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Act 1
“Are you going to be all right, Corrin?”
She ran her fingers through her hair, black gloves cutting dark rivers between silver hills.
“I’m fine, Kaze. Sorry,” she replied, with a faint smile. “We were bound to run into my siblings eventually.”
He turned his gaze towards the fort on the horizon, guarded by two elite warriors. A screech rang out from the skies above.
“A wyvern,” Kaze murmured. “She’s serious. Not to mention her two retainers, they’re no slouches either.”
“I’ve sparred with her in the past… I never would have thought it would come to this.”
The green-haired man continued analysing the battle.
“Over there, that man… Hans, right? He looks dangerous.”
An audible click came out of the leader’s mouth.
“I’ll take Hana and circle around. I have some… unfinished business with that man. Hinoka’s unit will push straight forward. She should have the upper hand against that red-haired retainer.”
“My orders?”
“Cover my flanks,” she responded with a smile, “as always.”
Corrin drew her blade, gleaming with a golden glow, and pointed it forwards.
“Everyone, let’s do this! Remember, kill as few people as possible!”
The battle raged, soldiers from the light and dark kingdoms clashed together, the clanging of blades echoed through the village. While the main forces were locked in myriad skirmishes, the commander and the ninja carefully trekked around, seeking their prey.
Eventually, turning the corner of a house, they saw him. A bald scalp poked out of the bushes, off to the side of the path in the woods.
“Corrin, he can’t seriously think he’s hiding, right?”
She chuckled.
“He’s not exactly the brightest, but that does make him all the more dangerous in battle.”
“I can take him on, no problem,” said Hana, itching to draw her steel.
The dragonness deliberated on her decision for a brief moment.
“Okay, Hana. You charge in first, try to catch him off guard. We’ll be right behind, to surround him.”
Corrin glanced at Kaze, and received a slight nod in response. With her left hand, she silently counted down from three.
The samurai girl charged forward, unleashing her sword in a swift motion, and yelled, “Face me, Nohrian scum!”
The pair followed shortly behind, but not 20 paces later did the ninja notice something wrong.
“Wait, stop!”
His warning came too late. A loud crashing exploded from a nearby house’s window, and a large, toothed blade rained down from above. Caught surprised, Corrin barely had the time to dodge the ambush. The sword grazed her armour, ripping off its scales and drawing a sliver of blood.
“Ngh!”
A lone fighter stood before her, Wyrmslayer in hand.
“A trap?!”
She quickly snapped her head backwards to look for her ally. She spotted him, an arrow lodged in his shoulder.
“Kaze!”
While not particularly gifted for strategy, her knack for tactics told her the truth. If her friend stayed here any longer, he would most likely die.
She gritted her teeth, and commanded, “Run, and regroup with the others! I won’t let you fall here!”
“But—”, he protested.
“No buts! I’m your commander. This is an order!”
He lowered his head, a somber look in his eyes, before vanishing into a cloud of smoke.
He knew that this was a suicide move. Corrin had no chance of beating this foe. If it came to either losing her friends and her own life or just losing hers, the conclusion was obvious.
In another life, she might have been able to foresee this ambush. But today, the dragon princess lost.
Act 2
“Your orders were clear, Princess Camilla. The traitor was to be killed on sight.”
“Cut the crap, Iago. You can’t ask me to kill my baby sister.”
The masked man smirked as he turned his eye towards the silver-haired prisoner.
She knelt on the cold floor of the castle, wounded from battle. Her arms were pinned together to her back, hands crossed and locked cruelly high. A rope looped around her neck, uncomfortably tight, and its tail was used to restrain her wrists, making every attempt at relaxing her muscles pinch the collar tighter.
Her entire lower body was restrained, wrapped in coarse hemp. The strands mercilessly bit into her thighs, knees, and ankles. As if to add insult to injury, even her largest toes were bound together, rendering her legs a single, useless limb.
“No matter, Princess. I’ll deal with your insubordination later. Since the Hoshidan wench is here now, I have other ideas in mind. You’re dismissed.”
Camilla’s eyes shot daggers at the mage, and as she turned, left him with a warning.
“You would do well to remember this, schemer. You’re dealing with royalty. Nohrian royalty. If you forget that fact, you will pay the consequences.”
He giggled, and answered, “Ooh, scary! But rest assured, no harm will come to your darling sibling. Now, off with you.”
The purple haired lady strutted out of the hall. The clicking sound of her metal boots against the stone echoed throughout the room.
A faint voice came from the captive, asking, “…what… do you want?”
“Ugh, you’re such a pain in the arse,” he responded. “I was just going to write off your death as an unfortunate casualty of war. Now your stupid sister cocked everything up by dragging the bitch back into the house!”
Corrin mustered what energy she had left into a grin, and raised her bruised face to look the mage in the eye.
“I… have no idea… why Father keeps a jester like you… around.”
Immediately, Iago’s smirk left his face, replaced with an ugly frown. He stepped towards the kneeling princess, and resolutely shoved her to the ground with his heel.
“Stay down, dog,” he spat, as he walked away.
She was too tired to move, and laid on the ground, panting from exhaustion. After a short while, the man returned to her side.
“Most people see you as a dangerous foe,” he began. “Some, because of that legendary sword you wield. Others, because you can turn into a bloody dragon.”
He put one knee on the ground to get closer to her face, and reached out for the girl’s chin, firmly grabbing it between his fingers.
“But I’m no fool. Your greatest weapon is your tongue. How many of my soldiers have you turned? Everywhere you go, everyone inexplicably becomes your friend.”
“…must be confusing… for you.”
He let go of her and raised his hand, preparing a slap.
“You’re lucky I can’t harm you. Don’t worry, though, I’m still going to get rid of you.”
He produced two leather items from his cloak. One was straightforward, something Corrin had glimpsed many times before, usually on dogs. This collar was bigger, however, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why.
The other was unlike anything she had ever seen. It was a tangle of leather straps that connected to a single, dark blue orb.
“…wha—”, she wanted to ask, but was interrupted.
Iago ruthlessly shoved the ball into her mouth, barely making it past her teeth, before lodging it against her tongue, trapped inside her jaw.
“Please stop talking.”
He pulled the long straps down behind her head, and buckled them just above her nape. The gag tightened, but that barely mattered. The discomfort from the ball itself was much more noticeable. Corrin heard a faint clicking sound, as a heavy weight fell and dangled from her new accessory.
“…mnph...”
The mage chuckled as he began fastening the collar around her neck.
“I must say, I like you much better like this.”
The collar wasn’t set nearly as tight as the gag, but still had enough friction with her skin to prevent it from spinning. Just as before, she felt a lock being placed on the buckle, and was also met with the clicking sound of a chain being attached to the front of the collar.
The man cut some of the lower ropes that wrapped around her legs, giving his captive just enough freedom to slowly hobble around.
“Come on, let’s get going. I’ve booked us an appointment with the tailor.”
Act 3
Far to the north of the Nohrian territory, nestled against the mountains, stood the Northern Fortress. Historically, it served as a fallback position, should the enemy march on the capital. Over time, however, it was found that such a concern was completely unfounded.
Thus, the keep went unused for several years. One day, a child was brought there, to be raised alone with its retainers. Yet, it was just a temporary resident. The child left for war one day, seemingly never to return.
However, fate would see the child, now a grown woman, return there a permanent resident.
When Corrin closed her eyes, all she could see was that fateful day in Cheve. The thought of having to fight her sister. The sight of her closest ally being gravely wounded.
The bitter taste of defeat.
The soup she drank was bland. Frankly, it hardly qualified as food, but it was nutritious enough to get her by. At least the servants had the kindness to serve her food that didn’t need chewing.
She finished her meal, and rinsed it down with a mouthful of water. She shakily put down her glass, and breathed a sigh. Her dining room, as she was loath to call it, was little more than a jail cell, situated at the top of one of the spires. It barely afforded her any space to move around in, and she was forbidden from leaving until she had finished her meal.
Slowly opening her eyes, she glanced down at her gag, lying next to her bowl. How long had it been? Since she was brought here, time felt like it melted when she tried to grasp it, dripping from her fingers. At first, it was terrible. She could barely sleep the initial few nights, pangs of pain emanating from her jaw as it quietly cried out for release. In time, though, she had grown accustomed to her new life.
She hesitantly reached out for the gag, and stopped halfway through. It tore at her to have to do this, but she had no real choice. Putting her apprehensions behind her, she grabbed it by the straps, and slid the ball into her mouth. It comfortably sat behind her teeth now, as if it belonged there. The motion still gave her a bit of pain, enough to draw a single tear from her eye, but it was short-lived.
Her gloved hands reached behind her head as she fastened the straps. The procedure had become second nature to her now. The straps had a single hole in them anyway, tailored to guarantee a tight fit.
Finally, she reached for the metal lock, and clicked it into place.
She awkwardly sat up from her chair, and grabbed the skirts of her dress to help her move toward the door. She knocked three times, and the door opened, revealing a maid with ice blue hair.
“All done, Lady Corrin?” she asked, while checking to make sure the lock’s key was left on the table. “Very well. Remember to meet me in an hour, so I can prepare you for your sortie later this evening. I heard you’re going to go to the opera! I’m sure you’re excited.”
While reminding the princess of her appointment, Flora began gathering the tableware onto a tray.
“Mmnph,” Corrin replied. She knew there was no point in talking, but still made a point to let her maid know she understood.
In the past, being allowed to leave on an excursion would have been wonderful, but now, the very thought formed a pit in her stomach. She got to see the outside world, but the world also got to see her.
She stared down the spiral staircase, along which a chain was drawn. It was a very long chain, the end of which wasn’t even in sight. Corrin had the freedom to move around as she pleased throughout the Northern Fortress, but the chain made sure she could never leave without the removal of her collar. The last link had been permanently welded to her thick necklace.
She hated these stairs. She hated this dress. She hated this chain. And she hated these damn heels.
