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The dry air and constant sun prove genial to the ailing king. Nearly a month since he moved with his family to the Summer Palace, a royal villa bordering Nohr and Hoshido, he’s walking on his own again. At times, he can be seen hiking the overgrown commons, strong enough to push through impenetrably tall grass and rolling hills. The rest of his days are peaceful, with only crickets and birdsong making noise in the palace grounds.
Despite his and many nobles’ wishes, Corrin has chosen to follow him, living in the palace with her children. She refuses to leave him with nurses and doctors, insisting on caring for him and his needs. Xander has given up on convincing her to stay away for the sake of her and her newborn infant’s health. Their youngest daughter is only six weeks old, so he can't help but worry.
“Look, Xander! She’s smiling!”
Xander watches as the mother and daughter lie together on the bed. Corrin is lying on her side, hovering over the infant, who coos and caws joyfully as her mother makes silly faces and giggles. He himself is seated closer to the headboard, resting against a stack of pillows and watching them intently.
When he doesn’t answer, Corrin quickly sits up. “Are you tired?”
His lips curl upward for a subtle smile. “I was just thinking.”
She looks at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to continue, but Xander doesn’t say more. He merely rests his head to the side, as if lost in a daydream.
Never one to be ignored, Corrin sidles up closer to him, making sure to leave the baby firmly couched in a roll of blankets as she travels upward. She gets on her knees and hovers close to him, perching her chin on his shoulder for a sideways embrace. “What are you thinking?”
The question makes him sigh and close his eyes wearily. “You won’t like it.”
She giggles, further intrigued now that he’s dodging her question. “No, tell me! I promise I won’t be mad.”
He chuckles under his breath, somewhat amused at Corrin’s eagerness to make promises she might not be able to keep.
“I was thinking about your next husband.”
Corrin pulls away from him. Her face forms that familiar pout, puffing up her cheeks as her lips part in shock.
“I was thinking,” he continues, “that your next husband should be younger — healthier. Wouldn’t want you to be widowed twice.”
Something chill enters the room, and Corrin is at once seized with the instinct to hold her baby, swaddling it in her arms protectively. “Please don’t say things like that,” she says. Her gaze lowers to the child, eyes misty with unshed tears. “You’ll have many more years to live.”
“Even so,” he replies, “I want you to be well taken care of.” Xander closes his eyes, smiling as he sinks into the pillows for much-needed rest.
“You can take care of me by focusing on your health,” she says sternly, deepening her pout to brandish her reproachful side. “I’ll be very sad if she grows up without her papa.” Corrin hugs the baby closer, nuzzling her sleeping form with her cheeks. The gesture wakes the infant, and soon she wails, fitfully squirming in her swaddle.
“Oh baby it’s okay!” Corrin coos, shushing and cradling her. “Mama’s here… “ Veronica is their fifth child, so by now Corrin is experienced enough to glean the meaning of her baby’s wriggly movements. “Are you hungry?” she asks with a laugh. She deftly holds onto the infant with one arm, while freeing the other from the sleeve of her chemise. “Be patient baby! Mama’s trying…” After some effort, she brings the child close to her breast and nurses her, all the while humming the broken melody of a lullaby.
Xander loves watching her like this, playful and caught in an adorable one-sided conversation with their baby. It reminds him of those early days — those first forays of parenthood. Siegbert was fussy, always crying and clinging to his mother. He marvels at how different his children are, their distinct personalities evident as early as infancy. They’ve come a long way since then, and now, in the twilight of his years, he's blessed with another. Xander sits contentedly, imagining how soft the baby must be in his callused hands; or how light as a feather she is in this early stage. Will Veronica cry when she first sees him dressed in his royal regalia, as her older siblings did? Will he live long enough to know?
“You can hold her if you want,” Corrin says. She nudges his arm with her free elbow, and starts to pull the baby away.
“Really Corrin, I shouldn’t be this close to her,” he says, scoffing to himself.
“But you’re better now! The doctor said the illness is spread through contact with the blood. Your cough’s been better, and you haven’t had a fever!”
‘For now,’ he wants to say, but his older years have taught him the lesson of picking his battles when it comes to his wife. He holds his tongue and thinks better of pressing the argument.
“You might be right,” he says instead. He holds out his hand and drapes it along her jaw, thumbing circles over her cheekbones. He wants to kiss her, but he’s afraid. Already, he’s allowing himself too many risks by continuing to sleep in the same bed. Someday, surely, he’ll pay the price for his selfishness. “But I’m a little tired Corrin. I want to rest for now.”
Corrin demurs, shrinking beneath the covers as she watches him with imploring eyes. “Should I blow out the candles?”
He shakes his head and closes his eyes. “No, don’t worry. I can sleep like this.”
Xander sinks into the sheets and pretends to be asleep. Unbeknownst to Corrin, he stays awake for a little over an hour, listening to her sing lullabies and play with the baby, speaking from time to time in affectionate gibberish. Briefly, he allows himself the thought that he could die happily if these were the last sounds he heard — her voice feathery soft and ringing with laughter.
In the middle of summer, Leo visits from the capital. He plans to stay several weeks consolidating much of Xander’s plans and conveying them to court in his stead. They sit in Xander’s private office, a large and well-ventilated room with a view facing a nearby pond. Around it, a murky line of trees forms the edges of a forest where deer reside and wolves hide.
“I need you to do me a favor.” Xander’s gaze remains fixed on some distant point in the landscape, as if entranced by the unfamiliar scenery of a verdant wilderness.
Leo looks up from the parchment, craning his neck to glance at his brother from across the room.
“Talk to her,” he says, low and quiet. Xander leans toward the windowsill, perching his hands on the mantle and letting his head dip below the height of his shoulders. “I’ve tried everything, but she won’t listen to me.” He then sinks into a sullen silence, and from behind him, Leo can no longer tell how he’s feeling.
Leo can only presume that standing and walking about is beginning to tax his brother, try as he might to feign a robustness resembling his health before the manifestation of his consumption. But even his canvas tunic can barely hide the pallor of his skin, nor can facing away conceal his strained, audible breathing.
“What can I possibly say to her that you haven’t? If she won’t listen to you, she definitely won’t listen to me.”
Leo is surprised that Xander is resorting to these tactics, but he doesn’t question him further. Instead, he turns back to the parchment and scrolls amassed over the desk, in dire need of replies. News from the capital grows dire, and he needs to go over the petitions with their absentee king, whose pastoral convalescence proves to be something other than a temporary move.
A fleeting hush falls over them, and for a while nothing but the chirping of birds from outdoors filters into the room. Then, a sigh, and Xander finally turns away from the window to face Leo.
“You’re a smart boy,” he says, smiling. He then slowly makes his way to the seat behind the desk, across from Leo, traversing the threshold to take his rightful place on the much larger chair by the fireplace. “You can make her see reason.”
Leo grimaces. It’s not that he’s unwilling to do his brother a favor, but he fails to understand whatever hidden logic is at work in his brain. Corrin refuses to leave the summer palace because she yearns to be with her dying husband. She refuses to take her place as regent, because to her, the king is very much alive and could be for many years to come. She is stubborn because she clings to hope — a hope Xander has long ago given up on.
Tired, Leo sits back, folding his hands over his lap with his legs crossed as he averts his gaze and ponders for the moment.
“You can always command her,” he says, a smirk starting to creep up on his face. “Even she is subject to royal edicts.”
Xander smiles wanly at his brother’s jest. “Then I’m a terrible king. I can’t even command my own wife.”
“Good thing we planned this regency then. Hopefully we’ll make a better king out of your son.”
They both laugh, the tension easing out of their shoulders as they both shake their heads (in their own little way) at the silly jokes that find their way in and out of their conversation. Now that Leo is almost thirty, he’s a bit grateful to find Xander gradually softening around him, becoming more prone to joking and speaking off-the-cuff whereas before, he would’ve hid this all behind a mask as their capable older brother. He always saw this change as a sign of good times and the freedom of living their lives from beyond their father’s shadow. Now, Leo understands that in their years working together ruling the kingdom, Xander sees him as a comrade helping carry the burden of the crown. What do comrades do if not humorously commiserate in the face of hardship and battle?
When the mirth subsides, Leo sits up. He tilts his head to the ground as his brows knit together apprehensively. “If I can be honest…”
Xander nods for him to go ahead.
“Why not let her stay?” Suddenly, the childish instinct to shrink and avert his gaze overcomes him. Leo is a little boy again, afraid to speak out of turn. “Staying here with your family has done you wonders. You don’t even need a cane anymore. Months ago we all thought-” He stops himself. His right hand coils tightly over the knob of his armrest. There’s no need to bring up the unthinkable. “Regardless,” he starts again, clearing his throat, “this has been good for you.” His eyes roll up, now fixed on his silent brother. “She has been good for you here. I worry that if any of this changes, you’ll get sicker.”
Xander lets out one breathless chuckle, resting his elbows on the armrest of his chair. Somehow, Leo thinks to himself, he manages to make any chair he sits on look like a throne, even in his paler, emaciated state.
“I’m not afraid of dying, Leo,” Xander finally replies. “But I am afraid for my family. I’m afraid that by staying with me, Corrin will get sick, and then our children will lose both their parents.” He then shakes his head, his expression awash with disbelief. “I don’t even know how I got sick. It frightens me, to think of all the blood I must have shed that I don’t even know…”
‘But I’m afraid,’ Leo wants to say. His hand trembles slightly on the armrest, and an uncomfortable wad of air knots in his chest, squeezing at his lungs and his heart. Leo can’t trust himself to speak, lest a sob mottles its way out of his throat.
“All my life,” Xander continues, “I lived for someone else. For father, the kingdom… Make no mistake, I have no regrets. I never apologize for what I’ve done. But Corrin and the kids…” His voice falters, drifting shakily into a hush.
“It’s fine, brother,” Leo cuts in. He offers a soft smile that hovers tenuously into a frown. “I understand.”
Xander leans his head to the side, the corners of his mouth twitching for a sad, misty smile. Everything, from his drooping gaze to his relaxed posture, tells everything Leo needs to know — that he’s thankful; that he regrets placing this burden on him; that however they might personally feel, some things need to be done.
Again, life seems to loll into a languid pause. Outside, the birds chirp merrily as the meadow welcomes the mid-afternoon sun, singing its praises for their endless summer. There’s a noisy sort of peace here that can’t be found in Nohr, where silence is as quiet as death and the air is unbearably heavy and cold. Leo allows himself the guilty thought that he too would like to vacation here, perhaps stroll the meadow as his brother does or watch out for the myriad plantlife which he’ll never find in Nohr.
Yet time marches forward. Leo rises from his seat, aware that he has to make haste with the plans and convey them to the capital. He stops slightly behind Xander’s chair, turning to lay a gentle hand on his older brother’s shoulder.
To his surprise, Xander reaches up with his adjacent hand and wraps it around Leo’s palm, grasping firmly as the two say, without word or sound, everything they keep bottled up whenever they have these meetings. Before they are brothers, they are a king and a prince — a sovereign and his councilor. Anything else — any sentiment or feeling — must find its way out through these fleeting bouts of respite, when neither history nor time can witness the small parts of themselves that they’ve hidden since they were children.
“Take care, Leo,” Xander. He lets go of his hand and stares out into the empty space where Leo used to be.
Leo merely nods and tucks the documents under his arm. He then summarily leaves the office, closing the door gently behind him.