear the sudden tight feeling in her throat. “He wants to leave the Tower, and I…I thought that might be enough to get him to come,” she replies weakly.

Jakob’s almost pitying look tells her what he feels about that without him ever voicing it. “Will you be able to leave him behind if it comes to it?”

“No.” her answer is immediate because it wasn’t ever something she had or would consider. They were a package deal-they would always do everything together and be by each other’s sides.

She desperately tries to ignore the fact that the sentiment used to apply to Ryoma, Hinoka, and Takumi.

“I see. Then perhaps rather than having us spend all of this time and effort on a plan we may not even get to use, you should speak to Lord Corrin and learn how he feels about it.”

And he’s right, she knows he’s right, but she’s not sure she can do it.

She wants to believe that this is different, that she’s doing the right thing by trying to leave and return home to their family.

It wouldn’t seem that way to Corrin. To Corrin, it would feel like she ripped him away from his family, wouldn’t it?

But is it still evil if Corrin doesn’t know any better? He lost his memories, so of course he’d want to stay here. If he knew like I did-

Wait. Why has she never, in the entire time she’s been here, considered how he lost his memories?

Surely…surely other people couldn’t force someone to forget their past, right?! That isn’t-can’t-be possible.

What if it is, though?

Emotions aside, it would be rather convenient for them to forget everything they’d known before coming here. But if that were true, why didn’t she forget as well?

I must be overthinking this.

Gods, she hopes so.

Chapter Text

“Hey, big sister? Do you remember much about when you were a little kid?”

Kamui chokes on her tea, coughing so forcefully that some spews back into the teacup she holds.

Leo is on his feet in moments. “Did you have to do that with me next to you?” And maybe she feels a little bad for him because some of the tea droplets obviously got on his dress pants.

Bad day to wear white.

Kamui puts her stupid teacup back on the coffee table and gratefully accepts the towel Jakob hands her, wiping her spit and tea covered hands off with distaste. As soon as she trusts she won’t cough again the moment she opens her mouth, she distractedly offers an apology to Leo.

I really hoped Corrin wouldn’t bring this up again—at least, not when they’re here.

“I’m sorry dear, what did you say?” There’s mirth in Camilla’s voice that Kamui willfully ignores.

Maybe we can talk about something else now?

“I wanted to know if you could remember lots of stuff from when you were young—like even younger than we are?”

Or not.

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘lots of stuff’, dear. I imagine I remember the same number of things that most do from that age.”

Please just drop it, Corrin.

He does not drop it, despite her mental pleas.

“So, like, nothing then?”

Literally everyone in the room—including Jakob before he catches himself and returns to stand by the wall—turns to look at him except Kamui, who suddenly finds cleaning tea out of her tunic to be much more interesting. The silence grates on her nerves until she’s sure they’re exposed—they must be, for the anxiety to start choking her as it currently is.

“Well, no dear, I remember quite a bit from that age,” Camilla says, and though she does not frown, her one visible eye is alight with concern.

Corrin doesn’t seem to know what to do with that information. He must have sensed the weird energy in the room that the topic change caused, because he decides the next person to ask should be the one he’s most comfortable talking to.

“What about you, Kamui?”

“Hmm? What?”

Smooth.

“Do you remember stuff from when we were really little?”

“…like Elise little?” she tries, hoping for an escape.

Corrin laughs despite the rising tension that threatens to crush them all. “No, not like that young, like from when we were 4 or 5.”

When they were that young, huh?

‘No, come on, we go here!’ Takumi says, all but yanking her down the hallway.

‘Can’t we just go find Mama instead, little guy?’ Kamui pleads, shaking her arm in a futile attempt to remove him. She’d even used the nickname Hinoka gave him in an effort to appeal to his morality. They’d been playing hide and seek but they couldn’t find Corrin anywhere and it had been so long that she was starting to get worried they never would.

‘NOOO!’ Takumi says stubbornly, ‘we haven’t looked over HERE yet!’ And to her surprise, he suddenly stomps on her foot, hard, and it makes her lose her advantage in the tug of war they were apparently having over her arm and she would have fallen over had he not pulled her down into the hallway.

‘You check these and I’ll check those’ he says, pointing at each side of the hall, respectively. Kamui gives him the most irritated look she can muster, but he’s already turned his back, opening the first sliding door. Kamui rolls her eyes and follows suit. The sooner they got this over with, the sooner they could go find Mama for help. She always knew what to do.

Kamui jumps when she hears them from across the hall.

‘RAWR!’ Corrin shouts, making Takumi squeal loudly. Then he starts sobbing and she hears Corrin’s panicked tone: ‘Wait! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you cry! Kamui, fix him!’

“Hello-o?” Corrin says from above her.

Above?!

Kamui looks up and flinches down further into the couch cushion when she sees Corrin’s upside down face peering over her over the back of the couch. He grins at her response.

“You didn’t answer so I had to get creative,” he reasons. He moves to sit on the arm of the couch even as Leo mutters something about ‘the perfectly open seat next to our brother’. Corrin pulls his legs up and sits cross legged, looking down at Kamui expectantly.

He's still waiting on your answer. Her mind helpfully provides.

Very aware that the two of them are being watched closer than a farmer watches her sheep around a hungry pack of wolves, she decides her words carefully.

“Yes. They’re not super clear, though,” and the only context that the statement isn’t a lie in is if she’s comparing it to memories she made now.

Corrin hums. “Well I don’t even remember that much, so you’ll have to remind me. Um, what about…our mother? Do you remember her?”

Kamui’s grateful for the towel in her hands, because had they been clasped like they usually were she’s sure her nails would have dug so far into her palms that she’d be cleaning up two spills this morning. His gaze is friendly and curious and it’s getting very hard to meet his eyes.

Just don’t lie and be vague. Ok, she can do that. Easy.

“Yes,” and unless he prods for more information, it should look like she doesn’t remember much mor—

“Cool! What was she like?”

…was?

Kamui frowns at him, cocking her head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

The smile slides off his face for a moment and he looks thoughtful. “Well, like, was she nice? Did she live with father? What did she like to do?”

Kamui knows she shouldn’t press him on this, something tells her it’s a really bad idea—especially if she wants to give him as little information as possible—but she can’t stop herself from asking her next question. “Why are you asking like that?”

He blinks at her, perplexed. “Like what?”

“Like...pas—”

Oh gods. I didn’t consider…

He thinks she’s dead!

The realization makes her rigid, and her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. It makes too much sense—why else would they be here instead of with her, what else would even make any sense?

“Whoa, hey, are you ok? I didn’t mean to…,” he trails off as she breaks eye contact, willing a new wave of despair not to crash in the fragile shores of her mind.

“I’m. Fine, just…I don’t really want to talk about it.” She lies, she lies, she lies. She would love to talk about it, but she can't—not with the hawkish gaze of the Heir picking over every word that’s come out of their mouths like a vulture that just found a corpse. She can't, not…not if she has to explain to Corrin that their Mama is alive and the reason they’re not with her is…

Is it wrong not to tell him something that would only make him miserable?

The sentiment, so old she presumed she’d discarded it, invades it’s way into her thoughts. Her chest tightens just like it used to, and she thinks, for the first time in a long, long while, that maybe she should go to her room and wait until they’re all gone.

Coward.

Corrin shifts in the silence. “No you’re not. Why do always say that when it’s not true?”

Huh?

She looks up at him with a tired frown, and he meets her gaze evenly. “Sometimes I don’t get you. You seem all logical most the time but then you get like this,” he gestures to her, eyes alight with concern and frustration. It’s an interesting mix.

Corrin, please, please just drop it.

When she doesn’t answer, he huffs and starts again, but Leo interrupts him. “He’s right. Why do you always lie about when something upsets you? It’s rather immature."

Great. Now there’s two of them.

Kamui rubs her temple, vexed. How was she even supposed to respond to that? How could she, when she knows that the second she says something the Heir doesn’t want spoken, he’ll interrupt them.

And since when did I care about upsetting him, anyways?

Despite how it grates on her nerves, she really doesn’t want to upset the Heir. He was nice to them—and unlike Camilla, he didn’t press her to spend time with him when she wanted to be alone. That, coupled with the fact that his only real motivation was to protect his siblings from the evil that was his father, made Kamui develop a begrudging respect for him.

She just wished his definition of sibling didn’t include her or Corrin. After all, at the end of the day, he was still the Grey Man’s heir, and he still tried to justify Papa’s murder and their kidnapping to her. Sometimes, that old nightmare included that shocked look on his face, and the fact that he was even there on That Day made her distrust him more than the other Nohrians.

I might respect him, but I don’t like him. I wish he’d leave us alone.

“Well?” Leo presses. Kamui ignores him, and she can’t tell whether her exhaustion or nervous energy will win the battle over her body.

“Leo, I know you didn’t have the best relationship with your own mother, but we don’t know how close she was with theirs’s. This isn’t a topic you should force someone to speak about.” Camilla says reproachfully.

“Corrin, I’d like to see how you’ve improved—would you mind sparring with me?” the Heir asks. The fact that he phrases it as a question shows how bothered he must be by all of this—normally, he’d ‘suggest’ they head up to the roof—which was really just a thinly veiled order hidden behind pleasant words.

Kamui doesn’t feel like talking to them anymore, so the second Corrin reluctantly stands to follow the Heir to the roof, she scurries to her room and collapses on the bed. She’s exhausted but isn’t able to sleep for hours.

When she finally does wake up, drenched in sweat from that same old nightmare, it’s pitch black outside and she can’t hear any sounds from the sitting room. She creeps out and sees Jakob sitting on the couch with the notebook, poring over their notes. He’s managed to map out another few floors, but no more exits save the main staircase had been found yet.

A few weeks ago, she’d managed to convince him to bring her along when she pointed out that she could hide in a nearby room should anyone be heard approaching them—it would be very bad if he was caught with that notebook, and she doesn’t want her friend to get in any trouble on her behalf.

She sits across from him, face lit by the dim glow of the lantern on the coffee table, and neither of them speak for a while. Jakob is the one who finally breaks the silence.

“I didn’t realize just how bad your brother’s amnesia was, Kamui.”

She winces but doesn’t reply.

“May I ask why you didn’t tell him the truth?”

“I don’t think they’d let me tell him. They want to keep us here,” she replies softly.

“I see. Well, I hope you get a chance to speak with him about it soon. It seemed to make you unhappy.”

That’s the biggest understatement I’ve heard in a while.

“No, it didn’t.”

Jakob had learned Gunter’s schedule and every time he had guard duty or did reconnaissance around the Tower, the two of them would meet in the sitting room. Otherwise, Jakob had taken to serving as the twins’ personal servant—a fact that Camilla hadn’t seemed too keen on until Kamui made a point to show that she liked his company.

They end up four floors down, Kamui ducking in and out of storage closets and unoccupied rooms whenever Jakob encountered another person, and they get another few rooms mapped out before they call it for the night. As always, Kamui hides the notebook on top of her wardrobe (she apparently could climb up on it) since it wasn’t visible to anyone shorter than the height of the wardrobe, which by her own estimates is even taller than Gunter.

The night had seemed almost normal until an hour or so later. She hadn’t been able to fall back asleep (because of course she hadn’t) and sat up immediately when she heard the quiet knock on her bedroom door.

When she gets up to open it, she’s not surprised to see Corrin, but she is surprised to see that he’s fully dressed—it wasn’t even dawn.

“Kamui, come on! My candle friend is waiting!” he says, grabbing her arm and lightly tugging on it to get her to follow. When Kamui reaches the sitting room, her mouth falls open in shock. Sitting on one of the couches and twiddling his fingers in anxiety is a boy no older than they are. He has light grey hair and matching eyes, and he’s dressed in a patched tunic and worn trousers.

He looks relieved upon seeing them. “We gotta hurry—I don’t think my trick will distract the guards for very long,” the boy says nervously, springing to his feet.

“This is Kamui. We’re twins!” Corrin says brightly.

“Name’s Silas, my big cousin is a stable hand here,” the boy says, holding out his free, calloused hand for her to shake. In his other hand is a wooden basket that Kamui eyes warily.

After she shakes his hand and stops gaping at him, the boy produces a key and they exit out the always locked main door that led straight to the main entrance. Upon reaching the bottom of the staircase, Kamui’s shocked to find that none of the guards are present. The boy looks around warily before motioning them to run with him, and they park themselves behind the stable—the stable that, in over a year and a half, Kamui’s never been inside of.

Did Corrin of all people just break us out? With Candle Friend?

The boy sets the basket he’d been lugging around with him down and motions for them to sit, which she does with great reluctance. Was this really the best idea?

“We’re gonna have a picnic!” Corrin says giddily—and sure enough, the boy produces a few rolls, hunks of meat, and a block of cheese from the basket, which he cuts into liberal portions with a knife at his belt.

We broke out of the Tower for…a picnic?

Kamui’s not convinced she isn’t dreaming.

The two boys talk about all kinds of things—their favorite bugs, Corrin’s favorite food, the list of all the places that he wanted to go once the Grey Man allowed them to leave (which he apparently had memorized). Kamui’s too disconnected from the conversation to really contribute. Maybe if Corrin was all right with sneaking out for a picnic with a boy he hardly knew, he’d be ok with escaping the Tower?

Those aren’t really the same thing.

Still, Jakob was right. She’d have to talk with him sooner or later. She refocuses on their conversation.

“…and basically, I just kind of made a small fire out of this one plant—I forget the name of it, but my dad told me once that the leaves are burned in the military to make smoke signals since they don’t really burn, they just kinda smolder. And so I did that and I ran like hell and I came here because dad told me you two were all alone and I wanted you guys to have a buddy, you know?” Silas finishes, looking to Corrin for a reaction.

“Woah, you know military stuff? And we already were friends, silly! Candle Friends!”

Silas blushes and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, I mean, I wouldn’t say I know much about fighting or anything, it’s just that a couple of my aunts and uncles were knights of some of the barons in the south—Baron Oxellius and Baroness Ianna, actually—and so they told me stories and stuff. But anyways, you said you wanted to find an ocean? I know where one is.”

“Really? That’s great! Did you hear that, Kamui? Once father lets us leave the Northern Fortress, we’re gonna go find an ocean!”

Kamui blinks. “Um. That’s good.”

“Yeah! Anyways, what kinds of games do you like playing, Silas?”

Kamui tunes them out again as she sees the sun come up in the distance. The grass beneath them is wet with morning dew and the sun makes everything in sight glisten, enveloping them in a soft, earthy light.

It’s almost pretty, but I bet it looks better at home.

She chews on her roll absently. The food isn’t that good, but she’s not going to complain—the boy obviously went through great lengths to plan this excursion and it was probably the best food he had access to—and that was pretty nice, all things considered.

It isn’t much longer before they’re found, and frankly, she’s shocked that it took them this long. She hears the footsteps and clink of plated armor before she sees them, and while it puts Silas on edge, it makes Corrin grin.

“I bet that’s Gunter! We should invite him to the picnic!”

Silas looks at Corrin like he’s gone mad. “Uhhh I don’t think that’s a—”

“Halt! State you—Lord Corrin?!” The guard says incredulously, hastily sheathing the sword he’d drawn only moments ago.

Well, it’s not Gunter.

“Oh, hi! I never met you before!”

“Lady Cyrille? What is the meaning of this? Why are you two out of the Northern Fortress without an escort, and who is this boy?” The guard spits the last word like it left a bad taste in his mouth and Kamui is suddenly afraid for Silas. The way Silas paled as soon as the guard glanced his way says he must be, too.

“Oh, this is our friend! He’s really nice,” Corrin replies, oblivious to the tension.

“We were just having a picnic, sir,” Silas says meekly.

The guard narrows his eyes at them. “And now you’re not,” the guard draws his sword again and Kamui’s heart skips a beat. “For the crime of kidnapping two of the royal family of Nohr, I sentence—”

“What? No! You can’t hurt my friend!” Corrin says heatedly, moving to stand in front of Silas.

“Lord Corrin, step aside,” the guard says, voice cold.

“No! Leave him alone!”

When the guard moves to walk around Corrin, Kamui stands and blocks his path. She looks at Silas and silently urges him to leave. He seems to get the hint and he starts sprinting away.

“Hey! Get back here!” But Corrin and Kamui block his path, and Silas gets away—though in his haste, he doesn’t grab any of the picnic supplies he’d brought with him.

He’d ended up dragging the two of them back to the Tower by the arms, and Kamui thinks that if he’d held on to them any tighter they’d both have bruises in the shape of his hands. He tries to press them on the identity of the boy and how they managed to escape the Tower, but Corrin stubbornly refuses to answer any of his questions and Kamui follows suit, worried for the boy’s safety.

When the Heir visits the next day and Gunter shares what happened with him, they get a stern lecture about why they shouldn’t blindly trust everyone they meet and why they are supposed to stay in the Tower in the first place. It takes all of Kamui’s self-control not to laugh at that—as if they’d be less safe with a harmless little boy than in the clutches of the Grey Man.

Corrin, to her surprise, is having none of it. “Big brother, we weren’t gonna leave, we were just playing with a friend. It’s not fair that we don’t get to have any here, and I’m not sorry.”

That didn’t do anything to ease the Heir’s anger, and if their training session was longer and more exhausting than normal, well, Kamui supposes that she’ll at least get a good night’s rest.

Days later, just before she gets ready for bed, she finally works up the nerve to talk to Corrin. She walks to his room and knocks on the door, and he answers quickly, opening the door with a yawn.

“Oh, hi Kamui, what is it?” He says, rubbing at his eyes.

“I…can we talk? It’s important.”

“Sure,” he says, pushing the door open so she can follow him in. Their masterpiece still hangs on his wall—Camilla bought a frame for it not long after they’d finished it—and though it still looks as though it was drawn by a toddler, it’s presence serves as a balm to her growing unease.

“Corrin, if I left—like really left—would you come with me?” She decides not to beat around the bush—the longer this conversation dragged on, the more likely she’d be to lose her nerve.

His eyes snap to her face. “What? What do you mean?”

Kamui takes a breath, steadying herself. “I mean we don’t belong here. I…I’m making a plan to leave the Northern Fortress so we’re not trapped here anymore.”

Corrin frowns. “But, we’re gonna leave soon anyways. Then we can go live with our family.”

And there it is.

She shakes her head slowly. “Corrin, they’re not our family.”

Corrin’s gaze turns into a glare. “Kamui, I don’t know why you act like this, but they’re our siblings. I bet it hurts their feelings when you say mean things like that. You just gotta be patient—we’ll get to leave here soon, and then we can go home.”

Kamui can’t keep the desperation from her voice. “Corrin, please, they really aren’t our family—”

“Stop!” Corrin says angrily. “I don’t know why you have to be so mean all the time, but I’ve had enough of it, ok?! They’re our siblings no matter what you say or wanna believe, and I don’t know why you can’t accept that. We’re not leaving here without them!”

I have to tell him.

“Corrin—,”

“No! I’ve heard enough. Go to bed, Kamui.”

He’s not going to listen to me.

Kamui stares at him, eyes welling up with tears, and she hurries out of his room.

I messed up. He’s not going to come with.

What will she do now?

Chapter Text

To say that things were tense between Kamui and Corrin right now would be an understatement. He doesn’t talk to her or play with her or even look at her unless it’s absolutely necessary. His behavior coupled with the fact that she and Jakob had found absolutely nothing for the past two weeks makes he anxiety spike harder than it has since That Day, and she can barely bring herself to come out of her room when the Nohrians visit.

She knows she has to, though. This is all an act, and if she doesn’t play her part and say her lines to the letter, it would spell disaster for both her and Jakob. She’s not going to risk her only true friend’s life just because of some dumb feelings. Besides, as long as she came out before Corrin did, she might get time to warn Jakob should Corrin decide to share her plan with them.

‘A moment can make a monumental difference when someone’s life hangs in the balance.’

She’d read that in a book, once. Lately, she been reading every book with a title that implied it had some sort of practical application that she can get her hands on. There were not many of them in the Tower’s small yet robust library, but she had found some useful information, so she’s taking it as a win. If the two of them (yes, the two of them-Corrin would come around. She can’t dwell on what would happen if he doesn’t) were going to survive long enough to make it to Hoshido, they needed to know how to take care of themselves-and that meant how to build a fire, wash their own clothes, perform weapon maintenance, read a map, and other such things.

The problem is that Kamui doesn’t know how to do any of those-let alone how to cook or barter or forage or hunt-so she’s been referencing books and recording what she thinks they’ll need to know in the escape notebook after everyone’s gone to bed. Some of the books are fictional, but surely the method of building a fire isn’t made up, right?

It's these questions she ponders from her seat on the library’s floor when she’s suddenly engulfed in a sea of books. Corrin and Elise had thought it would be fun to stack them up in the largest pile he could, and it seems his tower had finally gotten so structurally unsound that it collapsed.

It also seems she hadn’t sat far enough away from it.

Kamui instinctually grabs at her head, wincing in pain as another book slaps the stack on her skull.

Why’d he have to use hard cover ones?

She hears footsteps hurrying towards them and is pulled from the literary wreckage by the Heir, who looks her over in alarm.

“Are you all right?”

Kamui nods and looks down at the mess, trying in vain to find the thin leather bound book she’d been reading just moments before. The only reason Corrin was in the library in the first place was because their tutor had just finished their piano lesson and two of the Nohrians had arrived shortly after. Kamui had gone back to reading after the woman left, and Elise begged the two of them to play with her until Corrin (rather passive aggressively) told her ‘not to bother the mean one’ and suggested the first game he thought of.

Hence her current headache.

“Me sowwy,” Elise says from her position at Kamui’s side. The girl had grown quite a lot recently and now stood higher than Kamui’s waist, which the younger girl’s arms currently encircle.

“It’s all right,” Kamui says. She’d probably tell Elise she was fine even if the girl asked while she was bleeding out; she couldn’t ever see herself actually being angry with the youngest.

She’s just too sweet.

Leaving Elise was one of the few regrets she would have when they finally got out of here. She hopes the girl will be too young to miss them.

The Heir clears his throat and three sets of eyes turn to meet his. “You should apologize, Corrin. She could have been seriously hurt.”

Corrin’s silent for a moment before muttering something like an apology and before she can respond he leaves the room, not even glancing in her direction. The Heir raises an eyebrow at his retreating form before leveling the same look to her, and she’s gotten so used to his extremely judgmental expressions that she has no trouble meeting his eyes.

“…The two of you haven’t gotten along very well as of late. Has something happened?” The Heir asks after a moment.

Kamui hums, trying to think of a suitable response. Eventually she turns to look at the mess of books on the stone below and kneels, starting the cleanup process. “I said something that upset him,” she says quietly, checking the title of the worn green tome she’s just grabbed.

To her surprise, the Heir and Elise follow her lead (though Elise is more of a hindrance than a help as she cannot read most of the titles despite believing she can) and they continue in peaceful silence. Kamui’s flipping open a very old book who’s title has faded from the cover with time when the Heir finally speaks up.

“It’s strange not to see you two together. Camilla and I are close enough in age that disputes of this nature occurred on occasion; and usually what seemed to work best was when we sat down and talked to each other about it after we had both calmed down. It’s just something to consider, little princess.”

He takes another book from Elise and carefully replaces it on one of the higher shelves-and Kamui briefly wonders how Corrin managed to get it down in the first place.

He's offering me advice.

A year or so ago, she would have been skeptical about that-maybe she would have wondered why he chose to say anything or if he was trying to sabotage her in some way. Now, however, she knows he only offers these anecdotes or bits of wisdom because he was genuinely trying to provide them with guidance. Why?

Because he thinks we’re siblings and he’s trying to be a good older brother.

Rationally, she knows he’s just trying to help, but it irritated Kamui. It reminded her of Ryoma and of arguing with Takumi and of crying over something mean that Hinoka called her, of yelling at Corrin for dragging her into trouble, of all of these things she no longer had because they’re stuck here with him. So instead of accepting his advice, her movements become harsher than they need to be-she shoves books back onto shelves with audible thunks and clacks, she squares her fist so hard her knuckles crack and her nails bite into the flesh of her palm, her shoulders hike up.

Some part of her knows it’s a childish response, that getting upset over something trivial like this isn’t going to help the situation or her relationship with Corrin, but sometimes she still has difficulty keeping herself in check. Mama once told her that that’s because she’s still young, but even that had been years ago. She’s nearly nine years old now-she’s not some little child anymore that should be solely governed by these temper tantrums.

I bet that’s what Papa would say.

She can tell the Heir’s noticed her irritation, but he doesn’t comment on it, and the three of them finish cleaning up in silence. She follows them back to the sitting room, trying to quell her frustration as she’s been doing for so very long now. She fully intended on returning to her room after they arrived, but the look on Elise’s face when she turned to do so froze her in her tracks, and suddenly she feels guilty for even considering it.

She curls up on the couch, old book in hand, and Elise squeals and climbs up with her. Kamui should’ve realized what that would mean before it happened.

“What’s this say?” Elise says, tapping pudgy fingers on the chapter title Kamui’s flipped the book open to.

“It says ‘Deliua’s Recommendations Regarding the Self-Sufficiency of a Mobile Army During Times of Active War’,” Kamui answers. She sees the Heir look up at them from some sort of paperwork he’s busied himself with in the nearest armchair.

Maybe he’s heard of it before?

Actually, of course he had. He's led soldiers-at least, she can infer as much. What else would these 'missions' consist of?

“What is 'Mow-beel'?”

“It describes motion; in this case they mean travel.”

“Who’s 'they'?”

“The author of the chapter,” Kamui answers while only half-listening, flipping to the next page.

“Who’s the author?”

This isn’t going to stop, is it?

“Deliua,” she replies distractedly. This wouldn’t do; it’s just about assigning watches and cooking duty. So was this section more of a commander’s guide than a practical one, or is it both? Does it detail on how to do a watch or cook or just on how to decide such roles to the people you’re commanding?

Elise giggles. “That’s a funny name! Why are they called that?”

Why? Uhh…

Kamui scratches the back of her neck, face scrunched up in thought. “I think they’re from Nestra, so it makes sense their name sounds odd to you.”

“That’s…correct,” the Heir quietly chimes in. Looking up from her book, she sees that he’s set his paperwork aside and is looking at her with a puzzled frown.

Kamui cocks her head. Why bother saying something like that?

He must notice her confusion, because he starts speaking again. “I did not study Deliua’s works until I was at least thirteen and father thought it prudent I learn to command armies beyond the smaller scale militias I’d led before that point. I find it curious that you know who that is.” Something about his tone makes her wary in the same way Camilla’s occasionally does-there’s something he’s not saying.

Kamui says nothing for a moment. How was she supposed to tell him that she’d studied Deliua-among other renowned military geniuses- since her first tactics lessons in Hoshido? It wasn’t exactly normal for someone that young, but as her Papa had told her countless times before, neither was she. He phrased it a bit differently, but the idea was still the same: after Hinoka teased her for prattling on about stupid dead old men, he’d told her something she’d never forgotten.

'Everyone is born with different strengths and weaknesses, my child, and yours is your mind. The other children will not understand, and that is fine. You need not justify your intellect just as Ryoma need not justify his affinity for the blade.’

“I don’t know how to respond to that,” she decides to just be honest instead of working herself up for no reason.

“What’s 'respond'?”

Oh gods. You’re lucky I like you, Elise.

And so Kamui spent the next hour sifting through different chapters of the book, spending more time explaining seemingly random topics to Elise than actually finding any useful information. Eventually, Elise’s questions taper off and so does she-looking down now, Kamui notices that she’s fallen asleep whilst half draped across her lap.

Guess I won’t be moving for a while.

“Little princess?” the Heir starts quietly, taking care not to wake Elise. Kamui turns, waiting for him to continue. “What are your thoughts on the Adjustable Stratagem?”

Kamui blinks in surprise.

He wants to discuss strategy?

“That’s when you position certain specialized units in particular patterns depending on what most of the people your fighting specialize in, right? He offers a nod. “Well, I think it could probably work if everything went perfect, I guess.”

“What do you mean by that?” He presses lightly.

Kamui frowns. “Most of the time you’re not going to have all of the right kinds of specialized groups or whatever that you need-let alone be able to position them wherever you want since battlefield communication is apparently really hard, so it isn’t really, um, practical.”

The Heir smiles at her approvingly. “I did not know Gunter already delved into such topics with you. I’m glad that you’re ahead of where you need to be.”

Kamui can’t help herself even as a voice in her head pleads with her to stop talking. “He didn’t.”

The older boy (or perhaps that was no longer a fitting description of the Nohrian as he was legally an adult, according to Leo) hums. “Do you mean to tell me you’re reading up on these tacticians and generals as a means of entertainment?”

How did me trying to find a guide to foraging and cooking turn into some weird academic debate?

“I guess? I just like reading,” she replies, which, while not the reason she’d spent the last half day scanning the pages of various library books, is true enough in its own right.

“…I think I will start teaching the two of you-and perhaps Leo-the basics of field command in the near future.”

You do whatever you want so long as it doesn’t involve pestering me over this anymore.

Perhaps this is why Kamui isn’t surprised when, days later, an annoyed looking Leo and the Heir show up at the Northern Tower even earlier than usual.

Thus, the tactics lessons began.

It’s after the third one of these lessons around a week later when the Heir asks Gunter to accompany him on a nearby mission that her and Jakob decide to continue their map.

“All right, you can come out now,” Jakob says through the door. Kamui opens it slowly and shuts it quietly behind her. Tonight, they had run into more people than they ever had before, and having to duck in and out of the rooms was starting to tire her out.

Kamui suppresses a sneeze. The storage room she’d just come out of had obviously not been in use for years, and everything inside of it had been covered in a thick layer of dust.

“That’s it for this floor, I think,” Jakob says quietly. He sighs. “Five floors down and not any closer to finding an escape route. I’m starting to think your best bet at leaving would be to replicate what that Silas fellow tried.”

Kamui grimaces, wiping her itchy nose with the back of her hand. Jakob gives her a look of distaste that she purposefully ignores. He wasn’t the one trapped in that dusty old room.

“Well, we have time to start an the next floor if you’d like,” he says, glancing out the window at the end of the hall to check how late it is.

“Yeah, we might as well.”

Jakob leads the way down the stairs to the next floor, and they comb through the floor, Jakob neatly recording the layout as they continue along.

When they hear footsteps, Jakob shoves the notebook into her hands and she ducks inside the nearest room, quickly but silently latching the door behind her. She hears Jakob talk with someone outside but she can’t make out the words. After a while, she gets bored of waiting and decides to poke around the room, sifting through the furniture. It seems like an unused sitting room. Kamui sits on an older looking couch and contemplates the progress they’ve made when she notices a quiet sound coming from a display cabinet in the corner of the room.

Curious, she decides to investigate. She walks over to the cabinet and stands still, listening to the soft hum that grows louder as she gets closer to the wall. She puts her ear against the cool stone and the thrum grows louder.

What is that?

She decides to move the display cabinet from the wall, but discovers it’s too heavy to move by herself. When she hears the soft knock on the door, she moves back across the room and motions for Jakob to come in.

“Can you help me move this?” she asks him, staring at the heavy wooden display cabinet.

“…I suppose. We won’t have time to finish the floor if we waste time here, though.”

Jakob counts down from three and they both struggle to move the piece of furniture from the wall. As soon as they’ve moved it an arms length forward, the noise grows much louder and Kamui grins.

“You’ve got to be kidding me," Jakob says in disbelief.

Behind the cabinet is a small opening-probably large enough to fit two or three people-and a rope hanging around an older looking pulley.

It’s a secret passage!

“How?” He sounds like he’s both surprised and irritated.

Maybe calling it a secret passage wasn’t quite accurate-but someone obviously went through some steps to hide it from prying eyes. Inside the opening is a wooden platform attached to the rope.

It’s a lift!

Kamui turns to Jakob with a smile and he sighs, but follows her onto the wooden platform. It creaks under their combined weight, and the thick layer of dust that covers the old wooden planks shifts with each of their footfalls. Together, they pull on the rope and it tugs them downwards. They continue in pitch black for what seems like an eternity-and there aren’t any exits or light sources save from the opening they entered from.

Her hands are horrifically sore by the time they reach the bottom of the chamber, and Kamui looks around in awe. Before them is a large underground cavern, and she shakes from the chill. Unlit sconces line the walls on either side and the only reason she can even make out that much is because of the dim light pouting out of the lift shaft. She wonders where it leads, but the look on Jakob’s face says they don’t have time to explore it right then.

“We’ll have to investigate this later. Come, we don’t want anyone to notice our absence,” Jakob says, and together they hoist the lift back up to the top and replace the cabinet.

It's childish, but Kamui can’t help but feel empowered after their discovery. They were like the heroes in her stories, and if they already found the passage, they would surely be able to escape now.

Chapter Text

Kamui nervously eyes Jakob as he readjusts his grip on the lift’s rope, shoulders still shaking involuntarily from his coughing fit.

"It’s all well and good that you found such a passageway, but did you have to pick one that hasn’t been used in years? I believe I have more dirt in my lungs than air at this point,” Jakob says distastefully. Kamui’s just glad he didn’t let go of the rope-just because it hadn’t snapped yet didn’t mean his sudden jerks couldn’t send them to their doom.

The lift reaches the bottom of the shaft with a dull thud and the lantern Jakob had brought with him lights up a good chunk of their cold, cavernous surroundings. Kamui suppresses a shiver, arms wrapping around her torso in a vain attempt to stave off the cold. To her surprise, she feels the dull thrum of a Dragon Vein beneath her feet-though she doesn’t dare activate it.

I don’t know what it will do and I don’t want to accidentally start a cave-in.

It’s difficult to tell which direction they should head-the passageway continues in either direction for father than she can see, and there are no doors or windows that they could use to help them orient themselves. Jakob starts walking to the right and Kamui follows without complaint-after all, it’s not like she has any better ideas.

They continue through the cavern in silence, Kamui occasionally suppressing a shiver while listening to their footfalls echo off of the endless stone walls. It seems like they walk for an eternity before Jakob turns to address her over his shoulder.

“It’s not exactly my business, but I suppose curiosity is getting the best of me. You said you and your brother were kidnapped, yes?”

Kamui stiffens. Jakob merely looks her over before turning back to face forward.

"Is the reason you want to leave to go back to wherever it is you came from?”

“…yes.”

Jakob hums. “I see. I know you dislike speaking about where that was, so I will not ask, but I would like to make sure you have some sort of support system before we continue with this escape plan.”

“We…I do,” she corrects-Corrin wouldn’t consider their Hoshidan siblings to be a support system when he couldn’t even remember their faces.

She frowns at the thought.

When did they become ‘Hoshidan siblings’ instead of just ‘siblings’?

“I see. Then I will respect your privacy.”

Kamui sighs in relief. She didn’t want to talk about this-not just because it hurt, but because if they were caught trying to escape, Jakob wouldn’t just have to feign ignorance-he would be ignorant. The last thing she wanted to do was get him into any trouble, even if he had accepted that risk once he’d agreed to help her.

She and Jakob seem to notice the abnormal indentation far ahead in the side of the tunnel at the same time, and upon exchanging a look they wordlessly decide to investigate. As they get closer, Kamui smiles in delight: it's some sort of wide, pipe like structure-she assumes it’s to prevent flooding, or at least it was. She has no idea how long it’s been since this tunnel’s seen any use. The amount of dirt everywhere suggests a large period of time.

Far, far ahead, she can make out an exit, and she’s so excited by the prospect that she clambers up the half step it takes to enter the pipe-only to be hastily pulled back by Jakob. He looks unimpressed, and she scowls at him.

“At least let me go first. We have no idea what could be at the end of this orifice and if anything happened to you they’d likely flay me alive.”

“I can handle myself.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Like you handled that guard who dragged you through several floors of the Northern Fortress like you were a sack of flour?”

She flushes, looking away. “When are you gonna stop bringing that up?”

He steps up into the pipe, illuminating the circular passage with the lantern he carried. “When I stop finding it amusing.”

Kamui has a feeling that won’t happen anytime soon. Or ever, actually.

Once they get closer to the exit, she’s struck by a thought.

“Jakob, put that out.”

“Hmm? Why?”

“Like you said, we don’t know what’s out there-or who can see what comes out of here.”

He must agree with her because he immediately does as she asks, and it leaves them blanketed in darkness. She’s suddenly glad that she isn’t afraid of the dark like Takumi is.

Or rather ‘was’. I wonder if that’s still even true anymore.

She shakes her head to pull herself out of her thoughts. No point in dwelling on it-plus, she’ll find out soon enough. Thinking otherwise would plunge her back into despair, and that wouldn’t help them at all.

Jakob stops so abruptly that Kamui almost walks into his back. She looks to the side of him and notices they’ve reached the end of the tunnel.

“There’s good news and bad news,” Jakob starts, not bothering to look back as he speaks. “The good news is that this definitely won’t be seen by any guards on their normal patrol routes-not unless they’re doing reconnaissance. See,” he moves to the side and motions her forwards, gesturing in front of him. Kamui gasps at the sight-the pipe seems to have led out the side of a hill that had been carved into by people-she supposes her theory that it was meant as a drainage outlet to prevent flooding seems more plausible now. Far in the distance, beyond the bottom of the hill and the surrounding plains, she sees a dense thicket of the dead looking Nohrian trees that mist make up the forest Leo’s spoken of on a few occasions. From their position, they are above it all, and Kamui basks in the sweet autumn air. “That’s the path that leads into a nearby town-and it’s the opposite direction that nearly everyone travels since besides this Fortress, there’s not much of note out here. The common folk would be exceedingly stupid to come anywhere near here of their own volition, and your—I mean, the Nohrian royal family comes from that direction,” he points behind them, arm brushing against her as he continues. “So they don’t have much of a reason to regularly patrol this area.”

Briefly, she wonders if that’s changed because of Silas,, but she can’t see even a hint that people have even been near here in the recent past.

How did he get that key to the Tower to begin with.

If she ever saw him (alive) again, she supposed she’d have to ask.

“The bad news is that,” Jakob takes a cautious step forwards and—

Ah. That isn’t great.

The fall to the ground below them was easily twice the height of her wardrobe. A fall from this height probably wouldn’t kill her if she didn’t land the wrong way, but would it break some bones? Maybe.

Something to consider, at any rate.

She notices Jakob staring at her and turns to look at him. He seems annoyed, and she hums at him in question. He sighs.

“You didn’t hear anything I just said, did you?”

Her face scrunches up in confusion. “Was it after you pointed that out?” she says, glancing at the end of the pipe.

“Why do I even—yes. I was discussing that storage room we found on the third floor we searched-did it not have a ladder?”

“Oh. I…think so?” She can’t actually remember-that was at least a couple of months ago by now and they searched a lot of rooms since then-most of which admittedly looked the same to her.

He shakes his head. “I’ll check again-but not tonight. If we’re not quick, the crown prince might show up before we get back.”

For some reason, the walk back is awkward-the silence between the two of them somehow more charged than it’s ever been before. It makes her uncomfortable, and after they’re halfway through the passage, moving at a brisk pace so they don’t arouse any suspicion, Kamui finally has enough.

“Jakob, what’s wrong?”

The arm carrying the re-lit lantern jerks involuntarily at her words, and he grimaces at it. “I was just wondering what you plan on doing with this information.”

Kamui frowns at him, but he avoids meeting her eye.

“What do you mean?”

He clears his throat, glancing at her before staring straight ahead.

He doesn’t seem to want to answer.

“I know you’re not going to want to hear this,” he starts, voice soft, “but from what you’ve said, your brother doesn’t plan on joining you in this jailbreak of sorts that you’re plotting.”

She stares ahead, too, not wanting to have this conversation.

“I…how exactly do you intend to sway him? I’ve said as much before, but if he refuses to come, you could always jus—”

“No, I can’t.”

I can’t leave him here, not with them.

A part of her knows that’s unfair: she might not understand them, but the Nohrian royal family (excluding the Grey man, of course) treated them well enough, and she would go so far as to say that she genuinely cares for the three youngest siblings, but they are so, so close now. The end was in sight, a path home had finally been found after all of this time-she can’t just give up. If they don’t go home soon…if they couldn’t leave soon, would she even…

Best not to finish that thought.

Kamui chews on her lip. “I’ll get him to come.” She says with a certainty that surprises even herself. Corrin might not like her right now, but she’s sure she can get him to listen if she tries-he has to-and if that means she finally tells him about everything-if she opens up with the fact that Mama is alive, well, he’d definitely hear her out.

It’s not just something that will make him miserable anymore-we can go home.

Kamui smiles, and once they reach the lift, Jakob seems to relax upon seeing her expression. She cocks her head at him, stupid grin still plastered on her face.

“Oh, nothing, I just finally see the resemblance between you two,” he says teasingly. It just makes her smile grow.

They get back to her quarters without incident and Kamui sends Jakob out with her empty water pitcher-they make it routine to have him do some menial task on his way out so he seems less conspicuous in his comings and goings. Kamui takes off her shoes and changes into her sleeping clothes despite having no intention of sleeping. They did it! They finally have a way out!

All she has to do is talk to Corrin and they can leave. Tears well up in her eyes and for once she doesn’t suppress them-she hasn’t been this happy in so long. Outside, the sun is just beginning to creep over the horizon, and Kamui basks in its glow.

Today's already been a good day.

She thinks of Castle Shirasagi, of the room she shares with her brother, Hinoka’s crude demeanor, Ryoma’s caring smile. The tree they used to race up, the lake it overlooked. She thinks of her mother, humming that odd melody whenever she had nightmares, she thinks of Takumi’s screams whenever he didn’t get his way, of baby Sakura’s quiet room and the hypervigilant woman who watched over her. And finally, she thinks of Papa and of the shrine they must have built in their absence.

Perhaps we’ll visit it all together when we get back.

She’s so lost in her own thoughts that she doesn’t notice herself drifting off.

It’s much later when she opens her eyes, and for once it doesn’t seem like anyone or anything woke her up. Still giddy from their discovery, she pushes herself out of bed and quickly dresses for the day, a pep in her step that doesn’t seem to fade even as she brushes through her snarled hair. She’d finally figured out how to put it up into a bun by herself-it doesn’t look very good, but it should make it harder to pull in a fight-Gunter said so himself when she’d asked.

She pulls on her shoes and grabs the book she’s currently sifting through, still trying to find anything that might help them when they leave. This one was an old Nohrian history book: it’s thick, larger than the encyclopedia, and terribly dull-but it does have some full-page maps in it that she’s been discretely marking the pages to in her notebook. When it came time, she’d have to rip them out, but she refuses to do this before then. The book might be boring, but she’d rather not have to deface it.

It’s still a book.

She moves to the sitting room and flips to a random page, idly deciding to read some of it so she can figure out where the Tower is actually located, when she hears the lock from the door that leads to the main entrance jiggle. Startled, she turns to look at it.

She realizes, much later, that this is when everything went wrong.

Kamui knows something’s off the moment the Heir and Camilla enter the sitting room. It was common to see the crown prince dressed in his full military regalia, but Camilla was another story. She almost never wore her armor to visit them unless she’d just gotten back from a mission that Garon had given her, and because the two oldest Nohrian royal children were apparently both established commanders, they were not often sent on the same missions-which meant something strange must be happening to see them both like this. The Heir looks very tense-which was saying something, for him. His face was so stiff and serious looking that she half thought he was wearing a mask until he blinked, seemingly surprised to see her-probably because she rarely came out of her room without prompting.

Kamui is set even further on edge when the two of them remain standing. Kamui had been so focused on the oldest two that she had not seen Leo and Elise shuffle in awkwardly behind them. Leo had apparently started heading on missions recently-or so he told Corrin-and she is shocked to see that he is dressed in armor as well: black plate scale armor that covered him from shoulders to toes and his signature collar-which, for once, was put on correctly. Elise is wearing a formal looking black and pink dress and despite the tension that the rest of them exude, she radiates joy.

She tenses, the smile sliding off her face, and despite the discomfort being the center of their attention causes her, she decides to speak up.

“What’s going on?”

Camilla smiles warmly-but much to Kamui’s shock, it seems forced. “Ah, hello dear. Do you know where sweet little Corrin’s run off to?”

Kamui tilts her head warily at her. “Why?”

Leo looks at her, expression grave, but when they meet eyes he looks away.

They are doing absolutely nothing to ease my nerves.

Camilla’s smile falters for a fraction of a second-so quickly Kamui wonders if she imagined it-before Elise cuts in happily.

“We’re gonna go for a ride!”

…that can’t be it, right? They wouldn’t look so tense if that was all.

Before Kamui can respond to that, the door to the hallway opens and Corrin skips out, grinning from ear to ear.

“Wow, you’re all here! Is it somebody’s birthday or did you guys just miss us? Oh, and that outfit is so cool looking, Leo! When did you get that? And what time did you guys get here? She never tells me anything,” he points over his shoulder at her without stopping, “so I actually don’t know. Sorry, I figured you weren’t coming today since it’s already almost night and usually we do sword stuff in the morn—”

The Heir clears his throat and Corrin blushes, scratching the back of his head. Alarm bells go off when Corrin’s usual rambling does nothing to set the young man at ease. He doesn’t even smile.

“I’ll help you pick out a suitable outfit, little prince-and you’ll have to wear shoes today,” the Heir looks him over and Kamui eyes the two of them nervously. “I may fetch someone to cut your hair, too. It’s getting a bit long.”

It’s like he’s talking to himself.

“Oh! Ok, I can do that; why do I need to change though?” Corrin asks, cocking his head up at the Heir even as some of his hair is held up to judge its length.

“Father has summoned the two of you to court,” Kamui pales, freezing at the words.

“You told him we got a bunch better, right! Yay!” Corrin cheers, oblivious to the tension in the room.

Oh, gods!

Did he finally have a use for them? Were they actually moving? What could he even want with two children as young as they are? Her stomach twists into knots and she only realizes she isn’t breathing once her vision starts swimming, dark patches slowly taking over everything in her line of sight.

She hears someone shuffling but can’t see them-can’t register anything besides the ever-growing panic that threatens to shatter her like Corrin shattered that sculpture so long ago. A hand finds her back and starts to rub circles across it, but she flinches away from the contact. The hand does not follow her.

“It’s all right, little sister, we’ll be right there with you,” Camilla says quietly-and for once, there’s not even a trace of the usual teasing edge to her voice. That freaks Kamui out even more.

She must think this is a reasonable reaction. Do they fear their own father?!

“Come now, let’s get you ready,” and Kamui only curls further into herself-not that it matters, because Camilla lifts her easily. She hears doors open and shut and Camilla sets her down gently-probably on her bed, but she’s so panicked she can’t really see it.

This isn’t helping, just calm down Please, just calm down!

Her thoughts do nothing to soothe her, and before she even registers what’s happening she’s gone into a full blown panic-her breath comes in shallow, uneven intervals, her palms slick with sweat, and she can’t stop the tears. Her chest and throat constrict painfully and she can’t get enough air-she’s sure this must be what dying feels like even though rationally, she understands that this has happened before and she’s still alive. Her body rejects the logic, thoughts speeding through all of the horrible possibilities that awaited them in the capital. Images of the Grey Man, a black axe, and of Papa gasping for breath in front of her invade her thoughts.

“Hey, hey, it’s all right, Kamui,” she’s moved again and this time her heads tucked under Camilla’s neck. The older girl’s armor digs into her skin, but Kamui hardly feels it. She sobs, desperately gasping for air that just won’t come, and maybe she’d feel embarrassed about the treatment if she wasn’t so filled with the soul-crushing terror that thoughts of the Grey Man induced in her mind. “Shh, I know,” the older girl whispers softly, wiping a few stray tears from Kamui’s cheek, “I know."

“Can you do me a favor, little one?” Kamui doesn’t respond beyond coughing. Her vision swims, and she can barely make out Camilla’s voice when she speaks again. “Can you take a deep breath for me? Only think about that, ok? Just breathe in,” and as if to show her how, Camilla does as she’d just instructed. Kamui feels her lungs expand from under her, and as stupid as this felt, she figures it’s better than dying here, so she shakily complies. “And out.”

Camilla repeats the process several times, wiping her face with a floral-scented handkerchief Kamui didn’t even know she carried. Her vision slowly returns to normal, and after several coughing fits, her breathing becomes steady enough that she isn’t in danger of passing out. She’s still shaking violently, and snot drips disgustingly down her face, but she can see and her thoughts aren’t so overwhelmingly churning inside her head, so she supposes that’s a plus.

“There we go,” Camilla lightly cleans her face, pressing the handkerchief over her nose with unspoken instructions. Kamui blows her nose, embarrassment creeping into her features, but it makes it even easier to breathe. Her shoulders fall in exhaustion. “See? You’re all right.”

Kamui lets her head rest against the other girl’s shoulder. She just wants to hide-to go back to bed and stay there for a few days, but she knows that’s not an option-and she doesn’t dare leave Corrin alone with the Grey Man.

You’ve gotta get up. Her mind supplies lightly. You can't give up now-not when you're so close to freedom. To home.

Kamui’s face crumples at the thought. She’s just so tired.

Come on, you can do it.

She slowly picks her head up, sniffling as she turns to look up at her sis-Camilla. The purple-haired teenager smiles at her gently, and for once Kamui can see both of her eyes.

“’m sorry,” Kamui mumbles, eliciting a soft laugh from the older girl, who brushes a stray piece of near white hair from Kamui’s face.

“You have nothing to apologize for. Will you let me help you get ready now?” Kamui swallows uneasily, but nods. “That’s a good girl.”

It's ok. You’re OK.

She wonders, suddenly, if lying to herself would get easier when she gets older.

It seems unlikely.

Chapter Text

Kamui hasn’t been in a carriage since That Day, and she only remembers that after she clambers in through the onyx-black door. It makes the interior seem suffocating and smaller than it actually is-though the way they’ve somehow managed to cram six people into one buggy certainly didn’t help with that. She sits in the center of Camilla and Leo, facing the other bench that seats Elise, Corrin, and the Heir. Camilla had held her hand the entire way to the carriage-in fact, she still holds on to it now, rubbing soothing circles on the back of her wrist with a thumb-and Kamui still isn’t sure if that’s because the older girl felt the need to comfort her or because she was afraid Kamui would dash away given the chance.

Some part of her thinks it’s both.

No one speaks even after the carriage starts to move. Leo and the Heir look serious, Camilla looks like she’s trying much too hard to seem casual, Corrin and Elise are too excited to start talking, and Kamui oscillates between exhaustion and gut-wrenching horror. It’s all she can do to keep it together. Leo elbows her discretely, but she chooses to ignore it. Her ability to remain calm is almost nonexistent at the moment, and she’s afraid if he says the wrong thing or even looks at her funny that she’ll shatter and be unable to recompose herself. She’s not exactly sure how far away Castle Krakenburg is, but if the Nohrians were willing to travel to the Northern Fortress so often, it couldn’t be that long of a ride.

Unsurprisingly, Corrin is the one to break the silence.

“I’m so excited! Do you think there’ll be a party? Do you think he’s gonna be happy to see us? Are there gonna be other people there, too? I can’t wait to show him how good I am with a sword now cuz of Xander—”

“Little prince, please calm yourself. I’d prefer if you left the talking to me once Father receives us,” the Heir says. He sounds like he’s trying to keep his tone light, but it’s not working: he’s practically oozing tension that Corrin seems incapable of noticing.

“Hmm? How come?” Corrin asks with a slight frown.

“Because if we’re not…,” he trails off, looking conflicted.

“Well, I’m gonna ask him if I can prove mys—”

Kamui jerks sharply at his words and he cuts off abruptly, startled by her movement. “Corrin, don’t.”

It’s the first time she’s spoken in a couple of hours, and her voice is raw from her earlier episode.

He glares at her, and it’s a look she never wants directed at her again-it doesn’t suit him. “Why do you even care?”

She finds herself shaking her head, eyes widening in alarm. “Corrin, don’t. Please.”

Corrin grumbles and looks away. Kamui starts a silent prayer to any god or goddess who’s willing to listen. She needs all the help she can get to keep him out of trouble.

Trouble with the Grey Man probably just means death.

An arm across her shoulder pulls her from prayer-literally. Camilla’s grabbed her shoulder behind Kamui’s neck and gently pulled her closer so she’s leaning on the purple haired girl’s arm.

“Why don’t you rest, dear? We have the time for it.”

The ‘and you could certainly use it’ is left unsaid, but Kamui hears it as clearly as if the girl had shouted it into her ear. She doesn’t feel like arguing or awkwardly avoiding Corrin’s gaze for the entire duration of the trip, so she complies easily, and for once, she’s asleep almost as soon as her eyes are closed.

A hand on her head is the first thing she feels as she wakes.

“Come on, Kamui, it’s time to go see father,” and at first, she’s too out of it to understand-Papa is dead, so how would they go to see him? She figures she must be dreaming, so she ignores the slight prodding and focuses on trying to sleep. She hears someone sigh and thinks it must be working until a hand wraps around her arm and roughly shakes her-effectively jostling her awake. Kamui blinks, blearily taking in her surroundings.

Something’s not right, but…

She’s so tired the thought doesn’t resolve itself, and she turns to look at the irritated boy at her side, who still has a hold on her through her blouse. Kamui looks down in confusion-why was she dressed like this? And…what’s happening?

“The others are already out of the carriage, come on!” He says angrily, and—

Oh.

Dread creeps back into her system as she remembers why they were here, where ‘here’ even is. She winces.

I haven’t been that out of sorts in a long time.

Kamui follows Leo out of the carriage, where he finally lets go of her arm. She shivers against the sudden cold from the night air-it was almost winter, and the chill seeps deep into her bones. She’s instantly jealous of the button up she sees Corrin in but before she can comment about it she’s being herded towards—

Kamui gapes and misses a step at the shock of the area. Ignoring the protests of the people around her she turns in a full circle, neck craning up to see the most ridiculous (and, admittedly, intimidating) design of a castle she’s ever seen in her life.

And, yeah, maybe she is pretty young and maybe she’s only seen one other one, but still. How in the goddesses' names did they even make this place? Progressively smaller walls surround the center of an enormous crater, where a tall castle shoots far up into the air. They stand on a large stone bridge that is far, far above the city below-she’s so far up she can’t even see the actual ground, just roofs of some of the tallest buildings. Despite how well lit the place is-wall sconces are mounted to thick stone walls at regular intervals and heavily armored guards with torches are stationed everywhere-the entire place is coated in darkness-some due to the time of day, but most, she imagines, due to design-the shade from the mind bogglingly high walls no doubt lets almost none of the already depressingly little Nohrian sunlight into the castle. The artificial light bathes everything and everyone in the reddish hue of the fire, a fact that she finds extremely unsettling.

And the castle…well, the actual castle lies in the center, and though it is unmistakably huge, it seems much smaller compared to the large stone of the outermost wall. It’s so odd looking that it’s difficult to describe: the height of the castle extends all the way from the ground to the highest wall, but it gets progressively narrower the higher it goes-kind of like a pyramid. The only exception to this rule is the main entrance area-and it must be an area, because it extends completely around the entire structure-which is wider than expected due to the sheer number of entrances one could take to go inside.

For example, the entrance they currently stand at is massive: the gate is at least several stories high and one wide. It’s so wide, in fact, that she questions why they got out of the carriage so early. Just how long did they need to travel to get to the reception hall?

Is that even where we’re going?

The sheer size of this place made guessing what ‘going to court’ entailed of much more complicated than she’d expected it to be-there was just one entrance hall in Castle Shirasagi, and it was so large that all barring the most formal events occurred within its walls. Admittedly, though, this castle (dare she call it a palace?) was putting her definition of ‘large’ into an entirely new perspective.

Nothing about Castle Shirasagi was large-not like this.

Something taps her shoulder and she flinches hard-so hard, in fact, that the Heir suddenly has both hands on her shoulders and has spun her completely around. It doesn’t hurt her, but the speed at which she’s spun disorients her enough that she has to blink to get her bearings. She probably startled too close to the edge for comfort. He looks both concerned and confused-and for once, they feel the same way (though probably for different reasons).

“Are you all right, little princess?” He says quietly, eyes searching. She momentarily forgets the shock of the castle and the dread that’s recently made its home in her gut at the sight of his expression: what was there to be confused about? She’s never been here before-it seems reasonable she’d be daunted by such a—

Oh. Wait, he thinks I was going to jump.

That leaves her feeling uncomfortable and vaguely insulted: if she had been planning to jump, it wouldn’t have been in such an obvious manner. She frowns at him, unimpressed-before remembering why they were there. Her stomach twists in knots.

The Heir closes his eyes and makes what Leo’s been calling his ‘Kamui look’ because he leaves a lot of their conversations looking something between amused, vexed, and resigned.

She doesn’t appreciate the moniker.

“Come, we mustn’t be late,” he removes one of his hands and moves the other to her back, lightly moving her towards the gate. She gets the odd impression that he won’t remove it until after they’re inside.

She is right.

It’s…actually less gloomy indoors-maybe that’s because she wasn’t expecting any natural lighting, or maybe it’s because it looks similar to the Tower’s indoors. She follows Camilla, who’s taken the lead, down a winding set of stairs. Though it’s warmer indoors, it isn’t warm, and Kamui wishes the outfit Camilla had chosen earlier included a jacket. Or stockings.

Maybe gloves, too.

She’s in the process of rubbing her hands together to induce some heat into her frigid hands when Elise abruptly spins around and latches onto her waist. Kamui barely catches them both on the wall and she hears Leo chuckle from behind them at the scene.

“Big sister! Are you excited!?”

No-at least, not in the way you mean.

Kamui decides not to answer, but Elise isn’t having it. Upon her silence, Corrin glances back at them over his shoulder, eyes alight with silent anger.

“Don’t mind her, Elise. She’s in a mood.”

Kamui’s vision flashes with apparitions, flashes and flickers in and out of memories, of more arrows than she could count, of the vacant look in the eyes if her twin, of an axe darker than obsidian and of red, red, red.

She nearly trips as she comes back to herself, and this time Leo doesn’t laugh. Even Elise’s smile falls from her face upon peering into her eyes. She tries not to think about how she must look to them.

A mood, huh?

They reach the bottom of stone stairs, Camilla stopping until the Heir enters the hall they’ve come out into. Though torches hang from the wall, spilling heat into the chamber, Kamui feels somehow colder than she had outside.

A hand finds its way to her back again, and she realizes with a start she’d been standing still. Camilla looks back at her with a slight frown, and Elise-who still hasn’t released Kamui’s arm-looks confused. She swallows, mouth dry, and lets herself be guided down the hall. They pass by elaborately carved wooden doors covered in dragons and scenes from famous battles and the likenesses of people she doesn’t recognize. The occasional painting or tapestry hang between torches or doorways. Their footfalls echo down the corridor, the sound cascading so far throughout the castle’s interior that she absently thinks they won’t need to be announced-everyone must already know they’re approaching.

An elbow jabs into her side, though it’s so light and discrete that had she not caught the glance Leo shot her she’d be certain she’d imagined it. His eyes flicker to hers again even as his head remains facing forwards. He raises a single brow. He looks vaguely concerned, and while she can’t blame him-she's aware of how pale she must be-she can’t bring herself to answer his unspoken query.

If the Tower was difficult to traverse, then the castle was impossible: they pass through hall after hall, take stairs up and down at seemingly random intervals, enter doors that she was sure would lead to nowhere important only for them to open into expensively decorated junctions between stone chambers.

It feels like an eternity before they arrive in front of a large, metal plated door. She unconsciously pulls back, but the hand on her back doesn’t let her budge. Her throat closes up when she remembers that unnerving smile upon the face of Papa’s killer, and she’s sure she’s moments away from another meltdown when she remembers something important:

Never show weakness to the enemy.

She takes a few deep breaths, willing her shoulders to relax and ignoring the stares from the others. Nothing good would come of panicking here. She steels herself as the door slowly creaks open, heavy wood and metal hitting stone wall of the room in front of them with a loud, echoing thunk. The hand on her back disappears, and she wonders if that’s because they notice the change in her demeanor.

“Enter,” A cold, disinterested voice beckons them from far into the chamber. Despite trailing behind thus far, the Heir is the first one through the doors to the throne room. He looks composed, confident, and prepared for this encounter-in other words, he's everything she is not. Camilla looks at Corrin and then at her, lightly nodding towards the throne room (at least, that’s what she thinks this is). Kamui swallows, mouth dry as she falls in step besides Corrin.

It’s ok. The Heir is going to handle it and nothing bad will happen.

She desperately wishes she could believe that.

Corrin stops when he reaches the oldest boy’s side, and Leo, Elise and Camilla stop a few paces behind the three of them. Kamui forces herself to keep her eyes on the Grey Man even though it makes her pulse quicken and her throat fill with bile that she struggles to keep down. The throne room is just as intimidating as the rest of the castle: the actual seat is raised far above a necessary height and elaborately placed bones and black spikes decorate the area behind it. A giant, unnerving carving of some odd looking creature is displayed on the ceiling-and bizarrely, Kamui feels like she’s seen it before. The room itself is as dark and gloomy as the rest of the kingdom.

The Grey Man looks almost no different than he had on That Day-save perhaps a few more white hairs. Kamui finds she can’t meet his eyes without swaying more than a leaf in a windstorm, so she settles on staring just above his head.

Same black armor. Same long fur cape, same painful looking spiky crown.

Someone clears there throat next to her and she glances to the side without moving her head to see the Heir giving her a serious looking glare as he slowly kneels. She mechanically copies his movements even as some angry part of her screams not to, and soon the six of them are all on a knee, prostrated before the man who killed her father. She squeezes her right hand-the one not on her left knee-into a tight fist to keep the ferocity and fear from showing on her face.

An eternity passes where they all sit there, motionlessly staring at the first few steps to the throne, before the Grey Man finally speaks. “Rise.”

She slowly stands up, relaxing her hand even as she feels something trickle down a finger.

I shouldn’t have held so tightly.

She hears someone shift behind her and knows she’s probably going to have a talking-to about it later.

“You said they may be ready? Speak, boy.”

“That’s correct. Leo lost the duel he initiated, and I was there when this occurred.”

Kamui mulls over his phrasing. It wasn’t a lie, but it implied that both of the twins had participated instead of just her, and also that Leo hadn’t thrown the duel like he had. Kamui figured that the Heir probably knew about that-he was an accomplished swordsman who had taught both of them, and he wasn’t stupid. So why had he bothered with this?

Gods, I don’t want to move here-there’s no way we’d ever get to leave.

But what could she do? There’s not anything she could say about it without looking suspicious.

It turned out that she didn’t have to.

“Um, Xander, only Kamui dueled though. But that’s OK, because I can just prove I’m really good now, right?” Corrin says happily, smiling up at the Grey Man. The Grey Man raises an eyebrow, and though his bored expression doesn’t disappear, the sudden light in his eyes shows he’s interested. The Heir freezes, glancing at her twin with wide eyes before schooling his expression back to stern neutrality-though she notices his posture has stiffened.

Kamui’s heart skips painfully in her chest, the room suddenly shrinking around them.

Corrin, what did you just do?!

There’s a pause before the Grey Man speaks again, voice deep and sharp. “So, you came here to prove yourself then?”

If Corrin had noticed the subtle hand the Heir had placed on his arm, he chose to ignore it. “Yeah! But I don’t know how I should do that,” he adds hastily, “should I spar with Leo like Kamui did?”

The Grey Man shifts, sitting forward in the throne as he looks Corrin over with steely eyes. Kamui’s sure that she’d be struck dead had she been fixed with that look, but Corrin doesn’t even flinch. He’s always been braver than she has. “That won’t be necessary. You’ve come all the way here-there’s no need for you to do something you could have done in the Northern Fortress. No, I have something else in mind.”

The corners of the king’s mouth upturn and Kamui thinks she might be sick.

“Oh! Ok, father, what should I do?”

Father...?

Instead of answering him, the Grey Man’s head turns to the side. “Hans. You will spar with him. The first to lose consciousness will be declared the loser.”

Servants that Kamui hadn’t even noticed were in the room are suddenly everywhere-eyes downcast as they clear and set markers for an impromptu arena. The speed at which they do so is telling; things like this must happen often if all of the markers and weapons were so readily available. One man-a guard, by the looks of it-steps towards Corrin. He’s huge and all muscles-bald, nearly bare-chested, and wielding an axe similar in size to the one Camilla uses. The cocky smirk plastered on his face sets off alarm bells in her head.

That’s not a practice weapon.

She lets herself be herded away by someone-Kamui isn’t paying attention to anything but the huge man in front of her brother. She stands off to the side-it’s shrouded in surreal darkness and Kamui suddenly realizes this is where the servants must have been-when another servant reaches Corrin, handing him a child-sized steel sword. A sharpened steel sword. It makes the axe-wielding man’s (she supposes he must be Hans) grin grow even wider, and Kamui feels chills creep up her spine.

The servants hurry out of the way and she watches, numbly, as Corrin struggles to heft the blade into position. They never practiced with actual steel-let alone a weapon without dull edges-and he probably wasn’t used to the weight. Kamui looks to the Nohrians at her side: Camilla’s carefully blank face but stiff posture, the Heir’s alarmingly rigid stance, Leo’s pale face and dark expression, and Elise, who just looks confused. The Heir has one hand wrapped around Leo’s shoulder-as if having the boy there helped ground him in the same way digging her nails into her palm helped ground her. Before she has time to process anything else-before she as time to protest or interrupt or do something, anything to stop this before Corrin gets hurt, the Grey Man has adjusted himself to lean over the arm of the throne, propping his chin up with one hand.

“Begin.”

Kamui isn’t shocked that Hans is the first to rush forwards-but she is shocked that Corrin manages to dodge his swing with a surprised ‘woah’. Had she not been so afraid, she's sure she would have been proud of him. Corrin doesn’t get the chance to go on the offensive-the Hans fellow is too fast for him to do anything but focus on dodging-dodging real steel that is actively aimed at his vital points.

He’s going to kill him!

Kamui, panicking, tears her gaze away from the fight and focuses on trying to find something-maybe she could throw something or scream really loud or do literally anything else besides watch as this man tore her brother to pieces-when suddenly Leo catches her eye. Her gaze snaps to his and she ignores the clash of steel from the direction of the duel to hold his gaze. It flickers back and forth between her and the floor several paces to her side and it’s all Kamui needs to understand his plan. She wastes no time-she edges to the side as discreetly as possible, trying not to catch the attention of the older two siblings. She squeezes her hand into a fist when she hears the clash of steel on stone, and he doesn’t have to look up to know the Hans fellow just missed Corrin again. Once she’s in position, she watches the battle carefully. She’d only have one shot at this.

No pressure. She thinks cynically.

Corrin cries out as he blocks an attack head on, the shock jarring his much smaller form, and Hans pushes forwards, knocking the boy to the ground with a loud crash, but Corrin is already pushing himself up. He’s been thrown several paces away, and Kamui already knows he won’t be able to stand in time to dodge Hans’ next swing, the man’s axe already raised and it’s horribly painful to watch, but she forces herself to wait, forces herself not to act too rashly because there’s really only time to do this once, and he’s not in the right place yet. She waits, and the man lunges forwards to deliver the blow that will take her brother from her forever—

Now!

Kamui activates the Dragon Vein below her and in an instant the arcane energy shoots out from the floor and flies forwards, hitting the small area between Hans and her brother with an ethereal chime-and an unnatural looking glacier shoots up from dark stone, hitting the bare-chested man in his middle and shooting him out of the arena and into a wall, where he slumps, a small bit of blood starting to trickle down his head.

Every single eye turns to her and she has to fight not to break down under the weight of dozens of gazes. Even Corrin’s scared eyes stare in her direction from where he’s still sprawled out on the floor, chest heaving in exhaustion-but not fear. The Grey Man looks, too, and if she thought the Heir looked scary when her was mad before, it’s because she hadn’t seen real anger until this moment. Bushy eyebrows are drawn together in a fierce display of rage, and it takes all the effort she can muster not to turn and bolt. Nobody moves and the silence is so charged that she’s half convinced this was all some horribly sick dream until the Grey Man speaks up.

“What is the meaning of this?!” he bellows at her. She barely avoids wincing.

Never show weakness to the enemy. She repeats it in her head like a mantra.

“I-I thought he was going to k-kill him.”

It sounds weak, and under normal circumstances, there isn’t a chance he would have heard her from such a distance, but since no one else in the room dares to speak or even move, her voice carries enough for him to understand.

“Are you daft, child? You had no place in that fight.”

Silence is her answer, but she doesn’t look away. She forces her shoulders to relax: if she died protecting her brother, then she’d have no regrets. Her look isn’t exactly defiant, but neither does it agree with him. He regards her carefully, and when the anger recedes from his features, her fear returns exponentially higher.

Why isn’t he mad?

The Grey Man grunts. “This was a waste of my time. Corrin’s display was pitiful, and Cyrille does not even know the rules for a simple spar. Don’t bring them before me again until they can hold their own,” he says, glancing at the Heir. “Take the boy back to the Northern Fortress.”

The Nohrians to her side shift, and she can’t understand why they seem so uncomfortable until Camilla speaks up. “Just the boy, father?”

The Grey Man’s apathetic look returns in full force. “Cyrille has yet to receive a replacement for the last servant that was fired. I took the liberty of finding a couple more. For the next week, she’ll stay here with them.”

Camilla relaxes almost imperceptibly, but when the Heir’s eyes widen at the king’s words, she knows there’s something wrong. Still, he doesn’t do anything beyond offering the Grey Man a rigid nod as he turns to Corrin, who still hasn’t gotten up.

Kamui is having a hard time registering what’s happening around her. People move around her-mostly servants who work to clear the throne room of any traces of the duel. She absently watches a few of them work on dragging the bear of a man out of the room. Kamui holds her injured hand in front of her, absently following the crisscrossing trails of drying blood with her eyes.

Perhaps her lack of focus is why she startles as violently as she does when a hand curls around her arm. She jerks it out of their grasp and turns to see Camilla looking down at her with a worried frown.

“Father asked you to go with them,” the older girl whispers, nodding to a pair of tired looking old women a few paces in front of her. “He also said we’re not allowed to see you during your stay here.” Camilla reaches down and brushes a few stray strands of Kamui’s long hair behind a pointed ear. “Please behave yourself, Kamui.”

It strikes her as odd that the lavender haired girl sounds so sincere. Something about her tone sets Kamui on edge, and Kamui turns around and follows the two servants out of the throne room without another word.

And maybe, if a small part of her preferred she’d been killed instead of face whatever it was that the Grey Man had planned for her, well, only she would know.

Chapter Text

Leo

It has been three days since the start of Kamui’s punishment. Sure, Father didn’t call it a punishment, but one look at Xander’s face on the carriage ride back to the castle after they delivered Corrin to the Northern Fortress was enough to confirm his suspicions. The look had set him on edge—he'd almost seemed scared—but surely Leo must have read it wrong. Xander never got scared. It’s times like this he wished he was less aware—like Corrin or Elise—because he had an idea of why Father had her stay at the castle, too, and why the timeframe was set to a week. Camilla and Xander are gone, off who knows where doing some sort of mission for Father. As loathe as he is to admit it, he missed them dearly, and that was in no small part due to the greater mobility they afforded him. Unlike his two oldest siblings, Leo wasn’t just allowed to leave Castle Krakenburg whenever he wanted to, and for his trip right now, he'd practically had to beg his tutor to let his lessons take place in the Northern Fortress. It hurt his pride more than he cared to admit. Leo’s gone longer without seeing either of the twins before, of course, but that pit in his stomach hasn’t gone away, and he feels the need (for some unfathomable reason) to check in on Corrin.

As far as Leo knew, the two had never really been apart. At least, he thinks so, anyways. Kamui wouldn’t answer direct questions about their past and Corrin evidently didn’t remember much of it, so it was hard to know for sure.

What was Father thinking? It hasn’t been two weeks yet.

The carriage hits a particularly large bump in the road and he’s jostled in his seat. It makes that uneasy feeling he’s had for the past three days grow. He squeezes the hem of his shirt, careful to keep his face blank. His tutor—a young woman named Cardea—was overprotective of him, and if he did anything that even implied he might be sick, she’d have this carriage turned around so quick that it’d upend the cobblestones in the road.

They arrive with little fanfare: Leo isn’t in any mood for theatrics; he’s not even excited to needle his youngest brother. A part of him is irritated with himself that he’s even here; a week wasn’t that long and it’s not like Corrin is alone—there’s servants and his own tutors and that steely old man that can keep the other boy company. Leo doesn’t need to be here.

He doesn’t.

And yet he makes his way up the impossibly large staircase anyways. To Leo’s surprise, Corrin isn’t in the sitting room, messing around with ink or toys or goddesses’ knew what else at that infernal coffee table. Instead, the old ex-soldier and his apprentice sit side by side on one of the couches, speaking to each other in hushed voices. They both look up as he approaches, and the veteran looks pleasantly surprised to see him. The boy looks at him without really looking at him, some distant look in his eyes. It’s unnerving.

“Lord Leo, I wasn’t expecting you today,” the man says, standing and offering him a bow. He nods at Leo’s tutor, who sniffs at him, nose upturned. Apparently, the people sent to the Northern Fortress were looked down upon by other servants in the service of the royal family. Leo neither understands it nor cares.

“Where’s Corrin?” He asks, ignoring Cardea's voiceless jab.

Gunter turns to look in the direction of the hallway. “He’s in his room. I’m sure he’ll be happy you’ve come to visit.” Leo narrows his eyes. There’s something the man isn’t saying.

“Why isn’t he out here?”

Gunter sighs, face sagging. “He’s been staying in his quarters more than normal as of late. You’ll have to ask him about it if you want to know more; he doesn’t answer when I ask.”

“I see. Well, he’s going to study with me, so I’ll go get him.” Leo walks to Corrin’s room, letting the hallway door shut quietly behind him as he makes his way to the door.

“Corrin? Come study with me.” He’s been told that much of what he says comes out the wrong way, sounding like an order rather than a question. He doesn’t mean to be rude—really, he doesn’t—but he’s worried people would refuse him if he asks rather than tells.

His mother used to do that to him a lot.

Leo jumps when the door flies open and the pale boy practically throws himself into him. Leo lets out an ‘oof’ as the air is knocked out of his lungs, staggering back before he manages to catch himself on the stone wall behind him.

“Leo! I missed you. I mean, it hasn’t really been that long and stuff but Xander said he and Camilla were going on a mission and I thought maybe you were gonna be with them too and then no one would come to visit—well, I mean, I guess Elise could if her nanny brought her up here but that hasn’t happened yet so I figured that it wouldn’t, but nothing is imposs—”

“Corrin, slow down. I can hardly understand you.”

Corrin’s face reddens, and he scratches the back of his neck as he pulls away from Leo.

“Sorry! I got excited. How have you been?”

Leo raises an eyebrow at him. He’s not acting like Leo had expected he would—he doesn’t seem upset that he’s still stuck here for the foreseeable future, and he hasn’t mentioned Kamui at all. He knew the twins had been fighting about something, but he hadn’t expected Corrin not to care about what she was doing at all.

Maybe he’s jealous that she gets to stay at the castle?

The more he considers it, the more plausible it seems. Still, Leo figured Corrin would have forgiven Kamui for whatever it was she’d done (because, knowing her, it had to have been Kamui that instigated their fight) when she’d helped him with Hans. It leaves Leo feeling vaguely uncomfortable; did Corrin really think they’d intentionally sabotaged his duel?

When he asks him as much, Corrin looks away, crossing his arms. “I woulda been fine had she not did that. I mean, I still probably woulda lost, but if the fight lasted longer then maybe Father would have l seen how much better I got.”

Leo stares at him uncomprehendingly.

“Corrin, I told her to stop the fight.”

Corrin’s eyes snap back to his face in disbelief. “What? Why?”

He sounds hurt, red eyes wide with betrayal. “You would have gotten seriously injured if that fight had continued, Corrin.”

Or worse, a quiet voice whispers in his head. He shuts it out.

Corrin doesn’t look convinced. “Father wouldn’t have let him hurt me.”

“Yes, he would have.”

Corrin’s eyes widen in shock beneath white bangs. “W-What?”

“Father would have viewed it as a lesson, I think. It wouldn’t be out of malice, but it’d teach you when to back down from a stronger foe.”

And Leo believed that; Father wouldn’t have let Corrin die or get maimed, but he would allow the scars to act as a reminder of his foolishness. Father wasn’t a bad guy, but he wanted his children to be strong so when they fought for real one day, they would be ready. He was just trying to help his soft-hearted brother. That quiet, insistent voice in his head whispers at the thought.

Then why had Xander tried to stop the duel from happening in the first place?

Leo shakes himself from his thoughts as Corrin speaks up again.

“But…but how come I got in trouble and Kamui gets to stay with you guys while and make new friends?” Red, innocent eyes pin him to his spot in the hallway. A flash of something comes over him, and Leo is surprised to find he wants to protect the older boy from the coldness of their reality. It’s absurd; there’s nothing to protect him from.

Right?

“Corrin, we can’t visit her where she’s...where she’s staying,” where she’s being kept, “it’s a punishment.”

Corrin looks at him skeptically. “But Father only said she’s meeting her new servants, and he wouldn’t lie.”

Leo shifts uncomfortably. “He’s not lying, but I think there’s something more to it.”

“Like what?”

Leo shakes his head. “I don’t know, but didn’t it seem weird to you how our older siblings reacted to it? And it’s weird we can’t go see her and that it’s only for a week. Isn’t something off about that?” Leo’s testing the waters here, trying to gauge the other boy’s reaction. He has a hunch, but…

Corrin frowns, thinking it over. Then, quietly:

“She was saying mean things before we went to visit Father. How come she doesn’t like you guys as much as I do?”

“I don’t know, Corrin. You’d have to ask her.”

Corrin stares at the floor for a while, silently considering his answer. “Do you think that maybe it’s because of what happened before we came here?”

Leo waits for him to continue. Corrin bites his lip.

“It’s not fair that she’s so mean sometimes, it’s not…but…,” Corrin swallows, eyes darting back to Leo’s face. “But I think maybe she might have a reason for it that I don’t get since I don’t remember anything. Something must have happened to make her so angry, but I don’t know what to say to her about it to make her feel better. Why can’t I remember anything, Leo?”

Leo stares at him in shock. It’s the closest the boy had come to admitting there was something wrong with him, and he’s not sure how to process it. He’s never been particularly good at comforting people; he’s much like Kamui in that sense. It’s how Leo knows that she’s his sister—despite her stubborn insistence otherwise—but unfortunately that shared attribute did little for him now. He knows he needs to do something, though, because the boy’s on the verge of tears and shaking like he’s scared of some monster instead of his own mind.

“Hey, um. It’s ok,” he says lamely. “Panicking won’t solve anything. How about we figure it out together?” Corrin looks up to him in awe and Leo continues, hoping that’s a good sign. “I bet we could figure more out if we work as a pair than you alone—and then we can rub it in your bullheaded twin’s face and you can figure out what’s making her so ornery.” Does Leo actually believe it will be that simple? Absolutely not. But is he willing to stretch the truth so the sunshine boy doesn’t lose his gleam?

“You’d really help me?” the older boy sniffles, and in a burst of false confidence, Leo offers him a smug smile.

“Of course. That’s what brothers are for.”

He’s knocked backwards—again—as Corrin wraps his arms around Leo and buries his face in Leo’s shoulder.

“Thank you.”

He sounds so grateful and sincere that at that point, Leo decides not to bring up his suspicions about Kamui’s punishment.

Poor guy’s already freaked out enough.

Kamui

It’s been five days since she met the two sisters from the Ice Tribe, and she’s slowly getting used to their presence. They all share a room—something she was wary about; the last time she’d shared a room with anyone had been with Cor—Kosuke back home, and it made old, happy memories turn bitter with age.

For reasons that she couldn’t discern, the two older girls were scared of her. They avoided her whenever possible and rarely spoke. Since Kamui wasn’t the most social creature and was also scared out of her wits, it meant that the last five days were spent mostly in tense silence.

The room they share is small: there’s barely enough room for two beds, one of which the blue haired girl vacated upon her spontaneous arrival. They both share one, now. The three of them were not allowed out of the room, either. Food and clothing was pushed under a slit at the bottom of the large, locked door every day. Kamui, after the second day, had finally worked up the courage to ask them where her old clothes would be after the week ended—mostly because the clothes they were given were thin white shifts that Kamui hated.

She was told by the pink haired one that they’d likely been burned.

No one came into the room, and the three of them never left. The old servants who brought her here five days ago had only led her to the base of the stairs, telling her to go far down the hall and enter it herself. They apparently locked and unlocked the doors with a spell from far away, which under normal circumstances would have amazed her.

At the time, however, it made something seem off.

If the Tower was a prison, then this was a torture chamber. They were provided with nothing to do, the food and clothes were always the same, and she could not shake the feeling that something was deeply, horribly wrong. For the thousandth time that afternoon, Kamui ponders what that might be. Ever since that conversation about the fate of her clothing, Kamui's mind wandered back to the girl’s answer.

In what situation would burning their clothing make any sense?

But it was in vain. She’s never heard anything about that before, and she certainly hasn’t read about it, either. She turns to face the wall on the uncomfortable bed. She’d ask the sisters—they had yet to offer their names and so she hasn’t given her’s, either—but they seemed so afraid that she found she doesn’t have the heart to do it.

The single candle that lights the room makes the shadows on the stone dance, and she’s reminded of the puppets she and Corrin had once made on the walls of their bedroom. They had come up with so many…

Kamui rubs at her eyes. It’s even harder to sleep here than it had been at the Tower—or at least, it had been. Yesterday she felt unreasonably exhausted considering she she’d done almost nothing for nearly a week now, and she’d ended up sleeping for quite a while, though it was hard to tell exactly how long without any windows. By the time she woke up, however, the bowl of bland looking porridge was cold to the touch. She feels sleep creep up on her even now, and since there’s nothing better to do, she wants to welcome it.

She wants to, but she can’t shake that feeling.

The last thing she hears before she falls asleep is, surprisingly, one of the sisters, but the shock isn't enough to pull her back awake.

“I’m sorry.”

Chapter Text

Elise

Something is wrong, but the bigger kids won’t tell her anything. It’s not fair! She’d been so excited when Camilla told her that they could see Kamui again, even though it was dumb she couldn’t see her when they lived in the same place. Kamui was nice. She would read to her and never even got mad when Elise asked her a quadrabillion questions about the books cuz she didn’t get them.

Kamui read the silliest things! And they had even bigger words than the ones her tutor made her read. When she got to the Northern Fortress, she made Camilla promise to color with them: she wanted to make something like the masterpiece that Corrin had in his room.

Except, Kamui was back and they wouldn’t let Elise see her even though she had been really good on the whole carriage ride there. Xander had even said so! As soon as they’d got there, Camilla and Xander were pulled aside by Gunter and they left her and Leo in the sitting room all alone. And no one told her why. She knew Leo knew because of how broody he looked: he always looked angry when he knew stuff she didn’t. Well, Elise was angry, too.

She’d show him!

…well. She wanted to show him, only he shot her the dirtiest glare she’d ever seen when she tried to bug him about it earlier, so she decided she should show him later. But his angriness didn’t go away, and she’s been sitting here for hours (or maybe it just felt like hours) and she’s so bored.

And Corrin wasn’t anywhere to be seen. She’d ask Leo about it, but he doesn’t seem like he wants to talk. Oh! What if the twins were playing hide and seek?

That sounded fun!

She must be the seeker, then, since Leo was too…Leo. That was ok, she’s great at this game. She pushes herself off the couch and makes her way to the hall—except Leo, being the meanie that he is—stops her with his words.

“Elise, what are you doing?”

“Umm…,” she thinks, forehead creasing in thought, “I want to read!”

Leo looks skeptical before going back to his own book. “Just don’t do anything to upset the adults, ok?”

She hums a yes and scurries into the hall instead of the library before he can change his mind. Elise is so sneaky!

She creeps down the hall on her tippy toes, careful not to make too much noise. She’s glad that the twins don’t have locks on their bedroom doors, because it makes breaking in super easy. Except it’s weird: everything is super quiet, and Elise notices Kamui’s favorite book lays all alone on the chair by her window.

Her face crinkles in confusion, and she brings her hand up to her chin like her biggest brother did whenever he was thinking really hard about stuff. It is kind of fun to play pretend!

Except then she sees the other girl, and suddenly her games aren’t fun anymore, because she’s still asleep! Elise stomps over to her, huffing. Leo was right: she was always sleeping. There’s no reason for her to still be in bed so late in the day.

Don’t worry Leo, I’ll wake her up and then we can play!

Elise pulls herself up into the bed—which is kinda hard since she’s wearing a dress and the bed is higher off the ground than her own is. It’s like climbing a mountain! But she keeps trying even after she fell on her butt when her leg got tangled in the bedsheets and eventually she makes it up.

Yay!

Now she’s just gotta wake her up. Elise crawls over to her and notices how sweaty she is. It’s icky! She must sleep with too many blankets. But she cab tell her that after she wakes up. Elise calls out to her, hoping it will wake the older girl so she doesn’t have to be a meanie about it.

“K? Wake up!”

Elise waits a while before trying again, a little bit louder this time, but her sister doesn’t even stir. Elise frowns and decides she’s gotta try something else. She pokes at the girl’s face, sticking her tongue out once she realizes how hot and sweaty it is. Way too many blankets.

That must be the problem! Elise pulls at the comforter Kamui’s wrapped up in, and though it takes a lot of work, it eventually comes free. When Elise really didn’t wanna get up, this is what the castle servants did to rouse her, and she hated it since it made all of the coziness go away. It was sure to work.

But after a while, Elise realizes she’s wrong. Frustrated, she decides more ‘drastic measures’ were needed. Or was it ‘classic’ measures? Whatever the best word was.

“Get UP already!” she says, forgetting her sneakiness as she jumps onto the older girl, giving her a big hug so she won’t get too mad at her. But not even that worked! She didn’t even flinch!

For some reason, that makes Elise kinda feel all nervous inside, so she must be missing something. Leo said she could be a stupid baby sometimes. She’d show him! Twice!

She puffs out her cheeks, trying to think. Why is it so hard to wake her up? What else can she try? Her eyes drift to the water pitcher on the end table.

Please don’t hate me, big sister.

The water pitcher ends up being heavier than Elise had thought it would be, and she woulda dropped it if she hadn’t dragged it along the bed. She turns it so the poury part is facing Kamui’s face and lets only a little bit come out.

Or, well, she only wanted a little bit to come out: the pitcher was too heavy to lug back up until a whole cup worth of water came up.

Oops.

But that didn’t work, either.

There’s something wrong.

Elise decides to look—to really look—over the other girl, her hands absently toying with the pitcher’s handle. She was all pale and stuff, but she wad always super pale. Maybe it’s more than normal? And now her face and hair were all wet, but Elise notices now she’s also shaking a little. That was weird. She had been all hot before—how’d she get so cold so quickly?

Elise pokes her face again and realizes that she’s not cold—not even a little. It makes the little calm she still had go away and she starts frantically shaking the older girl’s shoulder because she has to wake up so they can all play and color.

It's not fun anymore, K, just get up! I’m sorry!

But nothing works, and she doesn’t realize when she started sobbing, but it must have been real loud cuz the door to Kamui’s room bursts open and her oldest siblings run in. She’s probably in big trouble but she doesn’t even care because she won’t wake up!

There’s something horrible in Xander’s eyes, something like regret and sadness even bigger than Elise’s ever saw before, and he freezes when he comes in. It makes her cries grow louder.

It's Camilla who comes over to her, taking the water pitcher before lifting her into the air and she hates how much better she feels when her face is pressed against her sister’s shoulder because she didn’t deserve to feel good when something wad so terribly, terribly wrong.

“She won’t wake up,” Elise says, sniffling as she presses her face further against the purple-haired woman’s shoulder.

“I know, dear. I know.”

Chapter Text

Her dreams are strange.

Strange in that they don’t make sense, strange in that they flicker from place to place without reason or warning, like unrelated acts in a play.

The first is of That Day, or reliving it, or some variation of it where Corrin dies, an arrow through his chest, mouth open in silent screams, red blood—crimson, like their eyes—seeping through his clothes and down his sides, marring pale skin with death's kiss.

Graphic, vivid, horrible.

Then there’s others, others that she can't even tell where they came from, that she can’t shut out anymore than she can shut out the nightmares. She can't even figure out if they are nightmares.

There’s the Grey Man, who talks to a pale advisor. It looks like an argument, and she has to move forward to hear what they’re saying. The process is disorienting because she’s shapeless, formless, and instead of how vision normally works, she shifts forwards fast, too fast as everything blends in an amalgamation of colors as she passes by.

“—y Liege. If you’ll recall, we had expected his heir, not the two of them. I had only prepared the spell to work on one person, and he’s the one that looked at the runes first.” The pale man, dressed in riches like nobles wore, she’s told, sounds well-spoken, but there’s a hint of desperation in his voice that she can’t understand.

Maybe he hates the Grey Man, too.

“You should have been prepared for more. We knew he had others. There was no way of knowing how many he’d bring. As for the children…you may keep one eye for each of the ones you were successful with.”

Kamui watches in horror as an ornate black axe flies across the room and strikes the man across the face, the Grey Man's arm outstretched from where he's seated, and the stranger's unearthly screams fill the chamber—

And then it’s gone, sound and all.

That axe…that’s what killed Papa.

There’s no time to process it. The dreams continue in that way, interlaced with nightmares, but she recognizes no one else.

A man dressed in a strange yellow vest gazes up at the moon, full and bright over watchful eyes.

A shadowy figure grins like a feral animal, daylight reflecting off its sword.

A young girl with blue hair curls up in a corner, covering her mouth to hide her own sobbing from some unseen threat. Her eyes are wide with fear.

Flashes of images—too fast to discern any details beyond shape—flit through her sight like birds, sending stabbing pains to different parts of a head that isn’t there to feel them. A sword, a book, a bow. There’s others, but the pain overwhelms her to the point she can’t see them, and every color imaginable floods her view instead. Turning does nothing to help, makes her feel sick in a way that would have dropped her to her knees had she been awake, and though she has no mouth to scream, her mind does it for her.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts!

That’s all she can think about, it’s all there is.

Eventually, she shuts that out, too, and the only thing that’s left is darkness.

Camilla

They call it the Great Sleep.

The tribals had another name for it, of course, but she’s never heard it, and she’s in no mood to ask the two sisters now. It isn’t their faults—not really—but she’s not entirely certain she’d care if she was close enough for her axe to make contact with their skinny little necks. It’s one reason—among others—that the two have kept to the servant’s quarters since they’d arrived at the Northern Fortress.

There was some story—from years and years ago—passed down from generation to generation among the peasants; she’s heard it before on missions in the countryside, though she rarely had to deal with the common folk herself.

An ancient creature called the Dusk Dragon, scales dark as pitch, was jealous of the Ice Dragon’s domain because there, it snowed for all of time, making it impossible for it to travel through without being caught. Enraged at the perceived slight to its power, it created a plague that would kill all of the Ice Dragon’s subjects. But the Dusk Dragon was cruel; it didn’t just want them dead, it wanted to rip all of their sight away, and so it blinded them in a way only the Dusk Dragon could: through eternal slumber, so they would never lay eyes on their beloved kingdom again. The Dusk Dragon was not skilled in the ways of magic, however, and the plague spread throughout the land, infecting all it touched. In a fit of rage, the Ice Dragon attacked the Dusk Dragon, and the blood that seeped into the soil traveled through the land and cured all it touched of the plague, for though the Dusk Dragon was cruel, it cared for its own subjects and would never conjur something that could kill its own blood.

The Ice Dragon, having tasted the blood of its kin, went insane and was killed by its own subjects, many of which died from the assault. Because the Dragon was killed over ice and not land, it’s blood froze and shaped itself into something new, corrupting the territory in south west Nohr with never-ending winter. This is where the great, ethereal glaciers are to have originated from: pretty as they were deadly.

To this day, it’s said, that’s where people got the expressions ‘as black as death’ or ‘dead of night’ or 'in the dead of winter', because the Dusk Dragon brought with it only death and darkness, and it brought the most darkness to the lands of ice.

That was all just a children’s story, though. Camilla cares not for whatever lesson one was meant to learn from it, only that people in Nohr rarely contracted the illness anymore because of their apparent immunity, though many of the more superstitious commoners avoided the Ice Tribe for fear of this very reason, and Father had all visitors from the area quarantine for several weeks as has been custom for generations. It was still extremely rare for people to fall ill from it even now. Since the royal family of Nohr is said to descend from the Dusk Dragon, this was especially true for royalty. As far as recorded history went back, no one in their family had ever suffered from the Great Sleep, let alone died of it.

So why was her darling sister on death’s door?

Perhaps she put too much stock in an old wives’ tale, perhaps Kamui was just extremely unlucky.

Or perhaps there was something she was missing. It did not matter. Knowing all of the tales in the world wouldn’t allow her to save the girl. The healers were clear in their prognosis. They took no precautions when examining the girl and told the rest of them not to bother. It was a magical affliction; only those who had recently traveled to the area could carry it for a small period of time. Kamui had not, and even if she had, the odds of contracting it as a member of the royal family were almost zero.

Almost, because looking at Kamui, they all knew now it wasn’t impossible.

She would be dead within the week.

I should have taken her punishment. I should have stopped her when I saw her move, should have done something, anything.

But she hadn’t. And look where it’s gotten them?

She is fraying on the edges. She’s lost so many—too many siblings to foolish political games that had no place for children—and when she made that promise to Xander years ago that the two of them would protect the few that remained, she’d meant it.

But now, there was nothing she could do.

She still hasn’t worked up the nerve to see the child, and she likely won’t. She’d rather her last memory of her be when she defiantly looked Father in the eyes and explained herself, even while petrified. Kamui had protected Corrin despite the consequences, and because she wasn't like Camilla in that way.

Kamui wasn't a coward.

She hasn’t seen Corrin since they’d brought Kamui back. He was inconsolable, grief-stricken in a way she’s never seen before. Perhaps it’s his innocence that made him that way, or his positivity, but in the absence of both was left a hollow shell of a boy who dearly loved his sister. She frowns at the thought; before she’d met them, they were all each other had left. She couldn’t let this overwhelm her, couldn’t because she still has a promise to keep—or at least, whatever was left of its broken pieces. There were three young children that needed protection until they understood how unforgiving the world could be.

She couldn’t…and yet…

Yet she's overcome with memories. Memories of parting long white hair to put into a braid, of adjusting frustrated little fingers on ivory keys, of holding a little one until the tears stop flowing. Memories of defiance, of books and arguments and a sad little girl that lost everything she loved and desperately wanted to belong. And now she would die without ever truly getting what she wanted surrounded by cold, unforgiving stone in the dead of winter.

I’m so sorry, my sweet little Kamui.

Chapter Text

Xander

“Why is there not a healer here?!”

He speaks in a low volume, but his voice is full of heat and it likely carries. He finds, irrationally, that he cannot bring himself to care. Not much is known about his sister’s affliction, but from what little he knows, he understands it to be a slow, painful way to die. He might not be able to do much for her, but he can at least try to ease her suffering. Ever since she’d arrived at the Northern Fortress five days ago, her health has only declined. And from what Gunter tells him, eyes sunken with resignation and a silent grief, that will continue to be the case. In the corner, a servant boy—Kamui’s butler and Gunter’s apprentice—stands with a serving tray. He has a blank, hollow look in his eyes that makes the guilt in Xander’s chest spike, and he turns back to Gunter so he doesn’t have to see the sunken face and sightless stare.

“I requested an audience with the King, my Lord, and was denied. The messenger sent out to inform me of this said he’s chosen to let nature take its course.”

Xander’s brows knit in confusion. This could not be true, Father wouldn’t just let one of them die. But the look on Gunter’s face didn’t falter, and the man was as straight-forward as they come.

If this is some kind of test, Father, I wish you would share its purpose.

Closing his eyes in an effort to calm himself, he takes a breath. No matter the situation, it was not the fault of the old soldier. Restraint was necessary for a prince.

“Was there anything else?”

Gunter looks up at him from where the old man is seated on one of the sitting room’s couches. He seems reluctant to continue, but he does so after a moment of hesitation.

“…there was one other thing the messenger discussed, once I pressed them for more information, but it made little sense, and they did not seem to understand it, themselves. They informed me the exact words King Garon said after being told the girl would die without intervention were: ‘that’s why we have two of them’.”

Xander’s eyes widen at that. This was a test of some kind, then, but its intentions were even crueler than he’d thought.

He’s truly willing to let her die.

The thought hits him as though he’d been struck by a mallet, and he finds it difficult to remain calm. Yet not doing so would serve no purpose and would be unbecoming of a prince of Nohr.

He would just have to wait until he could make it to the practice yard. Xander takes another breath, willing himself to relax. He knew, now, that this lesson was not for Kamui, as he’d initially thought it was. It was for him. This was what happens when he overstepped; his actions as Crown Prince would affect people both on and off the battlefield.

This was his fault for telling Father they were ready.

He’d let himself get wrapped up in the idea of bringing them home—truly home—instead of locked in such a dismal place. He suspected Kamui in particular would benefit more from it as she wouldn’t be stuck indoors for such long periods of time and because they could receive a more proper education—though she hadn’t seemed particularly excited at the prospect. He had gotten selfish, had enjoyed the idea of bringing Corrin closer to him so he could spend more time with the boy, so Leo and Kamui could debate some trivial concept or another whenever they wanted to. So Camilla could teach them to better play the piano, or Elise could show them her favorite hiding spots in the Main Courtyard.

Now, none of that would happen, and if he was ever able to bring Corrin out of the Northern Fortress, it would be him and him alone.

Xander finds he cannot continue this conversation any longer, and with a curt nod, he dismisses himself, making his way down the hall. He stops when he notices Corrin’s door is ajar, the boy not in bed despite the late hour. His jaw clenches tightly; the boy would do himself no good this way. People have died from getting lost in their own grief—and he doesn’t want Corrin to be present when the girl passes. She’s already stopped breathing once, and though the healers were able to stabilize her, according to Gunter, they would not be around to do it again. Five days with limited food and water, five days of uninterrupted darkness. If the healers were to be believed, it wasn’t the nightmares or the pain that killed most people with the Great Sleep.

It was dehydration. And though the healers had done what they could, she’s precariously close to the point of no return.

What...exactly are they to you, Father?

Shaking his head and remembering a promise older than Leo, he takes another step forward. Now was not the time to lose himself in thought.

He had already lost one twin, he will not lose the other as well.

He walks to the next door, intent on putting the boy to bed when he freezes. For the first time since he was told of her ailment, Xander hears the little prince speak: “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. When you wake up, we’ll go anywhere you want, ok? We have a list, remember? You wanted to climb a tree—the tallest one we can find. Just please, please wake up. Don’t leave me…”

Xander swallows, turning his head away and letting his arm fall limply to his side. Internally, he curses his weakness. It wouldn’t be healthy for Corrin to keep acting…to keep acting as though she would survive this.

She’s not coming back.

Yet he can’t find the strength to remove the boy.

What an heir I am, who cannot save even a single child.

He wad originally going to look through the girl’s closet to find something appropriate for the funeral—he knew that if he didn’t, Camilla would have to, and that might truly break her. But he supposes that it would have to wait. He finds that, as he lifts his arm to enter the sitting room, his hand is shaking, and because no one is around, because no one could see him falter, he lets his forehead—crown and all—rest against the cool stone wall. The black metal digs into his forehead, and he finds that the pain helps ground him. No matter how painful this gets, no matter how much he wants to forget it all, he can’t turn away. People are counting on him.

Corrin counted on you, too.

He knows he’s pressed too hard when a drop of blood lands on his hand. He stares at it, reminded of wide, terrified eyes peering at him between dozens of archers. He presses harder against the wall, and, briefly, he’s reminded of small fingers digging crescents into pale palms. She had always been more similar to him than she'd admit. It was why he had tried so hard to get to know her, to show her everything would be alright.

That he could protect her and her brother as the eldest was meant to and they could all be a family. That she didnt need to be so scared and she could be a child again. But...but now...

The next droplet that falls on his hand isn't blood. He pretends not to notice.

I have failed you, little princess.

Chapter Text

It’s a strange feeling, this void.

She was sure, at one point, that she was asleep. Maybe she still is. For the longest time, she had nightmares, but now, there is nothing.

She doesn’t know how long she floats there, stuck between her mind and the darkness. It feels like an eternity passes. Without the nightmares, the pain has receded, and now all she feels is exhaustion. Exhaustion and a weight that grows heavier and heavier as she floats about aimlessly, doing nothing.

Perhaps that is why she’s so surprised once the light appears in what could have been hours or weeks later. It’s a trickle at first, a bright, small glow the size of her fist that slowly grew in size. Curiosity gets the better of her—it’s just been so long since she’s seen or done anything—and she decides to approach it. The world inside the light grows and envelops her, and soon, the darkness is gone. To her great surprise and relief, she finds she is no longer floating. Her bare feet touch solid ground below her, multicolored cobblestones smooth and cool to the touch.

Turning, she sees an empty looking village. An unattended food cart sits on the side of the road, freshly cut melon untouched on a cutting board atop its old wooden surface. Up ahead, a sign hangs from a post that’s just far away enough that she can’t make out the words etched into it. Something in her mind whispers that something is off, but the weight pulls her down, makes her thoughts come in so fuzzily that she can’t bring herself to think too hard about it.

It's just easier not to.

“Kamui.”

She freezes, every muscle in her body locking up tight, breath catching in her throat.

It can’t be…

Slowly turning around, she finds the source of the voice. Tall, in full silver-blue yoroi and with the Raijinto sheathed at his waist, stands Papa. He looks her over and smiles.

“We’ll be late if we take too much longer. Come.”

She’s hyperventilating, breath coming too shallow, too fast. Tears well up in her eyes. This can’t be real; it’s just too cruel. She’s watched him die so many times, yet no arrows puncture his skin. The soft smile on his face was genuine, his stance just as assured and kind as she remembers.

“Papa?”

Despite her trouble breathing, she manages to force the word through her closed up throat. He frowns slightly.

“Is something wrong, my child?”

He looks concerned.

She can’t take it anymore. She launches herself forward, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, burying her head in his chest plate. Solid metal greets her fingertips, her tears slide down white armor. A hand comes down and pats her head comfortingly, and she holds on tighter. Everything about this—about him—felt real. He didn’t phase through her hands or disappear when she approached. The cobblestones beneath her feet aren’t covered in his blood, not even a trace of the fatal wound on his neck can be seen.

It’s really him!

“Ah, did your sister yell at you again? I really must speak with her about her temper…”

“I’m so sorry Papa! I tried to protect you but I couldn’t warn you in time and I’m sorry! The Grey Man won’t let us go and I’m so, so scared! Please don’t leave me.”

Something about the words make everything ripple, the world around her flashing and spinning. Disoriented, she lurches backwards, stopped only by a cool, gauntlet covered hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t leave me…”

Kamui pulls back, keeping one hand on her Papa’s wrist so he doesn’t disappear as she searches for the source of the noise. But there’s no one else there, no one but her and Papa in the whole town.

She shakes her head as a spike of pain shoots through her temple. Had she been hearing things?

No. No, that was Corrin. I’m sure of it.

“So you remember, then,” she turns back to Papa, who watches her with a sad, serious frown.

“Papa…where’s Cor—Kosuke? Where’s Ryoma and the others?”

He shakes his head, smoothing her hair.

“Come now, child. You’re smarter than that.”

She bites her lip, the confusion plaguing her thoughts starting to clear up.

This…what’s going on?

Papa carefully kneels in front of her, pulling her close. She holds on to him tightly, like he’d dissipate if she let go.

That doesn’t feel like such a stretch of the imagination anymore.

“You have a choice to make, my child,” he says quietly. She holds him tighter. Some part of her knows what this is, knows what’s happening, but if she acknowledged it, it would be real. She’s not sure she can handle that—not again.

It's not fair. It's not!

After a long silence, she works up the nerve to ask her question.

“What do I do, Papa?”

He shakes his head at that. “I cannot make that decision for you, Kamui.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, drops falling from her chin.

“I don’t want you to leave again.”

“I know, child.”

A clarity pulses through her mind, like a droplet falling into a pond, rippling through her thoughts like the miniature waves rippled through serene water.

I can stay here, with Papa. We can finally be together again. Or I can go back to Corrin.

Back to the Tower, to the Grey Man and the dreary Nohr skyline. Back to uncertainty and false family and an invisible time limit on her life.

She doesn’t want to leave Corrin, but Papa is here. He’s finally, really here, holding her close just like she remembers. It’s all she’s wanted for years. But if she stays, then Corrin…

What do I do?

Chapter Text

She’s not sure how long she stands there, arms around her Papa, eyes squeezed shut. She only knows that the weight in her chest grows almost unbearable, her legs start shaking under its pressure. Papa holds her tighter, tight enough that she can almost forget about all of this.

But it’s not enough.

No matter how she tries, she can’t ignore that voice, the weight, that insistent whisper in the back of her mind that time is running out.

“Papa, I want to go home, but nothing I try works. Kosuke can’t remember you, can’t remember our brothers and sisters and Mama. I don’t know what to do. It hurts so much.”

Papa runs a hand through her hair. Kamui’s sobs grow more forceful, and she coughs up phlegm as she struggles to breathe.

“Shh. It’s alright,” he says, voice as soothing as aloe on a burn.

“No it’s not—It’s not!”

“Why is that, my child?”

“Because I don’t want you to leave again but I can’t leave Corrin all alone!”

I don't want to forget you, too.

Papa chuckles, and she pulls back to look at him in surprise. What about this was funny? His smile was soft, knowing.

“Then you already know what you must do.”

She shakes her head vehemently, hands gripping his upper arms with all the force she can muster.

“Papa, no! This isn’t fair. I just want us to be together again!”

Papa’s smile becomes sad, and he places a hand on her shoulder.

“Kamui, listen to me. One day, regardless of what decision you make here, we will all be together again. Kosuke will drag you along with him to bother Ryoma. Hinoka will muss your hair. You will see how Sakura looks as an adult, and I will finally teach you to wield a katana,” tears carve tracks into her face, dripping off her chin to the rocks below. “Takumi will follow you two around like a lost puppy. And your mother will hold you all as close as she wants.”

Kamui sniffles and wipes an arm across her face. It’s not what she meant, this wasn't what she meant, but their family hasn't come to save them from the Tower yet, and maybe...she shakes her head, willing that line of thought away before it consumed her. Maybe what Papa was saying was the next best option. Red eyes glisten in the afternoon sun. Unseen birds sing sweet, familiar songs from home.

And Papa looks at her, hair rustling softly in the wind under his helmet, black and white intermingling yet never truly becoming gray.

“But until then, we both must wait. And I will not tell you how to do so.”

Papa releases her shoulder and slowly stands, looking down on her intimidatingly. She stares up, shaking. She’s afraid—but not of him. She’s afraid of this decision—one she never asked for—just like she’d never asked to be taken so far from her home by the monster that ruled Nohr, just like she never asked for Kosuke to forget everything they loved.

Sometimes, you don't get what you want. But it can't stop you from moving forward.

I can't just give up.

Papa looks her over once more before turning to the side, staring up into the sky. She takes a deep breath. Papa was right. She did know what she had to do.

That didn’t make it any easier.

She looks at him—really looks—before turning away.

“I love you, Papa. I miss you.”

She hears him chuckle, deep and quiet. The wind brushes a strand of hair into her face. Ahead, the way out of the village beckons. She can feel the weight in her chest start to settle deep in her bones and understands what it means.

Time was almost up.

“I love you too, my child. Take care of your brother and let him take care of you.”

Nodding, she steels herself and takes the first step forwards—away from the plaza, from the sign she still hasn’t read, from the melon cart that smells just the faintest bit like sugar.

Away from Papa.

As she moves, she hears his own footsteps recede in the distance, boots meeting stone with soft and progressively softer thumps. The farther she walks, the heavier she feels, and the more the world seems to blur until she’s almost completely engulfed in the darkness once more. Surprised at a sudden shock of color in her peripherals, she turns her head.

The last thing she sees is a tuft of pink flowers in full bloom growing in the place of a lost cobblestone.

I am sorry I could not protect you. Know this isn’t your fault, and be brave.

We will meet again, my child.

When she finally comes back to herself, her real self, she just wants to cry—except for a while, she doesn’t remember why. Then everything hits her like an oversized club: the carriage ride to the castle, the duel, the two scared girls and the tiny room, and…and then…

Papa.

Something whispers at her to just go back to sleep, but she wills it away. She made her choice, and besides, it might have been Papa, but dwelling on it wouldn’t make him alive again. A dull pain pulses throughout her body and she tries to focus on that, to focus on anything besides the despair clawing it’s way through her chest.

The first few blinks hurt.

It’s like her eyes don’t want to cooperate with her thoughts, but eventually, she gets the ceiling to come into focus. A lit candle in a brass candleholder sits on the end table, making shadows of furniture flicker along the top of stone walls and ceiling alike. Of her stone walls—this was the Tower. How’d she get back here? Where’d the girls go? Where’s Corrin? Despite her muscles and lungs silently urging her not to, she decides she has to investigate. He was probably worried, and if she had to be a little uncomfortable in order to remedy that, well, worse things have happened. Worse things today have happened. Ignoring her own cynicism, she tries to gauge how she’s doing since she doesn’t really feel like herself—she’s been dreaming for so long that she’s not completely certain this isn’t another nightmare. Everything feels too dry, her eyes, her face, her ears—everything except her skin, which is covered in a grimy layer of sweat.

Stupid skin, taking all the water.

Sitting up is harder; it makes shapes dance and colors mingle where they don’t belong, and that adds to the weird sense of vertigo she’s had since she woke up. Still, she manages—albeit very slowly—and soon, she finds herself hunched over at her waist, thick down blankets pushed off of her torso. What she notices next is that her legs aren’t covered like they usually were when she went to bed. Disoriented and confused, she looks down at the sleeveless gown she’s been shoved in instead.

What am I wearing?

She looks at the shift in disgust, poking at the sheer material with irritation. The first thing to do, she supposes, would be to change out of it. The moment she’s out of bed she regrets it, finding herself to be colder than she’d anticipated, but she’s already staggering forwards before she can change her mind. She finds that her clothes have been rearranged in the closet, and she frowns at the sight if the dresses that had been pulled back into sight.

She picks a red sweater that’s a bit large on her a pair of brown, warm looking breeches that she quickly ties at the ankles, though her hands fumble more than usual with the strings. Brushing through her hair was as time-consuming as usual—even more so because the brush was in the wrong place, set on the nightstand by that old encyclopedia.

She’s still shaking a bit by the time clumsy hands finish their work, but it’s not nearly as bad as before, the warm clothing insulating her from the cold of the Tower. Rubbing her hands together, she finds that she’s hungry. A glance out her window—which is shut—tells her it’s not dark yet, so she shouldn’t have trouble finding someone to get her something.

Should probably drink some water, too. My lips are really chapped.

Still feeling exhausted but determined to eat, she slowly slumps out of her room, closing the door quietly when she notices Corrin’s door is shut. It wouldn't be very nice of her to wake him up like that—even though he’s woken her up in far worse ways his entire life.

When she opens the sitting room door, she’s surprised to see all five of them out there, sitting in silence. It doesn’t seem like anyone noticed her yet, and she’s a bit curious why they look so somber. Kamui turns and sees Corrin with his head in Camilla’s lap on the couch across from where she stands. He looks moments away from sleep, but he keeps shaking himself awake, trying in vain to focus on the book in his hands.

“Aren’t you the one who told me not to read when we have company?”

She’s surprised at how scratchy her voice sounds, like she’d gargled rocks, but she forgets all about it when every head in the room snaps to her. The teacup in Camilla’s hand—the one not stroking through Corrin’s hair—slips from limp fingers and cracks as it hits the floorboards. There’s a brief moment when no one says anything, and the attention makes her incredibly uncomfortable.

Then everything happens all at once.

Elise starts bawling—screaming, really—making her flinch in surprise—and Corrin runs across the room, not even pausing when his leg thwacks against the coffee table. He looks overwhelmed, and Kamui’s not sure what to do, so she offers him an awkward looking wave.

She hears Leo say something, but she doesn’t quite pick up what it is because Corrin chooses that moment to wrap her in a fierce embrace that knocks the air from her lungs.

Literally.

“It’s you. You came back,” his voice is so excited—so airy and disbelieving—that she wants to comment on it, but all that comes out is a series of coughs.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! You’re still probably sick and I just hurt you—can you still breathe? Wait! You wouldn’t be able to answer that with words. Ok, clap once for no, twice for yes! Or, well, actually you could just nod or shake your hea—”

“Corrin, dear, that’s enough,” Camilla says quietly—shakily, like something had just scared her. At least, that’s what Kamui thought before she looked up at the woman’s face.

She looks seconds away from tears.

She has Elise pressed into her shoulder and she makes her way over to them. Camilla wraps her arm around her shoulder and gives her a weird sort of hug—so strange it has her looking up at the girl with a raised eyebrow. Camilla doesn’t seem to notice, and she runs her hand over her head like it’s something precious, like if she let her out of her arms for even a moment she’d fade away.

“How?”

This time, she hears Leo when he talks. She’d look at him, but Camilla blocks her view.

“You—how did you live that? All of the healers…,” he trails off, and she almost doesn’t pick up on his last words, which are spoken in a much quieter voice: “…is this a dream?”

Kamui cocks her head—which was stupid, since he can’t see it.

“My throat wouldn’t be so dry if I were dreaming.”

“That’s your response?! That’s the stupidest—actually, this must be real. There’s no way anyone but you would be able to come up with such an answer.”

Kamui groans, and he has the audacity to actually laugh.

There’s something being pressed into her hand, and when she turns, she’s surprised to find the Heir there with a glass of water. She takes it immediately, wants nothing more than to chug it and the entire pot on the coffee table, but she refrains. She read something about how people threw up when they did that, and she has a feeling that that would not feel good on her dry throat. When she glances back up at him, he looks relieved—and maybe skeptical, too, like he can't believe this is happening. It leaves her feeling vaguely uncomfortable for a couple different reasons: it reminds her of just how close she’d gotten to death, and now that she’s conscious and Corrin’s so close to her, it’s terrifying. She would have left him all alone—made him feel, in ways, how she’d felt for years. And he has no idea how close she came to doing just that. The second reason is that it would be easier if these people…the siblings, didn’t like her—or at least if she could pretend they didn’t like her…

Well, it would make it easier to convince herself she didn’t like them, either.

Looking back up at him again from this angle, she notices that underneath that stupid spiky black crown—the one that reminds her of the Grey Man—sit little scabs near the intervals where metal met skin.

Maybe his slipped when he put it on?

It makes her frown; the Heir wasn’t really one to make casual mistakes like that. Before she can really bring it up, though, Corrin wraps his arms around her and Camilla both. He’s much more careful this time, and he uses his chin to rest on her shoulder. It makes sipping from the glass of water extremely awkward, but she can’t find it in her to begrudge him for it.

The Heir stands close by with a hand on Leo’s shoulder—the boy must have gotten up at some point. Kamui stiffens in alarm when she sees him.

He looks terrible.

His usually well-kempt hair sticks out at odd angles—like Corrin’s does when he forgets to comb it in the morning—and deep purple bags sit under his eyes. He’s also slumped forward slightly, like even holding himself upright was a challenge.

Yet when they make eye contact, he still offers her that annoying, cocky smirk that makes her eyes flatten almost instinctively. As she turns around to look at each of them, she realizes that they all appear like this in varying degrees: anxious, sleep-deprived. Exhausted.

Her thoughts on the matter come all at once, unbidden, unwanted, and in no particular order.

What a sight we must make.

Is Corrin alright?

They’re all a lot closer than you usually allow them be. It doesn’t seem you bother you as much as you want it to, does it?

…my arm’s starting to fall asleep from this weird angle.

They’re all so sleepy-looking that I bet we actually do look related, huh?

These all, coupled with the stress of the morning, the dreams that were not dreams and glimpses of other things that felt so real, started to make her actually feel how exhausted she’d become: and she starts leaning more into the older girl more than she really means to.

In that moment, in the warmth of the embrace, she can’t really bring herself to mind.

A few minutes pass like that, where Elise’s sobs finally stop and she feels how difficult it is to keep her eyes open that Corrin suddenly cries out and shakes her by the shoulder, startling her awake.

“NO! Don’t go back to sleep, please! I can’t lose you again.”

Kamui blinks. A pang of guilt shoots through her, but all it really serves to do is make the exhaustion more pronounced. Suppressing a yawn, she opens her mouth to try and sooth him—he looks like he’s seconds away from a panic attack, and she knew from experience that those are not fun—when the Heir clears his throat. Whatever daze he was in seems to have worn off, because now he looks as assured as he always is.

Well. Maybe he’s a bit more tired.

“Corrin, there’s nothing for you to worry about. The healers told me that if the afflicted person wakes up, the ailment has run its course—though they may sleep for longer periods of time as they heal.”

“Oh, just what the bear needed, more slee—OW!”

Leo rubs his arm at the point her elbow made contact with skin, shooting her a glare with no real heat.

Corrin’s grip on her shoulder tightens, and he bites his lip before craning his neck to look up at the Heir.

“Promise?”

The blonde meets his gaze evenly, weariness making his smile seem more forced than it probably was.

Probably.

“I give you my word, little prince,” he runs a hand through Corrin’s disheveled hair, and the boy visibly relaxes. For once, the gesture doesn’t irritate her: she hated seeing him so downtrodden. Such sad expressions just don’t belong on his face.

“…ok.”

Corrin releases her shoulder and, had Kamui been paying any amount of attention to the girl with the lavender hair, she wouldn’t have been so surprised at what happened next. One moment, she’s blinking sleepily, rubbing at her eyes with an annoyingly shaky hand, and the next she’s in the air, right next to a sleeping Elise. Camilla had wrapped an arm under her knees, and with both children in her arms, she made her way back to the couch she’d been sitting on when Kamui’d walked in.

She meant to ask why, or say something like ‘what are you doing?’ or ‘where are you going?’, she really had, but all that ends up coming out of her mouth is a tired hum.

She hears Leo snort, but again, it sounds off—like he’s not actually making fun of her and more just…keeping up appearances. It’s weird.

When Camilla—somehow—wraps a blanket around the two of them after she sits down, Kamui finds she can’t keep her eyes open even if she’d wanted to. Deciding to just go with whatever this is, she settles further into Camilla’s shoulder, and though she hears the woman start humming a vaguely familiar song, she’s asleep before she has time to process what it is.

Chapter Text

Things are weird after her…uh…nap.

Leo has been bothering her more often than he ever has. She finds that, more often than not, she’s too exhausted to stay awake for long periods of time—which is why she finds it annoying that she’s often woken by the (technically) younger boy.

At least at first.

But he seemed intent on teaching her to play these games he usually plays with Corrin, and though she wants to tell him to leave, she just doesn’t have the heart to. Not after remembering how exhausted he looked when she recovered from her ailment.

As for Camilla, well, Kamui found that she would wake up on occasion to find herself out in the sitting room, head on the older girl’s lap. Gunter had told her that a common issue people who woke from the Great Sleep faced was that they were harder to rouse than before—but according to him, it wouldn’t last for longer than a month or so. She’d jokingly told him that it was a good thing she got sick and not Corrin; Corrin always has been difficult to wake, after all.

He hadn’t found it very funny.

After the third time she’d woken up like this in a week, she gave up on pretending to be annoyed by it. In truth, the only reason it bothered her was because It reminded her of things Mama used to do to soothe her when she was younger. Lately, those memories were becoming harder and harder to find comforting. She tries not to dwell on why.

Elise now had a habit of poking her awake whenever she wasn’t prevented from doing so. The second time it happened, she’d almost told the girl off, but the reprimand had died in her throat when she caught the look on her face. Concerned, she’d inquired about the habit to Camilla, and it had caused the smile on the lavender-haired girl’s face to falter before she explained. Apparently, something had happened when she was asleep that shook the youngest. So Kamui decided she could put up with it.

Corrin (unsurprisingly) started dragging her everywhere—to look at a weird looking bug out the window, to ask what she knew about a book he found in the library, to show her a new song he’d learned to play on the piano. It reminded her a lot of how he used to act when they were younger, when the world seemed like a giant playroom and everything seemed so bright and full of possibilities.

She knew better, now.

Still, she didn’t argue with him about any of it. He was finally talking to her again, and the relief she felt while he spouted on about the newest drawing he’d made was palpable. She’s not entirely sure why he wasn’t mad anymore, but she suspected it must be related to her sickness. It’s not like she was complaining, but it did leave her feeling a bit sad when she remembered why they’d fought in the first place.

None of how the four of them behaved came close to being as strange as how the Heir acted around her now, though. It was strange. He actually left her alone now—not like he was avoiding her, but like he’d finally decided to honor the fact she didn’t want anything to do with him. It leaves her feeling vaguely conflicted. He would still fetch her to watch him teach Leo and Corrin to use the sword on the roof (she wasn’t allowed to join in until she got her strength back, according to Gunter—which meant no training with Gunter, either), but he rarely spoke to her or even met her eyes anymore.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he felt guilty.
But that couldn’t be right. After all, if he was capable of feeling guilt, he probably would have shown it when the two of them were kidnapped. What did it matter to him if she died? He liked Corrin better, anyways—though she couldn’t exactly blame him for that; Corrin was hare not to like.

It was three weeks after she first woke up that shed started feeling a bit better, and this was also the first time she met Jakob and the sisters again. Gunter had brought them before her in the sitting room—apparently, he didn’t want anyone around her that didn’t need to be around until she felt better. Judging by the look on Camilla’s face, it probably had little to do with her.

The sisters had bowed low, making her eyes go wide. The one with the pink hair—Felicia—looked on the verge of tears, so the other one did most of the talking. She’d explained that the reason they’d avoided her had been out of fear they’d get her ill. Kamui looked at the way they barely seemed to keep themselves together, and it reminded her of first meeting the Nohrians so long ago. Shed been so afraid—and she never wanted to make anyone feel like she had then. Deciding she had to fix this, Kamui stared at them in silence for a moment before pushing herself off the couch she’d been sitting on and walking over to them. They’d both straightened at that, looking at each other uncertainly until Kamui reached her hand out to Flora. The blue-haired girl had swallowed almost imperceptibly before accepting her hand, and Kamui shook it.

“HI. My name’s Kamui. I’m sorry if I scared you. Are you okay?”

They were both a head taller than her, but it was them that seemed cowed as she spoke. Flora actually gaped until she remembered herself, and her mouth snapped shut with an audible click.

“I…my name is Flora, my lady. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” she sounded so practiced, like someone told her exactly what to say and she'd repeated it like an actor in a play. Like a marionette in a show. It makes her want to frown, but they were already shaken, and she doesn’t want to scare them

Nobody should feel like the Grey Man’s puppet.

“Um, you can just call me by name. Also…” she has a feeling that maybe she shouldn’t say this, that if might upset them more than they already were or her sibl—the Nohrians, but she decides it’s more important that the words are spoken than the potential issues it might create. She makes sure to look the older girl in the eyes as she speaks, looking as serious as she can manage. “This wasn’t your fault. I just…I probably would want to know that if I was in your situation.”

The girl’s eyes widen a hair, and behind them she can see the Heir’s face soften. Jakob offers her a nod—the only thing he’s done thus far besides stifling a sigh when they met each other’s gazes. The one with the pink hair sniffles, and Kamui offers her a weak smile.

“Thank you, my la—Kamui. We will try to repay your kindness.”

And so, after years without, she had replacement Betty(s).

Later that night, when she finds that, for the first time in nearly a month, she can’t sleep, she’s curled up in the sitting room reading a book by candlelight. It’s an hour so after she began that the door to the servant’s quarters quietly opens, revealing a boy with longer hair than she remembers—so long it’s now in a ponytail—holding a lantern and a leather bound journal. He makes his way over after she waves at him, and he sits next to her, flipping open the booklet to reveal—

Kamui gapes. It seems that, in the time she was out, he’d managed to map out the entire underground chamber they’d discovered.

“I apologize; I really should have been able to get more than this done given my reduced workload, but your absence affected me more than I thought it would. I did manage to find another outlet pipe—and it is quite a walk—but you shouldn’t need a ladder like with the first ex—”

“Jakob.”

He blinks, looking over to her with confusion.

“Yes, my lady?”

“This is fantastic, but I tried talking to Corrin, and he didn’t want to leave…or hear me out.”

He stares at her, unphased.

“Even so, should that ever change, this will always be a viable option. I don’t want you to feel as though you are trapped here…and besides,” he adds quietly, “that may have been what he said before all of this happened, but...,” she doesn’t ask him to explain what ‘this’ he’s referring to, “perhaps you’ll have more luck should you approach him again?”

She nods uncertainly. Just because Corrin seemed to forgive her for upsetting him didn’t mean he’d blindly agree to whatever she said. But until she fully recovered, she supposes it’s a moot point anyways.

Jakob’s eyes narrow at her, and he crosses his arms, setting the open journal on his lap. “Of course, this will be staying with me until you’re well enough to handle such an excursion.”

She nods, and he blinks in surprise.

“I…did not think you’d agree to that so readily,” he admits.

“Why? It would be a horrible idea to try anything too drastic before I’m healthy enough to protect myself.”

He smirks, and she regrets her words already. “Well, you aren’t exactly known for your abundance of common sense.”

Kamui shoots him a half-hearted glare and he chuckles, slowly rising.

“Well, I actually do have tasks to attend to. I must be off.”

He closes the journal, slipping it between his arms and his side before grabbing the lantern and making his way to the door.

“One last thing, my lady,” he says, hand on the door. He doesn’t turn to face her before continuing, “do try not to die again. The world would be a terribly dull place without you in it,” and before she can respond, he’s opened the door and left, lock clicking in place behind him.

The next morning, she’s woken up by a tiny body slamming into her, startling her awake. Opening her eyes, she’s only half-surprised to see Elise’s giddy smile a mere arms length from her face. Kamui only raises a single, sleepy eyebrow—and beyond coughing (for the girl had knocked the air from her lungs) she offers no other response.

“Time to wake up, K!”

She now sits cross-legged at Kamui’s side, rocking back and forth impatiently as she waits.

“You could have just called my name or something, Elise,” Kamui says through a yawn, slowly pushing herself up into a sitting position.

When Elise doesn’t immediately respond, Kamui turns to face her and is alarmed to see a sad frown decorating the young girl’s face.

“I had to make sure that worked.”

Kamui doesn’t really understand her reply, but since the blonde’s eyes were watering, she decides not to press it. Instead, she marvels at how quickly she’d seemed to expand her vocabulary; it felt like not so long ago the young child couldn’t speak in complete sentences. When the memory of another little girl pops into her mind, she wills it away.

Nothing good would come of that, not now.

Kamui spends the rest of that day reading to her, not bothering to correct her when she called her ‘big sister’. It wasn’t her fault they were in this mess, and to be candid, she’s nor sure she wants to explain it—not when the girl was too young and innocent to understand what it meant.

One of them deserved to be happy.

Perhaps that was taking it too far: Kamui hasn’t exactly been miserable lately even despite the weird, lingering tension in the air. The looks Gunter shot her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, Corrin’s newfound clinginess, Leo’s insistence that she learn to play so many board and card games. Camilla’s overly-doting demeanor, Jakob’s increased work ethic, the sister’s wobbly smiles as they attended to her—though she’s careful not to ask them much. She doesn’t know why they came here, but the fear they harbored wasn’t normal, and she doesn’t want to overwhelm them. Besides, she likes doing things herself, even if that means doing them wrong sometimes.

It's another two weeks before she’s had enough of…well, whatever it was making everyone behaving so strangely. She’d finally rejoined the boys in their training, but the Heir is very careful with her, and it is beginning to grate on her nerves: she wasn’t made of porcelain. It actually takes Corrin, on the third day she’s rejoined them, to speak up and remind the man of this—though he isn’t exactly as graceful as perhaps the situation merits.

“Big brother, she’s super good—she kicked Leo’s butt, remember?”

Leo turns an embarrassing shade of red at that, but the Heir had a strange look on his face at the comment. If she had to guess why based on expression alone, she’d say that he didn’t seem to notice he’d treated her any differently. It’s yet another irritating thing about this entire predicament that, frankly, she could do without. But at least he didn’t try and converse with her more than necessary.

She’s still not convinced that isn’t some sort of elaborate trick, but then the Heir has been acting exceptionally strange for over a month now, so perhaps it was genuine. She supposes that as long as it continues, she shouldn’t care much about the reason.

Jakob leads her through the tunnel that night, not-so-subtly grumbling about the secret passage, which, according to him, was a highly improbable and completely nonsensical find. She only told him not to kick a gift horse in its mouth. That had caused him to laugh the entire way down—and it’s only then that she finds out she’s been saying the idiom wrong for as long as she’s known of its existence.

Yet another thing he’ll never let her live down.

It turns out that Jakob is right: the exit he’d found much farther down the passageway—another drain pipe, by the looks of it—would be much easier to use than their first choice. The earth outside had seemed…wrong somehow, though it was difficult to express exactky how. She’d started pondering aloud what might have caused it; the other exit opened up to a somewhat steep drop, which made sense for a drainage system. One wouldn’t want the water to be able to come back into the passage. The first thong she’d said was that it must relate to the Dragon Veins that criss-crossed down here in elaborate, interconnected webs—after all, she can see that at one point, there had also been a steep drop off here, too. When she’d said that, however, Jakob shot her the most unimpressed look she’d ever seem grace his face—apparently, he thought the displacement must have been due to an earthquake; wherever he was from had enough of them for him to pick out the signs.

Well, in her opinion, maybe a Dragon Vein could have caused it, too, but he looked entirely unconvinced.
Regardless of how it came to be this way, the new exit was perfect—or would be, if she had aby idea of how to broach the subject with Corrin. That isn’t even the only problem anymore; she was still much weaker than she had been before their trip to Castle Krakenburg, and she probably wouldn’t make it very far without tiring. It’s frustrating, but there isn’t much for it. The exit isn’t going anywhere, nor the path to it. She’ll just have to be patient.

The last problem is one she won’t admit aloud—not to Jakob, not to Corrin, and especially not to herself. If she could help it, she wouldn’t acknowledge it at all, but with each passing day it gets harder and harder to ignore. Sometimes, she overhears things she’s probably not supposed to know: like the details of the Heir’s or Camilla’s missions or updates on major events—festivals or small-scale rebellions and the like—and she hasn’t heard anything about Hoshido. More specifically, she’s heard nothing about a rescue attempt, about catching spies or requests for negotiations or anything at all that would indicate someone was coming to help them.

Maybe it didn’t mean anything. Maybe there were spies and they were just too good to be caught, biding their time until just the right moment like heroes in an adventure novel.

The more time that passes, the harder it is to believe though. It can’t have been that difficult to ambush a carriage or fly to their windows in the fortress; despite its name, its defenses were rather lacking.

Probably because it’s designed to keep people in and not out.

The thought leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. It was of no consequence. For now, she needs to rest and learn and wait—to bide her own time.

If no one was coming—at least that she was aware of—her and Corrin would have to be their own heroes.

Chapter Text

“I win. Again.”

Leo smirks at her from across the coffee table and she has to resist the urge to roll her eyes. Honestly, she doesn’t really care for chess: it’s just kind of boring—and the way the game pieces moved didn’t make any sense…

Well. That, and she doesn’t care for the names of some of them. “Pawn” made her uncomfortably aware of the stone walls around her, and sacrificing them made her skin crawl for reasons she doesn’t dare analyze.

Perhaps she would have liked this game better before their trip to Castle Krakenburg?

“So, did you lose so quickly because you’re bored or because you’re distracted?” Her eyes snap back to Leo’s, and his previously gloating expression has been replaced with something closer to annoyance —and something else she can’t quite identify.

His gaze narrows. “Elise could have lasted longer than that—and she tries to eat the pieces.”

Rude.

She has been distracted lately, but she was hoping it wasn’t as evident to the others as it apparently is. She and Jakob were spending as much time as they dared planning this escape, and the details of it were vexing her. What would they eat? Jakob had apparently been setting aside what little he could—but surely whatever he’d managed to save wouldn’t last them the entire trip to Hoshido, so she’d need to know what plants were safe to eat as neither of them have hunted before. Jakob didn’t know much about that, either. It all begs another question: how far away is Hoshido, anyways? She’d overheard Gunter say that Castle Krakenburg was due west of the Bottomless Canyon, which sat upon the Nohr-Hoshido border. The Tower was formally known as the Northern Fortress, which probably means it’s north of Castle Krakenburg, right? So they’d need to go…southeast. The problem is that she doesn’t know which direction southeast is, or how much south and east they even needed to go. What if they overshot it? Would she even be able to tell? Jakob had a vague idea: there were a few stars one could use for directions at night, but how was that supposed to help them in the daytime?

Maybe we should only travel at night?

Kamui blinks, coloring when she realizes how out of sorts she probably seemed just now—and based on Leo’s currently raised brow and crossed arms, she’d seemed very off.

“Are you feeling alright?”

With his question, she’s finally able to pick out the other expression on his face.

He’s concerned.

It leaves her feeling a mildly guilty: she hadn’t meant to worry the boy; she’d done that enough, several weeks ago.

“Yeah, just tired I guess,” and while not exactly a lie, it isn’t the full truth, either. The unimpressed look on his face after she spoke says he knew it, too. To her surprise, however, he doesn’t press the issue.

“Well, I suppose you are up earlier than you normally are; it’s only mid-afternoon.”
Kamui’s eyes flatten and he flashes her a smug smile. She rolls her eyes at him and he laughs; real, genuine laughter like he did with Corrin.

“Alright, so if you’re not going to pay attention to strategy games, we should do something else. Want to go practice the sword with me?”

She cocks her head at him, a small frown on her face.

“Are you sure we can?”

Leo waves her away dismissively. “We’ll have to ask Gunter to come with us, of course,” he says, carefully not mentioning why that was. Lately, he didn’t take any of the opportunities to remind her that they were trapped here like he used to; for some reason, he didn’t seem to find it as amusing as he had before.

Not that she’s complaining.

Kamui shrugs. It’s not like she had anything better to do—and the more combat experience she had before the eyes left, the better.

For some reason, the thought sends a pang of guilt through her. She shuts it out before she can delve too much into it. Now was not the time to second guess herself—not after all the work she’d put in to get this far.

Focus on your goal, one step at a time.

They find Gunter in the library with Corrin, who is playing a soft, melancholic piece on the piano. He’s improved far faster than she did—he truly is amazing at it, a natural talent.

Mama would be proud.

The thought makes her antsy and she pointedly ignores Leo’s questioning stare. Still, she doesn’t want to interrupt—and the younger boy must agree, because neither of them say anything to the pair until the song reached it end.

“That was beautiful, Corrin,” Kamui says quietly, catching the boy off-guard so his hands press into keys under his fingers as he jerks in surprise. The motion makes Leo chortle, a hand coming up to his face to covet his open mouth.

“I liked that better, personally.”

Corrin spins around on the bench to face them, itching the back of his neck with a grin.
“Camilla taught me that one—she says I’m really good!”

Gunter nods solemnly. “That you are, my Lord. Is there something you two want?”

Leo speaks up before she can even open her mouth.

“The three of us would like to practice on the roof—assuming you can chaperone us?”
It’s not really a question, but the tone of his voice helps it sound like one and she can tell he’s trying. Corrin had gotten after him about how demanding he was several days ago and the blonde finally seemed to take it to heart as he made more of an effort in not ordering everyone around: sibling or servant.

Unlike how the Heir briefly hesitated every time Leo asked him the same question now, Gunter only nods and starts leading the way. It seemed that he at least did not feel the need to handle her like she was a small child.

They spend hours up there; she finds practice more enjoyable with the two of them and Gunter was quick to offer guidance when needed, but mostly, he left them to their own devices. They only stop when the sun starts setting below the horizon—despite the cold winter air (though it was slowly yielding to spring, it wasn’t gone just yet), they always stayed warm enough through movement that they never returned sick.

When they finally make it back to the sitting room, Corrin scurries back to his room, mumbling something about a book he was 'super invented in': this prompted Leo to laugh for only a moment until she'd elbowed him in the ribs and Gunter lightly explained the mistake. It makes her think of the way Jakob had teased her about that stupid horse expression. Kamui goes back to playing with Leo and actually puts some effort in to what she's doing, but by the annoyed way the other boy looks at her, she must not be playing the game very well. Or maybe he was still upset about his smarting rib.

Kamui's hoping it's the latter.

"So," he starts conversationally, picking up one of his horses and moving it forwards and to her left to eat one of her pawns, "you seem a lot better now."

Kamui cocks her head, picking up one of her tall pawns (she thinks it's called a priest or something) and moving it diagonally a few squares to eat one of Leo's spiky pawns. He nods at it as if he's expected it, then frowns as he uses a regular pawn to eat her tall one. Kamui does not understand chess.

She frowns, trying to figure out what she needed to do to make the game last longer (she's long given up on actually trying to win; it's just way too much effort to put in a game) when Leo speaks up again.

"You seem a lot better, but also really distant," he tilts his head, considering his words, "if...if there's something you want to talk about or whatever, it's not like I have any real agenda when I visit, so..."

Kamui blinks at him in surprise, briefly reminded, bizarrely, of the day a toddler had comforted her after waking from a nightmare. It was easier with Elise then because she didn't have to respond in such a clear way.

"Um. I'll keep that in mind, I guess? I really am fine, though."

The boy across from her raises an eyebrow but doesn't press it, and their game concludes in a comfortable silence.

Leo doesn’t stay much longer after that, and after Gunter leaves Corrin's room and retires for the night, she makes her way to Corrin’s room—bare feet creeping through the hallway in an effort to be silent and she knew Gunter wouldn’t leave the Tower that night, and she rarely knew what the sisters were going to do. She didn’t harbor any malice for the older girls of the Ice Tribe, but they did make all their planning a lot harder to do than it had been before. Jakob had told her they would be needed in the kitchen all night earlier when he’d served her some mediocre tea, so that made tonight the perfect time for this. To his credit, he had gotten a lot better at his duties—though Kamui still didn’t like the idea of him as a servant. She didn't really like the idea that people had to treat her any differently just because she was the kid of someone important.

The thought never used to bother her, but after that run-in where she met Jakob, after hearing Camilla's thinly veiled threat to "speak to" the person that had harmed her...

Well, should anyone have to die just because they upset her? That seems like something the Grey Man would do...actually, it is almost what he'd done with her. And she does not want to turn out like the Grey Man did. So lately, she's made an effort to be more aware of how she's thinking about and treating others that should be (in Leo's words) beneath her. She'd gone so far as to ask Jakob to let her know when she was being unintentionally rude or dismissive; just because she didn't think she was doing that didn't mean she wasn't. It had made Jakob laugh at her again, after some prodding, he "solemnly swore to tell her when she was being an asshole". Which was something, she guessed.

Although, it's not like I have many opportunities to interact with them, anyways.

She was going to tell Corrin everything—she probably had to to get him to agree to escape with her. Steeling herself, she takes a deep breath as she opens the door—it’s never looked as imposing as it does in that moment.

To her surprise, the boy is still awake and seated on the floor in front of his bed, a single candle providing enough light for him to read the book in his lap with. He startles when she opens the door, head smacking into the bedframe behind him with a small thunk that leaves her wincing.

“Hi!” he whispers, patting the stone next to him in invitation for her to come sit by him. He cocks his head up at her, a stray lock of their off-white hair falling in front of his eyes with the motion. “Is something wrong?”

She moves across the room and sits cross-legged next to him, nervously picking at the hem of her sleep-shirt.

What if he says no?

What if we fight again?

What if he tells the Nohrians?

Doubts spins around her thoughts like leaves I’m a windstorm, and she finds she can’t meet his eye for a few moments, forcing herself to calm down enough to explain. But where should she even start?

“Hey,” he calls, his voice soft. She turns to him uncertainly, but he only smiles at her. “Can’t sleep?”

She swallows. “Uh. Corrin, I have to tell you somet—”

“You want to leave, right?”

Her eyes widen at him as her mouth clicks shut. His smile becomes wider.

“Ok! When do you want to go?”

Wait, what?!

He laughs at her shocked expression before his gaze softens, his expression becoming both gentler and more serious. It’s something only he could accomplish.

“You probably don’t remember—I mean, maybe you do, but Xander said you probably wouldn’t 'cuz of how that sleep sickness thing worked—but I promised I’d go anywhere you wanted if you woke up,” he says simply, talking as quickly as he always did when he got excited about something. “And you did, and I don’t wanna be a liar, and it sounds kind of fun, right? So we should do it!”

She studies him carefully. There’s a touch of something in his expression, an odd nervousness in his voice that seems out-of-place with the words he actually spoke.

There’s something he’s not saying.

She wants to press him on it—in fact, she almost does—but she stops herself before any sound escapes her lips.

There’s a lot that I’m not saying, too, but he isn’t questioning any of it.

If he could trust her like this, she needed to do the same. She returns his smile with a grateful one of her own and a heavy weight lifts from her chest.

He's going to come with! We’re actually gonna do it.

We’re going home!

Chapter Text

After Corrin agreed to come along, the three of them met whenever possible to discuss details of their plan. It was surprisingly easy once Corrin got involved—she might not be able to say she needed assistance with her arithmetic homework, but Corrin could—and they met every other day in Corrin’s room so Jakob could ‘help’ him. This was also how she discovered Jakob’s apparent affinity for mathematics; it wasn’t everyday a servant was better than the nobility at anything that required an education. She almost asked him about it, but it would’ve distracted him from their real goal—a goal that, now, was almost within reach.

They will leave in a week’s time, the day Camilla will be expected in court and the day after the Heir departs on his next mission. The excitement she felt was palpable—which is something she was struggling to hide from the Nohrians.

“Oh, dear, I’m glad you’ve gotten back to normal—but try not to push yourself too hard, alright?” Camilla had told her two days ago after she came back covered in small cuts and bruises following a sparring session.

“Sister, thatis not normal for her,” Leo said, pointing a finger so close to her face that she’d reared back from it. He turned to her with a smile so smug that she knew whatever came out of his mouth would irritate her before he’d even spoke. “She never smiled before; that extra time in bed must have knocked something out of place in there.”

Kamui’s gaze flattened and his smile grew wider. “Oh, it seems I was mistaken—that’s most certainly Kamui.”

Kamui rolled her eyes but snorted at that, and it’d made Camilla laugh and muss Leo’s hair (much to his chagrin) all while telling him to ‘play nice’.

Later that night—after the twins from the Ice Tribe excused themselves for the night and Camilla and Leo had gone home—Jakob, Corrin, and Kamui met in Corrin’s room to discuss the finer details of their plan: how much gold Jakob had been able to collect (she pointedly never asked him how), the exact patrol routes of the night watch, what they needed to give Jakob so he could prepare their packs and other such dull but important things. It was near the end of this meeting that Jakob addressed her directly.

“I really must applaud your acting skills; I believe lady Camilla and lord Leo suspect nothing about you or this plan. They truly seem to believe you care for them.”
Kamui’s smile falters. He thought she’d been acting?

But…that would make sense. I don’t want them to get suspicious…

She chews her lip. She hadn’t been acting, but they really were going to leave, so it wasn’t a big deal.
Right?

The conflict must show on her face because Corrin’s shoulder knocks into her own and pulls her from her thoughts.

“It’s ok. I think they would understand.”

Jacobs hums at that, something like understanding (and pity) flashing across his face before he speaks again.
“At any rate, I know I’ve brought this to your attention before, but I must again object to staying behind here whilst you two blindly traipse across the countryside. I cannot protect you from the horrors the outside world harbors from inside these stone walls.”

His face and tone are serious, and Corrin’ seems puzzled by his words. He turns to look at her with a frown.

“He’s not coming? Why not?” Corrin asks earnestly, innocent eyes pinched with confusion. A tuft of hair flops onto his nose and he looks at it cross-eyed before blowing it from his sight—only for it to fall right back in place once he stopped. Jakob looks at her with a look between concern and resignation—like Corrin was proving some unspoken point by goofing around like this.

“He can’t, Corrin: if…if we get caught…”

She trails off, uncertain of what to say.

He’ll get in trouble? An understatement.

He’ll be killed? Probably more accurate, but also much more likely to scare Corrin.

Luckily, she doesn’t need to continue, because Corrin’s eyes widen and refocus on her, tuft of hair forgotten.

“You mean like Leo said?”

Kamui nods with a frown. Corrin hums.

“Is that why you won’t tell him where we’re going?”

Kamui nods again, and Corrin’ tilts his head, considering her rhetoric. She finds his own choice of words to be interesting: she hasn’t even told Corrin where they were going. He didn’t need to know in order to travel with her—and if she’s being honest with herself, it’s not something she wants to share with him until she was sure they’d make it.

It was clear where she stood in the Grey Man’s eyes, but there was no need for Corrin to go down with her if this all blew up in her face.

She only hopes it’s enough.

“Well, ok! Let’s talk about what rivers we should look out for on the way!”

And just like that, the topic was dropped.

Six days later, the anticipation is nearly killing her—and, shockingly—it’s Corrin who reminds her not to let it show. It’s just so hard: they were almost ready to go to Hoshido, to embark on an adventure of a lifetime where Corrin would be able to see all the rivers he wants to. Her mind occasionally tugs her in the wrong way, focusing on the notable absence of her older siblings and mother—but she fights to keep from dwelling on it. She would impress them, she’s sure, when the two of them show up on their doorstep. She didn’t need any help—and whatever test this was—

Her steps falter at the thought, and she finds herself standing still in the hallway their rooms came off of.

Only the Grey Man tests people like that. Ryoma and Mama wouldn’t do that.

Its getting harder for her to think clearly about what was normal for families and what was the Grey Man’s machinations.

“Dear? Is everything alright?”

She jumps at the sound of Camilla’s voice coming from the entrance to the sitting room and slowly turns to look up at the woman. That was another thing—Kamui didn’t know at what age (or even if it was based on age at all) someone was considered an adult here. Was Camilla just a big kid, or was she a lady?

At what age is she allowed to blame the oldest Nohrians for what was happening to them here? Could they even do anything to help? Would they, if she asked? Not that asking anything of the sort was worth such a risk.

“Kamui?”

There’s concern on the older girl’s face now that upsets her. Camilla wasn’t supposed to frown—she didn’t even do that when she was angry—and she feels guilty for worrying her…and guilty for…well…

“Um. I’m fine. Sorry.”

For some reason, her words only make the girl’s frown deepen.

“Whatever for?”

Well isn’t that a loaded question?

She’s not sure how to answer, so she offers the girl a shrug. This makes her laugh, so she figured she must be doing something right.

“Oh, how I wish I could bring you two to court with me—”

She stiffens at the words and Camilla’s eyes widen like she realizes the problem—except she doesn’t, not really. She’d never truly understand the fear and the anger and the hate that made Kamui feel like she was crazy because she was the only one willing to see the world—their world—for how it truly was. The Heir knew, but he had blinders on, like a horse. He’d stay to his path until either it ended or something forced him off of it.

Of this, Kamui is certain.

She can’t say any of that to Camilla, though, so all she said was:

“I don’t.”

Camilla was off to court tomorrow. The Heir would be on a mission.

And they would be ready.

“Wake up, my la—oh,” Jakob blinks, lantern swaying in one upheld hand as Kamui pushes herself out from under her sheets fully clothed save for shoes and wide awake. “I see you’re ready,” he grimaced, eyes finding her door, “Let us hope your brother is as well.

It was early morning and they woke even before the sun itself, though in truth Kamui hadn’t been able to sleep at all. Such behavior wasn’t unusual for her, however, so after prompting by the twin Ice Tribe retainers, they’d given up and let her be. That’s when she got ready, a small satchel packed up on her wardrobe out of sight. With help from Jakob, she lifted the chair up completely so it didn’t make any noise on the floor and dragged it to the side of the wooden container and, on the balls of her feet, she managed to grab the satchel. She figured that if they found themselves hungry, she might sell it somewhere to buy food. It was somewhat ornate, after all.

Corrin’s opened his own door before they even knock on it, excitement painting his face. Jakob tosses them each a cloak—both are too large for the two of them—but it does a nice job of covering their more prominent features.

“Come, we have little time.”

And, with the turn if a key and the click of a lock to the servants’ quarters, they were off. They no longer need the map: Jakob and Kamui had been to the lift so often by now that the route there was second nature—but Corrin had rarely been in the servants’ quarters and was fascinated by everything. It annoyed Jakob to no end, but Kamui found it rather endearing.

All this darkness and yet he still outshines the sun.

His excitement only grew as they moved the old cabinet away from the lift’s hidden entrance, eliciting a gasp of joy from the boy that Jakob was quick to silence. Apparently, the head chef lived down the hall.

“You guys found a secret passage?!” He says, so full of his boundless energy that he’s begun bouncing on his feet.

Jakob only scoffs. “That was all her.”

He doesn’t have to sound so irritated about it.

He was still upset at its existence, she guessed. When they make it to the bottom of the shaft and only the lantern provides any light, Corrin sticks his head above it when Jakob’s not looking and makes funny faces and hand puppets—which caused him to nearly be slapped across the face with it as Jakob moved to scan their surroundings. Kamui has to muffle her laughter so as not to alert Jakob to his tomfoolery.

Halfway to the new exit (that Kamui has yet to see), they stop as planned to retrieve their bags from behind some faulty stone bricks Jakob had removed a dew weeks earlier. In them were all the bits of maps that she had been able to scavenge as well as a small sum of silver, a bit of flint, extra non descriptive clothing (some of which was Jakob’s own), a few odds and ends, and whatever food Jakob had been able to stash for their trip. But they don’t open them now; that would be a task for when they actually managed to escape. Instead, the satchels are slung over small shoulders, making Kamui grunt under the weight. It would take some getting used to, but judging from the broad smile across Corrin’s face, it wasn’t going to stop them.

After Jakob was sure they weren’t going to topple over, they continued to the new exit. The first one they’d found had required a ladder—or at least, it probably would have without possibly breaking some bones. The one Jakob found more recently did not: apparently, it was a mere few paces from the overgrown grass below. Kamui has yet to actually see it, so when they finally arrive (and Jakob had been correct, it really was quite a walk) she nearly gasps in delight.

It's perfect!

She wastes no time in jumping down, landing on her feet with a satisfying thumping the dirt below. She looks back up at the boys above—only to trace Corrin’s graceless form fly through the air before he landed an arms-length away on his rear. Jakob isn’t long to follow them, though he is much more refined with the whole ordeal than either of them had been.

“Come, the stables are this way,” the uneasy boy said, his ponytail settling back at the center if his back as he returned to facing forwards. They’re as quiet as they can be—which isn’t very quiet considering the fact that they must traipsing through the uphill overgrowth to get there.

By the time the stables are even in sight her breeches are covered in brambles and twigs, and Corrin fared little better. Suddenly worried, Kamui spun back to Jakob—or rather, his back.

“Will you—”

“I brought a change of clothes and kept them in the drainage pipe, my lady,” he says without a glance in her direction. Kamui breathes a sigh of relief at his foresight; if he tracked all of this foliage back into the Tower, they’d know without a doubt who had helped them. She doesn’t want him to get into any trouble.

Once they make it to the stables, their actions are quick: they have to be in order to avoid the few servants and guards still in the area even at such a late hour. Jakob is quick, seating them both on the same horse with a speed only he could manage. It’s at this point, where they stand behind the stables facing the nearby forest that he finally turns to face the twins.

“I wish you both the luck of the Ancient Dragons. May the wind guide you wherever you seek.”

She struggles not to tear up as he says this, the impact of what they’re doing finally settling in her chest.

“Thank you.”

I will see you again, Jakob. That's a promise.

And with a determined heart and the details of their plan in mind, Kamui directs the horse in the direction of freedom.

Chapter Text

“Woah! Look at that one, Kamui! It’s got scales!” Corrin leans off the side of the horse, arm outstretched over her shoulder. He was right, the bird did have scales, and she’s never seen anything like it.

Unlike Corrin, it doesn’t make her want to get closer. She does her best to direct the horse away from it, but she’s not that good at that (Jakob had tried explaining, but there was only so much one could pick up about such a matter through words alone; she’d never gotten to try it out before tonight). Corrin pats its back and it lets out a disturbing squawk before digging its talons into the black bark of the trees as it scrambles up the side of a particularly twisted trunk.

“Isn’t this fun? I’m so excited! Do you think the horse is excited?”

Kamui sighs fondly, cracking a smile at her brother’s antics.

He really is too pure for this rotten world.

Or maybe the world isn’t that bad, and all she’s seen are the terrible parts. She finds it troubling that she doesn’t know the difference.

“Quiet down Corrin, we’re still not far enough away from the Fortress for chatter.”

“Oh. Ok,” he whispers, head swishing back and forth while his legs swing back and forth from behind her. The horse was, unfortunately, rather necessary for them to get far enough away to evade the guards. They likely hadn’t been found missing yet—it wasn’t quite dawn and the Ice Tribe twins always knocked and waited for her to respond before they came into her room and Corrin…well. Corrin could sleep through a hurricane—she’d read about those, once. Papa had told her some parts of Hoshido were susceptible to them, and they wreaked havoc on the land and the people unfortunate enough to be in their paths.

The horse was loud, and there wasn’t much she could do to make it quieter. Jakob said she had to let it walk every once in a while so she didn’t get too sleepy to carry them, so that’s what she was doing now, but soon, they’d be, as Jakob put it, traipsing through the countryside. She knew where they were going, though, because she had a map—one made of pieces of dozens of maps from lots of old books—and because Jakob had taught her to use some of the stars to guide her. It was truly unfortunate that she had no aptitude for following them.

Surprisingly, Corrin actually did—and heading in the same direction as the Ice Star is what was currently deciding their path forwards. According to her map (that Corrin was not allowed to touch because he kept staining it), they would arrive at a town in two fingers’ time. Jakob had laughed at her when she said she’d use that to measure the distance, but what else was she supposed to do? The maps she had came from so many places that it was impossible to set a single, universal scale for distance.

And she knew how big her fingers were. All she had to figure out was how long it took to walk from one finger to the next. She was pretty sure that would be alright.

Pretty sure.

That was another thing. They’d have to ditch the horse somewhere: but she’d feel bad if she just left it sitting around in the woods. Domesticated horses wouldn’t just be able to revert back to being in the wilds so easily, she’d read it in a book once, so...so.

Well, she didn’t really know what to do about that. She doesn’t want to hurt the horse, and Corrin probably wouldn’t want to, either. He really likes animals. So maybe she would take the saddle bags off of it and leave those in the woods before the next town and then let it free. Then all they had to do was walk around the town so that way no one saw them. If there were no sightings of two white haired children nearby, the guards wouldn’t even need to look in the town. Then the Grey Man wouldn’t be able to hurt anybody there, either. It’s a good plan.

Probably.

Apparently, Corrin agreed with her, because when they stopped next and she explained it, he expressed how exciting it was to play hide and seek in real life.

Everything was going fine until he said his next thought.

“Then we can tell Elise and Leo about all the coolest hiding spots we found!”

Kamui freezes.

He doesn’t get it, does he?

But how could he; she had never explained it to him.

“Corrin…if…if I show you something so amazing that it makes you want to stay there forever, will you stay?”

His smile fades, and her heart drops. “What? What do you mean?”

She swallows, hard. “Just, um, just that, I guess.”

How smooth.

He hums, his brows knitted in concentration. “Well, I don’t know…If it’s that amazing, then our brothers and sisters would wanna see it to, right? Could they come visit?”

She blinks. That hadn’t been something she’d even considered before, the Nohrians coming to Hoshido…but…well, she can’t say she hated the idea, either.

She decides, just this once, to tell him the truth.

“I hope so.”

That makes his smile come back and she feels just the tiniest bit better. It was best not to get her hopes up too far: they had a long trip ahead of them and she was already tired from spending so long on the horse. That dawn, just before the sun comes up, the townsfolk in the closest town to the Northern Fortress awoke to a peculiar sighting: a tame mare wandering about the edge of the village, devoid of a saddle and chewing on the fresh spring grass. Meanwhile, her and Corrin avoided the town and kept heading south—or at least, what Corrin said was south. Neither of them knew how to navigate at all without the stars, and those were rapidly fading into the soft colors of the morning sky. It’s only then that she decides they need to stop. Without explaining much of anything, she scales a nearby tree—one not visible by the main road—and beckons Corrin up. She’s not sure how easy sleeping in a tree would actually be, but she’s read about characters who do it in books, so it can’t be impossible. She unfortunately also seemed to recall that the characters also had wings. If only she had something so useful as that.

Still, climbing it felt like second nature despite how long it had been since she’d last done so—perhaps even easier given how much taller she was now—and soon, both her and Corrin are settled in a couple of the upper branches, curled into the trunk to hide their sensitive eyes from the sun.

“Kamui?”

“Yes, Corrin?”

“If I told you something that sounded super crazy, would you believe me?”

She lifts her head up and looks over at him. For once, he’s frowning—which was already not a great sign—but he also looked scared, which put her even further on edge.

“Corrin, what’s wrong?”

“Uh…well, I’m not crazy!” He sounded like he was about to tell her before his defensive outburst.

She held up her hands placatingly. “I didn’t mean to imply that. Can you tell me what has you so freaked out?”

He relaxed a bit at her soft tone. “I think we should get out of this tree, like, now.”

She frowns at him, forehead creased in confusion. She’s exhausted, legs stiff from the riding and back sore from their heavy packs and hands sporting new cuts from the large tree they’d just scaled. She doesn’t understand why Corrin wanted to leave so badly. But she starts heading down all the same. Corrin follows in silence, and they make it back down relatively quickly. Once they stand at the base of the tree, Corrin tugs her towards a nearby bush—one under the branches of the tree itself—and then tugs her into the bush. Instantly, she’s filled with regret: leaves and twigs tangle in her hair and Corrin doesn’t stop until they reach nearly the center of the leafy construct, his back to its core, eyes up and searching. Wait. Why eyes up?

The roads were to the…uh…to the left, and from where they currently stood, they likely wouldn’t be seen anyways—but neither would they have been in the tree, so why— She sees the wings first: massive and dark and just the slightest bit purple.

She pales a shade even lighter than their skin.

Camilla.

Chapter Text

Kamui watches Camilla’s descent from the sky in abject horror. She’s flanked by two plainer looking wyvern riders—one with red hair and the other with grey. Both are heavily armed and dressed in combat armor—as is Camilla herself. It’s not a sight that Kamui relishes as much as Corrin had when he first saw “how cool the black plates fit together”.

Corrin squeezes her hand, and for the first time, she sees that he is just as scared as she is—though likely not for the same reasons.

He probably just doesn’t want to get in trouble.

The thought’s more bitter than she means it to be and she has to remind herself for the thousandth time that none of this is his fault—and it’s not hers, either.

But how did he know they were coming?

They’d been too high up for her to have spotted them until it would have been too late, wings and all hidden by the white of the clouds. She’d always wondered what clouds would feel like. Camilla had promised once that she’d take the two of them up with her one day so they could feel them themselves.

Now she’s almost positive that if they were caught here, Camilla wouldn’t make good on any promise that involved them leaving her direct line of vision.

Footsteps draw her attention and she stops breathing momentarily as a few dozen paces away the three women emerge from the indirect path to the main road. The grey one looks particularly attentive, and Kamui hasn’t been this scared of moving since that day at the Grey Man’s court.

“Are you certain you spotted the horse near here, Beruka?”

“Positive.”

“Well, I don’t see them…maybe we should split up and look around?”

Camilla rounds on the red haired one, eyes alight with determination and worry. It causes a pang of guilt to shoot through Kamui for reasons she dare not ponder, lest she lose her own resolve. “You will alert me if you find either of them immediately—especially if you find them apart from each other. They know how to activate the Dragon Veins and if they’re scared…”

Camilla shakes her head. “My poor little darlings. Don’t you fret, big sister’s coming to save you.”

With that, Camilla stalks off to the right and Beruka (blessedly) continues in the opposite direction of their little hiding place. That only left the red-haired one—the one with the longest pig tails Kamui’s ever seen—to search around nearby. Corrin grips her hand tightly, his sweaty palms slicking her own pale skin.

“Corrin! Cyrille—err, no, I mean Kamui! If you’re here, please come out!”

The only response is the light swaying of the trees with the ebb and flow of spring winds.

“I promise I won’t hurt you!”

Silence.

Then, in a voice so soft that Kamui’s sharp ears hardly pick up on at all:

“You two have no idea what’s at stake if we lose you.”

The statement’s so outlandish that it makes her blink, but before she can think much more upon it, the woman is gone, walking off somewhere to their left. Then, all they can do is wait. She’s so tense that time hardly seemed to pass at all, beads of nervous sweat dripping down her face and breathing shallow so as not to be detected even though none of their three pursuers were in sight.

It could have been hours. It could have been moments. But by the time the sun has crawled its way so far across the sky that no traces of dawn remained, the women returned, first Camilla, then Beruka, and finally the red-haired woman who sported a deep frown and crossed arms.

“We must move on,” and weren’t the words of the purple-haired woman just music to her ears? “I think the poor dears moved a bit faster than I’f anticipated. I’ll have to update Laslow, I’m sure once Xander returns, he’ll want to know everything.”

“He doesn’t already?”

Camilla sighed, resting her hand against her cheek. “No, and he will not until he finishes his mission. I don’t even know where Father sent him or I would have dispatched his cute little page to bring him home.”

So The Heir isn’t searching yet.

That, at least, was good news for them; the man was nothing but determined once he set his mind to something, and she did not want that something to be them. He’d probably end up tearing the entire countryside apart.

We’ll need to move quicker.

The last thing she sees as the women make their way back to the main road is the look of distress on Camilla’s face, and that familiar guilt returns with a passion that makes her briefly consider just giving up on this fool’s errand altogether—for how could they hope to outrun an entire kingdom? But she can’t. They had to go home, and they were so close now, so close to Ryoma and Hinoka and Mama that it hurt. But it made the hope in her heart shine that much brighter. She squeezes Corrin’s hand back and they sit with bated breath until the wyvern once again appear in the sky, soaring high up into the air until all that was left were the clouds.

“Camilla…” Corrin starts, his voice a mere whisper. She frowns in understanding: she didn’t want to hurt the woman either. But they had to get home, they had to. So instead of dwelling on it, she asks the question that’s been plaguing her ever since he’d yanked her into the bush.

“Hey, how did you know they were coming?”

He looks away from her then, and her suspicions mount something fierce.

He couldn’t possibly…

“I, uh, I dreamed about them. And about Camilla—I saw her come out of the sky and see the tree we picked. She looked so sad, Kamui…”

Kamui chews her lip, frowning. If he really did dream of something that actually happened… did that mean her own dreams were true, too?

Is Hinoka really looking? Does she really care?

And what of the other people she’s seen, the man with the yellow hair and the little sad girl?

“Kamui? Shouldn’t we go?”

She shook her head, mind elsewhere. “Not until night, when the eyes above us can’t see all the way down here.”

That night, they continued on. They eat only enough to make their stomachs stop growling before they make camp—and by “make camp” she really meant “find a tree”. This time, they’re more careful in selecting it, opting to pick one low to the ground and surrounded by others with long branches. The forest they seem to have found themselves in seemed unending, and unlike the first trees they’d seen on their journey, they weren’t simply dead husks rooted in the dirt. They had leaves and branches that swayed in the breeze like they were alive, and it makes her feel less alone.

By the third night, they’re running out of the dry bread that Jakob had given them and she knows they’ll need to find a town soon to buy more food with what little money Jakob had been able to provide them with, but there were two problems with that:

1. She has no idea how much food really costs or where to buy it once they were in town

2. She’s not sure where they are

…she still hasn’t gotten the hang of the whole “map” thing. Still, with their hearing and Corrin’s somewhat decent sense of direction, maybe that wouldn’t matter.

All we have to do is go east.

Gunter had once told her a story of a bunch of illiterate peasants that roamed the southern ocean—pillaging both Nohrian and Hoshidan warships without getting caught for decades.

How hard could it really be?

I just had to ask.

By the fourth morning, when they search for a place to make camp for the night, they’re well and truly exhausted. They’d both worn their last set of clothes—commoner clothes—the day prior, and without anyone to wash the other sets, she’s afraid they’ll have to dress in dirty clothing from now on. It was a challenge that she hadn’t considered—learning to wash her own clothes was going to be a struggle, especially without...uh, clothing soap? A washboard?

Is that what it’s called?

According to her map, they should have been three fingers away from another town from the last town, but she realized that her scale didn’t really work well considering how long it’s taken them to walk all the way here without seeing anything at all.

Unless we’ve just been going the wrong way.

But much to her surprise (and relief) they spot a village half a day’s walk later—and it really was a village. There were only four or five houses and they all looked really similar. The only peculiar thing about the town was the two horses attached to a large green cart with an elaborately decorated sign on the side of it. She’s a little wary about stopping there once she spots a scary looking man on the outskirts of town fixing them with a look she can’t quite identify, but then the man’s gone and there’s only one way forwards.

Once they get there, people look at them warily, like trying to decide what they’re up to, but she doesn’t understand why: they’re just children. What harm could children bring to a little village like this?

When she walks up to the merchant, intending on buying food, he gives them a single look before dismissing them entirely.

“Begone, street rats,” he starts, and she bristles, “I have a business to run and beggars like you will only scare off my customers,” and then, absurdly, the mustached man added “not that there’s anyone here with the coin to buy anything, anyways.”

“We want to buy food! And soap!” Corrin says, smiling like the man hadn’t just insulted them to their faces. The man rolls his eyes but stops once he sees the swords under their cloaks.

“What kind of…no, alright, maybe we can make a trade,” he starts, “those loom like fine blades there, and I have some bread and cheese I could spare…what do you say? There’s not another town near these parts for days on foot.”

Kamui instantly shakes her head: no amount of food was worth it if the price were their necks. They had other weapons, of course (though they weren’t exactly reliable), but these were the ones they knew the best. Whenever The Heir had them spar with the Tower guards, they won more often than they lost, and that had to count for something.

Or they were just going easy on us because of who we are.

The thought makes her angry, and she shakes her head to dispel it—which, incidentally, acts as an answer to the man’s question. He scowls at them, mouth opening from somewhere under his mustache hair.

“Well, then git. I haven’t got the time to play with you.”

Ah. Perhaps she shouldn’t have irritated him. But there was one other thing they could offer. Maybe he’d go for it. Pulling open her pack, she pulls out the object of interest and presents it (somewhat reluctantly) to the man.

“Will this work as payment for what he said?”

Upon seeing the encyclopedia, the man’s eyes go wide as saucers. Internally, it makes her frown; she hadn’t been aware of its true cost.

“W-why…is that…no, it is! Excellent! Yes, yes, I believe I can accept that.”

By the time they leave the town, they have a bag of dried soapwort, a few silver coins, three small loaves of bread, and two hunks of cheese. Kamui’s still sure they’d been ripped off (as it was phrased in one of her old books), but they had what they had come for and then some. Maybe that’s why she wasn’t surprised when, as they made their way far enough from the town, two armed men appeared to block their path and when they turned around, a third one bracketed them in from behind.

It’s the mean looking one from near the town! We’re trapped.

“Hand over the shit, brats,” the one behind them spat out, red hair rustling in the wind.

“But…if you wanted to buy something, you should go ask the travelling man. He’s really nice!”

Internally, she winced at Corrin’s words. Externally, she placed a hand on her sword.

“Do you really wanna try that, kid? You’re outnumbered.”

Yes, but…the way they’re holding their swords…

“C-Connor,” she corrects herself, forcing out his secret code name. Corrin understood, hand on his own sword.

“Tch. What a waste of time. Just take it, boys!”

With that they all right towards them. Kamui has her sword out in front of her before the man is even within striking distance. He seemed surprised, but got a handle on himself quickly.

“We’ll really mess you up, scar those little faces of yours,” he taunts. She stands her ground.

When he initiates the fight, it’s all clumsy, unpracticed. He waves the sword around like a child with a toy, trying to slice straight across and not at an angle or at her hands like he should given his height and strength advantage. Still, he really was a lot bigger than her, and blades could still cut you no matter how unwieldy the person using them was, so what she does next surprises them both. Yanking the tome out from inside her bag, she flicks it open just like she saw Leo do, only she aims it away from her body. The impact is exactly like she thought it’d be: only instead of fire, the man’s tossed away by a strong, unnatural gust of wind. Somewhere, she’s sure Camilla’s proud at how she emulated the older woman during their training sessions. Ignoring the pang of guilt that the thought brings, she swings around as Corrin jumps away from one of the other two men’s swings and hits them, too, before she nods in the direction she wants them to run—

Except Corrin’s not having it.

“Wait, are you guys the reason those townspeople couldn’t afford anything?”

Then men all slowly push themselves back up, swords knocked from their grasps and one clutching the arm he landed on with a wince.

“What of it?” The leader calls, sneering.

Corrin looks at him angrily. “You can’t just steal from people just ‘cause your bigger than them!”

“…Are you seriously trying to lecture me right now, kid?” by this point, he’s gotten his sword back and is stalking towards them with determination.

Corrin stomps a foot in anger. “Yes! That’s bullying and it’s wrong!”

Kamui, vexed, decides to turn it up a notch and blasts the man again, harder. This time, when he hits the ground, he bounces on the dirt and she hears a crack that she'd feel worse about if he hadn’t tried to rob them and impoverished an entire village that couldn’t fight back.

Upon seeing this, the other two men look at each other and run, swords forgotten as they book it ad fast as their legs will carry them.

The other man spits blood as he sits back up, hand over his chest as he peers up at them.

“Who are you?”

And Corrin, being himself, responds with a simple, apt phrase:

“The good guys.”

Chapter Text

“Wow, we did it!” Corrin says happily, heating the man’s larger sword off the ground with both hands. “This is heavy…” his voice strains as he puts his back into it, wandering over to the nearby river. “Are you sure that if we put these in the water the bad guys won’t be able to get then anymore?”

She nods just once, trailing after him with another one of the bandits’ swords. He was right; they were heavy—like they were made completely of iron or something.

No wonder they were having so much trouble swinging them around.

“Huh? What’s that?”

He says it after throwing the sword into the river, his hand wet with water and the dirt that was caked on the hilt. His eyes are locked somewhere to the right, crimson on some strange, shining blue object near his side in the river.

“I don’t kno—wait, Corrin! Don’t just go touch it! What if it’s dangerous!”

But her words fell on uncaring ears as the boy trudges through the water, the legs of his breeches soaked through with water up to nearly his knees. Not that they were particularly tall, mind you, but it still seemed a significant amount to her.

It’s enough to give him a cold, anyways.

“I think it’s a fishy!” He giggles, squatting down near the river bank. Sure enough, it appeared to be some sort of animal, large eye sockets closed and heaving slow, shallow breaths on the land it’d found itself on. She’d read about it once—a book about aquatic life and a term called “beached” and how it usually killed things. It made her feel a little sorry for it.

“Corrin, it needs to go back into the water.”

“Huh? But…it looks all sick-like.”

“Yeah, it breathes the river water, it’s probably in pain.”

“Oh! But, won’t it just dies if we put it back? Won’t something big and mean just eat it since it’s sick?"

She thought about that for a moment. Yes, it probably would just get killed. But how could they help it?

Unless…

“Do you still have those wooden cups in your bag, Corrin?”

They end up keeping the fish for a few days. Neither of them really know what fish eat, so they tried to feed it little bits of human food—stuff like pieces of dry meat or stale bread or berries that she knew for sure weren’t poisonous thanks to a botany book she’d read a few months prior. At first, the poor little thing didn’t want to eat or really do anything but look miserable, and she wasn’t sure it would make it, but Corrin could be really stubborn when he wanted to be. He wanted the fish to live, so he ground up whatever they tried to feed it into a paste and after a day or so, they found he didn’t need to anymore.

It was like magic; the fish just sort of came to life. It ate all of the food they tried to feed it and Kamui got a really good look at it. It was long and blue and white with a noticeable red patch on its forehead. It had very rigid-looking scales that could flex and bend like they could their fingers and eyes so light she’d almost say they were yellow. Its most prominent feature, however, was its long, wavy fin on its back—one that reminded Kamui of the wings of a wyvern. In short, she looked like no animal Kamui had ever seen.

On the third day, it looks healthy enough to go back into the river—and more importantly, they had spent too much time in one place as it was. Who knew if those bandits had friends? So she convinces Corrin that they have to leave it and move on.

“Can’t we bring it with?”

She shakes her head, suppressing a sigh. “Corrin, it will die if it’s kept from the water; it’s a fish. Don’t you want it to live and make fish friends?” Or whatever it was fish did in the wild. She’s not really sure.

“Well…yes, but don’t you think it’s a special fish?”

That was true enough. It was truly unlike any fish Kamui’d ever seen—not that she’s seen many outside of the illustrations in her books or from vague recollections of koi ponds near the castle grounds back at Castle Shirasagi. But she wants the fish to live, too, and that meant being responsible, not selfish.

Even if this was a weird fish which, she was pretty sure, could breathe air just like them, it still had no way of maneuvering itself on land, and what they were doing was too dangerous for it to tag along.

“Corrin.”

“Fiiine…”

The two of them settle near the river bank—the one they were still nearby because Corrin had insisted they release it near where they found it and she hadn’t the heart to tell him no—with the cup.

The fish looked at them with a confused expression—it seemed pretty expressive, for a fish—as they went to dump it out.

“Sorry, fishy. We can’t keep you. But I love you and I hope that one day, we’ll see you again.”

The fish looks him over with upturned lips—maybe they could learn to mimic humans?—before it swam away. Corrin guffawed at its speed, and Kamui smiled knowing they had done something good.

Distantly, she thinks she hears something before chalking it up to the wind rustiling the dead looking forest trees:

We will.

Six days later, they’re low on supplies yet again—their food supply was getting dangerously low; who knew fish ate so much?—when she’s walking next to her twin, lost in her own mind as she tried to reason out their makeshift map.
The problem was that they should have found somewhere to resupply days ago, but they hadn’t even come across a single farmhouse. There was little they knew how to forage besides those berries, and the wildlife usually managed to eat all of them off of the bushels they grew on before the children could even find them.

Kamui,” Corrin tugs on her sleeve and she turns to her left, “do you hear that?”

She blinks, ears twitching as he spoke the words, but hears nothing. She’s about to tell him so when she hears it:

And when you sat down next to me

You whispered in my ear

It was…a song? No, it was Camilla’s song—the one she’d sang when they first met over two and a half years ago and she’d felt so trapped she thought she’d tear herself apart. More importantly now, however, was that the person singing the song most certainly wasn’t Camilla. Corrin had told her, once, that the song was popular among the Nohrian peasantry…so that meant they were near a town!

“Come on, Corrin, let’s go!”

As they ran towards the town, planning to stop when they got closer to examine the place, they end up running by the singing woman, and Corrin can’t keep his words to himself:

“Hi, miss, you sound great!” He calls to her, tone full of glee. Kamui went still next to him, trying to direct him away from the stranger lest they be recognized. But there is no recognition in her eyes as she turns to face them. She’s a middle-aged woman with plain features aside from her soft-looking long brown hair and a smattering of freckles splayed on her face like constellations in the night sky, and she wears a ratty blue cloak that goes down to her toes.

The woman looks first confused, then concerned. “Boy, it’s dangerous to be out of the walls on your own. Dangerous people roam these parts,” she glanced at Kamui then, and her back gets somehow straighter, “where are your parents?”

Corrin frowned at that, cocking his head like he couldn’t understand the woman’s concern. “Uh, well…”

“We’re looking for our mother. She’s somewhere to the south of here,” Kamui blurts out, tugging Corrin along and hoping that piece of information is enough to satisfy the woman.

“Well, you might want to turn around, then,” the woman says quietly, “that path will take you north.”

Kamui’s heart sinks.

Have we been heading the wrong way this entire time?

But…but had they? They hadn’t been on this path for very long, but she can’t really tell if the twists and turns up until this point led in all the same way.

For his part, Corrin doesn’t comment on what (to him) must have sounded like a blatant lie—but he does say something he probably should not have:

“Oh, ok then, which way is east?”

The woman regards them in silence for a while before speaking again, this time with a gentler voice.

“You both look rather dirty, and I bet you’re hungry, too,” she holds out her arm to show them the basket hanging from it, “and I was just finishing with gathering the roots and mushrooms for my soup. Would you care to join me?”

Kamui turns her head with uncertainty. It was not a good idea to trust a stranger—especially one in an unfamiliar area and while they were running from the authorities—but they were hungry, and their clothes are dirty…maybe this woman could help them figure out how much good and the like should cost them. She still had a bit left from selling her encyclopedia. She could compensate her and maybe then the woman would leave them be. But Corrin beats her to the punch, anyways.

“Oh, good! Then we can find out if we’re even going the right way!”

Not even he’s optimistic about that.

The woman’s name is Veth, and when she notices two dirty young children on their own, she couldn’t just let them be.

At least, that’s what the woman told her when she asked, hours later. Apparently, her own children were all grown up, but she still had their old clothes, so as she taught Kamui and Corrin the proper way to launder them (apparently that was the right word for washing them), that’s what they dress in. The woman’s cooking wasn’t very good, but neither of them tell her this, opting simply to thank her for the free meal that, frankly, she didn’t have to offer them at all.

“You two can stay here for the night; I can’t imagine a mother would want her young children to travel alone so late at night—not to mention that we’re days away from the nearest city, and that’s by carriage. Do you know where you’re headed?”

Kamui frowns. She doesn’t want to stay with some stranger—even a really nice one that fed them and taught them which mushrooms were poisonous and which were not—but if they really were days from the nearest town…

The woman smiles sympathetically. “Kylie, are you two really looking for your mother?”

“Yes.”

Veth frowns, cocking her head slightly as if she either hadn’t been expecting the answer or she though Kamui was lying.

Or both.

“Let me tell you what I think: I think you two ran away from home and are on some fool’s errand thinking you’re having some grand adventure while your parents are home and worried sick. No mother would leave her ten year old children to fend for themselves out here—no good one, anyways.”

Ice crawled its way into her heart, numbing her from the woman’s words. That…that wasn’t true, that wasn’t fair! Their mother was good, she was looking for them.

She had to be.

Veth must realize she’s said something wrong when her hands ball into fists and she storms out of the house, furious and saddened and hurt.

“K—Kylie, wait!!” Corrin calls, but it’s too late. She doesn’t want to be here, she can’t be here.

They had to go home.

They leave the town that night, backtracking in the direction Corrin had found out was east, hoping Veth wouldn’t give chase to the pair of them as the stars took over the sky.

Chapter Text

They end up giving the rest of their money—everything that Jakob gave them, everything she’d earned from selling the encyclopedia, everything to a farmer in the next town they come across nine days after they left the town Veth lived near in exchange for some loaves of bread her husband had baked the night before. Apparently, they also ran a bakery—and more importantly, they didn’t ask questions. This town—a city, really—was quite a lot bigger than any if the other places they’d been to, and evidently that meant the cost of everything was higher.

Or maybe I am just not that good at arguing with the adults that set the prices.

Because there are more people around, less assumptions are made about the two of them. Two unaccompanied children were hardly a thing of spectacle in a city of hundreds of people, especially not with as many beggars and homeless that there were. Their looks and fact that they carried swords at such a young age drew eyes, however, and they are careful to keep both hidden under the now-worn cloaks Jakob had given each of them as a parting gift. She knows that they can’t stay for long; with a large town came lots of guards and therefore the higher the potential they could be noticed and taken into custody. But they couldn’t just keep wandering aimlessly. In the stories she’d read, the heroes always went to taverns and such to figure out their next steps—but they’re too young to get into them. How would they know where to go?

It turned out that a tavern wasn’t necessary: a mam walking by them in the street was cursing the name of the city up and down: Barrio, and it just so happened to be marked on her map.

They were going the right way! They were…Maybe half way to the Bottomless Canyon by now. Well, maybe a little less, but still: progress was being made, and if the city was big enough to show up on their makeshift map, it should have signs up to point where the other nearby places were. The next place they needed to find was a town called Fione somewhere to the southeast, almost directly diagonal to this one. She’d say it was about a finger and a half in that direction, but she’s learned it isn’t the most accurate way to measure distances.

I should’ve checked the scales of each of these maps before we left.

No use crying over spilled milk, though.

Hearing something to her left, she turned to see two guards—ones in the sane uniform as those stationed at the Tower—surveying the village in boredom. That was not good, they’d need to get out of here, and fast.

“Kylie,” Corrin whispered to her, chin on her shoulder as she consulted a map, “what’s wrong with them?”

She hummed in question, wondering if he noticed the guards, too. But no, he was referring to a couple nearby the city walls a few paces away from the guards, appearing hesitant to approach them.

“Excuse us, pardn’ our intruding and such, but our boy was playing outside the walls in the forest and he ain’t returned home yet…c-could you—”

“We don’t patrol outside the walls, sir. Go home.”

“I know you norm’ly don’t, but I…this is an emergency, and I have no sword nor armor—”

“We don’t patrol outside the walls. Hire one of the mercenary companies in town.”

“As I’m trying ta say, missus…”

The guard reached forward and grabbed the man's collar with a gauntleted hand, dragging him forwards a few steps.

“We. Don’t. Patrol. Outside. The walls. Get out if my face before I drag you to the cells to cool off.”

And with that she tossed him into the mud, clearly ending the conversation.

Corrin went rigid behind her. She already knew what he was going to do before he even moved, though she wasn’t going to stop him. After the guards moved on, Corrin walked up to them and she stayed within earshot, ready to intervene if needed. They really, really needed to leave, but…

Someone had to help them.

“Hi, my name’s Connor. I can help you find your son if you tell me what he looks like,” he says friendly, hands clasped behind his back at attention just as The Heir had taught them. The man—who’d just picked himself up—looked at him skeptically.

“I’d rather venture out there m’self than send a child—’er, children, I mean,” she must have been seen, “ta get ‘im for me. He’s just not old enough yet to understand—”

“His name is Nathaniel and he’s this short, thin, and has brown hair. Take that gate right there,” the woman says, switching hands to gesture both to his height and the gate, “in order to find him. He’s probably in the woods just outside of the gate.”

Something about the desperate way She says all of it has her on edge, but Corrin simply nodded, turning towards Kamui with a resolute look on his face. The man locks eyes with her incredulously, but she only stares back with panicked, exhausted eyes. It makes Kamui’s ear twitch, but she doesn’t know why.

“Come on, Kylie. Let’s go.”

The forest ends up being just outside of the city’s wall, twisted and black and expansive just like most of Nohr’s forestry tended to be. It’s here that they stand now, surrounded by these trees, that Kamui voices her thoughts to Corrin.

“I think that once we find him, we should walk him to the edge of the forest and go on our way. I…”

How should explain she didn’t like the look in the woman’s eye, that it reminded her of those bandits from that time before?

Corrin shook his head, pushing another branch out if their way. It crackles against the force he applies before splintering, dead just like the last tree. “We can’t, Kamui. They were so scared and he’s so little—just like our little sister. You wouldn’t let her walk back alone, right?”

He had a point: Elise was much too young and distraction prone for that. She keeps her conflictions to herself as they continue, occasionally calling out to Nathaniel.
“Baha, you’re silly mister wolf!”

When Kamui heard that her blood went cold: how had this boy managed to find a wolf and not end up eaten?! She and Corrin raced into the direction of the words—only to find a dirty but otherwise unharmed boy about half their own size sitting in the dirt by an old looking mutt.

“Hehe. I love you mister wolf!”

“Um, excuse me, is your name Nathaniel?”

“Mhmm!”

“Your mother and father sent us to get you—they’re very worried. You should come home now, before they close the gates.” Corrin says softly, squatting to get to the boy’s eye level.

“Mmm…ok, but they worry too much. This much,” he says, holding his arms out as far apart as they will go. “They just think there’s Faceless in here, but I know better.”

Faceless? What’s that?

“You should stop coming out here without them. What if there’s robbers or real wolves?” She tries to reason.

“Then I finally get to see somethin’ cool!”

Kamui frowns, but doesn’t comment any further. They can’t afford to spend much more time on this.

“Come on, Kam—Kylie, let’s take him home.”

And with that, the three of them set off towards the city, Corrin leading the way and Nathaniel in the middle so he didn’t get separated from them. Kamui read that some animals did that to protect their young and decides it’s like that.

“Wanna see if they’ll let you stay for food? Mama makes real good potatoes!”

Corrin looks back at her and, surprisingly, shakes his head. “No we’ve gotta leave the city before night fall so we can get where we’re going.”

“Oh. Ok,” Nathaniel replies dejectedly, kicking at a rock on the path that led back to Barrio. The two of them make small talk after that that Kamui tunes out, trying to think of some way to appease Corrin and keep the boy safe at the same time and failing miserably.

When they make it back to the gate, Corrin insists they walk back to where they found his parents in the first place—it wasn’t a long walk, after all—and when they arrive, Kamui’s heart drops through her worn, plain shoes.
Standing there, accompanied by the two guards from earlier and the parents, is the Heir.

Chapter Text

Her first thought after the initial shock wore off was that the Heir did not look happy to see them. Relieved, maybe, but not happy.

The second is that it was getting harder to breathe. She forces a breath into her mouth and out her nose just as Gunter had taught her after a particularly bad nightmare caused her to have an anxiety attack. It reminds her of the day she met Camilla, of being trapped and—

And that line of thought was not helping her current situation.

She focuses on that and on the sensation of Corrin holding onto her forearm, letting it ground her to the present. For a moment, no one speaks until finally, the silence becomes too much for Nathaniel’s mother.

“I’m sorry, but we’re poor, and the money—”

Reward money. Right. People in larger cities probably had descriptions of us.

How could she have been so careless?

Both the woman and Kamui’s own thoughts are cut off by a hand—the Heir’s hand—as he raises it to quell her speech before speaking himself.

“Escort these three back home and see to it that they are taken care of. If I hear anyone tell me you repeat the way you treated them before, I will personally see to it that you both answer for it.”

The guards nod frantically, sweat beading on their brows. The woman looks particularly cowed, in awe and abject horror at being reprimanded by the Crown Prince of Nohr.

“Go.”

And with that, the five of them (including an extremely confused looking Nathaniel) were gone, the family shepherded away from them, their lives probably set by the small fortune they must have made by selling them out.

“Camilla will be here shortly. We will wait by the gate you’ve just returned from. Come.”

With that, he takes a step forwards and Kamui freezes, fear rooting her into place. All of that, all of this, and it was for nothing? They would go back to being prisoners who were isolated in a Tower?

Corrin pulls her from her stupor with a sharp tug on her forearm. Right. They had to move. They had to…

But she can’t get her feet to cooperate. She was trying, but it all just felt so pointless. What was going to happen to them now? The Grey Man wouldn’t just let this little escape attempt slide by, they, they—

She flinches hard as a hand lands on her shoulder—and upon realizing it, the Heir removes it like he was afraid he’d hurt her by accident.

“Little princess…”

I have to protect Corrin.

It’s the first real thought she’s had in the past few moments, and she latches onto it like a lifeline, repeating it in her head like a mantra. Numbly, she’s able to get her feet to move after that, ignoring the looks of concern Corrin shoots her as they continue. One of them would have to pay for this, and it wasn’t going to be him.

She would make sure of it.

When they arrive at the gate Camilla is already there, flanked by her two exhausted looking retainers. She swoops in to hug them and Kamui lets her, acting like the doll she is. Camilla looks to the Heir uncertainly, but she can’t see his reply. She can barely focus on what’s happening around her.

“I’ll leave you to that, then. Come Corrin, we’re going for a ride. Won’t that be fun?”

Corrin hesitates. “Um. You’re not…”

Camilla takes a step forwards and his arm tightens around her forearm. Then, quietly, he whispers just loud enough for the three of them to hear:

“I can’t lose her again.”

That’s what finally broke her out of her stupor.

“I’ll be all right, Corrin.”

He looks at her, conflict apparent in wide crimson eyes.

“I…”

She forces a smile, as sad as it is pleading. “It’s OK. Go with her.”

I don’t want you here for this.

“Promise?”

It takes everything in her not to waver under the intensity of her brother’s gaze.

Forgive me, Corrin

“Yeah, I promise.”

He reluctantly pulls away, letting her arm free from his tight grasp. He looks to the Heir, then to Camilla before silently making his way to her wyvern. The two of them mount it and have taken off by the time she counts to ten in her head, and briefly, she wishes to be anywhere on the continent than where she was now, alone with the Heir and without Corrin in sight.

The words she says next borderline on begging—but she can’t care, not if it’s to save him.

He was all she had left.

“It was all my fault—Corrin didn’t do anything, I made him come, please—”

“Enough, Kamui.”

Her teeth click together before she even notices she was shutting her mouth.

They leave Barrio with little fanfare—and distantly, she’s surprised that the Crown Prince isn’t surrounded by an escort of guards before discarding the thought altogether. He was sent on solo missions all the time; of course he wouldn’t be watched as the two of them had been. She sits on the Heir’s enormous steed, her back to him as a sense of unspeakable dread begins to consume her. They leave through the same gate that they’d gone through to find Nathaniel—except this time, instead of feeling free, she felt shackled into the saddle she found herself upon, next to two beating hearts and yet feeling so utterly alone.

As alone as Corrin soon would be.

The Heir brings Kamui off the trail into a clearing in the woods, helping her off the horse. Though Kamui feels he must be about to kill her, he turns to look up at the stars, leaving the confused girl to busy herself. She sits on a rock in the clearing, briefly reminded of her Papa’s spar with Ryoma. Eventually, the Heir turns back around and walks over to her, crouching down in front of the rock and looking her over with a tired look on his face. After a moment of tense silence, he reaches forward and envelops her in a tight hug, making her eyes widen in surprise. When he finally lets go, Kamui looks up at him—not bothering to mask her surprise—and the man speaks.

“I am so, so sorry, Kamui.”

She looks on in disbelief.

“I was so worried—you must have been so scared. I shouldn’t have ever let anything like this happen, for you to feel like you had to leave in order to be safe.”

For some reason, the words make her stiffen, and it’s hard to get her voice to cooperate with her mind, sound somehow forming around the newly formed lump in her throat.

“I…I just wanted to go home.”

The boy looks at her with a deep sadness, something bordering on pity in his eyes. It should make her mad—she should be so angry, but…

But for once, he isn’t angry when she brings the topic up, doesn’t shut it down, and she really wants to know why.

“Dear sister, I wanted to avoid having this conversation. You are so young, and what’s happened to you Corrin is not your fault, and it is not fair. But you are too intelligent to put this off any longer,” the rawness of his gaze draws her attention, scares her in ways she can’t name. He’d never brought this up on his own, never addressed this problem without prompt. “When you two went missing…,”

He sighs, and she stares up at him, waiting for him to continue.

“Camilla and I searched for days. Our retainers picked through forests and combed through cities, soldiers under our command questioned people in the countryside and flew over mountaintops in an effort to find you two. You’re very far from the Northern Fortress now, but we found you in less than a month’s time. It’s been nearly three years since you were taken in by Father,” the look in his eyes, the guilt and pity and overbearing sadness prevents her from correcting him, from saying they were kidnapped, that Papa was dead. “If what had happened to you then had happened to Leo, we would have had him safely back in Nohr, with us, far before now.”

He means that if Leo got kidnapped by Hoshido on That Day, they would have had him back by now.

Her breath catches in her throat, making it hard to breathe. He must be able to see the pain in her gaze—the pain she’s felt in silence, in her thoughts all alone for years—because his voice softens when he continues.

“I cannot change the past, but I would not want to even if I could. You might not have been born to us, but you are just as much my sister as Camilla and Elise,” he places a hand on her shoulder, and for once, she doesn’t flinch back.

“The king wanted to kill me—he wanted me dead,” and her tone isn’t powerful like she wants it to be—it’s scared. Hurt. The Heir closes his eyes for a moment before looking back into hers with remorse.

“Father was trying to test us,” he defends weakly, betrayed only by the conflict in his eyes that shines through in a way only grief really could. “But it was cruel. Terribly so. I will never, never allow something like that to happen to you again. That’s a promise.” Her eyes water at the resolve reflected in those brown orbs.

He squeezes her shoulder comfortingly before he says what she can tell he’s wanted to say for years now.

“Family is what you believe it to be, little princess.”

That was the final straw. Kamui bursts into tears, shaking and sobbing uncontrollably, and when the man reaches out and pulls her close yet again, she lets it happen, lets him hold her tight to his breastplate not unlike the way that Papa used to all those lifetimes ago. The thought tears at her heart but for the first time in ages, she doesn’t shove it down or refuse to acknowledge it—she only sobs harder against leather and steel and his grip tightens like he’s afraid he’ll lose her as she spirals into herself.

This was not how this was supposed to go. It’s not how any of this was supposed to go.

Ryoma and Hinoka and Mama were supposed to find them by now because they were supposed to care that they were taken from them—supposed to come as soon as they heard that Papa was gone and he was never coming back. Ryoma was supposed to help teach them the sword, and Mama to comfort them when they returned; Hinoka was supposed to tease them for being so short and Takumi was supposed to hold on and never let go. She’s supposed to be sitting in silence with her baby sister in the only quiet room in the entire castle, supposed to watch her take her first steps and help her into their tree in the back that overlooks the lake just before sunset so she can join them all in their weird little sibling tradition.

They were supposed to care.

But they don’t.

And as much as that small, innocent, stupid little voice in the back of her head wants to argue it, nothing the oldest Nohrian was saying is untrue; nothing he says is even anything she hasn’t thought before now—had thought for years.

There’s only so much one can hope for something before the truth dashes it all away.

Yet despite how badly the realization hurts—no longer clouded by her own denial, she finds herself realizing something else.

She got to watch Elise comfort her after a nightmare, to see Leo start to care about them enough to throw a duel and damage his pride. She’s gotten teased by Camilla for how ‘cute’ she is, to learn things from the older girl whenever she came to the Tower. She’s gotten to run around the rooms with Elise playing hide and seek and to play strategy games with Leo—has been comforted out of panic attacks by Camilla and sang to as she cried without judgement. With genuine concern.

And she has learned swordplay from someone, had learned basic battle tactics and a method for self-soothing involving exercise and weapons that she’d never have figured out on her own.

I have a family. I'm not alone.

I never have been.

She can feel when they settle back on his horse, when they start to move, but she can’t bring herself to care because those insistent whispers had finally been voiced, had finally become a reality now that they were spoken out loud.
Her family…they weren’t coming for her. They had chosen to leave them here, to ignore her pleas for her mother to hold her and sing her to sleep or her brother to take her into town to a potato stand. They left her, and now that it wasn’t some abstract concept that only existed in her head, she could ignore it no longer.

She cried until she had no more tears, cried while the road under them changed from packed dirt to rock, until she could keep her eyes open no longer. And eventually, when she is so exhausted she couldn’t stay awake any longer, she hears the Heir—no. She hears Xander say once last thing.

“It’s alright, little princess. We’re almost home.”

And for once, she believed him.

Chapter Text

When they arrive back at the Northern Fortress, the guards have been doubled and a static feeling of tension lay over the whole Tower. It only splits and shatters when she’s back in bed, mentally and emotionally exhausted and yet finally feeling better than she had in years.

The next day, after she wakes up, her encyclopedia sits on her nightstand like she’d never even left.

Ah. So that’s how they found us.

That, or Veth. Or those bandits that they spared. Really, they made a lot of mistakes, but none of it mattered anymore. For the first time in ages, she felt content.

At peace.

Shortly after she turns eleven, a new servant with vibrant blue hair and striking yellow eyes joins their small group of core servants. She’s especially fond of Corrin—and for this reason, Kamui likes her. Her name was Lilith.

She keeps training with Gunter, and she’s started mastering the basics of both the sword and the pole arm.

By the time she’s twelve years old, Kamui’s forgotten what her older brother's face looked like.

At thirteen, it no longer bothers her. Xander comes to train them every morning before the sun rises if he doesn’t have any assignments from the Grey Man, whom she’s started referring to as the King. She still doesn’t know how they avoided punishment from their little escape attempt, but the King’s wrath never came. Instead, there’s just training—sometimes with Leo, sometimes with Camilla, but always with Xander—and he’s relentless. He wouldn’t tolerate failure—probably because the last time he had she’d almost been killed. As the years go by, she grows much closer with him, his gentle demeanor reminding her of the father her brother never remembered. When Camilla dotes on her like she’s a small child instead of a young lady, she lets her, and when Elise and Leo call her big sister, (though one always says it sarcastically) she doesn’t correct them.

At some point she couldn’t quite identify, it had become truth.

When she had trouble sleeping, she'd do as she always did and watch Xander train into the early morning hours, taking notes on the different fighting forms and stances she saw and attempting to master them on her own. Eventually, the sound of wood on metal would lull her into something like a restful sleep. The nightmares eventually start to go away (though they never fade completely) and when her siblings come to visit, she made an actual effort to go and visit with them just like Corrin does. And eventually, that starts to makes her happy, too. So life continued like this, a life of quiet solitude where Jakob made her tea and the twins from the Ice Tribe served her her meals and did her laundry and Gunter tutored her until a private tutor from Castle Krakenburg took over as she grew out of his ability to teach her. A life where she grew up right next door to the boy who’s always been by her side and who’s laughter was as infectious as the magical plague that’d almost killed her, a life where Lilith packs her bag whenever she goes for a stroll with Leo or a ride with Camilla or, later, on outings with Elise. It’s an unremarkable, entirely boring, but peaceful means of existence where she got to spend all the time she could ever want with the people she loves.

Until two months after her sixteenth birthday—her real birthday, the one she’d finally shared with Xander just before she’d turned eleven.

“If either of you fail to win this duel, Father might truly keep you both here for the rest of time.”

It was not something she’d anticipated. Xander usually avoided talk of the King with her—and to an extent even around Corrin. It was like he was afraid of something, but that couldn’t possibly be right. Xander didn’t seem capable of fear.

But she was.

Just because she hadn’t ever tried to leave the Tower again doesn’t mean she liked it there: at times, she contemplated leaving and sat with her legs dangling in the shafts of the lift, shelf pulled from the wall just enough for her to do so. Jakob always found her then, and instead of talking, he’d just sit with his back against the wall for hours with her until she felt well enough to close it and return to her room for the night.

Much as they’d tried to wring it out of them, neither she nor Corrin ever explained how they’d left the Tower to begin with.

She shook her head, dispelling the thoughts. They weren’t going to help her now. Now, she had to win a fight against a legendary sword master in order to earn the right to leave

Xander does not go easy on them—in fact, this morning, he is even harder on them than he normally was, wielding Siegfried on his onyx-colored mount that he only ever used when he was serious about something.

He really means it: If we lose, we’ll have to stay here.

It puts a new vigor in her movements: they haven’t been allowed outside of the Tower grounds in over six years and she wasn’t going to lose that ever-present hope for freedom—real, true freedom that couldn’t be taken away at the whims of a cruel King. When Xander hits Corrin hard enough to make him lose his footing she steps in, blocking his next slash with her lance and shouting about the Dragon Vein so he can recover some of his strength. She blocks blow after blow from the sacred weapon, easily growing tired under the surreal speed of the bouts just as Corrin rejoins the fight, slashing at Xander quick enough that he’s forced to stop his assault on Kamui—which is good because she was steadily losing ground to him. She readjusts her grip on the lance, panting as she shifts positions away from the roof’s edge. Now that Corrin had his attention, she tries to focus on what to do next. There were no Dragon Veins she could use to harm or immobilize him up here, no special abilities of her weapon nor tomes she had on her (she had gotten decently good at wielding them in the last few years thanks to both Leo and Camilla).

What to do?

Whatever it was, it would need to be quick: Corrin was faring much as she had before his intervention: poorly.

A few moments later and she’s decided on a plan of action. She rushes forwards, leather boots making muffled thuds on the stones of the rooftop as she approached Xander with her lance raised high. He moved instinctually to parry her—and she changed the direction of her swing to hit his horse. She didn’t actually want to hurt his mount—she was quite fond of her—but he’d told them right after the fight started that they would have to actually try to kill him in order to win, and she was starting to realize he was right.

Realizing his mistake, Xander moves again at an almost inhuman speed to block her attempt at harming the mare, but Corrin jumps in right at this moment and in less than a moment his sword tip prods at the Crown Prince’s throat.

For a moment none of them move—not even Leo, who had been observing this all in silence. Then Xander offers them a broad smile and the tension from before is gone, replaced by exhaustion and relief.

“I am so proud of you two. You’ve grown worthy of your royal titles. I am sure Father will be pleased. That reminds me: he’s asked that I bring you before him should you win today’s bout. We will leave at once.”

Kamui’s head snaps back towards her oldest sibling. That…that would not go well. Not at all.

I wonder if he still wants me dead.

But if that were true, she would have been killed ages ago.

Right?

“Kamui?” she turns to face Leo, who looks her over with a calculated stare.

“I…sorry. I just…zoned out.”

She forces a laugh but it does little to ease the sudden tension she felt.

Leo’s head turns slightly to the side. “Typical. We woke the bear up too early from hibernation and it’s head is still caught in the den.”

“Leo—”

“Hahaha, I can’t believe you still remember that old joke,” Corrin jumps in, wiping some of the sleep out of his eyes.

“You’re one to talk,” she says with an annoyed frown, fighting the smile that was threatening to overtake her face. Corrin had refused to get out of bed until both Flora and Felicia had used their ice magic on him—and even then he’d still made them wait the better part of an hour to get ready.

“That’s enough poking at them, Leo. And Corrin, are you really in a position to laugh at that, all things considered?” The mounted man asks, face full of mirth.

“Wha-hey! I got up…eventually,” her twin replies through a yawn. She chuckles at that.

He’ll never change.

“Speaking of laughing,” and oh, she knew where this was going the moment Corrin’s head turned to look at Leo, “is there a reason your collar’s inside out?”

“Ugh, why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Leo rushes down the stairs, presumably to go fix his attire, and Corrin races back after him—probably to tease him some more. Kamui picks up Corrin’s discarded sword and moves to follow them, but is stopped by a hand on her shoulder. She turns to look into the concerned eyes of her brother, his other hand on the reins to his mount.

“Remember my promise, little princess. Nothing will happen.”

She blinks, surprised that he brought up those old words. Then she smiles. Xander never broke a promise. She had nothing to fear with her brothers and sisters by her side—not even the Grey Man that had tormented her in her nightmares as a child. She might not see him as a father, but it did not make the bonds she had with his children any less real.

“Thank you, Xander.”

He smiles at her reassuringly before nodding in the direction of the staircase. They had to get going.

“Come on, Come on!” Elise says, rushing through the great open hall that led to the throne room that Kamui hadn’t seen since—

Best not to dwell on that.

It was just as she remembered it. She had expected it all to seem less imposing than it had when she was a child, but Castle Krakenburg looked as intimidating as it ever had as she walked through it. Every hall they passed through a picture of dark splendor, rich in decoration and dark in design, lit only by those ever present torches placed in even intervals on the sconces in the walls. Just as had happened before, they took so many twists and turns, staircases up and down that she would be hopelessly lost if she had tried to navigate herself back out. Unlike last time, however, Corrin wasn’t angry with her, and he chatted them all up as they continued through the grim place, the dark seeming so much lighter with such a bright boy in their midst.

Kamui wasn’t blind to how out of place they still seem here. Their armor, a pale white and gold with matching blue capes starkly contrasted the Nohrians own attire. Xander and Camilla’s looked especially different than their own with the main colors of black and Xander’s long red cloak. But there they were, together in a place she’d have rather never returned to, happily discussing the last century’s architecture due to Leo’s insistence that the Castle’s interior was outdated.

“The outside of the castle has no doubt been updated to showcase some of the more well known Nohrian architects’ better works—on the southeast end, you can really see a structural motif to Abril Cano’s most recent design from the monastery north of Signum…”

Kamui wasn’t really that interested in the conversation, though. In fact, she currently wanted to be as far from the chat as she could because of where it took place: being here conjured up all sorts of bad memories that she’d have liked to stay buried deep in her psyche where she left them.

“Are you all right, dear?”

I’m worrying Camilla again.

“Sorry Camilla. I’m fine.”

She chuckles, reaching a hand out to smooth her long, wavy off-blonde hair. “There’s no need to apologize dear; I just wanted to make sure you were still in there.”

She smiles at the older woman, who’s now grown significantly taller than Kamui. At 24 years old, though, that made sense—not that Kamui would be growing much taller, anyways (if at all). Even Corrin had hit a growth spurt the year before that left her the shortest one of the five of them—and maybe of all six of them should Elise outgrow her someday, too.

Finally, they stand before the large metal door—the same one that haunted her dreams—that led to the throne room. A hand appears on her shoulder again, and while she knows it’s meant to be comforting, she can’t help but be reminded of that same hand on her shoulder all those years ago, cementing her place in front of the Grey Man—

He is not the Grey Man anymore, he is the King. And you will be fine.

They were in this together. This really would be fine.

As the door creaks open, she takes a deep breath just like she remembered doing, only this time, it makes her feel a little better.

It will be ok.

Chapter Text

The massive metal door slowly opens with a loud creak, exposing the whole of the throne room to the six royal Nohrian children—though in truth, how many of them could still actually be classified as children was up for debate. Even the interior here was exactly as she remembered it being: the elaborately decorated throne half a story higher than the ground level of the room, the deep red of the plush carpets, the jagged black spikes surrounding the wide, ornate chair itself. And the absolutely huge area the room encompassed. To the sides, she can just make out servants shrouded by the surreal darkness of the throne room’s interior, every head bowed in deference and, likely, fear.

He’s even dressed the same.

The six of them walk in the room and it’s like she stepped back in time—back to when she was half her current stature and had her hand twisted into a tight fist just to maintain control over her emotions. Nothing about this horrible place had changed at all—not even the man in charge. As if to further haunt her, she spots an ornate black axe casually resting against the throne as they come to a stop before the stairs that led up to the King.

Xander had long released her shoulder by this point, but his gaze finds hers again and when he kneels, she does as well. If there was a hint of relief in those brown eyes of his, neither of them acknowledge it in favor of looking up at the man before them, a reddish hue alighting dark, aging features that make the angles of his face and armor even more pronounced than they already were. Once again, she found herself prostrated before him and a part of herself hated her for it.

But most of her was just happy she’d lived long enough to even be here in the first place.

“Rise.”

A single word echoed throughout the large, dreary chamber like ice in a fire—there one moment, loud and commanding, and gone the next. She stands perhaps a bit too readily judging by the looks Leo and Elise shoot her, but she can’t really help it. The faster they got out of there, the better it would be for her mental state.

“You’ve beaten Xander. That’s no easy task. I am impressed.”

She waits for the punch line, for the but or snide remark, but none come. Admittedly, though, she’s off her game at reading people: she simply hadn’t spent enough time with the man (thank the goddesses) to be able to predict his reactions and words very easily.

Even if she’d known he was being sincere, she probably wouldn’t have reacted as Corrin does, however.

“Thank you, father. Your praise means a lot to us.”

Leave me out of this, please.

The King harrumphs, making her tense unknowingly. She hopes it’s not noticed.

“Today, you are worthy of joining our cause. As you know, we are at war with Hoshido, a country to the east,” he starts, looking over them with critical, appraising eyes.

…yes, she was aware. Camilla had let that slip once when Corrin had asked about her mission, mentioning some sort of magical barrier that prevented total warfare between the two nations. Honestly, she’d felt only relief, and not just because she felt bad about engaging her old country in battle: the Nohrians just didn’t have much to give. Even her and Corrin’s little escapade (that, she’d found out, had somehow been kept from the King’s notice) had shown as much: dying crops, abandoned villages, bandits running rampant amongst the poor, sickly children, corrupted landscapes and forests. The people here simply wouldn’t be able to handle warfare—they were too weak and broken down.

“As of today, you will join your siblings as generals. To do so you will need weapons to accommodate such a role, so…”

He flicks his wrist and two black shapes materialize just paces from the both of them.

“These are weapons infused with power from another realm. To Corrin, I grant you the Ganglari. I’ve been told you are better suited to pole arms, so to you, Cyrille, I grant the poleaxe, Fengr.”

She tentatively reaches a hand out and wraps it around Fengr’s shaft, marveling at how lightweight the weapon appears to be despite its size and the ominous dark energy surrounding it.

“Destroying any Hoshidan who dares cross your path will be of no consequence with such weapons.”

“Thank you for the generous gifts, father,” Corrin says with a resolute smile, testing the weight of the Ganglari in his hand.

She hears Xander hum from besides her and looks up to him in question, but he pays her no mind, opting to stare at Corrin’s blade. “Generous indeed…”

The way he says it has her wanting to throw Fengr as far from them as humanly possible. The King was not known for his generosity.

What’s this going to cost us?

“Now, to test the true strength of these weapons…”

He gestures to the servants near the walls without paying them so much as a glance.

“Fetch me the prisoners!”

Ah. Our morality.

Turning, she spots several Nohrian guards bring in four armed Hoshidans into the room from one of the many doors on the walls. Two of them are the obvious leaders, their clothing and demeanor indicative of people used to issuing commands. One is a blonde woman with either tattoos or heavy duty face paint decorating her cheeks with splashes of red, her attire unlike anything Kamui’d ever seen. Large beads hang from around her neck and a heavy club rests in her muscular hand. It’s clear from the way she holds herself that she knew how to use it. The other leader is a green haired young man—it makes something in the back of her mind tickle at the way he looks, but she can’t quite place why. He’s dressed in light leather armor fit for a ninja, and judging by the thin metal blades that are strapped across his chest and waist and the two sickle-like ones attached like gauntlets to his arms, that’s exactly what he is.

Not a very good one if he got himself caught behind enemy lines.

She knew what the King wanted from them before he even says it.

“These are prisoners from the most recent battle we’ve had with Hoshido. I want you two to show me the power I’ve heard so much about.”

She nods reluctantly, frowning at the weapon resting in her hand. Jakob and Gunter push themselves to their sides.

“Allow us to assist you, my lady,” Jakob says, voice as smooth as silk.

I remember when he was as horrible at sucking up to the nobility as he was at making coffee.

But look at him now.

“I’ll be your shield, Lord Corrin,” Gunter says, his mount brought to him by one of the silent servants before they disappear back into the shadows.

The arena was prepared as easily as it had been all those years ago, though debris covered parts of the Dragon Vein now. She feels it through the soles of her shoes and it serves to calm her as she stands across from the Hoshidans.

“I am Rinkah of the Flame Tribe! What are your names, Nohrians?” The woman bellows, her booming voice demanding her attention. Kamui is in no mood to humor her, but to her surprise, Corrin responds with a loud, even voice:

“My name is Corrin.”

They offer no reaction other than a nod (and a sneer once they realize she won’t respond). Then the King calls for them to begin and they do. The first thing Kamui does is race towards the spot she can feel the Dragon Vein calling to her, pressing a hand to it as she skids in place. It causes an ethereal chime to sound in the room and out of the corner of her eye, she sees the King nod in approval and she almost wishes she hadn’t used it at all. Still, it makes the debris fly out of a small alcove in the center of the arena (debris she’s now certain was put there specifically for this test) and it reveals an area that she instinctively knows will heal their injuries should they stay in it for a period of time. That could be useful, depending on how skilled their opponents were. The man she watches carefully because he is fast—almost too fast for her eyes to track, but she manages. She can tell they are both exhausted, their slow, lethargic movements all too revealing. It made sense, if they were kept in a dungeon before this for some indefinite period of time. She hears a clash to her right and watches as Corrin and Jakob take on one of the two other soldiers, face gaunt and eyes sunken into his face.

It makes an uncomfortable feeling of pity surface and it distracts her long enough that the other soldier had time to lift his sword to fight her, but he’s much too slow to be of any real threat. She meets his blow swing for swing and pushes him off of her with a strength, that, judging by the shock in his eyes, he hadn’t expected her to be capable of. As she moves to land the finishing slice, that pity clouds her senses again and she spins the tip of the poleaxe to strike him with the hammer instead of its blade, striking him hard enough to knock the man unconscious, but not to kill him. The ninja watches all of it with rapt attention before closing in himself, throwing a thin blade that she just narrowly dodges before going on a tangent about how his weapons could sap her strength and kill her slowly as if he was trying to impart this information upon her instead of just, say, fight for his life.

He’s not very quiet, for a ninja.

Maybe that’s why he got caught.

They take turns dodging each others strikes and she can’t help but feel as if he’s trying to find something in the way she moves. It’s almost unsettling how his eyes burrow into her head like his do, but it doesn’t last for very long, because as she has him distracted, Gunter comes and slams his lance into the man’s side, tossing him across the floor like he weighed nothing.

It was not a good idea to underestimate Gunter.
With that, she realizes, the fight is as good as over. None of their four opponents can lift their weapons (or are close enough to then to even try it), and they all appeared sufficiently cowed. She turns to Corrin and he beams at her with a smile that rivaled the summer sun.

“Whew…I hope that not all the Hoshidans we face are that strong,” Corrin pants, exhausted from his bout with the Flame tribeswoman. He lets the tip of the Ganglari rest upon the floor, the hilt held loosely between the fingers of his right hand. By this point, the servants had moved the two unconscious soldiers closer to them so their bodies rested behind their leaders. Kamui wonders why for only moments before King Garon speaks again.

“What are you doing, you idiots? Finish them off!”

It’s said as an order, his face contorted in that same rage she remembers from those years ago—and it takes everything in her not to flinch under the intensity of his gaze.

“But…they’re defeated. They aren’t even armed anymore. You’re telling me to execute defenseless people?” Corrin says uncertainly, eyeing the prisoners with the same pity she’d felt during the skirmish.

“Fool! Kill them. That’s an order!”

Corrin…

She doesn’t like the idea of killing people in cold blood like this—especially those who have already laid down their arms—but what other choice did they have? Not even Xander would defy the King. Surely Corrin would—

“I won’t! It’s not right!”

—not see reason and challenge the literal King of a castle in his own thrown room surrounded by armed soldiers and three generals of his army. That made sense.

Then Corrin turned to look at her, and she cursed the day they were both born—

Damn it, Corrin!

—because she was an idiot, too. Planting the butt of her poleaxe into the stone below her, she signaled without words that she would not kill them, either. They both nod to each other and turn to look at the King, who had an ugly looking vein popping out of his sickly-looking forehead.

Not good.

“I will not argue this with you.”

The king summoned a tome (she didn’t know that was even possible) and casted some sort of spell that struck the two unconscious men where they lay, killing them unceremoniously with a few jagged bolts of conjured lightning. She hears one of them scream in agony before it’s cut off by his own death, the noise sure to haunt her nightmares for years to come.

When she watches him move to do it again her body moves faster than she really has the time to process, and as the dust settles she realizes with growing horror that she had blocked the King’s attack set to kill the remaining two prisoners. She hears the green haired ninja hum in confusion behind her and her oldest brother mutter “unbelievable” under his breath. Elise gasps and moves to run forwards but is stopped by Camilla, who’s one visible eye widens in alarm.

“You would defy me directly, Cyrille?!”

She lets the silence and her twin—who walks forward to stand in front of the two Hoshidans together with her—be her answer. She sees the flash of panic in her older brother’s gaze before it’s gone, and he’s turned on a heel in less than a moment.

“Father, forgive them! They do not yet understand Nohr’s position.”

The King’s eyes flatten and for a second, she’s a decade younger and he’s no longer the King, but the Grey Man.

“Then you kill the prisoners, and anyone else who gets in your way as you do it.”

Faced with no other alternative, the oldest Nohrian child walks towards them slowly but deliberately, Siegfried drawn and glowing with anticipation for the fight to come.

Very, very, very not good.

“Corrin, Kamui, stand down,” Xander orders firmly. They do not, but upon hearing her real name, one of the prisoners gasps.

“No…it cannot be,” the green haired man utters in shock.

Kamui doesn’t turn, not sure what he’s talking about and not daring to take her eyes off of her brother and his arcane weapon.

They’re at a standstill with them on one side guarding the defenseless, exhausted prisoners of war and Xander on the other, an expression between a wince and a scowl plastered on his face as he’s turned away from the King. He takes another step forwards and she wonders if the next will signal her last breath.

No…he promised.

But the next step never comes. In her own fear and determination, she failed to notice her other siblings—namely Leo, who had unholstered Brynhildr and uses it now in a blinding display of magic, ensnaring the two remaining Hoshidans in a thick web of conjured trees.

“Leo! How could you?!” Corrin shouts. Leo ignores him.

“Father, I’ve dispatched the prisoners in place of our soft-hearted siblings. I ask that you be lenient with their punishment,” Leo says, bowing in the king's direction.

Garon grunts, waving at them dismissively. “I can’t think about that right now. Get out. We will discuss this matter later.”

The two of them are ushered out of the throne room by their siblings, and Kamui remains silent during the confrontation, allowing Leo to explain that he didn’t actually kill them. She had figured as much when she saw him attack; she was half decent with tomes and it didn’t look like he’d put much power behind the spell as he’d casted it—of course, with the divine (were they divine or sacred?) weapons, nothing was guaranteed. Only the gods knew how strong Xander had become with the power granted to him by Siegfried.

“What were you thinking?!” Xander asks them after they leave the throne room.

“We were being merciful, brother. Being kind,” Corrin says with conviction and a ferocity that’s almost out of place on his face.

“That kindness will get you killed, little prince.”

Corrin remained undeterred. “Maybe so, but if I’m killed because of it, then I will die without regret.”

Xander closes his eyes at that, letting out a sigh that’s a mix of relief and frustration. The look on his face mirrors that of his ‘Kamui look’ that Leo had teased her about for years.

I’d prefer if you didn’t die at all.

Chapter Text

Kamui sits on a couch with Camilla and Elise on either side of her. They’re in Elise’s quarters; the girl had insisted that, after their argument with the King over the fates of the prisoners, they “lie low” for a period while he “cools his head”. Kamui silently disagreed with the notion—the King was a cold man, and the time spent away from him seemed unlikely to do much to persuade him to do anything in regards to making their punishment more lenient—but she could tell Elise was excited by the prospect of showing them around the castle, so she had agreed. Elise’s quarters consisted of her own privy, her bedroom, and a large sitting room. This is where the five of them (sans Xander as he had excused himself to look through the dead prisoners’ belongings) sit now: with Corrin sprawled across the chair across from them, shoes lost at the door as was his habit.

He was still boyish in that way and in his demeanor; it seemed little had changed about him since their youth—though one could say they were still both rather young. She was currently reading a very dull book on Nohrian law, but was not very invested in it. Could not be might actually be a more accurate description seeing as Elise bombarded her with questions about—well, just about everything.

“Do you like it here?”

“I’m not sure yet, Elise.”

“Have you seen your quarters yet?”

“No.”

“Do you want to go see them?”

“I thought we were ‘laying low’?”

“Not that low! Plus, I’m sure Father wouldn’t care if we went to your rooms—wait, actually, never mind, I want to show you the courtyards first, and—”

“Elise, dear, how about we just relax here for a while whilst we wait for Xander to return?” Camilla cut in, hands shifting to accommodate the material she was using to knit…something.

Is it even called knitting?

She wasn’t very good at things like that. Camilla had tried to show her how, once, but she’d somehow ended up tangled in the fabric (was it fabric?) that she was working with. Leo hadn’t let her live that down for years afterwards.

“Oh YEAH, I forgot! He won’t know where to find us if we wander off, huh?”

That was true enough; though the four of them rarely got lost in Castle Krakenburg anymore, the fact that you could live somewhere your entire life and it was still even a possibility was outrageous to think about. The castle truly was huge. She remembers just how much it had altered her perspective all those years ago.

She tries not to dig any deeper into that memory.

“Hey, Kamui?” Corrin calls from his chair, “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

She cocks her head, making a questioning noise in her throat.

Talk? Why can’t we just talk in here?

She opens her mouth to say as much, but shuts it once she notices his expression. It’s like his smile was forced—a look all too unnatural on his face.

There’s something bothering him

But what, though? The King hadn’t even given them their punishment yet—and with their siblings all in the castle, whatever it ended up being couldn’t possibly be that terrible. Xander wouldn’t let it. He’d promised as much. Still, it was clear that something was eating at him judging by the look in his eyes. She had lived so long with him that even his more subtle cues she could pick up on easily—or at least easier than the others could.

So instead of arguing with him, she closes her book and stands, stretching her arms above her head before placing it on the couch where she had been sitting.

“Wanna go for a walk then? We have to explore this place sometimes—might as well be now,” she says through a yawn, cracking her neck as she turns her head.

“Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks,” and the smile he gives her is much more genuine this time.

“Whaaaat? No fair, I wanted to do that together!” Elise pouts. Leo—who had thus far remained engaged in his own book in the chair next to Camilla suddenly sighs.

“Elise, let them be: you were just as eager to go off on your own when you first got permission to explore the castle grounds, too,” but she doesn’t miss the quirked eyebrow he shoots her—nor his glance back over at Corrin, either. ‘is everything alright?’ it seemed to ask. Sometimes, she greatly appreciated his ability to be discrete.

“We’ll be fine, Elise,” and though she’s addressing the younger girl, she’s really answering Leo. Judging by the subtle nod of his head, he seemed to understand, and he relaxes further into the chair—though he doesn’t lay across it like Corrin had.

“Be back before dinner, you two,” Camilla says simply, smiling at them gently.

“We will!” Corrin answers, grinning back at her with a mouth full of teeth.

As they leave Elise’s room, Corrin’s smile doesn’t fade, and it puts her at ease. Whatever was wrong with him wasn’t serious enough to take away his joy. But as they continued through the halls, his face relaxes into something more contemplative. It was a curious look on him. Leo sometimes joked that Corrin was daft, but the both of them knew that wasn’t actually true—sure, he had the tendency to do somewhat impulsive things (the time he’d ‘borrowed’ Camilla’s wyvern when her back was turned being the first thing that comes to mind), but he was observant in a way few people had the ability or patience to be, and it allowed him to catch things that many others wouldn’t see.

Typically, however, he would share anything he learned in this way freely—which is why their silent walk through the expansive and nonsensical halls of Castle Krakenburg was so curious.

“Do…do you remember when we were in that tree? That time we got out, I mean?”

She notices the careful phrasing, the way his eyes scanned their surroundings before he spoke.

Ah. He’s worried someone might listen in; the King doesn’t know about our little escapade, after all.

She’d like to think that even if he found out, it wouldn’t matter—it was over six years ago at this point. What harm had it ultimately done? But few things the King did made sense to her. She forces herself out of that line of thought to listen as he speaks again:

“I told you then that we should get out and—well, you remember. But do you remember why?”

She almost trips over nothing, her mind elsewhere as she repeats his words in her head like a mantra. She’s able to catch herself before she does—but he surely notices her falter.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you: it’s just that I had another dream that kind of reminded me of it, y’know?”

She feels numb.

Why now?

“I didn’t really think it meant anything until Father mentioned who we were at war with,” Why now, why now?! “It was just too weird. But…after he said that, it made me realize that it might actually matter. Can I tell you about it?”

She feels herself nod mechanically. She’s glad she’s had so much practice concealing things from her twin—and part of her hates herself for it. But he continues as if nothing strange had happened.

“There was this huge battlefield and thousands of soldiers, right? But I was on the wrong side: I could see Leo and Xander and Camilla and Elise on the other side. They were still happy to see me, I think, but it was really foggy, so it’s kind of hard to tell. But that wasn’t the weirdest part,” he says, voice growing softer, “the strangest thing were the people around me: they were dressed so strangely and went by the most outlandish names, but even weirder than that was that these people knew my name and kept calling me ‘brother’. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was fighting alongside them, but that can’t possibly be right.”

They stop at the next corner—it was a long hallway with an open end that led, impossibly, to a beautiful looking courtyard full of fresh flowers and huge trees. How they lived without sunlight was not even close to the most alarming thing on her mind at that moment, however.

“I don’t know why I felt the need to share it…I guess I just wanted to know if you’ve had anything like that happen recently, too. I mean, it's not like it matters, right?”

Kamui’s pretty sure that she stopped breathing at some point—and now with him looking at her again, the façade was getting harder to keep up. What was she supposed to say? Was there even a right answer to that question?

She opens her mouth. Closes it once she meets his eyes. His face scrunches up in confusion, and he cocks his head at her.

Is it wrong not to tell him something that would only make him miserable?

“Are you alright, little princess?”

She stirs, surprised at the voice of the newcomer to her right. Turning, she finds she can’t quite meet his eyes—which makes him tense ever so slightly.

“I…”

She shuts her mouth again, opting to look up at the moon again. Sighing heavily, she turns away from Xander and looks back to Corrin.

“It probably doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a dream, after all.”

Relief lights up his features, and he smiles back at her even as that little voice in the back of her head screamed at her to take it back, to finally tell him. But it was too late now. He was happy here, and now, finally, so was she. Why mess it all up for some harmless dream?

Right? Right?!

“Oh, good. I was worried there for a moment. Sorry, Xander…oh, wait, did you want to talk to her or something? Don’t worry, I know how to get back by myself if you do,” he says reassuringly, smiling his innocent little smile. For some reason, it makes the guilt eat further into the gaping hole in her chest that her own words had just carved out.

“…yes, I suppose I did. We may be a while, little prince. Please inform the others.”

“Alright! See you! Thanks for the chat, Kamui!” and with that, he runs off, heedless of the decorum he’s supposed to have as a Nohrian prince.

A Nohrian prince…

She doesn’t turn to look at Xander, and after a moment, he turns to look up into the sky as she does, but they can see little from so deep in the castle, the only light provided by the torchlight from the sconces nearby. A breeze from above makes her shiver, and she closes her eyes, stuck in her own head.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He couldn’t know what they were speaking about. She wonders what he would say if he did.

“I think I just did something unforgivable.”

The anxiety in her voice is palpable, and now that she’s said it the reality of what she’s just done hits her like a blow from a hammer, causing her to suck in a breath. For his part, Xander merely glances back at her before turning back to the courtyard.

“I was going to go practice for a while. Would you care to join me?”

Her shoulders shake in mirthless laughter.

I don’t deserve to. I don’t deserve anything after that.

“Yes,” she answers instead.

He nods and leads the way, travelling back and then down a different hall than the ones she and Corrin traversed to get to the courtyard. It seems like an eternity that they travel, leaving her to stew in her own, bubbling thoughts. By the time they arrive at a large, plain looking training yard (that’s strangely devoid of any other person), her thoughts are close to boiling over—and she’s about as close to an anxiety attack as she’s been in six years. It’s infuriating to feel like such a child again, but there she was, doing just that. He must notice her horribly nervous energy, but he doesn’t comment on it, opting instead to toss her a sword. He says nothing when she fumbles the catch and nothing when he notices the tremble in her arm. They exchange several bouts, and even though her head isn’t in it, he doesn’t reprimand her like he normally would.

They continue past the point she’s normally stand for such a thing—past the point that she has trouble keeping her arm up and past the point that she can keep it steady in already unstable hands. It could be hours. It probably was, actually, considering how much lighter the sky grew as they continued. She’s panting by the time she puts the blade down, sitting unceremoniously on the ground against one of the cement pillars in a corner of the room. It’s there that she rests her head in her hands, elbows on top of armored knees as she sat in silence.

After a few moments of silence, she hears Xander follow suit, and soon, he’s knelt a few paces from her, face the picture of concern—and it does nothing for her unease. Now that she’s too exhausted for panic, too tired to cry or scream or do anything but sit there, chest heaving from exercise, she wilts, the words tumbling out before she can overthink them to the point that she bottles it all up as she usually did.

“I think Corrin started to remember, and I told him it didn’t matter. That it meant nothing.”

Xander’s eyes widen for just a fraction of a second before they relax back to his previous look.

“I see.”

They sit there in silence and she lets her head thump quietly against the pillar to her back. He looks like he’s considering his words before he speaks up again.

“If it helps, I think you did the right thing.”

Her eyes snap to his with disbelief. He sighs, some of the exhaustion he must also feel creeping into his eyes.

“Do you remember what you said to me on the roof during your first year at the Northern Fortress?”

She blinks, not expecting his words. He continues quietly, voice low enough that even in the silence it would only be heard by someone within a few paces of him.

“I had asked you why you hadn’t told him what you’d known then. What’s eating at you now,” he explains quietly, “and your answer was that it wouldn’t make him happy. Let me pose you this question now: would knowing the truth truly make him happier?”

Her breath catches in her throat. That’s…

His eyes soften. “What do you think is the first thing that he would do now, if he knew?”

Her eyes widen. It wasn’t something she had considered before, but…

What would he do?

What did Corrin always do when presented with an injustice?

She gasps in realization, fear suddenly clutching her heart. “He’d confront the King.”

Xander frowns slightly at her choice in words—try as he might, he had never been able to get her to refer to the King as her father—but he nodded all the same.

“That’s right. I think you know just as well as I do how poorly that has the potential to go.”

She averts her eyes, torn.

“But…I feel so horrible about it. How could keeping this from him be the right thing to do?”

“I think you answered that yourself on that rooftop.”

She thinks about it. If she came clean, then what? He learns the truth, learns she’d been keeping it from them all this time and that, worse, the King had been keeping it from him, too. That whatever was done to make him forget was likely on purpose. That he had as much right to hate him as she did.

But what would it really change? The only real thing it would accomplish would be angering him enough to challenge the King again—and she had no doubt about what would happen if he did that again.

After all, she’d already tried and paid the price for it.

“He’s going to find out eventually, I think,” she says, suddenly tired.

Xander closes his eyes. “I will protect him from that if I can, but if not…”

When he opens them, his eyes grow distant. “If not, then I pray we are far from here if it comes to that.”

He turns back to her and offers her a half-hearted smile.

“Thank you for doing the right thing, little princess.”

This did not feel like the right thing. But talking to him had made her feel better—and perhaps making hard choices that you know are ultimately for the best was part of being a leader.

Those dreams don't mean anything. The one with...it didn't matter. It didn't happen.

When he stands and offers a hand to help her up, she takes it—and prays to every god and goddess she can think of that Xander is right.

Chapter Text

“Elise, I’m not sure about this…”

The three of them stand outside of the throne room again three days after the fight took place. Kamui wonders if the makeshift arena in front of the raised platform where the chair sat is still set up or if it will look like the fight never happened in the first place. The evening after the test, Xander had released the two remaining prisoners and the green-haired man had looked them over critically one last time before he was off. He hadn’t spoken a word. The woman—Rinkah, if she remembered correctly—had been irate. She went on and on about how she considered their release a slight and how they were soft-hearted fools who should have killed her when they had the chance, but Corrin had only responded to her with a smile before telling her that he hoped that, should they meet again, it would be over a hot cup of tea as friends.

Kamui had said nothing, still reeling over the fact that her head was indeed still attached to her neck. When they had defied the King directly, she had been certain they were signing their lives away—and for Corrin, that was all right with her. She had to protect him; he was too good for this cruel world they’d found themselves in. If both of them irritated the King, he’d probably just kill the one he liked the least, and Kamui had no doubts about which one of them that was.

“Don’t worry,” Elise’s soft voice breaks through her thoughts, “I’m sure this will work. All you have to do is say you’re sorry—he has to forgive you.”

Kamui frowns uncertainly. She’s not so easily convinced of the man’s goodwill—but Elise had had a point when she’d brought it up to them earlier. Apparently, if he was displeased with the older Nohrians, he would send them out on missions in exchange for his forgiveness. Considering that not being forgiven likely equated to death or worse, she’d rather they just get this over with. Pride was worth less than nothing in the face of your own mortality—and especially in the face of Corrin’s.

Heavy laughter from inside the room before them draws her attention, and she turns to look at Corrin uncertainly.

“F-father, we’d like to talk to you about something,” Elise calls, voice progressively more assertive as her words continue.

“Hmm? What is it that you want?”

“Well, the three of us wanted to say sorry! Right guys?”

“Yes. We apologize for defying you,” she says as tonelessly as possible—mostly because she’s not actually sorry and doesn’t want to be there.

“Hmph. Enter.”

The doors swing open and thud heavily on the interior of the room against thick stone walls. If she hadn’t known about the plethora of servants, she’d have said that the doors had opened of their own accord. The three of them enter the room slowly, waiting to hear the metal of the doors scrape against stone before moving at all. Kamui decides she hates this place—the throne room and the castle. Too many bad memories, now, or at least things (and the person) that evoked them. They stop at the bottom of the stairs—but because this was a less formal audience with him, they aren’t required to kneel (Elise had informed her of this on the way there; she must not have been very covert about her distaste for it a few days ago).

“You two defied a direct order from me, your king,” Garon starts, permanent scowl chiseled onto his face like skin had turned to stone, “had you been anyone else, you would already be dead.”

A part of her wonders why he bothers with this—no number of fake actions or forced words would ever convince her that he actually cared for them, yet there had to be a point to it all. Just who was he trying to deceive? The others? Corrin? And to what end?

It means we are still pawns for some reason, though, and I want to know why.

“We know, Father,” Corrin answers, suppressing a wince. Perhaps he already had Corrin fooled—but why did that even matter? Why go through this entire game of trying to convince them that he was their father, why “adopt” them at in the first place?

Why are we still here, why does he care at all?

Emotionally, he didn’t: this much was obvious to her when she woke up from that never-ending dream all those years ago in the Northern Fortress. But logically…what could the point of all of this even be?

“Still, you are my children. Because of this,” he says, his head resting boredly in his hand, “I will give you a mission. Should you successfully complete it, your crimes will be pardoned.”

“Truly? What sort of mission?” Corrin asks attentively, excited by the mere prospect of pleasing this horrible man. She barely manages to keep the scowl from her face.

It’s not his fault. Play along.

“There’s an old military outpost on the Hoshidan border at the Bottomless Canyon. I intend to repair it, should it still be in functioning condition. I require you to survey it for any damages and then report back to me. There shouldn’t be any need for a battle—last I’ve heard, the entire area had been abandoned by both Nohrian and Hoshidan forces. That is all.”

“We will see that it is done, Father,” Corrin says with a determined nod.

The King huffs, then waves him off. “We shall soon see, boy. Now, get out of here. You have one week to bring back the results I need.”

“I don’t like this,” Leo says quietly, watching Corrin pack out of the corner of his eye. Kamui nods wordlessly, her own bag already slung over one shoulder.

“I know. But we have to do this. I’ll make sure he’s safe,” she answers, voice like steel. Leo’s eyes flicker to hers and he sighs, shaking his head before turning back to look at their brother.

“He’s not the reason I’m worried about this…that fellow that Gunter mentioned was tagging along…”

Ah yes, Hans. The same man who’d have killed Corrin in a second if he’d been given half the chance.

The bodyguard that the King had so graciously provided them with.

She closes her eyes, taking in a breath. “It can’t be helped. He said fighting wasn’t required for this, but…”

Leo nods gravely, still facing straight ahead.

“Father said we couldn’t assist you with your mission—but he said nothing about what happens after it. I have my own to attend to, but it shouldn’t be long and it’s near the Hoshidan border as well,” he stands up a little straighter—maybe just to prove to himself that he was indeed just the slightest bit taller than her, “so just try and hold out until we can reach you, alright?”

She certainly wasn’t going to refuse his help. She offers him a smile, “thanks for the help Leo.”

He smirks at her with a confidence that only he could manage. “I only offered because I know you’ll need it,” he teases, smile broadening as he speaks. She rolls her eyes at him but laughs anyways.

“Ok, I think I’m all set!” Corrin says, slinging his own pack over one shoulder. It had the basic necessities—minus food of course. Clothes, tools to start a fire, flasks of water and the like. But Kamui had also seen him pack that “masterpiece” they had created when they were children.

Whatever makes him comfortable, I guess.

She just hopes that, when it’s time, he’ll be ready to fight. She’s not exactly sure what they’re going to be walking into, but she wants to be prepared for anything. Maybe it really was as the King said and they would just be assessing the state of a building. She’d gotten a list of things to check for earlier that day from Camilla (it included, surprisingly, an inventory of remaining caltrops in the fortification) just in case this happened to be true—she was not going to go all the way there only to come back with nothing or to deliver the wrong information. But really, it isn’t what she’s expecting.

There has to be some catch to this. There’s no way this would be that easy.

Even Xander had said that this fort should be abandoned, though. The King had not been lying to them in this regard—so what was the problem?

Am I just being paranoid?

Maybe. But she would be ready. She had to be.

They make it to border without incident. That was to be expected, of course—no one in their right mind would attack a convoy flying the Nohrian royal banner. Not even the most organized bandits or the extremely desperate would throw their lives away so readily, even knowing that they would be well-supplied. Why? Because there was no telling who would be leading the group. Everyone in Nohr probably knew who Xander was (though perhaps not what he looked like)—and no one wanted to be on the wrong end of Siegfried should he come to the wrong conclusion about them. That purple and gold banner all but assured their safety through Nohrian controlled territory.

Hans wasn’t the only one who accompanied them, however. To help with the domestic side of things, Lilith and Jakob had also come along—as well as Gunter, who taught them practical weapon maintenance. As they had no real intentions of starting a fight, the six of them comprised their entire group…there was no need to waste extra soldiers on a reconnaissance mission—though soldiers Nohr was in no short supply of. In fact, Kamui would go further: they were something Nohr had in abundance. This was because, in Nohr, it was among the most stable occupations one could choose for themselves. They conscripted people too, she’s told, but typically it wasn’t necessary. With the poor, corrupted soil that covered much of Nohr and the vile, blackened trees, many jobs simply weren’t possible to do—farming, logging, and even baking among them.

Much of the population turned to banditry simply because there was no other option other than to serve in the military. It paid decently enough to support a family, if you were mindful of your expenses, and there was never any real danger of losing your job.

Assuming you stayed alive, that is.

“Woah! It really is bottomless! Kamui, do you see this?!”

Corrin’s shock pulls her from her musings, and she looks up from the map that Gunter’s been teaching her to navigate to see that they’ve finally arrived. Before them is a sight that may as well have been directly from her picture book: the Bottomless Canyon in all of its infinite glory—and infinite depths. Ahead, bridges sit at odd, crumbling intervals and angles and they lead from jagged, rocky islands that—had she not been able to see where they shot out from the center of the world—seemed to float in the air. They are surrounded by mountains and storm clouds—clouds Gunter claimed would strike down anything that attempted to fly too far above the canyon. To offer his words some merit, there appeared to be no birds in sight.

She still felt…uneasy about all of it, though. In the books she’s read, this place was always depicted so beautifully, despite what was said about it. But now that she’s actually here, she has this sense of foreboding that’s starting to eat at her nerves. In lieu of replying, she walks to the bridge, staring down to the bottom—or, at least where the bottom should be.

There’s nothing there…

Deciding she doesn’t like this place, she starts tentatively walking across the bridge. It’s rickety and old, but surprisingly sturdy as long as she steps in the right places and avoids the areas with missing planks. Absurdly, she wishes she didn’t have any shoes on—the weathered wood looked so smooth that she wanted to feel it on her skin. She looks back to Corrin, who smiles at her reassuringly as he starts to follow suit.

Let’s just get this over with.

Lilith had stayed behind—she wasn’t really a fighter, after all, and she didn’t want to drag the poor woman through the trek across such a dangerous looking place if she didn’t have to, so it’s just the five of them that move from bridge to bridge, island to island where instead of water flowed cold, heavy air from someplace far below. The silence felt charged—and it must have to Corrin, too, because he doesn’t try to fill it with small talk as he’d normally do. Instead, their legs do the talking and the bridges the responding.

Creak, creak, thud, thud. The occasional whoosh of air, the sharp inhale one of them lets out when a plank shifts or board bends under the weight of Gunter’s horse.

I wonder if such heavy armor was truly a wise choice for this excursion.

“Something’s not right,” Gunter says quietly, his horse stopping on the bridge they’ve started to cross.

Glancing up at the man in alarm, she tenses—though she can see nothing that would indicate anything amiss. She looks around carefully—in the near distance, there appeared to be an old fortification (probably the place they were looking to survey), but beyond the occasional leaf or the sway of the bridges, there wasn’t anything she could see that was even moving—

Wait.

It’s then that she spots it: the subtle shifting of a person behind one of the few trees that grew from one of the islands, roots half visible from where they stuck out from its side and into the chasm below.

“Damn. This place is not abandoned after all.”

“Who goes there?! Answer me!”

But the man who called that out was cut off by a much louder, more powerful voice:

“Stop, Nohrians! Should you continue, you’d violate our treaty. This is Hoshidan land! Turn around at once!”

“This is bad. How do you wish to respond, my lady?” Jakob says from somewhere behind her. She doesn’t turn to look at him as she responds in a low voice, instead glancing at Corrin—who’d frozen in place beside her.

“There’s no helping it: if the place isn’t actually unoccupied, it’s of no use to the King anyways,” she reasons quietly, “I think we should turn around.”

He nods once. “Good call. I’m sure Father will understand; he did say that no fighting was necessary.”

Yes…he had said that, but…

“Hmph. I don’t think so. Die!”

Before any of them can react, the Hans fellow has run ahead of them all, axe upraised and at the ready.

“No!” Corrin calls, arm outstretched to make a grab at him before he did something they would all regret.

But it was too late.

The man she’d spotted across the bridge, the one behind the blackened tree falls in a heap on the ground, too surprised at the sudden attack to have drawn his sword in defense. In other words, a soldier under the Nohrian royal banner has just assaulted a Hoshidan warrior on Hoshidan soil. At the sound of the man’s anguished scream, Hoshidans pour out of the fortification, weapons at the ready in preparation for the coming fight.

Gods, what has he done?

Gunter sighs heatedly, obviously irritated. “It’s too late to do anything but engage them now—if we try to leave their bowmen will pick us off from behind. Stay together!”

And with that, the fight began. Hans went off on his own, slaughtering Hoshidans left and right with that same blood covered axe. It reminds her uncomfortably of the throne room, of her brother’s shocked face, of creating that glacier using the Dragon Vein to throw the man across the room…

But none of that would help them now.

Instead, she prepares to fight, drawing Fengr. The sickly looking blade at the shafts end pulses in her hand with its otherworldly power, alighting the entire weapon with deep, purple energy from sources unknown. As the first Hoshidan draws nearer to them, she hefts the shaft up, still in awe of its light weight. It was a man armed with a katana—the style of blade pulled from memories she’d hoped were long gone—and he is not trained very well. He should not have tried to engage her like this—her weapon has a greater reach than his own, and she’s sent him sprawling before he can even swing his blade. It takes less than another moment to knock the man unconscious—she wasn’t going to kill him, wasn’t going to kill any of these people who were just trying to do their jobs.

Corrin makes quick work of the next one—this one wielding a naginata that, despite his weapon disadvantage, he has no issues with. The soldiers here were not trained very well, it seemed.

I wonder if they came here to practice? It was supposed to be abandoned…

That, or all those “reports” that had supposedly been written about this place were falsified. It wouldn’t shock her—and it would explain why even Xander had assured them that this mission was safe (beyond his warning about Hans of course. Not that she’d needed it).

Perhaps that’s why, despite their huge numbers advantage, the five of them make such quick work of the Hoshidans there. There seemed to be three commanders, and though they were obviously more skilled than the soldiers under their command, there was only so much they could do—though once things started looking too grim, two of them disappeared into the shadows. Gunter had muttered something about them being cowards—but Kamui wasn’t convinced.

Perhaps they had gone for reinforcements. Or perhaps they were just biding their time. Either way, they were no longer a threat by the time they reached the fort itself, having scattered like leaves in a windstorm.

The last of their commanders—a ninja by the name of Omozu—falls easily once Gunter gets close enough to take him on, his small blades doing little against the man’s heavy plated armor. Like the others the four of them took out, however, he isn’t killed. There was no need for more bloodshed here than there had to be. At some point during the fighting, she’d lost sight of Jakob, and now, panicking, she tries to find him. In the distance, where the trees grew back into a sickly looking Nohrian forest, she spots the Nohrian royal banner and breathes an internal sigh of relief.

That must be Leo; he did say his mission wouldn’t take long.

Looking to her left, she spots Corrin and Hans—who are having a heated and probably pointless argument on why the man had started this whole mess to begin with. Gunter heads over to try and sort things out between them—arguing now surely wouldn’t accomplish anything—and she lets them be, intent on finding Jakob.

That is, until she hears a crash.

Flipping on her heels, she spots Hans, yanking his axe out of the wood where Gunter had been standing, a gaping hole now in his place. Cold horror shoots through her body like a splash of fresh water on a hot summer day and, starting to run, she watches as he moves to do the same to Corrin—except this time, Corrin retaliates.

She stops as she watches her brother grow horns, cannot get her body to move any closer as her mind reels at the fact that his arm has now been encompassed by some ungodly thing that stretches farther than even her poleaxe was capable of—which, in her shock, slips from her fingers.

What in the goddesses’ names is going on?!

Shaking herself from her stupor, she runs forwards, intent on stopping Hans from hurting him even as Corrin slashes at the man in blind rage with a ferocity she’d never seen from the other boy before.

This isn’t good. If he keeps that up on the bridge…

The bridge ends up being the least of her worries. Somehow, neither is the fact that her brother had half-transformed into some kind of monster.

It’s the sword.

The Ganglari pulses and glows, surprising Corrin to the point that his guise dissipates and he’s yanked into the air—so high and so fast that even had he released the blade, he’d surely break at least his legs from the resulting fall.

What am I doing? I have to help him!

But how?! Just as she starts to move again, to catch him, maybe, or at least do something, he suddenly plunges off the side of the bridge, letting out a surprised scream as he descended past the point she could see. Vaguely, she can see that Fengr and some other small object follow suit shortly thereafter, though she cares little for the either at the moment.

“Little princess!”

She spins at the shout from behind her, shaking her head. Across the bridge that led the way back to Nohr, Xander sits atop his mare, Siegfried at the ready as he looks on at her in horror—probably realizing there’s one less of them than there should be.

“It’s Corrin! He…he fell, I don’t know what to do!”

He opens his mouth to say something, but cuts himself off, eyes widening at something behind her. She whips out the tome from the satchel at her side—the one Leo gifted her for their last birthday, backing up so she’s closer to the bridge that Xander’s started running across.

Had she not turned, the blade that shoots beside her head and out of her peripherals surely would have lodged into her shoulder. A moment later, and she narrowly dodges another strike from a woman who’d been sitting in the tree above her, rolling out of the way by instinct. Another person tried throwing something at her—probably a knife—but they moved so quickly that all she had time to do was shoot a bit of fire at it. The blade—it wasn’t a knife—didn’t incinerate, but its path changed enough that it stuck into the tree instead of her skull, so she counted it as a plus. There seemed to be two of them, but neither made any move to get closer to her after she was surrounded—probably because she now stood at the edge of the small isle, bridge no longer behind her. She held the tome at the ready, waiting for any hints of movement from them as she hears the pebbles she’d knocked off the cliffside clatter on the sides of the canyon walls as they make their endless descent into the darkness below. They were the two commanders from before—she recognized them from the quick look she’d gotten. This was bad—and she didn’t have time for it! Corrin needed help.

Kamui ignores the small voice of reason in her head that says he’s probably dead—that the encyclopedia entry and Gunter had both said no one was ever seen alive after falling into the Bottomless Canyon, that her older brother had looked so mortified when she’d said where he’d gone.

“Kamui!” She hears Xander shout in alarm from across the bridge, rearing his horse and spurring it on in their direction. The two of them tense in unison and share a glance as Kamui prepares herself. The scarred man is quick—had she not been paying attention, she would have been caught off guard—but the woman is quick, too. When the man prepares another couple of shuriken, this time in the direction of Xander, Kamui responds in time to kill the man before they leave his hand. She would have gotten to hit him, too, had the woman not anticipated such a response. The woman apparently had throwing blades of her own, and Kamui felt her skin slice open on the back of her hands. The move caught Kamui off guard—and her lack of practice using tomes shows as the book falls to the ground.

But why hadn’t she just killed her?

The next moments are a blur: the scarred man had severed the ropes holding the bridge up, causing Xander’s mount to scramble back to the opposite cliff before it had could get too far across. Kamui felt something wrong with her hand—the wound burns—and she realizes that the woman’s blades must have been poisoned. She steels herself and moves to dive for her tome, but is stopped by the woman, who had started moving the second her blade had connected with Kamui’s hand.

The woman kicks Kamui in the stomach hard—and Kamui feels her back collide with the tree. She wheezes and her hands come up instinctually to her stomach. The two of them are talking to each other in hushed voices, glancing between her and each other, Xander is shouting something from across the broken bridge, and she even hears Camilla from farther out. Kamui forces herself to sit up—but falls onto her hands and knees when she tries to stand. Why can’t she get up? Everything feels so…fuzzy…

Poison.

Why was she outside again? Where was Corrin? Are they training in a new place today? Her arms are shaking. She shakily lifts her head up and locks eyes with the blonde man across a broken bridge, silently pleading for help for reasons she could no longer recall. A voice in her head is screaming, pleading with her to get up and fight, but her body won’t cooperate and she can’t remember where she put her poleaxe.

Fengr. What a funny name.

A few moments later, she can no longer keep her eyes open, but she decides to give standing one last shot. When she falls forward this time, someone catches her before she hits the ground and hoists her off her feet. Something in her says that that’s bad, bad, bad, but the rest of her feels really sleepy…

Oh, there’s Corrin. I should get him to teach me how to become invisible, too.

And that’s her last thought before she blacks out.

Chapter Text

When she first comes to, it’s to the feeling of being carried. There’s an arm around the back of her knees, her wrists are tied together behind her back, and (if she had to guess, because she’s blindfolded) at some point, she’d been tossed over someone’s shoulder like a sack of flour. She can feel the world bob with each step they take, the sharp edges of the gauntlets that poke into the back of her legs—and if she focuses, she can hear the exceptionally light sound of someone breathing. It’s not even labored; whoever was doing this must not even be fazed by her added weight.

I’ve been kidnapped... Again.

Somehow, it’s not as funny as she’d thought it would be. The way her thoughts come now reminds her vaguely of how they’d come after The Great Sleep: random, unbidden, and nonsensical. Try as she might, she cannot get herself to focus on any one thing for longer than a few moments. When she tries to move, the hand around the backs of her knees simply tightens. She’s not yet strong enough to push it away, either, so for now, she’s stuck. A part of her is terrified—the last time she'd been taken from her home had led to years of bad experiences, after all—but a larger part of her is simply curious. The people who had taken her had been commanders at a military outpost. That…well, it was supposed to mean something: at least, she thinks it does, but her head feels scrambled.

It’s no use—the thoughts she tries to hold on to slip from her grasp like sand through her fingers, and with the lulling effect that the silent trek has on her already exhausted form, she falls back asleep.

The next time she wakes up, she’s on her side and her body rests on something warm. She shifts but finds her legs have been tied at the ankles and the rope offers no give. She’s just thankful it’s over her armor; in the stories she’s read and from Gunter’s own personal accounts, rope could cut into your skin if it was tied too tightly. Now that her thoughts come in more coherently, the fear that she hadn’t felt earlier comes crashing down, making her stiffen as she hears someone shift nearby.

“Be at ease, princess. We do not intend to harm you.”

It’s a woman’s voice, barely over a whisper—and it does nothing to make her calm down. She has to really focus to stop from thrashing about; not being in control of her own arms or legs made an irrational wave of panic skitter down her spine and she suppresses the urge to shudder—especially as she feels a hand tug on her shoulder, pulling her not unkindly into a sitting position (though the restraints make it awkward). She flinches when a hand finds itself between her ankles, but it merely unties the knots in the rope there before slipping away.

“You need to eat something; you’ve been out for a while now.”

This time, it’s a man’s voice—one she recognizes from the hushed banter the two of them had exchanged before she’d been taken. The thought makes her stomach roll, and suddenly eating sounds like a bad idea. Plus, she’s fairly sure it will irritate them if she refuses, and they did kidnap her—why should she play into their hands?

When something presses against her lips—ceramic, perhaps, by the cold, smooth feel of it—she keeps them firmly shut. After a while, she hears one of them sigh, and the cup’s pulled away.

“You’ll regret that later. We won’t be stopping again.”

Again? Before what, exactly?

But before she even had time to ask, she’s hoisted into the air again, causing her to gasp in surprise. This time, however, her feet are allowed to touch the ground and she’s pushed along. That fear returns, but she presses it down—Xander would say it was unbecoming of Nohrian royalty, and it’s a sentiment she clings to like a small child might their blanket. When they start moving again, their steps are silent in a way that unnerves her, but she’s outmatched—even if she could somehow break free from the man, the woman was still around there somewhere, armed with that horrible poison that landed her in this mess to begin with.

That reminded her—Corrin!

“Wait,” and she’s surprised at how scratchy her voice is, “my brother—Corrin—did you see whe—”

“Stop talking or we’ll gag you, too.”

The woman makes a noise of disagreement at that; apparently, they were of two minds on that subject.

“Please. Tell me, did you see him?”

“…we left after we retrieved you, princess. We know nothing of the prince’s whereabouts.”

That…that couldn’t possibly be true. He had to be ok. He just had to be.

But…but if he is really fine—if he somehow survived that fall—then he’d still be with Xander.

That’s right: her brother could protect Corrin.

He didn’t protect you.

She shakes her head, dispelling the thought. He’d at least tried: and besides, she’d been the one careless enough to get into this situation in the first place; she’d taken her eyes off of her enemies in her panic to find Corrin. She was getting no less than she deserved—and frankly, had she not been who she was, she would be dead right now.

Anxiety tugs at her chest, and it’s getting harder for her to let it pass her by. That’s right, she was Kamui, princess of Nohr…but also Kamui, princess of Hoshido.

And unless this was to take her to some execution for treason, it seemed her enemies had no more forgotten that than she had.

How could she make sure Corrin was alright?

She’d already lost so much; she couldn’t lose him, too. How was she supposed to get out of this?

Gods Corrin, please don’t be dead.

At some point—after hours upon hours of walking, after her stomach was empty and her throat dried up completely but her pride wouldn’t allow her to beg her captors for anything—they stopped. Hands found their way to her arms and nimble fingers undid the knots in the rope they touched there, freeing her hands from their bindings. She flexed her fingers, allowing the blood to rush back into them uncomfortably. They hadn’t been too tight, she thinks (she never lost the feeling in her digits), but they hadn’t exactly been loose, either, and the sensation of pins and needles cascades down her arms, starting at the back of her elbows and stopping at the tips of her fingers. She rubs them together in front of herself awkwardly, still dreading what was to come.

The blindfold is removed without much preamble—and suddenly, she can see them both. There was the red-haired man with a scar that ran across his right eye and who wore a mask over the lower half of his face, concealing his mouth, and a woman dressed in light yellow armor with long brown hair tied up in a fashion that obscured her own right eye. Both look at her expectantly, and for a moment, she doesn’t know what to say.

Then she sees what lies behind them.

Castle Shirasagi stands as tall and formidable as she remembers it (though now that she’s seen Castle Krakenburg, it no longer seemed quite as large). She hadn’t noticed how far they’d gotten—nor had it ever seemed so incredible to her when she was a child. She stands there, eyes wide in shock as she takes it all in again: the gigantic island that the castle sat upon, the town barely visible behind the structure, and the castle itself, tall, red, structured, and beautiful.

The woman clears her throat and Kamui blinks herself out of her stupor, turning to look at the woman—whom, she notices, is slightly shorter than even herself.

“Follow me, princess. We shall see to it that you make it to the castle safely.”

She can actually feel the blood drain from her face. She’s not ready for this: how could she be?

What is she even supposed to feel right now, surrounded by all of these things that no longer feel familiar to her?

Scared.

That’s how she feels. She hadn’t felt this afraid since the day she’d interrupted that fight between Hans and Corrin. What was she supposed to do? What was she supposed to say?

It doesn’t matter. They left us there—at least the Nohrians tried to help us become skilled enough to be free from that horrible fortress. They left us to rot.

They left us.

And that was all there was to it, wasn’t it?

Wasn’t it?

She closes her eyes for a moment, taking a breath full of fresh Hoshidan air. She could do this. All she had to do was pretend. Then, when their guard was lowered, she could…she could leave here. Go back home, back to her family.

Right?

But that little girl inside her is what answered—the one who had waited years to come back here.

She nods at the woman, not trusting her voice. The woman nods uncertainly, and the man takes up position behind her—like she might bolt at any second. Perhaps he wasn’t wrong: Corrin was gone, she was stuck here, and she was alone again.

It felt too familiar for comfort.

Why is it that every time she became comfortable somewhere it all got ripped away?

They walk up the path to the castle slowly, with the yellow-scarf woman turning every once in a while to make sure she kept up. By the time they make it to the main entrance, she can scarcely breathe.

Deep breaths.

As they walk into the castle, memories assault her—ones long forgotten, ones she’d have rather stayed buried.

“Come on! Hurry up! We can’t scare her if you’re that slow!”

Kamui huffs but runs faster. They had tricked Hinoka into playing a game of hide and seek, but the three of them all decided to hide in one place: behind the display shelf near the main entrance.

They all huddle there, with Corrin peaking behind the shelf for a view down the hallway. Takumi struggles to press himself closer to her to get the rest of his body behind the small shelf and she pulls him towards herself, grinning at him with a finger pressed to her lips as if to say ‘be quiet, she’s almost here!’ he gives her a serious looking nod that almost makes her laugh; the two boys took these games so seriously.

Corrin pulls back and turns to look at them both with a perplexed frown and he opens his mouth to say something when suddenly Hinoka pops out from in front of the shelf, making them all squeal in surprise.

“Haha, I finally found you!”

“Princess?”

Kamui startles, forcing herself to tear her gaze away from the shelf she’d been staring at. The man raises a single eyebrow at her in question, but she says nothing. Troubled, she waves the woman on and they continue, leaving the shelf and the memory behind.

The turns in Castle Shirasagi are much more predictable than they are in Castle Krakenburg and there are far, far fewer of them that they have to make in order to reach their destination. Every once in a while, she almost stops again, lost in a place in time that’s long passed by, but her two captors keep her mostly in the present, serving as guides as well as distractions from whatever awaits her in this place at the edge of her memories.

Finally, they stand before the entrance to the Throne of Truth itself, it’s doors shut from the outside so she cannot see in. They turned to look at each other and then, together, at her. The woman steps forwards to the left and the man to the right, and together, they open the great black and gold doors into the throne room.

It’s almost exactly as she remembers it being—only this time, a certain ornate looking sculpture is noticeably absent from one of the many pedestals that line the path to the chair. The room itself is unique: bright red, elaborate tiles decorate the area from the doors to the throne, where angular looking steps get progressively smaller as they lead up to the Throne of Truth. The walls surrounding it are painted with black and white flowers surrounded by the Hoshidan family sigil, and colorful banners hang at evenly spaced intervals from the tall ceiling. It makes her feel small—as small as it had when they ran around this place as children, when she watched Papa pace—

Enough.

None of that was helping her keep her calm. She had to behave as royalty should. She had to remain collected.

’Presentable.’

The word makes bile rise from her stomach and she has to force herself to think about anything else—anything, including the stern looking man dressed in the armor of a samurai standing in front of her—to avoid delving into that memory.

But who is he?

He looked like no one she recognized: with long spiky brown hair and red, segmented armor that stretched from his headpiece to his feet and a long white cloak that covered most of his back, he almost looked like—

Gods…no…

“Ryoma?”

She spoke the word without meaning to, her mouth and her mind at odds with each other, connection severed by the shock. But now that she’d said it, she knew it to be true. Standing well over a head taller than her stood her…stood the heir to Hoshido, arms crossed and face alight with surprise at her outburst. The ninja backed away from where they were kneeling on the ground.

He blinks once, frowning down at her from where he stood atop one of the stairs to the throne in a puzzled sort of way. His arms uncross and he lets them fall to his sides.

“I…I did not expect you to know my name…” there’s something in his voice, a wariness that conflicts with the hope in his eyes, and the two feelings battle each other in his expression, fighting for dominance that shows in the way his eyebrows knit and unknit together.

She opens her mouth. Closes it. What was there to say?

They stare at each other in silence, both full of words they don’t know how to speak, before the door on the side of the throne room opens to reveal—

She lets out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding before taking another one and letting it out again.

“Mama?”

Chapter Text

The room is silent—but it also isn’t.

The air is charged with something she can’t quite explain: it’s like she’s on that rooftop again facing off against Xander, senses alight with the certainty that she’s about to be attacked, that she’s fighting, that this is real and serious and important in a very particular way that she had never felt outside of combat.

Until now, that is.

There’s all of these eyes on her—the unrecognizably familiar man in red, the aged version of the figure that used to card through her hair when she was trying to sleep, the unseen retainers who she’s certain are still around, somewhere. There’s no sound, but there doesn’t have to be for her eardrums to pound in her skull to the tune of her overactive heart. Here, there was no battle, no weapon raised in her direction, no polearm between her hands—and yet she’s just as helpless as if the Raijinto was poised at her neck instead of carefully sheathed just a few paces away.

Thoughts come too fast—and memories, too, but these she tries to shut out because there’s only so much she can take before she loses what little scrap of control she’s managed to scrounge together during this walk back in time.

“Kamui?” The woman calls, her voice a mix of uncertainty and worry and warmth that she remembers as nimble hands gently styling her hair for a formal event, as a soft voice in the dark of her nightmares. A relaxed smile from down the dinner table, a quiet laugh and caring eyes.

She can’t bring herself to answer, her legs burning with the need to run juxtaposed with the way her feet stay rooted in place, a human tree on display for Hoshidan royalty. She tries and fails to swallow whatever emotion that’s decided to latch itself to the back of her throat, constricting her airway to a mere trickle, making her breaths come in labored little huffs that grow increasingly difficult to stifle.

Oh. An anxiety attack.

And absurdly, this detached thought that filters through that cold, pragmatic side of her brain is perhaps the calmest thing she’s felt since stepping foot into this too-bright room. Briefly, she’s reminded of a purple-haired girl gently wiping the tears off of her face with a smooth thumb, pausing her self-acquired quest of picking through her closet for an outfit suitable for an audience with the King to walk her through a breathing exercise.

“Can you do me a favor, little one?”

Kamui focuses on that memory, of that familiar fear that she’s currently trying to shut out just as she had then.

“Can you take a deep breath for me? Only think about that, ok? Just breathe in.”

Kamui shakily complies with the youthful face in her memory, shutting everything else out—the eyes, the memories, the expectations she knows she’s failing to meet, and most of all, the silence.

“And out.”

It’s not much, but it helps—and the grey at the edges of her vision she hadn’t even noticed had appeared starts to recede, her ears twitching as they become able to register sound again, though it isn’t much. The shifting of the man in front of her, the steady breathing of the woman (and she can’t refer to them in the same way she used to know them, she can’t because if she does—)

“See? You’re all right.”

Right. Right, she could do this. Just…she just shouldn’t think about it too hard. What would Xander do in her situation?

She forces herself to relax, allowing some of the tension to seep out of her shoulders (though it’s impossible to let it all go; she’s only human) and stands up straighter, looking back to the woman with a guarded look.

Her reaction doesn’t seem to surprise her—not her, and certainly not…not Ryoma—but she can tell they don’t like it. It’s not exactly in the way she’d expected them to show their distaste for it, however. Their expressions…it’s almost like they were worried about her…but…

Is that truly so hard to believe?

She has to focus not to react to the thought.

They left us. Of course it’s hard to believe.

When the woman takes another step forward, she backpedals on reflex alone, her alarm shooting into heights unseen, but the woman doesn’t stop, and before she really has time to process it, she’s been wrapped in an embrace, he head pressed tight against the soft fabric covering Mama’s the woman’s shoulder.

She takes an involuntary breath in, holding it for longer than she intends to because she can’t breathe out because all she’s wanted for years is right there.

Right here.

When she starts to pull away—almost hastily, like she hadn’t realized what she had been doing and what it might be doing to Kamui’s mental state—

“You poor things, orphaned at such a…tender young age.”

”“Do you think we’ll ever get to play outside like they do?”

"If...if there's something you want to talk about or whatever, it's not like I have any real agenda when I visit, so..."

—she tenses—

“Then what has you so sad, little sister? Is it something from before you started living in the Northern Fortress.”

”“No cry! All better?””

”‘Because she didn’t interrupt my meditation.”

—arms coming up jerkily from where they’d lay limply at her sides—

“Family is what you believe it to be, little princess.”

“Come, you two, it’s just past this next corner…”

”Don’t leave me…”

—and hugs her close, surprising both the woman in white and herself. Once she’s started though, she can’t stop—finds her face wettened with the rain after a decade’s long draught, arms squeezing so tightly that it must hurt.

“I…”

Whatever thought she’d formed as she’d started talking faded before the myriad of sensations that assaulted her there in that room from yesterday’s life: embarrassment for the tears, panic at her own reaction, infuriation at showing weakness to the enemy.

Confusion, because somehow, they didn’t feel like the enemy.

Her head fogs with doubt and clears in the moments a hand makes contact with the top of her head, smoothing her hair with each stroke. She’s thankful for the way her head’s pressed into the woman’s shoulder.

She hides, she hides, she hides.

“My child…you’re home. You’re safe.”

Another stroke, another fit of confusion and anger and bewilderment.

Of grief for a life she hadn’t had.

Of self-loathing for the way that reflected on the life she was living.

She squeezes harder—as if that touch, that contact could somehow ease the way she felt, as if it could pause this moment in time for reasons she fights with herself on.

Does she want to stop it or prolong it forever?

What happens when she looks up, when one of them pulls away?

Who is she, really?

But there, in her mother’s arms, she did not find the answers to any of those questions. There was only the hand in her hair, the feeling of a warmth provided by another person. The loss of circulation to her feet as her knees stayed locked into place.

Regret and pride, reluctance and mistrust.

Hope and sorrow.

The man in front of her clears his throat

An eternity or mere moments pass before they finally separate, and she cannot tell if the way her chest clenches is because of that feeling of loss that lingered in the air like fireflies in the humid summer sky or the soul-crushing betrayal she felt entitled to feeling.

Because now, she knew that the reason no one came for her was obviously not because they weren’t capable: both Ma—Mikoto and Ryoma were in good health. They both seemed fine, if a bit concerned.

But how could that be?

The man in front of her clears his throat, and her embarrassment grows as she realizes the streaks that sorrow painted across her face like paint to a canvas—but so too does it stroke her wrath.

“Kamui, I am glad to see you’re unharmed.”

His voice is careful, his face guarded—but bits of disbelief and hope shine through like stars on a clear night’s sky.

Stars that had burned out and faded That Day so long ago, when Papa was taken from her and she lost the family that loved that was supposed to love her.

“You…it’s been ten years.”

Her voice is barely a whisper, and her anger is her dread is her grief.

It boils like a meal in a covered pot, condensation forming on the lid just to drip back down into the pan again.

Stewing until it either bubbles out or evaporates completely.

She can’t tell which will happen, yet.

He frowns—but it’s more than that, isn’t it? She can read it in the hurt in his eyes, the understanding in his brows, the way he shifts as next he speaks, at how he hesitates before the words finally leave his lips.

The way hands clench and unclench at his sides.

She wants to be alone. She wants to be with her family.

She wants to go home—but ironically, not even she knows where that is anymore.

“We…tried, Kamui. The Nohrians sent out Faceless whenever any of our patrols were spotted near the border, and the Northern Fortress is a long way away—”

“You knew where we were?”

The hurt in her voice twists it, makes it shake so much that not even she is sure it’s her own anymore—the words too rough on her own ears, her mind elsewhere.

Anywhere else.

“Not until Kaze returned.”

The ninja from before, the quiet one.

He speaks quickly—like he’s eager for her to understand or to believe him.

But how much of it is true?

Was any of it even real?

She shakes her head—slow, at first, but then faster, the swivel of her neck wider. More assured.

“If you really cared…” her voice shakes almost as much as she does, a conversation that could never be forgotten invading its way into her memory, “then we would have been back here by now…and Corrin…”

Her voice breaks, and Ryoma’s eyebrows draw together. Concern, maybe.

“My child, he is safe.”

Her head snaps up and she locks eyes with her…with the Queen.

“How do you—”

“The woman that was freed along with Kaze brought him to Hoshido. They will arrive within the next few days.”

She could hardly believe what he was saying. Days?

Just how long was I unconscious?

But that was of no consequence. They weren’t lying about this. They couldn’t be—not if they were so intent on pretending they were actually concerned for their wellbeing.

But was it an act?

“I…want to be alone.”

The words come out as scarcely more than a whisper—and with the way her blood pounds in her head, she can’t hear them herself at all—but with just a beat of hesitation, Mikoto nods and gestures towards the hall she had emerged from before their conversation had begun.

“Very well. Come with me, Kamui.”

And she did.

Chapter Text

It's exactly the same as it used to be—and she means exactly.

Two futons rest against each side wall in the room, half-finished drawings litter the floor along with the various writing utensils that were used to create them: calligraphy brushes and empty ink wells sit long-untouched on the worn chabudai that…that Sumeragi had made for them on their fourth birthday. It still sits there, silently resting in the center of the room as if it had been waiting for their return.

Mikoto had led her there after…well, after whatever it was that had happened in the throne room. She still isn’t sure what to think about that, or about her—about any of this, so for now, overwhelmed as she is by the day’s events, she just…doesn’t.

The Queen had tried as best as she could on the walk there to engage her somehow in conversation, but Kamui found she had neither the will nor desire to respond, and eventually, she’s left alone with her thoughts in the room they’d used to share together. The room Takumi used to burst into to complain through barely restrained tears about something Hinoka had said to him, the room Ryoma used to carry her into when she fell asleep watching him and Papa train in the courtyard, the room Hinoka used to sneak into to scare the both of them after detailing a scary story in the late hours of the night.

The room Papa used to sit in with them after one of them had a nightmare that kept the other awake, the room Mama used to—

No. No, this wouldn’t do at all.

Thinking about the past like this is pointless. It all happened so long ago that the girl in her memories didn’t even feel like herself—more like some warped amalgamation of things and images that used to be her. She slumps onto the futon, willfully ignoring the footsteps and subtle shifting just outside the sliding door to the room—the one which, mercifully, had been shut behind the Queen on her way out. Kamui is no fool: the sounds were created on purpose, the ninja just wanted to make sure she knew that they were there, that she was being watched. The showing—her showing—in the throne room coupled with her willingness to fight them back at the border in the first place had probably been enough to merit a watch be set on her. They couldn’t discern her allegiances, and that made her dangerous.

The thought is enough to make her breathe a silent, humorless laugh. Not even she knew where she stood anymore; it would hardly be fair to expect any of them to know.

She’s a foreign combatant being housed in the same building as members of the royal family, kept under constant guard.

It’s a role she’s all too familiar with, one that fits like a pair of Gunter’s old marching boots.

Remembering that reminds her that her freedom—as small and cumbersome as it had been—isn’t the only thing that she’d lost in the last week. Gunter…he’d taught her to wield her weapon of choice, played catch and games of chess, taught her tactics and strategies and oversaw her lessons. He’d lightly admonish her for her escape attempts in the earliest days and praise her wit and bandage her training injuries and regale her with stories from his time as a knight.

He’d…well, he’d been like a father. And just like her first one, he was gone, too.

A thought stirs in her mind at that, nagging and wriggling and demanding attention, but she’s so worn out by this point in time that she ignores it, wraps her arms around her head where it’s buried in her knees held tight to her chest as she wills the whole miserable world away, hating that—just like how it’d happened on That Day, her older brother had shown up just a bit too late.

Her dreams come in bursts, flashes of memory, light and sound and sensation that she forgets as soon as she jolts awake.

Again, and again, and again.

And every time she wakes up, she's just as alone as she’d been before, the moonlight peering through the room’s twin windows not nearly enough to shine light on the situation, to tell her what to do or how to act—because tomorrow would come soon enough, and then what? Who is she supposed to be, which princess was supposed to leave the room and greet the people waiting for her out there? And who were they supposed to be to her?

When had the world stopped making any sense: was it last week at a fortress on the border of two nations or 10 years ago, in a village with pink flowers and misplaced cobblestones?

Gods, what am I supposed to do?

The next time she wakes up could have been just moments or days—nothing else was certain anymore, so why would time be any different?—but unlike all of the other times, it isn’t the thoughts that splash against the walls of her mind like the unsteady tides during a coastal storm, it’s the soft sound of the room’s door sliding open, revealing a heavily armored, familiarly unfamiliar man regarding her with an unreadable expression from the hall.

After several long, tense moments, he sighs, gesturing to his left with a single, red-clad hand before saying a single sentence that forces her cascading thoughts to halt as she processes their meaning:

“Come with me, Kamui: your twin has arrived in Hoshido.”

Chapter Text

When Ryoma leads her back to the throne room, she isn’t thinking about how terribly uncomfortable she feels, isn’t thinking about how she hasn’t brushed her hair or bathed or slept much at all since leaving the border. Not even the memories of little sets of feet pattering down the very halls she traverses now, the faint echoes of childish laughter reverberating in a space only audible in the confines of her own mind are enough to get her head to turn, for her to lose her train of thought this time around. And despite what she should be thinking about, what Xander would be thinking about—the weak points in unconcealed Hoshidan defenses, the number and locations of guard postings—that’s not what occupies her thoughts, either.

This doesn’t change as she continues on, doesn’t change as Ryoma casts her a look of thinly-veiled concern over his shoulder, nor when the side door to the massive room is opened by the armored man before her.

And it doesn’t change when she finally lays eyes on the object (or rather, the person) of her attentions, either.
“Corrin,” she breathes, voice hardly above a whisper and raspy from a dehydration she hasn’t bothered to fight since she stepped foot on Hoshidan soil. Yet somehow, that single word is enough to get the boy’s attention away from…from Mikoto as he turns in disbelief—an expression that quickly fades into one of relief as his eyes lock onto her own.

And for the first time since arriving at Castle Shirasagi, she allows herself to smile. It’s a small, crumpled looking thing, but it’s there nonetheless.

She and Corrin were alike in many regards: they looked the same, sure, but the people closest to them had always said they both had the same compassionate heart, the same drive to do the right thing. But there were differences between them—and right now, as Corrin runs across the room to engulf her in a tight hug, uncaring of the eyes watching and the etiquette he wasn’t displaying, he was exhibiting perhaps the largest one.

He’s always been so emotional.

The thought would normally warrant a small amount of irritation—this certainly wasn’t proper behavior for a child of nobility—but right now, with him alive and unharmed and safe?

She wraps her arms around him, too.

“Gods, I thought…,” she can’t bring herself to finish the sentence, but she doesn’t need to for him to understand. There were no words that could properly describe the relief she felt now, with her brother just in front of her, that same too-trusting look in his eyes. It's like a weight's been lifted off of her chest and she can finally breathe again, like the blur that had been the last several days had come to a close and Corrin was there, impatiently waiting for her as he always was. He laughs somewhat nervously in return, his wide, red eyes shining with an ease only he could hope to display in such a horrible situation, recovering from a deep brush with death as he was.

“Ah, yeah. Sorry to worry you,” he says, the look on his face abruptly shifting as he catches the eyes of the man behind her. They let each other go as his eyes flicker back around the room and then to her once more.

And just as suddenly as his smile melted into something like uncertainty, she’s reminded of a rather pressing issue—one that causes the blood to seep out of an already pale face.

“Kamui, what’s going on? I…when I woke up and they brought me here, I thought I was to be executed, but then the Queen…are you alright?”

She blinks herself back into focus, the muddled concern on his face clouding with a growing anxiety as he watched the expressions flit across her face like a wyvern’s wings mid-flight.

But…what was there to say?

She stares at him blankly, readying herself for yet another blow for trying to protect him from the cruelty of this world. From somewhere near the front of the room by those two giant doors, someone stirs, and it’s enough to get the attention of the Hoshidan prince behind them. His footsteps, clicking on the mats that lined part of the floor each sounding another nail in her coffin, the silence that the rest of them are left with just as dawning as if she’d rushed to explain the lie she’d caught herself in.

Her heart thuds ever louder in her chest, the pressure there almost making her want to clutch at it for some purchase before she found herself washed away in the emotions she could see crashing through her brother like an ocean’s waves, consuming his senses much like her own had done the day before.

“You…you knew, didn’t you?”

The words come out quieter than she’d expected them to—but somehow, impossibly, this makes it worse, forces her to focus on the careful way he enunciates each syllable, how they slowly fall from an increasingly hurt face, that disbelief from before starting to creep in and twist until its meaning became entirely different than it’d been just moments ago.

And the pain there, that sorrow and confusion and scarcely concealed anger?

It’s all directed at her.

“Corrin…,” she stops herself from continuing. What use was there in some arbitrary justification? What could she possibly even say to excuse keeping a secret of this magnitude—and worse, of lying about it after he’d directly confronted her?

At that point, the words would only ne spoken for her benefit, some panicked rhetoric only spewed from the mouth of one who wanted to feel even a fraction less of the blame that rested solely on their shoulders. And if she wasn’t going to say anything that would actually help him, that would offer more comfort to him than it would assuage her exponentially increasing guilt, then what was the point of saying them?

So she stays silent.

His emotions, as compound and potent as they all were—they were all directed at her—and she deserved it.

“You—I…why?”

She opens her mouth, drops her gaze to the floor because she finds she can no longer meet his own, then shuts it again.

Shed been planning on telling him the truth: that she’d meant to protect him, that this wasn’t supposed to happen (and what “this” was could actually be interpreted in a couple different ways), that she’d only been trying to help…but they all ring hollow in her rapidly churning mind. They might have sounded true at one point, but…

Who is it that I was trying to protect? Him, or myself?

And now that she’d thought of the question, there wasn’t a going back; there were no words that could be spoken to justify what she’d done, what she’d said, what she’d hidden from him for ten years, no way that the righteous streak in her mind would allow her to spin it without being disingenuous as anything other than a selfish, feeble attempt to keep herself and everything around her from the truth that she’d known for so long regardless of who that might hurt.

She’d messed up, hard, and it had cost Corrin a decade’s worth of trust.

She closes her eyes, focuses on the shallow breaths she still managed to take even under the scrutiny of her brother’s piercing crimson eyes.

He shakes his head once, slowly, then does it faster, the anger there growing into some warped form of denial even as the glint in his eyes called for a justice that this world would never bring—another entirely human ideal that couldn’t exist in reality because it was just too cold and terrible to be real.

“I—I don’t even—godesses, why would you keep this from me? I thought they were joking, or—or trying to trick me in some weird way to get back at Nohr, but one look at your face told me that that’s—this is real. It’s real and you knew.”

She bites the inside of her lip to stop her immediate response: there isn’t a point in defending herself from this. He was right. He is right. And that horrible, gnawing feeling she’d felt afterwards, the way she’d needed to burn off hours of energy sparring with Xander afterwards to even feel something like acceptance of it afterwards?

No. She’d known it was wrong from the start—had known ten years ago that Corrin had as much a right to know he was being deceived, being manipulated by the very people claiming to love him as she did.

She’d just never got the nerve to tell him, had come up with some cavalier, self-righteous excuse that she was only trying to make him happy, that he wouldn’t want to suffer like she had for years because she knew things she should not…all while neglecting the most important part of the entire dilemma:

What he felt about it, whether he would be miserable or not, whether it would taint his view of their family or not affect him at all?

Those things, those feelings, they weren’t her choices to make for him.

They were Corrin’s.

And by ignoring that fact—by choosing for him—she had failed him, because she was the one person all of his life that knew, and should have been willing to tell him, and she hadn’t.

He opens his mouth again, the eyes she won’t meet as full of righteous indignation as he had every right to feel—but he’s interrupted by the man in red's swift sprint to their side. For a moment, Kamui’s afraid he will intervene—such a choice would likely not go over well with Corrin in his current state—but instead, he turns an alarmed gaze to the Queen, who adjusts her position (where she’d been awkwardly hovering off to their side) to face him before he speaks.

“I apologize for the interruption, but this is urgent,” Ryoma starts, an edge to his voice that even in her distanced state Kamui recognizes as alarm.

“What is it, Ryoma?”

“We’ve just received word from our scouts in the north: Hinoka and Sakura have come under attack.”

Chapter Text

She’s both surprised and yet not surprised at all when Ryoma asks if they will come along. He’s worried, she can tell, and ironically, it’s not about his sisters at all. It’s like…like if he took his eyes off of either of them—even for just a moment—he’d half-convinced himself that they’d dissipate into thin air, swallowed up by some unknowable force of entropy.

When she thinks of it like that, she can’t really blame him.

It’s not unlike what happened the last time he saw us.

Corrin had agreed easily enough—always too caring, always too invested in the lives of others because he’d had such precious little contact with anyone outside the Northern Fortress, because he worried even over the lives of strangers.

Of flowers.

Kamui, for her part, offered the red-clad man a single nod, unable to meet his eyes before they head out. She’s worried for them, sure…but the childish part of her doesn’t actually believe that anything Hinoka went up against would survive her stubbornness, even if she wasn’t well trained (or perhaps, that was no longer true. So much had changed). She can’t very well admit that here, though: the less time they spent here in Hoshido, the better it would ultimately be for all of them. She’s had enough heartache to last a lifetime, and…and Mikoto…

She shakes her head, willing herself to focus on following the Prince. While she’d much rather be explaining things to Corrin (not that he’d listen—he’s made it a point not to speak to her since they’d left the Throne Room)—the red-haired man who’d “escorted” her to the Castle had stood behind Ryoma with a hard look in his eye, and she hadn’t been quite naïve enough to refuse. Ryoma might have extended the invitation as an actual invitation, but it had been clear from the other man’s one eye that to Saizo, it was an order the two of them would be expected to follow.

To her surprise, Rinkah and Kaze—the prisoners whose fate’s had ultimately landed them in this spectacular situation to begin with—had not only accompanied Corrin back to the Castle, but were also apparently coming with them to rescue her—Ryoma’s sisters.

They left us, they left us, they left us…

She repeats it like a mantra in her head, resetting every time Ryoma glanced at her from over his shoulder or any of the three ninja that followed them (because of course her two captors were accompanying them, and of course they were Ryoma’s own personal retainers).

They were shifting on purpose, she knew: she’d traveled with two of the three long enough to know just how quiet they could truly be—and she suspected that this had not changed much even mounted as they all were. They must see the way her eyes occasionally dart to the forests on their side as they make their way up to the mountains where the two princesses were trapped, the way that horrible tension had yet to leave her small frame even from where she sat atop her horse. Or perhaps it was the unkempt hair, the deep sunken eyes, the thin crescent-shaped indents left in her pale palms from nails with a bit of dirt still caught under them because she’d yet to eat or sleep or bathe since she’d arrived that made her look so desperate to them.

If so, then the lot of them were fools: she’d never, ever leave without Corrin. He was the one thing she’d been allowed to keep through it all, and selfish though it may be, she had no intention of letting him out of her sight—especially after she’d come so close to losing him. The thought strikes her as odd, actually: how had he survived that? So far as she knew, there wasn’t a single person in recorded history that had managed to pull that off.

She closes her eyes at that.

I’m so sorry, Gunter. You shouldn’t have had to get wrapped up in all of this.

She only notices that her nails have bitten into her palm again when the woman riding next to her—the Flame Tribe member, Rinkah—claps her unceremoniously on the shoulder, causing her to startle so badly she nearly throws herself from the horse.

Luckily (or unluckily, she’s still a bit uncertain about whether or not she even wants to head toward the princesses at all) for her, the woman is also freakishly strong, and the calloused hand over her back steadies her before she falls from her mount.

“Hey, be careful! You act like you’ve never ridden a—”

She cuts off when she looks to Kamui’s hand—one she’s turned upright to look at herself because it’s been several years since she’d had this issue. Surprisingly, it’d been Xander that had helped her grow out of it. He’d started coming over even earlier in the morning just to spar and she found that eventually, she just didn’t have the nervous energy for it. Apparently, (though she can hardly imagine this herself) he’d also had trouble with his own anxiety in the past, and training or otherwise keeping his hands and mind preoccupied had been what had helped him.

Apparently for her, though, all she really needed was a bit of stress for it to resurface. She could almost hear his sigh now, the sound chiding enough on its own that he hardly had to say anything for her to know what the issue was. Not even Leo’s piercing stare could rival that in terms of effectiveness.

This is childish. I’m not acting like a proper Nohrian princess at all.

And yet when she manages to school her face into something more appropriate than a physical manifestation of the stress and exhaustion she felt and looks back towards the woman, she’s surprised to see a look of contemplative…concern, maybe?

That couldn’t be right, though. They were enemies: Kamui’s not like Corrin in this regard, she can’t just forget that the both of them were here against their own will (despite, a traitorous part of her adds, whatever else she may feel about it) and at least the ninja were aware enough to treat her as such.

Something about the serious undertones of it all made her wary, though, so instead of maintaining eye contact with the woman she turns away, ignoring the burning in her palms as she grasps on to the reins once more. It makes the Fire Tribeswoman shift, but Kamui’s had lots of experience with ignoring others. She glances back ahead at Corrin (who won’t even ride by her side) and inadvertently catches Ryoma’s gaze. She looks away from it just as she’s struck with another thought: is that why he keeps looking back at them? Not because he’s worried they might try and escape, but because he—like she is—is worried about them?

Her mind dismisses it so quickly—so forecefully—that it surprises her into reconsidering it…and once she figures out why, she turns her focus to the trees, to the sky, even to the too-inquisitive woman to her side in a frivolous effort to get her sleep-addled mind to focus on anything else. In part, it’s because it’s childish, and in part because the venom lingering just beneath the surface of her mind is so palpable she can nearly feel its poison seeping through her veins.

He doesn’t get to worry about us—worrying is for people you care about.

They left them. They weren’t allowed to care, they weren’t worthy of it. Their thoughts on her and Corrin’s wellbeing were worth less than the snake oil peddler’s wares.

She closes her eyes again, willing that too-sharp anger to recede. It did not matter. She had learned the hard way that her anger—no matter how strong or righteous it felt—did not have the power to change anything. It was simply a waste of time.

…unfortunately, remembering what exactly had prompted her to learn that lesson in the first place sends her spiraling once more, and it’s only the sudden object that’s thrust in front of her face that makes her hands unclench from around the reins.

Oh. It’s…

“This was the closest thing I had time to grab, so deal with it.”

Kamui wraps her hands around the shaft of the naginata more out of reflex than anything else—trying to hand someone a bladed weapon while actively riding through the countryside was asking for injury—but just as she opens her mouth to explain exactly what she thought about that, she comes to the abrupt realization of why the woman had bothered to hand this to her so early in the first place. Her cuts—thin though they are—sting on her palms but are unable to deepen with her hands occupied as they now are. It reminds her of training until sunrise with a sword she could scarcely wield (at least, not nearly so adept as her brothers), of the pleasantly dreamless sleep she’d get the following night…

Of waking up alone in one of the largest fortresses in the country, of the noticeable absence of her twin, of how that first night after That Day felt when she’d opened her eyes and could not see her twin sleeping across from her as she always had, of the way that had made her scream until an elderly woman came to “shut her up”, of the way she’d been clean and dressed without remembering how that came to be because shock had turned over half-a-day into a never-ending horror novel that she hadn’t yet figured out how to leave—

“Thank you.”

Her voice is quiet and sincere, and it’s only the light tremble in it that gives away anything is wrong at all. Rinkah scoffs, but the heat in the breath doesn’t touch her eyes. Kamui wonders how much of her demeanor was an act meant to trick everyone around her before also reminding her that that was exactly the same thing she was doing here, too.

Or is the act for myself? Who am I trying to deceive, really?

The only answer she gets is the rhythmic slap of hooves upon a beaten path, too close for comfort and yet so far in the past that she can scarcely remember it at all.

Chapter Text

When they finally make their way up the mountain, the sight that greets them is somehow even worse than what she’s expected. You’d think that after surviving this long under the King that she’d have been numb to the sort of senseless violence the man seemed capable of…but this…

This was beyond anything she’d ever seen.

“Crown Prince Ryoma, what are those things?!” Corrin asks, his voice dripping with a shock that she’s effectively managed to suppress from her face save for the way she’d set her jaw. Now simply wasn’t the time for it—she might not want to see them—to see the princesses, but neither did she want to subject them to the fates of the people who’d formerly lived up here. Their bodies litter the area—or rather, pieces of them do: severed limbs and caved-in skulls, the remains of a woman who, by the looks of it, had been literally torn in half by those gnarled, bulbous green hands.

Somehow, despite not seeing anything like this in her life, she knows the answer before Ryoma speaks it.

“Those are the Faceless—monstrosities that the Nohrian king sends over because they’re capable of crossing the barrier that protects Hoshido.”

She almost asks him about that—Kamui’d thought the barrier prevented any hostile forces from entering the country, so how could these monsters be here?—but she shakes herself out of it and dismounts, drawing the eyes of the others even while Ryoma continues conversing with her paler-than-usual brother.

“…additionally, there’s no need for such formality between us, Kosuke. You may call me Ryoma.”

His voice is gentle, but his actual words irk Kamui to no end—so much so, in fact, that she finds she cannot stop the words that fall from her lips before she even registers that they’d opened.

“His name is Corrin.”

Her response seems to surprise the both of them, but Kamui pays it little mind: angry or not, he’s still her brother…and she owed him this much.

It’s a debt ten years in the making.

Corrin looks taken aback by her words, blinking in a surprise only matched by Ryoma’s…she wants to call it displeasure, but there’s too much concern and apprehension alike in it for it to be that simple. It didn’t matter either way, because this wasn’t a question or something she considers to be up for debate. He opens his mouth to say something in response, but the clash of steel on steel before them sends all of them plummeting back into their current, dangerous reality. Ryoma spins and issues orders to his retainers, and they’re gone within seconds, but when he turns back to them that confidence which had just come to him with a natural ease he hadn’t quite perfected a decade ago falters on his face, and Kamui decides she’s done floundering around like a child unaccustomed to battle.

Spinning on a heel, she hefts the naginata up at the ready and charges into the battle before them—and though Corrin hesitates at the startled sound Ryoma lets out following her first swing at the closest Faceless, he must not be angry enough with her to ignore their training, and he takes up a position to her left, that unnatural sword gifted to them by the King held between the fingers of a deft hand. It takes much too long to fell the creature—both of them fight carefully, staying away from its destructive fists and prodding about for weaknesses with precise swings and watchful eyes—but eventually, they discover that they can be much quicker than the hulking monstrosity before them and they use this to their advantage.

By the time Corrin’s sent it tumbling over for good, Ryoma has killed three of the others by himself and Rinkah and Kaze have moved on to a second. That’s no good—they’d have to get better at this, adapt faster if they had any hope of ever escaping their captors (not that that has historically worked out for her in the past). She lets Corrin take the lead to the next one, her fatigue fueled (or rather, un-fueled) by her own stubborn pride by not eating in the time before this steadily chipping away at her focus and strength. She provides backup where she can, spinning out of arcs from axes twice as tall as she is and redirecting those she cannot dodge while Corrin attacks them as they are distracted. It’s a simple tactic—one that wouldn’t work on people because they wouldn't b so easily fooled—but it’s exceedingly effective against the dull creatures before them.

The longer they stand against them, the less she wants to know of their origins.

Were they human once? How else would they appear like this? What kind of monster would utilize something like these for warfare—against civilians, nonetheless?

It's a line of thought dripping with a naivety she thought she’d lost long ago—and in some respects, she had—but for all their training and drills and tactical instructions, with all the knowledge imparted on them by various tutors and Xander himself, they knew very little of the actual, bitter truth of true battle.

And it was horrible.

This felt different from their previous, botched mission. Everyone there had known what they were getting into, what sort of war they could be starting by taking up a blade…but the people here weren’t soldiers. Most of them didn’t even have a weapon. They hadn’t asked for this—had lived so far from others that calling the village a village felt like a stretch of the word.

She’s never felt her stomach roll in quite the same way as it does as she steps over a dying man gasping for air, his hands ineffectually trying to hold what is most probably his own intestines into his abdominal cavity. When they make eye contact, he opens his mouth—maybe to ask for help—but all that sputters out is a bubble of crimson that she has to force herself to turn away from…and it’s a good thing she does, for it gives her the opportunity to throw her weight into Corrin’s side and toss his from the path of the Faceless’ fist. The hand catches on her naginata instead and it’s knocked from her hand like a child’s toy. She rolls to her feet a moment later, taking a slow breath as the creature before her bellows, but as she braces herself to dart away from its next swing (and hopefully away from Corrin’s prone form), It suddenly screeches a horrible sound as a bolt of energy cuts through its side, sending it toppling to the ground with an earth-shaking thump.

She feels Ryoma’s eyes on her after that, but if it’s thanks he wants, he won’t be getting it from her. Instead, she retrieves her naginata from where it’s half stuck in the dirt from the sheer force of the creatures blow and glances back at Corrin to make sure he’s righted himself, and then the two of them move on to the next one.

They pass by the man, but beyond a single look at the sightless eyes and thin red trail oozing from his lips to stain the dirt below, she pays it no more attention. Kamui can only be grateful that Corrin does the same.

The rest of the fighting is a blur. It doesn’t last very long, but it doesn’t need to for the sensory overload it causes within her to permanently etch itself into her memory. The worst thing is oddly not the horrific sight around them—the blood and the screaming and weeping around them, the sight of the wounded being dragged or limping away from where they’d otherwise bleed out. No, the worst thing is the smell: it’s violently metallic and too fresh to smell if rot, but there’s another third thing that’s harder to place, a fleshy sort of smell that’s such an assault to her senses that she can taste the thick way it seems to linger in the air.

She knows why it bothers her, and it nearly forces her back into that same memory of a day no more forgotten than apparently either of them had been by the family she was born to before she can shake herself out of it.

The battle is over as abruptly as it began, ending with a smooth slash from a nearly unrecognizable woman atop a pegasus near the rear end of the village. Everything about her is different than Kamui remembers it being: her hair shorter, her plain clothes discarded for armor, a naginata that she’d have refused to wield so long ago for her own disinterest in training now expertly handled between her two calloused hands. She stands over a girl (an actual child on the battlefield) who appears to be using a stave of some sort to heal a severely injured woman. Before them, Kamui’s almost transferred by the sight of it, of a calm, short child with hair the color of peaches handling the chaos around her with a quiet ease that neither she nor Corrin had come close to matching…but the effect doesn’t last for long, for when the fiery haired woman standing in front if her catches a glimpse of Kamui and Corrin standing off to the side, she freezes, the naginata falling from her hands like it’d burnt her.

When she stops in front of them, Kamui tenses and resists the urge to bolt because it’d be useless to try it with so many retainers surrounding them and because Corrin is unlikely to come with her.

She can’t say she’s surprised at what happens next, but she can say it’s unwelcome…at least by part of her.

When Hinoka’s arms curl around them both with all the intensity of a wyvern’s crushing grip, Corrin lets out a surprised “oh” and Kamui’s hand tightens around her own weapon to help ground her. In her other hand, she absently thinks those semi-circle cuts into her own palms reopen at the words that fall out of the mouth of the older woman’s lips, forcing her back into the body of a child less than half her size hiding behind a shelf with the boy Corrin had once been and the shadow of another who wasn't once a stranger:

“I finally found you.”