Work Text:
Corrin stared at the metal breastplate, an exhausted frown creeping into her face. In the glinting firelight, she could see her reflection, warped in the dents in the armor. She looked tired, dark circles under her eyes even visible in the distortion of the mirror. She dropped the breastplate into a pile of similarly damaged armaments and sat down. She sighed, wiping her brow. The heat from the forge was uncomfortable on most days, and on hot nights like this it became night-unbearable. She couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable it was for people like Effie. She must be cooking alive whenever she has to spend a shift here.
Corrin laid down on the hard gravel floor of the forge. Her bare feet felt sore and stiff and even now she could feel the heat from the fire roasting her toes. She closed her eyes, silently offering a prayer of thanks that no one usually came to the smithy during the late shift, save evening patrols looking for repairs. She looked left then right, gazing disdainfully at the piles of discarded armor she still needed to bang the dents out of. It was going to be a long night. Again.
She sat up, taking a deep breath. Water would be nice, at least. She crossed the smithy to her gear and withdrew a flask of water, taking a deep drink. She took a breath.
Okay.
Working in the smithy was tough work, and she admitted that she was ill-suited to the task. It took a certain degree of finesse to do well, and while she was no Felicia, she certainly would never be accused of being…too elegant. It took strength, too, and that she had in spades. Unfortunately, though, after a day of training and patrols, she wanted nothing more than to curl up in her room with a book. But jobs were jobs. She had a role to fill, just like everyone else. And she couldn’t let everyone down.
Not again.
She felt her grip tighten on her hammer as she pounded on a gauntlet, trying to work out a kink in the plates. A sudden burst of frustration boiled up and she realized she had gone too far in the opposite direction, and now there was a dent the other way.
She sighed and began again. Steady this time.
A knock came at the door. Corrin frowned.
“H-hello?” she asked, setting down her hammer and gauntlet.
“Corrin? It’s me,” came a soft voice from the other side of the door. “Can you get the door?”
Corrin crossed to the entrance and opened the door.
Azura stumbled in and scattered an armful of gear onto the floor in front of her.
“Azura-agh!” Corrin staggered back, trying to avoid the shower of metal.
“Sorry!” Azura giggled, bending over to pick up her dropped items. “I didn’t want to make another trip so I tried to bring it all at once…”
“What are you doing?” Corrin asked, crouching and helping Azura gather up the gear. She looked at a scratched pauldron with confusion. “Is this…Laslow’s?”
“Yes,” Azura nodded, graciously accepting the pieces Corrin piled into her arms. “I was helping him out with training the new recruits and figured I’d bring the damaged gear in for repairs.”
“Gee, thanks,” Corrin rolled her eyes.
Azura added her gear to the already large piles of armor to be fixed up, dropping them with a loud clattering of metal. She sat on an empty tabletop and watched Corrin get to work. “Looks like you really have your work cut out for you tonight, don’t you?” She swung her bare feet idly through the air, her white dress flowing around her in the hot breeze from the furnace.
“Yeah,” Corrin grumbled, hammer in hand once again. The sound of metal pounding on the anvil reverberated through the smithy as she worked, fixing up piece after piece of dented metal. She worked quickly and silently. Azura began humming gently.
“Can you not?” Corrin snapped.
Azura stopped and sat up, suddenly at attention. “Corrin…”
“I’m sorry,” Corrin murmured, still working. “I didn’t mean for that to sound so angry.”
Azura hopped off the table and tiptoed around the piles of gear, making her way to Corrin’s side. Corrin’s face was a mask, her red eyes laser-focused on her work.
Azura stood behind her and wrapped her arms around her.
“Azura, I need to work.”
Azura shushed her and reached out, trying to stop Corrin’s arms from moving. She squeezed her tightly. She buried her face in Corrin’s blue cape and nuzzled gently.
“Azura.”
“How long have you been working?”
Corrin frowned and broke out of Azura’s grip, kneeling in the gravel and sifting through more pieces to be repaired.
“Corrin,” Azura said firmly and expectantly. “How long?”
Corrin shook her head and stood up, a greave in hand this time. “It doesn’t matter. There’s still work to do.”
“You weren’t at dinner.”
“I had patrols.”
“You weren’t a lunch either.”
“I was overseeing archery practice.”
“Did you eat on your own?”
“I…I got some bread from the mess hall on my way over here.”
“If you’re doing the evening shift that means that was four hours ago.”
Corrin stopped hammering, her fist clenched angrily around the hammer handle. She ground her teeth in her mouth but said nothing.
“Did you bathe yet today?”
“No, I-“ Corrin’s answer was interrupted by a rush of lips pressed to her own. Azura gripped her tightly, her lean, muscular arms locking into Corrin, her soft face flush against her. Azura pulled her face away but remained in the embrace.
“Please,” she said softly. “You need to rest.”
Corrin faltered, her stone façade crumbling in the face of Azura’s tender concern.
The hammer dropped to the ground with a solid thud as Corrin lay her head on Azura’s chest. Azura hummed to her and wrapped her hands around Corrin’s head, threading her hands through Corrin’s white locks.
Corrin sighed, listening to the slow beat of Azura’s heart. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I…I need to do this. It has to get done.”
“But not by you,” Azura kissed the top of her head. “You’ve done so much for everyone. You deserve to rest.”
“No,” Corrin said pulling away. “I…I can’t. I have to fix this.” She stared at Azura, her red eyes piercing and vigorous despite her haggard face. “I have to-“
Azura grasped her shoulders and kissed her again, cutting her off. This time she held the kiss, closing her eyes, refusing to let Corrin break away. Her breathing felt ragged and uneven, and Azura slowly withdrew.
Azura clutched Corrin, her lithe fingers dancing lightly over Corrin’s gloved hands. She pulled Corrin’s hands up to her mouth and kissed her fingertips. “You’re so important to me,” she whispered. “This war means nothing if you destroy yourself to win it.” She poked at a discarded shield with her bare foot. “Even the sturdiest shield breaks without proper care and maintenance.”
She squeezed Corrin again and brushed their lips together. “You’re my shield. Let me take care of you.”
Corrin slumped into her and closed her eyes. Perhaps rest wouldn’t be so bad after all.