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Corrin had never referred to the Nohr siblings as family. There was no sense in hiding that fact. They were closer to nobles from higher-ranking family who occasionally visited to keep up appearances than adopted siblings. Their visits were few and far between, and the emotional distance that followed was only expected. But Corrin didn’t mind.
They loved whatever time they had to spend with them.
The siblings didn’t quite understand exactly how Corrin fit into their royal family, but then again, neither did Corrin. King Garon had always blown off their questions, often mentioning something about an orphan – a victim of the war with Hoshido – and then waving his hand, shooing away whoever had bothered to ask. After a few months, everyone accepted the new Nohr royalty and moved on, the threads of gossip dying out and court whispers lowering to a murmur. Camilla and Xander spent hours in the court gardens theorizing, but even their interest dimmed with time. Corrin was Corrin, a royal locked away in exile, out of the public eye and out of their reach.
Corrin didn’t mind the seclusion. Their attendants in the castle were the only company they ever craved. Flora and Felicia their well-meaning older sisters, Jakob the concerned brother, Gunter the overprotective grandfather. They were Corrin’s family; the rest of the castle guards and staff were only background noise.
The Nohr siblings were distant figures who floated in and out of Corrin’s life, often only showing up at the Castle during holidays or the summer months, when the flowers on Corrin’s terrace bloomed the most brilliantly.
Corrin never regarded them as family; they were more like old friends. Old friends that could disappear from your life for years, but the moment they reappear, it’s as if no time has passed. Corrin treasured those moments, holding onto them with all their heart.
During the winter months – the loneliest times – the memories of the siblings would fade. Camilla’s smile, Xander’s firm handshakes, Elise’s laughter, Leo’s well-meaning glares: they all would blur and retreat deep into Corrin’s mind. They could grasp small hints of their accents or whiffs of perfume, but nothing concrete.
The days passed without much note. Jakob began to repeat tea recipes, Felicia would forget to stoke the fire in the early morning hours, or Gunter would admonish the young silver-haired knight who always strayed to close to his liege. Corrin grew tired of the monotony outside their window, always grey clouds and snowstorms. The warmth that emanated from Corrin’s makeshift family sometimes even failed to overpower winter’s pressing sadness.
But then Jakob would begin fussing over party plans, and Flora would begin directing the kitchen staff, all while Corrin sat happily in their room, combing their hair and preparing for their birthday party. That was always the first visit of the year from the royal siblings.
The cakes served at the party were small, as the sugar deliveries had never made it to the castle in time. Elise always made a point to pout, but she had long since stopped being legitimately offended.
There was a tradition in their dinner antics that she was afraid to disrupt. It was always the same routine. Camilla always made over Corrin before the meal, styling their hair with barrettes and bows; Leo kept Corrin entertained throughout the dinner with riddles or bizarre facts about faraway lands. Elise pouted during dinner but then joyously led the gift-unwrapping ceremony. Xander would train with Corrin until the metal clangs echoed in their ears and their knees were weak with exhaustion.
Corrin always looked forward to Xander’s tradition most. Not that it was the most personal; no, Camilla’s time was far more personal and always far more conversational. Their time with Xander was the most active, the most enthralling. The prince would teach Corrin sword moves and battle stances that they could practice throughout the year. It was more of a teaching session than a gift, but that’s what Corrin wanted most.
Then the night would wear on until everyone collapsed by the fireplace in the sitting room. The following days were filled with trivial games and more lessons, but they inevitably ended. Then Corrin was left in the castle with stale sweets, worn toys, new books, and a few more memories that would blur and fade until the siblings visited again.
Every year for the greater part of fifteen years went on like this. The siblings began visiting more often as the years rolled by, but it was rare for them to visit together. The war occupied Camilla and Xander’s time more and more, while Elise looked for every opportunity to flee Castle Krackenburg. Leo often seemed ambivalent to visiting, but he tagged along behind Elise more often than not.
The young knight who occupied Corrin’s time during the early years had visited less and less until his visits stopped altogether. Scribbles and drawings in journals told Corrin that they had been quite close initially, inseparable even, but after a few ripped pages in the journal, he was rarely mentioned again. As did with all else, Corrin’s memories of the boy began to fade, until his name disappeared and the only thing left was the vague notion that he had once been a friend.
And that was Corrin’s life.
Inside the great halls of the castle, everything blurred together. The stones of the walls merged into one dull gray, the marbled floors lost their shine. Even the colorful war stories passed around the halls barely left more than a passing impression.
Until Xander’s visits became regular. The war suddenly seemed real, something that actually existed and affected the lives of Nohrians. Sword fighting became less of a game and more of a skill, something Xander insisted may soon be a necessity. His eyes were far more serious than Corrin could ever remembered them being, his expression stern and unforgiving. His attitude toward them was still one of caring, but a need to prepare them outweighed the need to be soft. Corrin understood and welcomed a break from the monotony.
Xander and Corrin’s sparring sessions quickly became one of the few things Corrin always had a crisp picture of at the end of each week. Unlike visits that passed without thought, these recent memories were clear and tangible, something not even birthday memories could attain. Maybe it was adrenaline or a fear of actual battle, Corrin didn’t care. They just held onto the memories as tightly as they could.
The day all the Nohrian siblings visited in the middle of spring, however, stood out against the battles and birthdays. After exchanging pleasantries, after a brief sword fight, after trying their best to not question the siblings’ motives, the answer came.
“King Garon requests your presence at Castle Krackenburg.”