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Corrin swings the Yato and slays a Vallite mercenary, then turns and cuts the mage down before he can release his fire spell. Both shimmer and vanish into water droplets that scatter across the field, surrounding her as she slashes and hacks and tries to keep an eye on Ryoma.
She has never felt so in her element, so in sync with her husband, as she does on the battlefield. Confidence drives her every strike, and focus hones her vision for the kill.
She’s so focused that she never sees the lance coming.
“ Corrin, look out! ”
Corrin has just enough time to turn towards Ryoma, see his outstretched hand and wide eyes.
And then a shuriken sinks into her back, right between the plates of her armor.
There’s a dull roar in her ears as the world fades, and her heartbeat becomes the loudest thing she hears.
Oh
, she thinks.
He was trying to warn me
.
The grass is soft beneath her body, her blood running warm beneath her armor. She shuts her eyes and drifts, trying and failing to catch her breath. Must’ve pierced a lung, she thinks, Worried voices around her, one high and sweet, the other rough and deeper. Her eyes flutter open in time to see pink hair, and warm droplets fall on her cheek. It takes her a moment to realize they’re tears. Hers?
There’s still that distant roar in her ears, like the cry of a dragon.
“-ster!
Big sister!
”
Corrin coughs, sucking down air as her world sharpens back into focus, and - oh. It was Sakura crying - no, Sakura and Shiro, who clings to Corrin like a small child. “Don’t...don’t cry,” she says, and hugs them both close.
“Mom - I thought you- ”
“Thank the Dawn Dragon you’re okay, Big Sis - ”
An angry shout fills her ears. This time, Corrin recognizes that voice.
Her head whips up in time to see Ryoma charging towards them. His gentle brown eyes are a fierce gold, his pupils mere slits. His lips are pulled back in a snarl.
There’s fury in his eyes as he readies Raijinto, electricity crackling along the blade. Shiro stands, pale, his knuckles white as he grips his spear.
What is he -
Corrin’s gut clenches when she realizes Ryoma’s glaring at their son.
She she scrambles to her feet, trying to push Shiro and Sakura behind her. “Ryoma, what are you - ”
A flash of smoke, and Saizo and Kagero appear in front of her, weapons at the ready. “Get out of here, milady,” Kagero says, not bothering to turn and look at her.
“But I can’t just let you - ”
“You can and you will, because that is our job,” Saizo grits out, throwing a shuriken and watching Ryoma bat it out of the way. “Get Prince Shiro and Princess Sakura to safety. Now!”
Corrin doesn’t have much choice in the matter. Xander rides up to help Sakura onto his saddle, and Shiro tugs at Corrin’s arm, gripping her wrist so tightly she fears he might break it. He has to all but drag her off the field as Kaze rushes past, eyes narrowed.
“Shiro - Shiro, let me go !”
But even without turning around - even watching as Saizo dodges a slash from Ryoma, as Kaze narrowly misses him with a shuriken - she knows Shiro’s shaking his head. “I know Dad would be doing the same thing if it were me throwing a tantrum out there,” he says.
From the corner of her eye, Corrin sees Azura watching.
No , she thinks after a moment, when she turns to get a better look. She’s bracing herself .
With another roar from Ryoma and a bright, crackling flash of lightning, she watches as Kaze gets knocked to the ground, as Orochi gets caught by a particularly nasty bolt.
And when Ryoma knocks both Kagero and Saizo down with a single swipe of Raijinto, she sees Azura open her mouth and close her eyes.
“ You are the - ”
“No, Azura.”
Corrin wrenches herself from Shiro’s grasp, giving him a sharp frown as he tries to grab at her again. She levels the same look at Xander, Camilla, and the few others who step forward to stop her before turning to Azura. “Don’t use your power,” she says. “Especially if it uses as much energy as you say it does.”
“But Ryoma - ” Azura starts, her eyes flicking back to the field.
“Let me handle him.”
She turns away before Azura can protest. Her eyes focus on the far end of the field, and she feels the power of the dragonstone pulse in her palm as she steps forward. “Ryoma,” she calls, and there’s a slight vibration in her voice. She feels her tail swish behind her; claws grow from the tips of her fingers, her antlers blossoming out before she stops her transformation.
Even from here, she can see the gold of Ryoma’s eyes as they round on her. His pupils shrink even further, and his canines seem longer and more pointed at the ends.
He bellows at her, a challenge, lifting his blade and summoning a flurry of lightning bolts. She hears her family and comrades shouting behind her. Shiro lets out a strangled “ Mom! ”, and she can just imagine him struggling to run onto the field.
She wills him to stay away as she keeps walking forward, meeting Ryoma’s eyes as he snarls at her. The haughty, prideful dragon within her scoffs at the display and ignores the shaky hand that Kaze extends towards her with what little energy he has left.
Posturing, her dragon thinks. Nothing more.
It wouldn’t have hurt even if any of those sparks had hit me.
Corrin shakes her head, banishing the dragon’s scorn even as she tries to keep its confidence in the way she straightens her spine, lifts her head, and lashes her tail. Already Ryoma is backing down, confusion in his eyes.
His hand seems to tremble as it grips Raijinto.
“Ryoma,” she says again, her voice blending with the dragon’s, “you have to stop.”
There’s a flicker in those eyes, a split-second where the snarling face falls away and Corrin glimpses her husband. But it’s gone, quick as lightning rippling across the sky. There’s only the dragon again, all raw power and rage.
Ryoma’s still in there, though, lost in the storm of his rage.
Corrin stops just shy of him, close enough that he just has to reach out for her and she’ll be there, with open hands and arms and heart. “Come back to us, love,” she murmurs, trying to speak in the same calm, quiet tone Xander she hears Xander use sometimes when calming nervous mares. “I’m safe. You can rest now.
“Your son and I are waiting, Ryoma.”
This time, as she says his name, a bone-deep shudder wracks his frame. He’s hunched over, panting, and Raijinto slips from his fingers to the ground. She watches as his guard seems to slough off of him, the snarl on his face smoothing out. She begins to pull herself slowly back into fully human form as she reaches out, the dragonstone glinting in her palm.
She watches the rage fade from Ryoma’s eyes at last, the ebb of the dragon’s raw fury fading into a trickle of confused suspicion. She watches him lift his hand and then retract it. He snarls deep in his throat and shakes his head.
She doesn’t move. She watches him shiver so hard she fears he might shatter. The sound he makes this time is lower, more desperate. A whine.
Only then does Corrin reaches out with both of her own hands to remove his gauntlet in slow, measured movements. Her eyes don’t leave his as she smoothes her fingertips over his knuckles, the lines of his palm, the rough skin of his calloused fingers. She pauses for a moment, her fingertips resting on the ring she gave him on their wedding day.
Mine , the dragon in her thinks, and satisfaction curls low in her stomach as she presses Ryoma’s hand between both of hers. Presses his palm to the dragonstone in her hand.
Watching her husband come back to himself is like watching snow melt in spring.
She watches the hard edges of him smooth out, his eyes going from the sharp gleam of a bee’s stripes to the softness of melting butter. His shoulders slump, and his hand tightens on hers.
She watches Ryoma’s irises become earth-brown again as his knees give out and he finally collapses, drawing Corrin close when she embraces him and falls to the ground alongside him. “Corrin,” he breathes, his hands wandering over her hair, her back, the curve of her shoulders. “ Corrin , I - ”
“Shhh.” Corrin runs her fingers through his hair, presses her palm against his back as she pulls his trembling form to her. “It’s all right. I’m right here, Ryoma.”
As she hears the rest of the army begin to stir and move, tending to the wounded, Corrin feels herself curl around her husband the way a dragon curls itself around its hoard, ready to strike down any who dare to touch what it treasures most.