PEERLESS

draconicprincess​:

Sure, he gave her a warning, but Kana still giggled uncontrollably when her uncle hoisted her up onto his shoulders. Her feet kicked almost eagerly until he settled and secured her by holding onto one of her feet. And maybe that was a good thing, because she was pretty high up! Of course not as high up as when she’d fallen out of trees, but her uncle was still really tall!

“Yeah, I can reach ‘em now!” 

And the messy experiment began. The first quill he handed her, Kana giggled throughout tying the string around the wooden beam and tying in the feather to dangle like a charm. Everyone was gonna be so confused and Kana just knew she wouldn’t be able to contain her giggles! After all, she wasn’t even tall enough to reach the rafters, so no one could possibly think it was her. 

“The room’s gonna look like one big chicken exploded! But…minus the gross stuff!” 

The quill is passed to her, and she erupts into giggles as she ties it to the rafter. Ryoma is careful about his balance—even with his niece being unable to hold still while balancing atop another person. He finds himself shifting sometimes. When she leans too far out, he leans back slightly. When she leans too far back, he leans forward slightly.

Minus the gross stuff—he hopes there won’t be anymore gross stuff in her pranks, because the process of cleaning it up would be awful for anyone involved. Harmless pranks were his preference; they were always in good fun.

Although, sometimes the occasional messy prank, if it is planned well, is also entertaining.

draconicprincess​:

O-Oh…

The grin that found its way to Kana’s face and the bubbly giggle that left her made her eagerly pump her fists in small motions and stomp her feet, hopping up and down with a new surge of boundless energy. He was gonna help her.

“Let’s do it!” She exclaimed. Almost on instinct, Kana quit her bouncing, her hands flying to cover her mouth. Too loud! Too loud! But she heard no footsteps..so maybe her Uncle Ryoma was the only one that had been patrolling around the classrooms. 

“Let’s do it!” She whispered quietly, grinning at her uncle. “I was thinking about taking all of the professor’s quills and putting them in a crazy mess of yarn and feathers, but now I have a different idea!” 

Her gaze trailed up, her eyebrows rising and falling in a bouncy manner, giddiness bubbling inside of her. 

“I’m thinking we hang all the quills from the wood beams and then hide Professor’s spare ink jars!” 

Good luck tomorrow, because class was gonna get hectic! And that little splutter of grins and giggles was what she was looking forward to!

“So…if you’ll help me get up there…?”

His smile softens when his niece lights up. To provide for his family and make them feel safe and happy, that was his duty as the oldest, not as king. And it’s one he would be content in fulfilling for the rest of his days.

She’s quick to catch herself when she gets a little too loud, but he does also laugh with her, hand going to stifle his own laughter—his entire family has always said they could hear him laugh across the entire castle. 

His heart almost drops when he hears her original plan. Fates, something so messy would have been terrible to clean up, and she surely would have been found out from any ink stains that might have gotten on her hands.

draconicprincess​:

Yeah…that last thought didn’t seem like that was tonight’s case. He was on to her with sharp eyes and maybe a knack for knowing what trouble Kana got herself into. She’d played plenty of pranks around Hoshido, be them from dyeing a vase of flowers to rigging a pulley to dump some spring water on someone. Some of them were…less than pleasant, but no one was hurt! So…maybe if she fessed up, he’d understand. 

The sigh that left her slumped her shoulders, her pursed lips falling into a frown, her gaze trailing to the floor. The stone was smooth, if not a little dusty. Cold too, and-

Kana knew what she was doing, and the idea made her nervous. She was stalling. For what? She had no idea. It wasn’t like she’d completely rigged up her prank yet. 

“Maybe I was eager!” She declared, glancing back up at her uncle. One last ditch effort. But the look he gave her and the sternness of his voice tells Kana that her Uncle Ryoma had caught on.

“Okay, don’t be mad! But that was a lie!” Alas, the truth came about, and Kana’s heart sank. She didn’t like to lie, but getting in trouble was worse! But that didn’t stop her from removing her hands from behind her back, revealing the spindle of colored string she’d hidden behind her back. 

“I was…going to be a little bit of an artist. But…Now I’m not so sure.”

Ryoma waits, eyebrows furrowed and gaze steady, for Kana to admit her true objective of the night or to simply stand her ground, that she truly did need paper. Unfortunately for her, he knows his family. He knows their habits and their demeanors—there are sometimes things he misses, but that is his own shortcoming. It helps when so few of his family members can’t very well fib. 

Maybe she was eager, Kana declares, but he still watches, head tilting slightly, as if to ask her if she really was that eager to doodle on spare paper in the middle of the night.

She gives in. He sighs softly. He’s never mad, only disappointed.

“I see...” comes the rumble in his chest when he acknowledges the colorful string in her hands. He places a hand on her head and ruffles her hair lovingly. “Thank you for telling me the truth, Kana.”

draconicprincess​:

Bad idea, bad idea!

Kana almost screamed it to herself, but she kept it in her head as her toe met the harsh exterior of one of the wooden benches, scraping across the floor. The sound almost echoed, its loudness increased at the expense of her mischievous plan– a plan which surely fell to ruin now. 

And…it did.

The door to the classroom was opened hastily, as if her presence had indeed warranted the awareness of someone. Maybe a teacher patrolling for students who, like Kana, snuck out past bedtime? The idea gnawed at her, ate her alive, and petrified her to the spot. She couldn’t get caught! If she got caught, then a bad letter would be written home and Pa would be furious!

With bated breath, Kana stilled, eyes wide as she surveyed the dark silhouette that was shadowed by the outside torchlight. If not for the sway of his mane-like hair and the familiar voice, Kana would have squeaked. But, instead, she giggled off her worry and fear, now only sheepish that she’d done so poorly as to get caught.

“Uncle Ryoma!” She giggled, hands kept behind her back, obscuring her particular tool from view. “I was just…”

She was just what? Rigging a prank against her fellow classmates? Maybe even her professor’s patience? Yeah, maybe that wouldn’t slide so well. 

“Uh…Getting some paper! To doodle on! I ran out of what I had in my nightstand!”

Nice save! She doodled! He had to believe her! And then maybe he’d leave and her little prank could resume.

@raijima​ 

Giggling comes from deeper inside the room. An eyebrow raises. The scene before him is familiar. When Corrin was young, he had even caught him once sneaking around the castle in the dead of night, and when Ryoma had confronted him, Corrin acted as sheepish and as innocent as young Kana.

Steel eyes look her up and down. And she’s not a very good liar.

“Mmhm...” Ryoma hums thoughtfully, as if seriously thinking about what she said. “Getting some paper? Surely, you could have waited until morning.” He crouches down to her height.

verseandrhyme​:

She had not thought he would, but she certainly had hoped he would grant her that dignity.

Mitama sighs with the force of someone carrying all of life’s burdens. She considers remaining limp when he moves to help her raise to her feet, but no, she reluctantly moves to find her footing. (Maybe if it had been Shiro, but it feels far too disrespectful to do to the king.)

She holds still as he brushes her off. Her eyes remain averted, starts hiding in the sky as she prays the mortification of the event does not cause her face to flush. 

The first admission does little to soothe the prickling pride in her. He was the more experienced - telling tales of his own failures when they no longer plagued him was expected. It’s when Shiro’s name comes up that her gaze does flicker back to him. A small grin tugs at her lips despite herself. She laughs and gives her head a shake. “Hearing such regarding Shiro is far more believable, somehow.”

She sighs, much less dramatic this time. She fiddles with her gauntlets. She wants to sulk perhaps a touch longer, but it seems Lord Ryoma has no interest in that.

“Very well…” she grumbles, rolling her wrist absently. He is not prepared for her just yet. Would it be unbecoming to take a swing now, or advantageous of her? “…here is a mistake of your own, then.”

Quick as she can, she shrugs off his arm and swings a punch in, before he can raise the sword to take another practice swing. Impact is made this time, of that she is proud, even if it is not as strong as she would have liked.

Believable? Ryoma is at a lost for words momentarily. He knew he could sometimes be a bit imposing, but to think there were rumors about how he did not also stumble and fail when learning the sword... ridiculous! Was there a way to counter these rumors? He’d have to talk to Shiro and Takumi about it later—they might know the best course of action to take.

“That’s the spirit.” He turns his focus back on Mitama when she grumbles. Hand under her arm, he helps pull her up with one knee on the ground and his other foot already planted firmly on the ground.

Not firmly enough. Mitama shrugs off his arm and in a clean swing, she punches him, hitting his cheek and knocking him off balance. 

SMACK! “OUAH—” 

He lands on his side with a grunt. Hand goes to his cheek. Hurt much more than he thought it would. As he pushes himself up again, he laughs and continues to help her up again. “Ha ha! Very good. You caught me off guard. In an honest duel between two samurais, one might call that a cheap trick, but this is none of the sort in this situation. Well done, Mitama.” 

Ryoma ruffles her hair on the top of her head; it’s something he has done with his younger siblings and Shiro, and it’s done here without much thought behind it besides pride for her actions.

princepsumbra​:

Ryoma laughs, a booming sound that sets the stones echoing in harmony. Leo fails to see the humor in either his words or this particular situation—then again, he so rarely does. 

He bites his tongue against a particularly cutting remark. Enthusiastic is certainly one way to put his progeny’s behavior. Leo can at least admit that exposure to so many different peoples and cultures is invaluable, especially to young royalty. Prince wonders if Hoshido’s rulers ever felt stifled by the borders of their country. Almost certainly, with Nohr encroaching ever closer .

But that’s all in the past. Steel eyes settle on forest green; Leo can’t quite tell if Ryoma wants to be intimidating or simply assessing. Given his general appearance, one holds no fault for assuming the former. There’s a reason Ryoma commands so much respect by both allies and enemies. 

It goes deeper than that just blind loyalty in the way a man carries himself. Even as Leo fought with everything he had during the war, he could practically feel the care, the love, Ryoma held for his people. It was—is?—the same kind of bone-deep responsibility Xander wore like a mantle around his shoulders. Leo respects their devotion. He loves Nohr with every inch of his dark heart, yet he doubts he’d make a fine ruler. 

Shadows never have much courage when faced with the sun. 

Ryoma’s mention of Forrest knocks Leo out of his ruminations. Nohrian fights the urge to shift on his makeshift seat, lest he be accused of discomfort at mere name of his own son. What could be courtly niceties sound genuine when falling from the king’s lips. “Forrest fares well with his studies. He holds fashion in the same regard I do magic.” It’s there, if only the person can listen for it—the faintest note of pride in Leo’s voice.

Pleasantries aside, the softness in his eyes fades. “Your Majesty, while inquiries after my family are appreciated, there are far heavier subjects to discuss. You’ve heard the tales of the Ylissean kingdom and their dragon, Naga?” 

Ryoma settles into the stone, letting out a soft sight of content. Though never close with Prince Leo, it still lifts his spirits to be able to exchange pleasantries with Nohrian royalty after almost a two decade long war between their two countries. He smiles softly. His eyes close. Sumeragi would have loved to see all of this: royalty from both of their countries on friendly terms, and Corrin, safe and sound with a child of their own. 

He gently pulls his fingers through the water. Life goes on, even after tragedy.

His focus is pulled back to the prince. “Hm...” he hums thoughtfully, eyes shutting once more and head dipping down when he thinks. Though he has very few memories of his mother, she would sometimes recount stories about a land with a dragon god named Naga. Even Mikoto would share those tall tales from time to time.

“Yes, I have,” comes the response. “When I was much younger, I remember thinking how unfortunate it was that Ylisse had to go to war, and I believed that would never happen to either of our countries.”

He’s an optimist for all his pragmaticism. 

Ryoma has developed a new daily routine at Garreg Mach. Early training and meditation, classes, office hours, and finally rest and mealtime in the evening. There are days, however, when he needs to spend more time in his office. Today would be one of those days. At his desk, he hums thoughtfully before marking a student's paper and moving it to a pile at the edge. They did all right. This next paper—his eyebrows twitch up slightly—did not do quite as well. Perhaps, it is of his own shortcomings as an instructor.

The chair scratches against the floorboards when he stands. It would be better to review the material.

It's a short walk to the Blue Lions classroom. Nighttime, for as unsettling the dark can be, is peaceful, and the stars in Fódlan—though the same in Hoshido—shine beautifully. Inspiring and calming simultaneously.

There's a noise in the classroom. Standing outside the classroom, Ryoma tenses, his hand hovering over the door handle. A thief? What could possibly be of interest in a classroom?

No, if not a thief, then a student looking for something.

Still he opens the door quietly, careful to not disturb the intruder. Although, he quickly relaxes once he sees who it is.

Ryoma opens the door, not bothering to be quiet anymore. "Kana," his tone is stern yet light. He walks further in, and his arms cross over his chest once he stops some feet in front of his niece.

"Do I want to know why you're here this late at night? Did you leave something in the classroom?"

Setsuna had finished preparations for her mission. She had gathered everything she thought she might need and got it all prepared and ready. War was good practice at getting that done quickly.

Ryoma coming to check on her was a nice surprise. The door was still open though, which meant if was not private, which meant being polite and not doing whatever she wanted or saying every thought she had. Ryoma had been very clear about that at the beginning. Public was public and private was private and she did her best to try and remember that one, even if she did forget a lot.

“They’re sending me to the forest.” She informed him. She set her bow and quiver down against the desk. “So I’ll be close by but not really.” She stepped around him, over to the door. “It should be fine though. I’ve been in plenty of forests.”

She closes the door. There. Now it wasn’t public anymore.

She turns to Ryoma and takes his hand, giving a light pull so he leans down a little. There’s an edge to her calm smile now as she giggles. “Don’t get lonely.” She kisses both his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. “I’ll be back soon.”

She waits, not subtle at all, for her own kiss in return.

"Setsuna," he greets her first, steel eyes sweeping downwards to gaze at her. She is the only one that ever manages to make his name sound weightless. He is the antithesis of her: everything he does has some kind of weight to it—even just standing in her room, watching her step around him in a well-practiced dance to close the door holds meaning.

It's clear she knows that when she explains where she's going. Plenty of forests; this he quietly agrees with, even though he remembers well that she has fallen into several dozen traps while hunting. Dragons know what lies in wait in this forest.

With a click, the door shuts.

Ryoma obeys the tug and leans down enough for her to reach him. One peck. Two. Three. Laced between the expectant gaze and light giggles is a reassurance that she would return unharmed to his arms. Were they in front of others, he might say something about how she is needed in Hoshido when the truth is much more selfish and is better said in low lighting.

His hands, larger than hers, run up her arms—his calloused palms catch on the fabric of her every now and again. Gently, Ryoma grasps Setsuna's face and traces her cheek bones slowly, tenderly, with his thumbs.

"Setsuna." Her name comes out softer than before. "I will count the seconds until your return."

A king must be kind, honorable, brave, and even fashionable.

verseandrhyme​:

She knows without a doubt that Lord Ryoma is restraining himself. She did not imagine that he would be moved to go at full strength against her. She still flinched as the sword stopped next to her arm.

She hit him, sure, but it still feels like a failure, or an allowance as she stumbles to regain her footing after flinching from the blade. She eyes it, warily, even as Ryoma pulls it back to his side and gestures for her to back away and try again.

“Faster than lightning / a difficult request, sir / I have no great reach.” The haiku is more for herself than him.

Her fingers flex in the gauntlets once more before she takes a breath and prepares to try again. Faster. Alright. Faster is something she can perhaps accomplish. She just has to…go.

A moment to prepare before Mitama moves towards him again. With a focus on speed, it takes her a moment to remember she still has to strike and where. At the last moment, she tries to dart to the side to hit her target, causing her feet to catch on one another. With a shriek, Mitama trips, stumbles, and lands on the ground with an inelegant grunt.

It takes some time for her mind to catch up to her body. When she realizes that she has fallen to the floor by her own doing in front of the king of Hoshido, the thought is immediately followed by the need to pray to whatever gods are listening to either remove her memory or allow her time to come earlier.

Mitama is silent. After a time, still lying on the ground, she calls out. “Is there a chance you may simply cease to perceive me this day?”

Steel eyes on Mitama, Ryoma waits expectantly yet patiently for Mitama to make her move. She is faster than most of his own soldiers—the war taught him many things about his people and his family—he’s watched her dodge hatchets and arrows before they even touched her. At the same time, he knows that part of it was luck. (His wife is the opposite when it comes to traps: she is most lucky she hasn’t been harmed when she is unlucky enough to fall into traps.)

Mitama trips and falls—he even flinches at the sound; it must have hurt her pride more than anything—and he sighs quietly and stands there, wooden sword lowered, as he waits for her to recover on her own.

Finally, she speaks.

“That I cannot do, Mitama,” he says, voice steady yet soft when he squats down to help Mitama to her feet, a hand on her arm. When she’s standing, Ryoma brushes some of the dirt off her face—he did this for Shiro once when he was younger. (Those days, he was much more reckless than he was now; still full of energy, though.)

A pause when a soft smile pulls on the corner of his lips. “I cannot even tell you the number of times I fell when I first started training with a sword. I’ve lost track.” When he laughs, it echoes, before it turns into something more airy and lighthearted. 

Briefly, he lowers his voice, “And did you know Shiro used to fall all the time when he was training with a naginata?” The smile turns playful. “Sometimes it would fly out of his hand because he was swinging it so much. It also happened to Hinoka, too.”

heartstringbound​:

Ryoma strides upon the stage looking very impressive as always. It’s a sight Setsuna is used to after so many battles and time around the castle, but it’s still striking to see. She kind of wishes she could just be in the audience for this instead of on stage.

He doesn’t answer her, but that’s okay. He looks very focused as he challenges Seiros to a fight. Setsuna isn’t sure how royal it is to go around fighting children though…

Her worry ends up being misplaced. Setsuna winces sympathetically as Ryoma goes tumbling back and falls onto his back off the stage. Ouch. Saizo and Kagero are definitely not going to be happy with her when they hear about that…Seiros then jumps onto Lord Ryoma, and her stomach drops even more. Oh Saizo is definitely going to take that out on her if he finds out.

Setsuna sighs and moves to stand, picking up her discarded sword half-heartedly. Well, she’d just have to make it so there was nothing worth mentioning to her fellow retainers then.

“Sei~ros!” She calls, turning to the child again, who stops her jumping to face Setsuna. “I thought we were playing…are you bored already?” Setsuna definitely didn’t know how to use a sword properly. Training or not, it felt awkward in her hands.

The child let out a roar of what Setsuna assumed was fury. “Do you mock me, Nemesis?” (“Not really, no.”) “Fine, let us finish this!”

The child charges Setsuna again. Though the strikes with her sword are harder than the archer would have liked (Why did children always play at full strength?), she’s able to successfully parry the girl’s strikes, moving back with each one. With some distance between them, Lord Ryoma can hopefully at least get up.

…unless he’s dead. Oh, she probably should’ve checked if he was dead first… “Are you dead?” She calls to him, peeking over the girl’s continued attacks.

Seiros jumps again, and he wheezes. There isn’t much he can do against a child, especially when she’s supposed to be the hero in their stage play. When Setsuna grabs Seiros’ attention, drawing her into another fight, Ryoma sighs in relief. He begins to move, legs pulled into himself when he rolls onto his side to push himself up.

Another exhale. The actress is much more energetic than he thought—she’s completely willing to go off script—but that only means she’s enjoying herself. A glance in the audience’s direction. And so are they. Good; he and Setsuna are both succeeding in their roles as villains.

Seiros charges at Setsuna when she calls to her. Excellent! He expects nothing less of Setsuna to be able to improvise so well—and to rescue him from the girl. 

He must do better and allow the stars to shine.

Ryoma steps back onto the stage, wooden sword brandished when he points it at Seiros. He leans on his back leg. He pushes forward (slowly). “Sneak attack!” he shouts, sword raised over his head. Seiros turns and stabs him in the side. He flinches and howls in pain, doubly so when she removes the sword and swings at Setsuna. 

“Hah! You cannot sneak up on me, villain!” 

“So it seems...” Ryoma mutters when he dramatically falls to his knees. “Oooghghe—ARGH!” A hand towards the sky when he falls on his back with a heavy thud. “Seiros! Your sword strikes true!” He rolls on his side when he takes an exaggerated deep breath. “Whwehowoeoe.... If only I had... listened to my mother and gone to bed at a reasonable time... and that I had eaten my vegetables, even the Brussel sprouts and celery. I’m—” He loudly coughs and wheezes several times. “ ........D-DYING.”

“Blargh-” Ryoma sticks his tongue out when he finally goes still. A wonderfully acted death to match Seiros.

In fact, he’s ready to lay there for the duration of the final act when Seiros runs up and starts wacking him with her sword. “Wahahah! Stay dead, villain! I saw you breathe!” 

“You—” WACK! “Just—” WACK! “Need-RGH” WACK! “To stab me!” 

raikuroji​:

✧ ` instructor. instructor. instructor. ᵢₙₛₜᵣᵤ꜀ₜₒᵣ. “ah,” comes his unwitting response. “o-oh? you! you don’t say!” what kind of expression should he be making? what expression is he making? he hopes he’s smiling. hopes, because he’s not sure his brain is processing what appears to be the very real, very uncool actuality that is he’s not only been embarrassed by his old man telling everyone that he’s a mama’s boy but that he’s also probably going to be saying all manner of other things to anyone who’ll listen ( sometimes, a proud parent is a boon and a bane all the same ) to him.

which, if it’s about embarrassing a crown prince—

well, who wouldn’t listen to that.

he would if the shoe’d been on the other foot. he’d feel bad about it later, sure. but, if he was to be someone who accidentally heard about how someone, as a baby, farted into their parents’ hand or something like that—ryoma knows too much. he’d heard of a few of the other students around campus having their parents on campus in his short time here. and while that would have worked for some of them, he can’t imagine that it’d work all that well with his dad. the old man told him to go here, so that he could grow without the supervision of his parents. grow into his own person, into his own kingliness, but wasn’t this the exact opposite? what was the point of all that?

was it all lined up and they’d just never told him?

wouldn’t be the first time, he thinks. his jaw clenches involuntarily. ( he’s smiling, right? sure, he’s pretty sure he’s smiling. ) digits twitch at his side. he slowly lifts his shaking hand to offer a thumbs up. “thanks. dad. it’s.” pause. “cool.”

his eye is twitching. his free hand slaps over it.

Oh, good. Shiro’s smiling. Ryoma lets out a small sigh of relief, gaze and posture softening when his son gives his approval. Even going so far as to call it... cool. As long as he’s all right with it. Full lips pull back. A warm smile forms. 

When he chuckles, it rumbles in his chest, as his free hand firmly pats Shiro on the shoulder. “Excellent,” he says, grinning. It’s not every day a king is allowed to have a vacation—even if this wasn’t technically a vacation.

“Now then,” Ryoma continues as they begin walking through the great hall. “How about you show me around. I heard there’s a training gro- Shiro?” He peeks over at his son. 

“Your eye is twitching.”