#vriting

The smile on her face breaks out in full at the thought. It wasn't that long ago that Azura had resigned herself to her fate, heir to a dying kingdom, destined to fade away along with its memory. 

Until Corrin crashed into her life and grabbed her hand, turning all she knew as truth on its head. 

Anankos is defeated. The curse on Valla is broken. Hoshido and Nohr have ceased hostilities. 

And perhaps most miraculous of all, Azura is happy. Truly, incredibly happy.

She had never dared to hope for any one of those things coming to pass, let alone all four. 

At first she even had trouble believing it. Azura would wake up in a cold sweat, convinced that it was all nothing but a wishful dream, that Anankos' claws were still sunk into the world.

And Corrin was there too, holding her through it all, whispering sweet reassurances to her and banishing the doubts with every kiss, every embrace. 

She was rescuer and protector both, her knight and her dragon. 

She takes another long sip, rubbing the silver band on her finger fondly, when the pitter patter of two excited sets of feet sound through the door. 

Azura perks up at the noise, excitement bubbling, she quickly downs the rest of the tea, apologizing to the Corrin in her head.  She sets the empty cup on the nightstand, before mussing up her bed head to legendary status, and throwing the covers over herself, feigning sleep.

Soon enough, the sound of Corrin's familiar gait joins her family's rhythm.

"Okay you two, ready to wake Mama?"

Giggles ensue and Azura has to fight to keep her face from splitting into a grin as she tries to maintain a calm sleeping expression. The door creaks open and the trio take slow, careful steps towards the bed. 

"Be quiet Kana!"

"Nuh-uh! That was you Shicchan!"

"Shh!"

The children immediately freeze and pipe down as her wife shushes them, and a moment of absolute stillness passes before the kids brave another step. 

Azura has to pinch herself to school herself into submission. It has mixed results if Corrin's snort is anything to go by. 

"Shh!!!"

Azura purses her lips as Corrin takes her scolding, but thankfully she manages to persevere.

Another  pregnant pause before the advance resumes. Finally, the kids come to a stop next to her head.

"Is she asleep?"

The proximity of the hushed whisper forces Azura to use every drop of experience she's had in performing on stage to remain stock-still as her children inspect her.

"Check her breathing! Auntie 'Ruka says that's what she does when she puts people to sleep."

A tiny hand hovers in front of her nose for a few seconds before it retreats.

"Mmm... I think so..."

"Did you do it right?"

"Of course I did it right!"

"Kids..."

Kana and Shigure gasp, ceasing their bickering. Azura can feel their stares boring into her, trying to see if they woke her up. Eventually, they exhale in unison, seemingly satisfied.

"... Okay, on 3, alright Kana?"

"Mhm!"

"1..."

Azura's hands grab the covers as subtly as she can manage.

"2..."

She swallows thickly as her body tenses, getting ready.

"3!"

When Shigure gives the signal, Azura bursts out of the covers with a shout, throwing the blanket around Kana and Shigure, who gasp in surprise. She scoops her wrapped up children up into her arms, spinning them around, delighting in the giggles that fill the room as she does. 

"Mama!"

"See! You didn't do it right!"

At last, she lets her own laughter spill out to join them, as she slows to a stop and setting them back down. She kneels down, pressing a kiss against their cheeks. "Good morning, my treasures!"

"Morning Mama!" They say in unison.

Azura beams, hugging them close. "Good morning, beloved."

Corrin steps closer, a content smile on her face, carrying a tray in her hands, stacked high with pancakes and strawberries. She sets it down on the nightstand, pushing aside the empty teacup before she bends down and presses a kiss against Azura's forehead, to which the singer lets out a pleased hum. 

"Happy birthday, Azura."

Azura's cheeks might very well break at this point. "Thank you, dear."

The kids start to squirm and whine in her arms at that.

"Mom! No fair!"

"We were gonna say it first!"

Corrin huffs a laugh, before wrapping up all three of them into a hug and pulling them down into the bed. "Hey, you had your chance!" 

Azura chortles, pressing a kiss against the tops of the kids heads. "Even if you weren't the first, may I still hear it, my lovelies?"

The two tufts of hair in her arms nod vigorously and wriggle their way out from between their parents, "Happy birthday, Mama! We love you!" 

Five years after the war, Azura enjoys a life she never dared to dream of. 

She shifts in the bed, groaning as the small movement sends throbs of pain throughout her.

She wants to go back to sleep, to stop thinking, to let the pain fade away into the void of sleep. But something keeps needling at the back of her mind. Something she can’t ignore.

It takes much more effort to open her eyes than she’s used to, but Corrin somehow half-manages it. The one eye she was able to peel open immediately squints from the light coming in from the near window, drawing out another groan of discomfort that sends waves of pain down her body.

Steady.

She takes a moment to compose herself, slowly lifting the eyelid once more, letting it adjust to the dim evening light of the room.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Now accustomed well enough to the light, Corrin opens her eye as wide as she is able.

The ceiling that greets her is an unfamiliar one, the window devoid of the panes that her retainers so painstakingly polish.

Where... is she?

Corrin quickly sits up and immediately regrets it, gasping in pain as she moves against her body’s wishes. There’s a clatter of noise from the adjacent room that Corrin doesn’t notice as she looks down at herself and sees the bandages seeping with blood littering her body.

The memories trickle in and dread creeps into her heart.

The ambush. Gunter. Her family. Azura.

Azura.

Where is Azura? Dread begins to turn into cold panic as Corrin twists and turns, ignoring the lances of pain stabbing into her with every movement. She scans the room, looking for any sign of the other girl, ready to bolt out of the bed, wounds be damned, before the door pushes open.

And her world walks in.

Azura enters the room. The cold that was threatening to subsume Corrin steadily gives way to warmth, and a relieved smile forms on her lips.

Azura hasn’t noticed her yet, eyes downcast and fixed on the contents of the pouch she brought in. The natural grace that she carries herself with would lead Corrin to believe she escaped unscathed, if not for the uncharacteristically plodding rhythm with which she does so. Corrin’s chest tightens seeing Azura like this, but — she’s here. She’s here, and she’s alive, and she’s safe.

And that’s all that matters to Corrin right now.

Instinctively, Corrin’s hand feebly reaches out to Azura, to feel her, to make sure that she’s real and not a trick of the light. Corrin’s mouth begins to move, intent on forming words, but all that comes out is a strangled noise that makes her throat burn. The noise startles Azura and her head shoots up in alarm, and then relief floods in.  

The tears follow soon after as the bag falls to the ground, herbs and bandages spilling out. She takes a hesitant step towards the bed as if in disbelief herself, swallowing a lump down before taking another, then another, then another, each step quicker than the last. She throws herself down at Corrin’s bedside, hands shooting out to grab at the injured girl’s own, before recoiling as if burned, just shy of contact.

Azura takes a breath, before taking the proffered hand into her own, with all the tenderness and care in the world. Corrin’s fingers flex slightly upon feeling the other girl’s warmth, tears beginning to roll down her own face. Azura’s sobs intensify as she gently lifts up Corrin’s hand, cradling it against her cheek.

Corrin’s thumb strokes against Azura’s face in wonder, wiping away tears.

It’s going to hurt like hell, but Corrin needs this more than anything. She squeezes her hand as much as she’s able to, drawing Azura’s attention, before opening her mouth and forcing it out.

"Hey Azura."

Azura’s face finally breaks into a smile, before melting into laughter at the casualness with which Corrin says it. She tightens her grip on the other girl’s hand, pressing a kiss into her palm. Azura’s own voice, normally so serene and smooth, is hoarse and ragged from crying.

"Hello Corrin."

"Oh Professor, I don't know about this... What if she says no?" Dorothea drapes herself across the desk, sighing forlornly. "I don't think this is a good idea anymore..."

"Hm." Byleth purses her lips. Caspar misspelled his name again.

Dorothea pulls her hat down over her face and continues, "Ugh! I know this isn't like me, but... this is the first time I... I actually like the person I'm aiming for. What if... what if this ruins what we have...?"

"Mm." Byleth scrunches her nose looking down at the answer sheet before her. It truly is a blessing that the practical exams are weighted so much more heavily than the theoretical ones. What does 'give them a bam, boom, pow' even mean? Byleth shakes her head and adds a large question mark next to the section.

"No, I know... this wouldn't make Petra hate me, she's too sweet for that. But this is a Fódlan custom, would she even know what I mean when I give her the chocolate?"

A pleased smile emerges on Byleth's face and she nods in satisfaction as she marks an answer correct on the sheet. At least she won't have to tell Caspar he got a 0.

Dorothea gets up suddenly, slapping her palms on the desk. "Yes, you're right! Fortune favors the bold after all! My feelings will get through to her one way or another-- I'll make sure of it!" Revitalized, she skips her way out of the classroom, with a cheery wave and a "Thanks for everything Professor!" called as she leaves.

Byleth gives a half-hearted wave as Dorothea exits. When the door clicks shut she lets out a sigh and leans back into her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose. For the past week students have been coming to her for "advice" with regards to the upcoming St. Cethleann's day.

Apparently due to her young looks, neutral disposition, and relatively sound mental faculties, she has been singled out as the best authority figure to appeal to for romantic wisdom.

The idea baffles Byleth for many reasons, but namely for the sole fact that she has never given love advice to anyone.

The first of her students to approach her had apparently been Bernadetta of all people. When this had happened, Byleth has no idea, but apparently at some point within the week little Bernie had an inspiring conversation with her about taking charge in her love life.

Word had then gotten out that she was offering such a service to any love stricken students and Byleth hasn't had a moment to herself since. She thought that ignoring the issue would make people realize she had no nuggets of wisdom or encouragement to offer, but somehow that has been working to her detriment. She's toyed with the idea of giving some actually bad advice, but as bothersome as it is, she doesn't want any of her kids to be miserable.

So. Emotional sounding board it is then.

Byleth can at least take solace in the fact that the day of reckoning is nearly upon them, and these counseling sessions will finally end.

A knock at her door disrupts her moment of peace and she suppresses a groan.

Soon. It will all be over soon.

It always felt off, its syllables sitting uncomfortably on your tongue. No one would outright say as much, but you imagined it had something to do with having never known one. Even Elise was more experienced than you in that regard, as brief as it may have been. 

In the past you made attempts to learn. Days poring over family trees and records, asking Gunter or the maids about the previous Queen and concubines. Most of your research was dedicated to studying their portraits. In them you could find traces of your siblings. Xander, in Queen Katerina’s regal bearing. Camilla, in Lady Ione’s eyes. Leo and Elise, in Lady Odile’s smile.

You cannot find a likeness that bears a resemblance to the woman in your mirror, try though as you might.

Had she passed away before the royal portraitist could capture her image? Maybe she had committed some grave offense to the crown and had her records burned? A magical curse that erased all traces of her memory? Or perhaps she had simply thought to escape and preserve her own life, rather than get involved in the war for succession.

You ask Xander and Camilla, pester your maids, nag at Gunter. Your theories are only ever met with placating smiles and claims of ignorance. You’re not sure if receiving an answer would satisfy you.

Years pass and you never find out.

At some point you stop asking. There’s no sense in chasing a ghost you never knew. She isn’t here anymore.

But your siblings are. Nohr is.

So you dam up your curiosity and put all of your focus into training and studying to be a princess who can serve your country. Xander instructs you on how to handle a sword, how to read a battlefield and analyze her opponents. Camilla teaches you the etiquette expected of Nohrian royalty and how to ride a wyvern. From Leo you learn tactics and politics, and Elise is a daily reminder on how to talk like a normal person and how to find joy in a place as bleak as the northern fortress.

Your efforts pay off as King Garon, your father, sends word that you’re finally ready to be of service to Nohr, that you can leave and join the rest of your siblings. Your family rejoices and laughs and smothers you in a warm embrace.

This is enough.

(right?)

It takes all of one day for your life to be upended completely.

Nearly a decade of training and all you have to show for it is the ire of your father, an unprovoked attack on the Hoshidan border, a friend lost to the abyss, and soon to be the first Nohrian princess to be publicly executed on foreign soil.

Your captor assures you that won’t be the case but you fail to see how, considering the circumstances of your being there.

You wonder how your siblings are doing. If they’re worried about you. If they’re coming for you.

You hope they aren’t. You already had the border skirmish on your conscience, you didn’t need a full blown war as well. A bit morbidly, you wonder how executions are handled in Hoshido. You ask your handler as much, although she doesn’t respond, save for a snort. She merely leads you to an odd looking carriage and rolls open the front, gesturing for you to get in. You obey without much fuss and get comfortable.

Quietly, in the back of your mind, a voice asks if at the end you’ll finally meet her. You wonder if you’ll have much to talk about.

The journey elapses in relative silence. Rinkah, your escort – not a captor or handler, she insisted – isn’t much for conversation, and you are resolved to confront your end with the dignity of a Nohrian royal. You feel the carriage come to a stop, followed by Rinkah knocking against the wood to signal your arrival. This is it. You take a moment to compose yourself, taking a deep breath.

When the screen is rolled up and the light of day hits your eyes, you recoil and scream in pain.

Hoshido is bright, you've discovered. Brighter than anything you’ve seen in your life. A cloth is thrown over your head that blots out the light, and you hear Rinkah mutter something under her breath as you are pulled from the carriage, and guided up a flight of stairs and through what sounds to be a large set of doors. As your feet touch carpet, you hear the doors close behind you and a series of screens – windows? – slide closed.

Hesitantly, you pull the fabric off your head, and you slowly and gently open your eyes. Even indoors and with the windows covered, Hoshido is too bright for someone raised in the dark. You register a gasp and your heart sinks. You were brought before someone? So much for preserving your royal dignity. You sigh and wait for your eyes to adjust to the light. You blink a few more times for good measure before you feel comfortable and drift your gaze up to see this person’s face to find –

The woman from your mirror staring at you. She is older and more weary, but you see your eyes, and your beauty mark, and your hair, and a hope and longing in her eyes you know oh so well, and you feel a weight that you did not know you were carrying fade away, and you feel the dam in your heart breaking down. Your mouth begins to move on its own,

and as easy as

breathing two syllables pass