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The walk to the King’s chambers is longer than Leo remembers. Since his brother’s coronation, he has had to make visits here, offering late night counsel when crisis arises. Yet in broad daylight, the corridor seems longer. The trail of gargoyles never seemed so endless as they do now, emerging from cool damp stone, forever frozen as they skulk about the cornices and doorways. It occurs to Leo that he rarely ever visits these parts of the castle during the day, that he’s never around when maids come to and fro, rushing in with clean linens only to depart moments later, bearing the same linens soaked in yellow sweat and specks of blood.
As Prince and Lord Chancellor, Leo has to put on a brave face. He has to hug the dossiers close to his side, and walk with his chin held high, his stride ever steadfast. By the time he approaches the door to Xander’s bedroom, the once indolent guard stands to attention and announces his arrival. Shortly thereafter, the door opens, and a maid lets him in.
He first sees Corrin, seated calmly by the bedside. Since she’s not in public, she doesn't wear her ceremonial dress, nor does she hide her hair in a veil as is customary for women of the court. Instead of ornate petticoats and frilly sleeves, she’s in a casual summer chemise and a light canvas petticoat, all dyed black. It’s almost as if she’s prematurely entered into mourning, watching sullenly at the motionless figure lying on the bed.
Clearly, she hasn’t noticed him. A few seconds pass, and the only move she makes is with her hand as she gently runs it over her protruding belly. The sight of it makes Leo avert his gaze, unable to grapple with the idea that, in a matter of months, his sister-in-law will give birth to a fatherless child. It’s a future Xander never wanted for his family, but as the saying goes, beggars can't be choosers.
“Ah, you’re here,” she says, turning towards him with light surprise in her eyes. “He’s been waiting for you.”
Leo nods in reply, afraid to make more noise than is necessary.
Suddenly, the sheets on the bed rise. A cough fitfully breaches the silence. “Where is he?” Xander rises from his fevered slumber. His voice is coarse, straining to fight past the blood as he spits it out.
Corrin quickly rises from her seat, bringing a cloth to Xander’s mouth as she helps him sit up against his bulwark of pillows.
“He’s not well yet,” she says, turning back to Leo with pleading eyes.
But Xander anticipates his wife’s futile efforts to put a hold on governance. Despite their deepest wishes, a king’s work is never done, and his advisors must be equally vigilant. So Leo doesn’t hesitate to come forward, taking an empty seat by the foot of the bed so he can face Xander.
When he’s finished coughing, she throws the bloodied napkin into a basin. Xander reclines and says, with a tender smile, “I’m alright Corrin. You can leave us.”
Her face scrunches, as if to argue, but she bites her lip and thinks better of it. She nods dutifully and rises from her seat. “Please go easy on him,” she says to Leo, half in jest and half in earnestness. They exchange tacit pleasantries, and before long she walks out of the room, closing the door behind her.
“I heard you ran a fever last night,” Leo starts. “It’s getting worse, Xander.”
To that, Xander can only give a breathless laugh. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
The younger brother smiles to be pleasant, but he knows that’s not true. It has become increasingly untrue in the months since Xander first collapsed, coughing up blood on the stone floors of his office. No one knows how such a savage disease wormed its way into the heart of the kingdom, infecting their strong and beloved king. Some say it must have happened years before, when they fought wars in plague-ridden lands. Ten years since the last war and they are paying the price. Xander is dying, and his body has become a hollow shell of what it used to be.
“Now tell me,” Xander cuts to the chase, “what did they say?”
Leo promptly lays the dossier he’s been carrying onto the bed. The scrolls unroll neatly along the width of the frame, revealing an endless script of plans and contracts.
“We have most of the votes necessary, but I’m afraid key members of the court are still vocally opposed. Some want Corrin to be regent until Siegbert comes of age, and, to be frank, it's the most logical choice to those who don’t know our family.”
Xander turns to the window beside his bed, gazing woefully as he listens to Leo’s report. “They want to use her,” he says, “and she knows it.” He sits still for a few more moments, mulling in silence until he has the strength to turn back to the dossier and lift the parchment for a read. “What about the counter-motion for a co-regency?”
“The council was receptive,” Leo answers, “but they have addenda of their own. For one, they don’t want me as the co-regent.”
Xander scoffs, coughing from the jerkiness of the reflex and the strain it puts on his lungs. “I wonder how you’ve come to be so disliked Leo,” he jests. “You’d think my own councilors would trust my judgment.”
“It’s an imminent power vacuum and they know it,” he says, letting his gaze fall onto his lap. “At this rate, I only have one other recommendation.” Leo pauses and peers up once more at his brother, silently waiting for permission.
“Speak,” Xander commands.
“I say go along with them. Name Corrin as your regent, but make sure she has the power to appoint the next Chancellor.”
Xander nods, instantly picking up on his brother’s plan. “Then she can reinstate you without question, good thinking.”
“It’s not ideal,” Leo continues, “but perhaps a more subtle approach will be the easiest transition. No one will challenge Corrin’s regency, and no one will question having her son’s uncle as a councilor, much less suspect me of grabbing power.”
With a tired sigh, Xander sets down the parchment. “I can always preside over the next assembly,” he says. “They won’t oppose the motion then.” As if on cue, another coughing fit consumes him. An airy, ghoulish noise comes out, straining the limits of his lungs.
Leo rushes to the pile of clean linens, handing it to Xander.
But he’s too late. The blood is visible from the crevices of his hand, and by the time he coughs into the fabric, he’s already pale and covered in sweat. Another cough sputters out before Xander reclines once more on his pillows, throwing his neck back while closing his eyes.
“You have to be well enough to do that,” Leo says, smiling pensively as he nears Xander’s side of the bed. The sight of his brother looking so frail leaves a pit in his stomach. He doesn’t know for how long he can keep up appearances, to watch stoically as his brother withers away before their very eyes.
“Don’t come too close,” Xander murmurs, his eyes remaining closed. A crease forms between his brows, and through his long neck, Leo can see the bob of his Adam’s apple moving slowly through the painful act of swallowing. “I have a hard enough time telling the kids to stay away.” His own comment makes him chuckle, but Xander is careful to restrain the unconscious movements of his body to his shoulders.
“They all miss their father,” Leo offers sympathetically.
To that, Xander smiles. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You still don’t want a wife of your own? I’m sure the kids would love to have cousins.”
They both share a subdued chortle over that. Normally, Leo would reply with something witty — snidely remarking on the largesse of maintaining Xander’s own family. There’s no need to strain the royal coffers further. “Perhaps Elise can get started on that,” he demurs. The youngest princess has been married off some years now, to some faraway prince in a faraway land. Though she reports that they are happily married, there has been no sign of children.
The mention of his youngest sister leaves Xander smiling, opening his eyes so he can face his brother with more warmth and tenderness. “I’ve been thinking of her lately. Her and Camilla… I want to see them again.”
For the first time since he entered the room, Leo frowns. The mask crumbles, and he looks with longing out the window, where a perpetual twilight casts silver light over the clouds. “Elise is one thing, but Camilla is already on her way here. You’ll see her.”
Xander nods, grateful for all his brother’s efforts to console him. He fully understands that even kings — dragon blood or not — can’t move mountains. It’ll take two to three months for Elise to make her journey to Nohr, and even then, a queen of a different kingdom simply can’t make this trek without risking the disapproval of her subjects. It’s impossible, and Xander has long ago accepted this reality. It’s a possibility he considered as early as her wedding day, when he watched her ship set sail, disappearing into the sunlit horizon of the sea.
Back in the present, a heavy silence fills the gap in their conversation. Nothing short of the occasional draft through the windows and the audible straining of Xander’s breathing can be heard. Since the first diagnosis, Leo has learned to appreciate these quiet moments — times when simply being in each other’s company grants the reprieve they’ve both yearned for. But these moments are always fleeting. Some sounds — scuffling in the hall, or Xander’s persistent coughs — remind them of the work to be done and the long road before them.
“I’m sorry Leo,” Xander says out of the blue.
His younger brother snaps out of his trance, concerned into a stunned silence.
“I thought— no, I wished there’d be more time,” the ailing man continues. “This isn’t the future I wanted for you.” Despite his solemn words, Xander gives another smile, softer than before.
There are times when Xander reminds Leo of their late father. Often it’s when he stands imperious, like some immovable rock weathering a storm. Yet in that moment, Leo remembers a different version of their father — a kind and benevolent patriarch increasingly lost to fading memories. Only now, seeing Xander muster the strength to smile with a doting gaze, does the picture complete itself, and for the first time in years, Leo is moved with longing to see their father again.
Leo reaches out to him, laying a hand on his arm while saying, without speaking, all the gratitude and love he feels. Thankfully, Xander catches his meaning, and merely lies back to close his eyes. He doesn’t move or motion for Leo to let go, content to let his brother hold onto him on his own terms.
“I’m tired,” Xander whispers.
“Sleep,” Leo replies, squeezing his arm firmly before letting go. “I’ll send Corrin in.”
Like a candle blown away, the warmth in Xander’s countenance vanishes. He turns to face the window with his eyes closed, slowing his breaths. For all the years his brother struggled with insomnia, it gives Leo some comfort to see that illness has made it easier for Xander to sleep.
When he opens the door, she’s already there, standing with her hands nervously clutching a handkerchief.
“How is he?” she asks, assailing him as soon as he steps into the hall.
“He’s resting now.”
“I heard coughing,” she continues, glancing over his taller shoulders as if nervous that Xander might appear out of nowhere. “Should I fetch the doctor?”
“No, no… let him rest.” Leo steps aside, doing his best to resume his calm and composed facade. “Go in there,” he says with a smile, “he’s waiting for you.”
Corrin sucks in a breath before lifting her skirts and rushing into the room. Leo stifles the impulse to warn her that she should watch for her health too. At six months pregnant, staying so close to disease is dangerous.
Still, she moves far too quickly for him. By the time he turns, the door is already closed. From inside, he can hear muffled sounds of her one-sided conversation, no doubt pleading from the foot of Xander’s bed for him to retire and set aside his princely duties. That battle isn’t his to fight, Leo decides, so he leaves them be.
Once more, Leo steps out into the corridor. The echo of his footsteps against the castle walls ring hollow, fading and seeping into the stone.