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As the sun crawls under the cover of the horizon, the day in Windmire has only just begun. Throngs of people scurry through the streets, meander from shop to shop, or stand in line for handheld delicacies from vendors beside their wheeled grills. In the twilight hour, the citizens and lamplights remind Corrin of a kaleidoscope, infinitely shifting and beautiful because of it. For this reason, they keep a firm grip on their husband’s hand, not wishing to be lost in the foreign crowd.
No Hoshidan could navigate this situation better than Kaze, so Corrin lets him do the work of leading them back to Castle Krakenburg, only half paying attention to their surroundings. Their stomach is full of comfort food and good wine from a local restaurant while their mind is busy scheming up ways to convince Midori to go to bed on time tonight. During their visit, the young girl has gotten it into her head that she should be able to stay up a factor of minutes later than Kana based on her age. Corrin would scold Leo for teaching a child what a factorial is, but they’re honestly impressed that he was able to do it at all. Anyway, they are glad their brother and daughter have had plenty of uncle-niece bonding time in the royal library—perhaps the only place which could rival Windmire for being the most labyrinthian.
Occupied by the fond annoyance only a parent could understand, Corrin doesn’t realize who is next to them until it is too late. A rough hand more like a beast’s paw grabs their arm, yanking them off balance. Crying out, Corrin only gets a glimpse of their assailant’s face before their other arm is pulled just as hard, throwing them in the other direction. A sandaled foot flies past their face as Kaze does an expert horizontal stop unto the thug’s nose. In the resulting confusion, Corrin is able to slip free, quickly stumbling away. Or at least, they try to.
It seems the couple is outnumbered two to one, with two thugs forcing Corrin to their knees, one holding an axe toward Kaze’s head, and another grinning at Corrin through a veneer of crimson, a knife held out to keep the crowd from interfering. “Get your hands off them!” Kaze growls, drawing his own knives.
In a flash, the axe is at his throat. “Quit yer barking!” the man holding it snaps.
“Kaze!” Corrin gasps, heart leaping in fear and anger.
“You Hoshidans need to learn your place,” another assailant complains.
“There is no need for such cruelty! The two nations are at peace.”
One of the thugs laughs. “You think royal chit-chats and signatures mean anything to us down here?”
“It’ll take more than empty promises to make up for you leaving your rabid stench all over the kingdom,” the one with the bloody nose adds. With a nod of his head, the thugs holding Corrin down paw at their outfit. There’s nothing Corrin can do, the threat to Kaze all too real. Soon enough, the hands find Corrin’s purse, untie it, and toss it to the leader. “Mmm, hefty,” he says, sounding pleased. “Ha! What do you think, ladies and gentlemen? Can the smell of gold overpower the smell of a dog?”
“Don’t talk to them like that,” Kaze commands. No one answers but him and still, Corrin’s blood boils.
A shove from one of the thugs sends them to the cobblestones. In a flash, Kaze is at their side, taking their hand. It seems those horrible people are done threatening them. “Are you alright?” Corrin asks, wishing they could look them over, but not feeling safe enough to do so.
“I’m alright, love,” he answers to their relief, helping them stand.
Meanwhile, the bandits have gathered around Corrin’s purse. After a romantic dinner with Kaze, their gold is a modest offering, but if these guys are mugging every Hoshidan they come across, it must add up pretty quick. Corrin is outright shaking with rage, or maybe that’s the adrenaline of seeing someone hold an axe to their husband’s neck. Their voice trembles as well when they speak: “Why are you doing this?”
“You get what you deserve, Hoshidan,” one of them taunts. The rest of them chuckle in agreement, acting like they’re so much better and mightier than them just because of what they wear.
“May what you deserve find you someday,” Kaze snipes, rolling his shoulders, ready to fight in Corrin’s defense. “If not today.”
Yet Corrin takes a measured breath, aware of all the people around them. Wanting nothing more than to get back to their children, they place a hand on their husband’s arm. “Forget it. We’ve caused enough trouble.”
“We haven’t done anything,” Kaze reminds them, but he lowers his hands, ever loyal to his spouse’s ideals. “Alright. We’ll take our leave, then,” he announces to the bandits, wrapping his arm around Corrin’s protectively.
“Smart dog,” one of them replies.
“How dare you say that about him!” Corrin screams, vision flashing red.
While they aren’t conscious of their body for a moment, it is soon all too clear what they’ve done. Past their extended, draconic arm is a puddle of sopping wet ruffians, a good distance away from where they had been standing. While they groan in pain, the crowded street has grown as quiet as a butterfly’s wings, heads turning between the bandits and the glow of Corrin’s not-so-hidden powers.
“Oops!” they squeak, bringing their hand to their mouth. On its way, it turns back to human form. Yet it never reaches their lips, because hands cup the sides of their face as Kaze kisses them, forceful and searing and done all too soon.
“You’re so hot when you do that,” he says when he pulls back with an audible pop.
“O-oh,” Corrin swoons. Wrapping their arms around their husband, their nerves melt away, replaced with desire. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
As the couple shares another heated kiss, the crowd claps and cheers.