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"Shit…"
High Prince Sumeragi of Hoshido stumbled out of the building with his arm held in front of his nose, blood soaking into his sleeve.
Fuga, his best friend and closest confidant, strode out half a step behind him and clapped Sumeragi on the back.
"Excellent show, my friend! There is nothing more satisfying than watching you in a fight."
Sumeragi scoffed and readjusted his arm. "Say what you mean, Fuga: there is nothing more satisfying to you than watching me get my nose broken by people who have no idea who I am."
Fuga looked away to hide his smile, but Sumeragi could see the ghost of it on his cheeks regardless. "I confess it entertains me to imagine their mortification if they simply had a mite more information than they do." He paused. "I do not think your nose is broken this time."
"Oh, don't you? Well, that certainly fixes everything, the bloodstains on my clothes included."
"I don't understand why you're so upset that you took a beating in a fight which you picked."
Sumeragi huffed. "It's difficult to keep in good spirits knowing I'll be meeting with diplomats in about – " he squinted up at the sky, searching for the moon, " – six hours with a minimum of one black eye."
Fuga looked at him. "You pick these fights yourself, Lord Sumeragi," he reiterated.
"Don't give me that 'Lord Sumeragi' shit when we are ten feet from the entrance to a brothel where, as you observed, I just got my ass kicked."
"You're avoiding the question. If you hate this so much, why do you do it?"
Sumeragi groaned and turned into the nearest alley, leaning against a building for support. He tried to take in a deep breath, which manifested as a hearty sniffle followed by a very tired sigh. "I can sit in the castle all day and night drafting laws that will change things all too slowly, or I can come into town every now and again and give a greedy bastard what's coming to him." His brow furrowed, and he looked at the ground. "Besides, this is about the only time we're able to spend any time together without my retainers or the dignitaries watching me like hawks."
"You do not enjoy being a prince."
Sumeragi groaned again. "It's not that. I don't enjoy...being princely. I must be everywhere at once, and perfect in decorum at all times, and always measured, and..." He dropped his arm from his face and sniffed, though it did little to stop the trickle of blood down his face. "I cannot be the man I'm supposed to be all the time. I'm not fit for this. I haven't a clue what I'll do when my parents…"
Fuga sighed and positioned himself in front of Sumeragi, taking both of the prince's hands in his own. "You are twenty-four, Sumeragi."
"I'm a grown man who should be more competent, yes."
Fuga shook his head. "When the time comes, no one feels they are ready to take on the responsibility. You've had only a few years to master being a man, let alone being a prince. Give yourself time. You need not feel ready; you will be ready when you must be."
The high prince wiped his nose with his clean sleeve and chuckled, though he felt his eyes growing wet. "Cryptic as always, old friend."
Fuga placed his hands on either side of Sumeragi's face and pressed their foreheads together.
"You're barely a year older than me, anyhow. What the hell do you know that I don't, hm? Acting all wise…" His laughter grew louder in the narrow space between their faces.
"That's just it. Acting wise. Sumeragi, have you not yet learned that no one in the world knows what the hell is going on, at any given point in time? Every single person you meet is pretending to know what they are doing just as much as you are."
"Unfortunately, I've never been much of a thespian."
"I know. You are a terrible liar. Perhaps you really are unfit for politics."
Sumeragi shoved Fuga away with one hand, still laughing. "Shut up." He sighed. "Let's go back to Shirasagi before the staff start asking after us."
"As you say, old friend."
"Ah, shit."
Lady Ikona, second daughter of one of the many noble families of Hoshido, did not know the steps to this dance.
She knew some of them, to her credit, but there were just so many and she'd never had a memory for this kind of thing. What was the purpose of knowing the "right" steps to a dance, anyway? She'd be much happier if she could simply enjoy the music and let her body move as it would.
Ikona supposed her partner might not appreciate that. Her mother would surely appreciate it even less.
The man she danced with seemed nice enough. He wasn't a suitor (no matter what her family said), just another student from another noble family doing a much better job than Ikona at keeping up with the music. His name was Yoichi.
Well, Ikona supposed, thank the gods for the men being expected to lead this particular dance. If she need only be dragged around the dance floor and not go out of her way to make a fool of herself, so be it.
"What was that you just said?" Yoichi asked, pulling her sharply from her reverie.
"Nothing, nothing!" Ikona said, a charming grin plastered onto her face. The corner of Yoichi's mouth quirked, as if preparing to smile at that, but he sobered his expression quickly.
"Right."
He was a sweet man, really. He'd put up with her stepping on his toes countless times during the grueling process of her education in the art of formal dance. An absolute gentleman, Lord Yoichi was. Princely in his demeanor.
Utterly intimidating and so, so far from Ikona's type (no matter what her family said).
"You seem distracted," Yoichi prompted, guiding her through a slow turn. "Are you feeling alright?"
Ikona looked away sheepishly. "I think we can both agree that dancing is not an activity to which my skills are well suited. I feel…" she sighed, giving up on trying to sugarcoat it. "It feels like there are all these eyes on me, watching me mess this up, and I hate it."
"Then just focus on my eyes. They can't see your feet very well, even if you do stumble."
Gods above, he was smooth, too. Of course he was smooth. Lord Yoichi took to his noble training spectacularly, from everything Ikona had seen of him. He was beautiful and perfect and it was absolutely unfair.
"You're very kind, Lord Yoichi." I really don't deserve it.
"Anything to make a lady more comfortable." His smile was both sincere and cheerful. Damn him.
"I think I'll be most comfortable when this song ends."
"It's nearly over, so you needn't suffer my company much longer." Yoichi leaned in a little, and Ikona was almost sure he was about to try and kiss her. He stopped several inches short of her face, though, and he looked to the side for a moment. "Then, with your obligation of a dance fulfilled, you'll be free to have a cup of sake with the lady you've been exchanging glances with all night."
Ikona felt her cheeks flush pink at the suggestion. "I beg your pardon?"
"I mean no offense, but you are not an especially subtle woman, Lady Ikona." Yoichi smiled. "Parties are meant to be enjoyed. She's at the largest food table now."
"You've been keeping track of the other person I've been flirting with, and it's not so you could have a word with her about distracting your date?" Ikona nearly tripped over her own feet. "Just what kind of gentleman are you?"
"You aren't my date, you're my assigned dance partner," he reminded her. "I've no intention of pursuing anything more than that with you. Your lady isn't the only person I've been keeping tabs on tonight."
Ikona tilted her head to the side, suddenly regaining her composure at his words. "Oh? And whose arms will you be falling into after this dance ends?"
"No concern of yours."
"You're being unfair. You concerned yourself plenty with my plans." She pouted. "Come now. What lucky noble does Lord Yoichi have his eye on?"
"Oh, would you look at that. The song has ended. Thank you dearly for this dance, Lady Ikona. I do hope we can see each other again."
"Bastard!" Ikona hissed as he stepped away from her, an air of playfulness all too clear in her voice. "You have won the battle, good sir, but you have not yet won the war. I'll find you out yet, Lord Yoichi, you incorrigible gentleman."
At that, Yoichi only winked and nodded towards the largest food table, where a noblewoman in beautiful garb stood and smiled over at Ikona. Before she had a chance to react, Ikona's cheeks had progressed from pink to red. That was indeed the woman she'd spotted before.
Ikona took a deep breath and stepped forward.
Right. Parties were meant to be enjoyed.
No matter what her family said.
"Oh, shit...ah, Corrin, darling, pretend you didn't hear that!"
Princess Mikoto of Valla gathered up the remains of a bowl from the floor. Corrin merely cooed in response, hopefully still too young to begin babbling whatever words they heard Mother say.
Hopefully.
Mikoto examined the shards of the bowl, fitting their seams back together. It could probably be fixed, though it would never be quite the same. Ah, well. She rather liked that bowl. Any means of keeping it around a bit longer would be worthwhile to her.
Her lover was out doing whatever it was he did during the day – he had work of some sort to do. For the time being, Mikoto was alone with her thoughts. And with the baby. Just her thoughts, and the baby.
The baby who was about to go down for a nap, at which point it would really just be Mikoto and her thoughts.
There was a kind of peace to this life Mikoto was still adjusting to. With Arete and her husband comfortably upon the throne, Mikoto was freed from many of the expectations placed upon her as a princess. She had to be ready to take the throne, of course, at least until Arete's daughter was old enough to be pronounced heir, but that seemed unlikely. Her sister was in excellent health, and happy to be serving her people.
So Mikoto could relax a little and concern herself more with her family. With Corrin. With the simple life ahead of her.
She sighed, content, setting the shards of the broken bowl on the counter to be dealt with later. For now, to the nursery with Corrin, before they started to fuss.
"Come now, little one. It's time to rest. The day is too long for one so small." She scooped Corrin up into her arms, holding them close to her chest. Their tiny hands grasped at the strands of hair by her face, and she laughed.
"It'll be a while yet before I'll trust you to braid my hair, I'm afraid, but I do appreciate the effort." She gently tugged her hair out of Corrin's grasp and lowered them into their crib.
There was a lullaby that had been passed down through her family, one which could soothe even the most agitated of creatures.
But it was an old song, and growing trite at that, powerful though it may be.
Mikoto settled instead on humming an old Vallite folk tune, murmuring a few of the words as she stroked Corrin's face with her fingers. She watched them drift off beneath her.
It never grew old, seeing her child settle down from squirming into stillness, and then from stillness into sweet slumber.
I made this. I am personally responsible for the existence of this very tiny thing which is falling asleep before me. And all that because I happened to run across one man I happened to like very much.
Mikoto shook her head. She'd have to ask Arete one of these days if she ever had the same thought when looking at Azura. Wonder, that she could have possibly made something that seemed so perfect, so untouched by the world. Terror, that it was really not very difficult to do and really, anyone could have done the same.
How could something so momentous be so commonplace? How did the wheels of society continue to turn when there were tiny babies falling asleep at this very moment, and you could just watch them fall asleep if you wanted to? Why do literally anything else?
She sat and watched Corrin for a while, humming soothingly whenever they stirred, sometimes offering her finger for their little hand to hold.
Soon, she slouched further into her seat, leaning against the wall for support. Mikoto closed her eyes, listening to the quiet of the room, and Corrin's breathing, and her own. Her thoughts carried on in her head, growing foggier and more muddled until they fell quiet altogether.
And then there was only the quiet of the room between the slow breaths of mother and child.