Chapter Text
Corrin thought to himself, for probably the millionth time this month, that it had to get better someday. He was lying on his bed, his white hair splayed across his pillow as his eyes stared up at the same gray ceiling that had watched him since he was young. Everything about his demeanor, the way his hands rested behind his head, the way his right leg was propped up slightly, and the way his face showed no sign of emotion, read that he was relaxed. Calm. Tranquil. In reality, of course, the youngest prince was far from that. It wasn’t until two years ago, when it seemed as if the clarity that comes from one’s teenage years had finally decided to descend upon him, that he realized he was not a person living in a home. He was a hostage, he was trapped, and he had no idea why. It dawned on him, after eavesdropping on far too many conversations about the happenings that occur outside the walls of the castle, and after reading an endless amount of newspapers and books and journals and articles, that normal people are allowed to leave their homes, that normal people are not being constantly watched by guards or soldiers or the walls themselves, that normal people talk and meet and befriend strangers, and that he himself was not a normal person.
Corrin, at the age of 18, finally realized that it was not because he was a prince that he was so tightly controlled, for his brothers and sisters had far more freedom than him, and it stung him in a way that had changed him bitterly. He had no clue why he was chained like a dog to the Northern Fortress, and seemingly to the castle itself, and this unanswered question made him restless, impatient, and, most of all, frustrated.
“Master Corrin, it is time to get up. Today is not the appropriate day for you to sleep in, and I assure you, I will not allow you to be late to this morning’s happenings. It is not every day you have the luxury to partake in events such as these.”
Jakob boldly walked into the room and, without so much of a glace to his Lord, retrieved Corrin’s armor from his closet and set it on the bed by his feet.
“I don’t want to go.” He turned his face to the wall. Defiance.
“Lately, you haven’t wanted to do a lot of things, Milord.” Hands on the hips. Firmness.
“Is that so?” A slight smirk. Retaliation.
“When was the last time you trained your sword?” He cocked his head. Hook.
“The day Xander left.” A roll of the eyes. Line.
“Prince Xander departed for Cheve over a week ago and returned this dawn.” A slight smirk. Sinker.
Corrin’s red eyes met Jakob’s as he sat up in bed.
“A week? There’s no way, I swear it was just a couple of days ago that I sparred with him!” Corrin exclaimed, breaking his uptight character momentarily.
“No my liege, it has been exactly seven days,” Jakob stated, his smirk disappearing as a different expression covered his features. The young prince couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but it looked a lot like pity.
Corrin reached for his armor and began putting it on with an empty expression on his face. His life was beginning to feel a lot like an automated sequence of events that made everything feel like a blur.
“I expect you downstairs in no less than fifteen minutes. And please Milord, if there is anything troubling you in any way, know that I am here to serve,” Jakob said sincerely as he left the room.
Corrin finished putting on his armor and looked at himself in the mirror before heading down. Had it really been a week? How could he not notice such a long time span pass him by? He was getting distracted, and that was the last thing he needed right now. As he studied himself in the mirror, Corrin promised that he would pay more attention to the things happening around him, that he would be less unaware of his surroundings and more attentive to the things happening around him. When the young prince finally turned away from the mirror and headed out of his room, it was a shame that he did not notice that his under eyes were a shade of purple deeper than the Nohrian sky, that his face was as empty and expressionless as the castle walls, and that his Dragonstone did not shine as brightly as his smile once did.
-
“My dear Corrin, how absolutely wonderful it is to see you this morning! I just know that with you here my day will be so much better my lovely one!” Camilla exclaimed as she pulled Corrin into a tight, exaggerated hug. When Corrin finally managed to pull away from her generous chest, he curtly greeted his sister back and excused himself to grab something to eat. Camilla watched as her dear Corrin lost himself in the crowd of people and her face quickly dropped all trace of the happiness that was found there only moments ago. His cheeks no longer turned pink at her hugs, she noted bitterly, and his smile resembled Xander’s during war meetings with politicians he secretly despised.
It was a coy, a disguise, a fake.
She momentarily seethed with a mix of fierceness and worry before composing herself and walking away to greet the newcomers, her baby brother pushed to the back of her mind only because of her duties this morning.
Corrin had left his eldest sister to her devices as he strode away to the opposite side of the ballroom and looked at his surroundings. Usually the ballroom was only open during the night time, when fancy dances that consisted of too much perfume and too many unspoken affairs were put on for a variety of different reasons, but today all of Nohr’s allies were having their yearly meeting at none other than the glorious castle itself. The event consisted of every tribe, village, city, and town that was allied with the country, and it was put on to strengthen bonds between the allies. In truth, Corrin believed it was probably put on by Nohr to see which places had armies that, if needed, could easily be sent out to battle without a care if they would survive or not.
Such is politics.
Such is Nohr.
Such is life.
Corrin made his way to the nearest wall and leaned against a door and watched the hundreds of people mingle amongst themselves. Even among such a mass of bodies in such a huge place, the youngest prince could easily spot his siblings. He could see Elise excitedly talking to a girl with red hair by the breakfast table, and nearby was Xander, standing tall as he listened to the words of what looked like a tribe chieftain. Camilla now stood on the first step of the grand staircase smirking down at a couple of men that all spoke loudly over each other in pathetic attempts to get her attention.
Looking away, he searched and spotted Leo in the opposite corner of the grand ballroom whispering with a blonde man who moved his hands far too often and who, by the looks of his outfit, was undoubtedly a mage. It was strange that his brother would be whispering at an event where no one would ever be able to remotely hear him due to the deafening noise of hundreds of conversations, but Corrin had no time to contemplate this thought further as a cold blade was pushed against his throat.
Panic rose quickly upon the young prince, but his training and instinct quickly set in and he managed to keep himself rigid and calm. He knew better than to make a scene and have the blade “accidentally” slash his throat open.
Whoever was wielding the blade quickly wrapped a strong arm around Corrin and pushed him towards his body, trapping Corrin firmly against him. The stranger holding him captive was much bigger and stronger than him, Corrin noted, and he immediately knew that physical attempts to escape would be futile.
The tall stranger leaned down slowly and placed his lips extremely close to Corrin’s ear.
“Dios mio,” said a deep voice, “looks like it’s a very good morning for me isn’t it?”
Corrin’s entire body shivered at the sensation of the man’s gruff voice, and it took him a moment to collect himself.
“What - ” Corrin said as he stood rigidly still, “What do you want?”
A deep chuckle rang from the man’s throat, and he could feel the stranger’s warm body rumble against him.
Corrin’s cheeks turned pink.
“I want you to assess the situation you’re in,” the stranger said, “Look at everyone around you, every single person in this ballroom. How many people do you think there are? Four hundred? Five hundred? Maybe six? All of these people, mingling and chatting and enjoying themselves, and yet, no one seems to notice the fact that you are standing here, in this lonely corner, your absolutely ravishing body pressed against mine, and my absolutely delicious blade pressed against your pretty little neck.”
At this, the blade was pressed a bit harder against his throat, and Corrin had to take shorter breaths as to not cut himself every time he exhaled.
“Alright I – ahhh – I’ve assed the situation, now –ahhh – now what?” Corrin managed to choke out. Every time he spoke a bit too fast his throat would push against the sharpness of the blade, causing him to cry out slightly in pain.
“Gods, what lovely sounds you make,” the man said lewdly, “quiero saber que sonidos haras cuando te tenga en la cama.”
“Aghhh!” Corrin exclaimed as the blade was harshly pushed against his throat quickly and then removed completely.
“Unfortunately, I can’t keep you like this,” he pushed Corrin’s body against him harder and a smirk that Corrin couldn’t see covered the stranger’s face, “…not forever at least.”
Corrin felt as if he was falling for a second before he was pulled into the door that he had been previously leaning against until the other man’s body had taken his spot.
He heard the door shut quickly behind him and finally turned to take a look at the man who had threatened him.
The man was standing with one foot against the door and staring Corrin down, as if their previous encounter had never occurred and he had been there the entire time. His hair was slightly whiter than his, but that’s where any resemblances stopped. The stranger was taller than him, almost a full head, and more muscular than him as well. He had a darker complexion, which immediately told Corrin that he was an outsider and definitely not from Nohr.
Most importantly, and irritatingly enough, he was, as much as Corrin hated to admit it, incredibly handsome.
Remembering where he was, Corrin finally spoke up.
“Who are you to threaten me with a blade? Do you know who I am?” the young prince seethed, standing up straight and crossing his arms as an attempt to look more intimidating. It always works when Xander does it.
The man lowered his foot and stood straight.
“Que preguntas tan astutas para esa linda cara. No, I don’t know who you are and I don’t care. And for your information, I am the absolute most qualified person to threaten you with a blade,” he said with a frightening smirk.
Corrin’s body was pulled in and turned around so swiftly by the man that it took him a moment to realize his back was once again pushed against the door, albeit the opposite side, and that his head was trapped between two dark muscular arms.
The handsome stranger leaned in closely, his nose almost touching Corrin’s, and Corrin felt the adrenaline pump through him as his body began to get hot.
“I’m Niles, and until I say so,” he hungrily licked his lips, “you belong to me.”