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We’re only here for just a moment in the light, one day it shines for us the next we’re in the night, so say the word and I’ll be running back to find you, a thousand armies won’t stop me, I’ll break through, I’ll soar the endless skies for only one sight, of your starlight...
“Does this mean Big Sister gets to come home with us?”
Elise’s words rang out over the clatter of hooves. For a long moment, no one answered.
From where they rode three abreast, Xander’s gaze flicked first to Camilla, then to Leo, secrets dancing unspoken between them. Of the four Nohrian siblings present, the youngest was the only one still unaware of Corrin’s true heritage, and the reason their sister yet remained in the Northern Fortress.
“Well?” Elise prodded when no one answered. “Does it?”
“Not just yet, Elise,” Xander said in a carefully neutral tone. Sometimes Leo wondered how many times he’d had that tone used on him before he learned the truth, and how he’d never noticed it.
“But it’s a very good sign,” Camilla interjected hurriedly. “A very good sign,” she repeated, as if she were trying to convince herself.
Behind them, Elise huffed, nudging her pony into a trot to keep up with the much larger strides of the other three siblings’ mounts. As she came up alongside Leo, Hati flicked an ear in the mare’s direction, following it with a soft nicker, as if testing to see if Leo was paying attention.
“Stop being such a stallion,” Leo muttered under his breath, bumping his calf into his mount’s ribs in a reminder that yes, he was still up there, thank you very much. Hati sighed, obligingly dropping his head back into the bit.
“But why?” Elise demanded. “Why can’t Corrin come back with us?”
“You know why, Elise,” Camilla soothed, looking across Leo to fix their sister with a smile. “Corrin gets ill very easily—”
“I can’t remember the last time Corrin was sick!” Elise exclaimed. “Can you, Leo?” When he didn’t respond inside of half a second, she continued, “Can you?”
“Not off the top of my head,” Leo admitted, watching as Hati’s head tilted, ever-so-slightly, in the direction of Camilla’s mount. His elder sister, preferring to ride a wyvern rather than a horse, didn’t have her own personal mount like the rest of them did, instead grabbing whatever horse from the stables caught her fancy that day when they went riding together. Today she had brought Hati’s half-brother, a tall, sleek dark bay by the name of Freddy, who was—as Leo had once so eloquently put it—afraid of his own shadow. Leo was fairly certain that Hati qualified as being scarier than a shadow. “Don’t.”
“Father doesn’t want to take any chances,” Xander interjected.
Father’s worried about entirely different chances being taken, Leo mentally corrected. Namely, the chance of Hoshido stealing back their long-lost Princess Kamui the moment she left her captive solitude.
But the thought of Elise learning that, in the same earth-shattering manner Leo himself had learned it, kept him quiet.
“But Xander, it’s so silly!” Elise insisted. “If Big Sister did get sick when she left, then I could heal her! It’s not taking a chance at all! Why can’t Father—”
“Elise!” Xander snapped. “That’s enough!” His voice softened as he peered across their company. “Father hasn’t changed his mind yet. Until he does, Corrin stays. There’s nothing to be done about it.”
Elise let out a soft hmph, then muttered under her breath, “Only ‘cause you won’t do anything,” she grumbled.
Leo had a feeling he was the only one to have heard her.
“Oh, darling,” Camilla said after a moment. “Do be happy for your sister. She’s going to finally learn how to ride like the rest of us, and isn’t that exciting?”
“...Yeah!” Elise exclaimed. “I guess it is. She’s gonna be so far behind, though…”
“Well, I’m sure that’s why Father’s giving her her own horse at the Fortress,” Camilla said. “So she can spend lots of time learning. Gunter has already agreed to teach her.”
Leo allowed himself a glance back at the squat, scrappy looking black mare trailing behind Skoll. She was a world away from the elegant warmbloods the rest rode—even Elise’s Tiny Dancer was but a smaller version of the well-built, long-strided Nohrian warhorses. This horse, though, was clearly a mutt of the highest order; sweet and gentle and kind, yes, but not exactly breathtakingly beautiful.
Of course, Leo thought, that would be what King Garon would grant to Corrin. The leftovers.
“But it’s really sad,” Elise said. “About her feet.”
Leftovers, Leo mentally corrected, who they were told could not leave the Northern Fortress herself due to previous lameness issues. Apparently getting the mare there was going to be an effort in itself.
And what irony was that? he asked himself. To give Corrin a horse and none of the freedoms it offered was almost laughably predictable at this point. Yes, his sister would finally learn how to ride—inside, and only ever inside, the perpetual confines of her prison.
Leo wanted to scream at the thought.
“I’m sure Misty will still be an excellent teacher for our little princess,” Xander assured Elise, tugging gently on the aforementioned mare’s lead to ensure she kept up. Sometimes Leo wondered if Skoll even knew he was a stallion; getting and keeping Hati that close to a mare without him going absolutely wild would be somewhere between the realms of ‘laughable’ and ‘impossible.’
“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Elise admitted, then grinned. “It could be worse! Father could have given her Hati!”
Leo, without missing a beat, riposted, “Why Elise, I didn’t realize you wished Corrin dead.”
Elise stuck out her tongue at him. Meanwhile, as if realizing the conversation had turned to him, Hati took the opportunity to spook at a leaf, crow-hopping and snorting with mock-fear.
Leo called his horse a rather unkind name under his breath, sending him forward into a ground-eating trot until he dared rein him back around and wait for the rest of his siblings. “As I said,” he told Elise loftily.
~~~
Corrin’s seventeenth birthday passed as they all had since her sixth, the first they had spent together in the Northern Fortress. October the thirty-first was spent together, laughing, eating, and showering the girl of the hour with presents.
Every present but the one she truly wanted: freedom.
Leo could see it in her face—the faint pinch in her lips, the slight dullness of her eyes when every gift was opened and the library’s floor showered in scraps of paper. He couldn’t help but remember his own words from a few months before.
“You know what comes after seventeen, yes? Eighteen. I’m quite certain you’ll leave this place by then. If not before.”
Had he built up her hopes, all for nothing?
Setting his now-empty teacup aside, Xander leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Little princess,” he said gravely. “We have one more gift for you.”
Corrin’s head snapped toward him, her eyes alight and her lips parting slightly. “You do?”
“...Xander,” Leo said in a soft voice. She’s going to think…
“Indeed,” Xander said.
“From Father,” Camilla added.
Leo opened his mouth—to say what, he couldn’t quite decide—but was swiftly interrupted by a bouncing Elise. “Can I show her? Can I please show her?”
Xander chuckled. “Go ahead.”
Elise all but flew out of her seat. “Come on come on come on!” she cried, grabbing Corrin’s hands and tugging her up. “Let’s go let’s go!”
Corrin’s muffled queries faded down the hallway first, eventually followed by the lack of Elise’s excited cries.
“Why would you say that?” Leo whispered. “You know what she’ll think you meant.”
A shadow crossed over Xander’s face. “Perhaps I did phrase that poorly,” he admitted.
“She’ll be all right, Leo,” Camilla said gently. “It’ll give her some hope. And something to work at, being able to ride.”
Leo glanced between them both, then got to his feet without another word. Quietly, he heard them follow.
“If there were ever a time to let me out… but he hasn’t, Leo. He hasn’t and sometimes I don’t think he ever will.”
Despite their small delay, they hadn’t ended up far behind Elise and Corrin, both inside the stall already. “And who is this?” Leo heard the latter coo as he rounded the corner.
“Her name is Misty,” Xander said in a low voice, striding towards the mare’s window. “And she is yours.”
Corrin’s head whipped around so fast her argent hair seemed to blur. Her hand, outstretched toward Misty’s nose, froze in midair, and the mare nudged against it in protest. “...Mine?” she whispered. “You mean…?”
“Father believes it time for you to learn how to ride,” Xander explained gently. “As any self-respecting member of the Nohrian royal family should. Gunter has already agreed to teach you.”
Corrin’s eyes seemed to flicker. “Gunter…”
“And,” Xander continued, “In a year or two, when you have developed your seat properly, I shall be glad to begin teaching you mounted swordsmanship.”
A year or two. Leo could practically see the words bouncing around in Corrin’s head. The smile on her face slipped, almost immediately replaced by a pale facsimile. “That’s wonderful,” she said softly. Once again, she reached her hand up to stroke Misty’s head. “I can’t wait to get started.”
“The yard beside the northeast tower has been cleared for you to use,” Xander explained. “But there is something you must understand.” His voice turned grave. “Misty has previously suffered many issues with her feet. If she were to leave the Fortress, there is a chance the outside ground might possibly lame her permanently.”
A beat passed. “So she can’t leave either,” Corrin said.
“No, I’m afraid not. But in the meantime, she still has quite a bit to teach you.”
“But just think!” Camilla said, clapping her hands together. “It will be such a wonderful thing for you to finally learn! Riding is such fun, dear, even if I do prefer a wyvern…”
“Yes,” Corrin said. “Yes, I’m sure it is, Camilla.” A wistful look crossed her features for the briefest of moments, so quickly Leo had to wonder if he’d only imagined it. “Please send Father my gratitude.”
“Do you want to braid her mane?” Elise asked, pulling a knot of ribbons from gods knew where. “She’ll look so pretty! And then we can do Dancer’s after!”
Corrin brightened, just a touch. “Sure, Elise,” she said, yanking a deep purple ribbon from the tangle. She shot a sidelong glance at Leo. “I’m assuming you don’t want us to give Hati the old beauty treatment?”
“Hati will eat you,” Leo replied.
“You can do Freddy if you like, darlings,” Camilla said indulgently. “I’m sure you’ll make him look very handsome.”
With all the seriousness of a court judge, Elise began to sort through her ribbons. “Purple for Misty, pink for Dancer… blue for Freddy?” she asked, peering back up at Corrin.
“Blue for Freddy,” Corrin agreed. “Say, Leo, hypothetically, what color would Hati like?”
“Blood red, probably,” Leo deadpanned. “Which is the same color you’d be if you hypothetically tried. Don’t say I never warned you.”
“Leo, dear, stop trying to scare your sisters,” Camilla chided.
“I’m not!” Leo protested. When she shot him a heavy, disapproving glare, he met it head-on. “Camilla,” he said seriously. “You don’t ride him.”
Xander gave a soft chuckle. “In this case, I believe I have to side with Leo,” he said. “I have never had a horse leave me on the ground faster than Hati did.”
Leo puffed his chest out a little at that; some small part of him had felt a little vindicated when Xander had hopped on his misbehaving mount, a few months after Leo had received him, and had ended up in the dirt just as surely and as quickly as Leo had that day.
“So,” Corrin interjected again. “Someday, when I get really good, will you actually let me ride him?”
Leo fixed his gaze back on her. “Corrin,” he said. “I’m not sure how to make this any clearer. You would die.”
“Spoilsport,” she muttered.
“Realist,” he insisted.
“Worrywart.”
“Kind, caring younger brother who wishes his sister to remain alive,” Leo continued.
“Now, now,” Xander said. “Why don’t we leave Corrin to enjoy her present in peace?”
~~~
Why?
It was about the only thought Leo could hold in his head as he made his way back down to the stables that night, weaving his way through the post-dinner dark.
Why would Father teach Corrin to ride if he didn’t plan on letting her leave? Why would he give her a horse doomed to lameness if he did plan on it? Why now, of all times?
Why wouldn’t he just let her leave?
That, unfortunately, Leo knew the answer to, but the rest of the puzzle didn’t make sense. He slipped through the aisleway, heading for the tack room at the back.
He found, fortunately, what he needed—a hoofpick, a halter, and a long lungeline, the latter two he hung over his shoulder as he made his way back out. Hati pricked his ears as Leo neared, though the stallion let out an offended squeal as his rider passed without a word, pausing across the aisleway at Misty’s stall.
The mare looked up from her own dinner with a slightly bemused look, hay hanging from the corners of her mouth as Leo slipped the halter over her head and adjusted it. The hoofpick he retrieved from his back pocket before reaching for Misty’s foot.
He paused, wishing for better lighting, but the hoof showed no tell-tale signs of thrush, and he’d have smelled that even if he couldn’t see it. Was she laminitic? But that could be managed easily with the proper diet... If he hadn’t heard otherwise, he’d have assumed her hoof in excellent shape.
Leo dropped that foot, moving on to the next and ignoring what sounded like Hati bouncing in his stall, letting out continuous sounds that were something between squeaks and squeals. Again, Misty’s hoof looked like, well, a hoof.
He found all four in the same condition before he straightened, fixing his own mount with a long look. Hati dropped down from the half-rear Leo had caught him in the middle of, rearranging himself with a huff.
“If you throw a shoe I am going to have them turn you into glue,” Leo told him frankly.
Hati blew out a snort, and Leo was fairly certain the stallion would have rolled his eyes if he had the ability to. You would never.
“Don’t you sass me,” Leo said. “I’ll do as I like, and don’t think I won’t.”
Hati gave a long whinny at that.
“Jealousy is a terrible look on you,” Leo called over his shoulder, clipping the lungeline to Misty’s halter and leading her out of the stall.
Hati lunged out the window, teeth bared and clacking, only to plaintively whinny again as Leo left the barn, leaving the prince rolling his eyes and continuing towards the yard that had been cleared for Corrin to ride in.
He urged Misty out onto a circle, evaluating her walk with a keen eye. It was a pleasant gait to look at, four even beats that showed no signs of unsoundness. With a furrowed brow, he clucked her into a trot—again, not as showy or beautiful as Hati’s, but that was to be expected. Her canter was a little odd, by far her worst gait and by the look of it rather uncomfortable to ride, but again there was not an inkling that she was unsound. Suspicion growing by the moment, Leo turned Misty to the other direction and found the same story told again.
He pulled her up short, evaluating her. Her overall build was more downhill than he’d like, unavoidably putting more strain on her forelegs than was ideal, but with correct riding that was workable. Perhaps he could come down and ride her every so often to keep her fit whilst Corrin worked on her own abilities.
Leo could have been wrong, but a large part of him wasn’t inclined to believe so.
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said, fixing his eyes on Misty’s.
So why did Father say there was?
~~~
“Your Majesty.” Iago bowed low, cape brushing the ground, and held the pose for a moment longer than protocol dictated. “If I may be so bold as take a moment of your precious time?”
A long moment passed before King Garon’s gravelly voice reached him. “Speak.”
Head still inclined down, Iago strode across the throne room, stopping when he reached the bottom on the red-carpeted steps. “It’s about Lady Corrin, Your Majesty,” the sorcerer said, finally lifting his eyes to his king’s. “You see, I worry she may take your recent gift as something of… an expression of freedom.”
“Do you question me?” Garon asked, his tone dangerous.
“Not at all, my liege,” Iago hurriedly said. “I merely wished to assuage my own curiosity, so as to better assist you in your inerrant plans.”
A long moment passed, leaving the sorcerer suppressing the quiver that went through his body. “Very well,” Garon said. “But first, answer a question.”
“Anything, Your Majesty.”
“How many Hoshidan soldiers fight while mounted?”
Iago lifted his head again, brows furrowing. “Very few, my liege. They have little to mount, beyond their rather exclusive order of pegasi and the rare kinshi.”
The throne room was quiet. Finally, Garon chuckled. “Exactly,” the king said. “The esteem of the mounted calvary belongs to our own blueblooded Nohrians.”
“Yes, of course,” Iago simpered. “And it is a fine order of soldiers we have—”
“Silence!” Garon snapped. “Now tell me,” he continued, his voice dropping again, “why I have left Corrin in the Northern Fortress for all these years.”
With bated breath, Iago ventured, “To prevent war with Hoshido, my liege?”
“No.” Garon straightened, rising from his throne. “If that was my wish, I could have accomplished it simply. I would have locked her in a cell, thrown away the key, and never spoken of her again. Instead, I have fed her, clothed her, given her a home, called her my own kin. I gave her a new name and a new life. My children are her siblings and I am her father. Now tell me, Iago, why would I do that just to prevent a war?”
Iago sucked in a breath. “I’m afraid your brilliance exceeds my own, Your Majesty.”
Garon chuckled. “To my unending lack of astonishment. It is very simple, Iago: I have spent the last dozen years turning a Hoshidan princess into a Nohrian one.”
Swallowing, Iago said, “That you have, Your Majesty, and astonishingly so.”
“One day,” Garon said, descending the stairs, “I will no longer be able to keep Corrin in the Northern Fortress. Her learning to fight, and to ride, may well bring that day nearer than it would be otherwise.” He stopped on the stair above Iago. “But it accomplishes more than it hinders. Every day she sits in that saddle, she becomes more the Nohrian knight. Every day she raises her sword against my eldest son, she becomes more his sister. And one day, she will leave that fortress. And one day…” The king descended the last step, catching Iago’s chin in his palm. “One day, she may well return to Hoshido. And when that day happens…”
“Yes?” Iago whispered.
“When that day happens,” Garon whispered, “I want her to be so thoroughly, utterly Nohrian that Hoshido throws her back on our doorstep in disgust.” His grip tightened, lifting Iago’s chin even further. “And that will be my victory, my greatest until the day we grind Hoshido into dust. We will have turned their very own Princess Kamui into a weapon forged against them. Do you understand, Iago?”
“Yes, my liege,” Iago ground out. “Perfectly.”
With a nod, Garon released him. Iago resisted the urge to rub at his jaw.
“It’s all so very poetic, Your Majesty, and I can certainly appreciate—”
“You’re dismissed,” Garon said, returning to his throne.
“Er,” Iago said. “Of course. I await your next summons, Your Majesty.” With a quick bow, he scurried toward the exit.
Just before the great door swung shut, he heard the king sigh and whisper, “How much longer must you ask me to wait, Anankos?”