Chapter 11: Half Dipt in Cloud

.xxxi.

Hinoka wanted to go to Cheve with her brothers. She begged her father, had even cried, but princesses needed to stay safe at home, that's what he had told her. The fact that little Kamui got to go and she couldn't, wasn't fair at all.

"Ryouma, let me go with you!" Hinoka held his hands in hers, the skin warm and soft.

"No." Her brother murmured, his boyhood voice high and sweet. "You can't come with me."

She'd thrown a fit when they'd left, refused to say goodbye or bid well-wishes, and pouted the weeks they'd been away. Then one day Ryouma had returned— Sumeragi and Kamui never did. She'd cried for entirely different reasons then, for years and years and years. When Takumi and Ryouma made to leave for the battlefield, she begged again.

"I want to go." She squeezed his hands, suddenly big and calloused. "Take me with you."

"No." Her brother sighed, his adult voice low and sorrowful. "You can't come with me."

Though no longer a child, and no longer weak, Hinoka was still a princess and had to obey. She did not stray far, though her brothers went deep behind enemy lines only to return, beaten and hopeless. An army followed close behind them, breaking down defenses, until even home was no longer safe.

"Don't go, Ryouma." Hinoka's hands shook, his were cold and slippery with blood. "Don't leave me behind!"

"You can't come with me." Her brother said, death rattled in his every breath. "You must stay."

He pulled away and she didn't feel it. Looking down, Hinoka found that her hands had turned to ice which shattered when she reached out for Ryouma's vanishing figure. She opened her mouth to scream and couldn't breathe—

Hinoka woke from the nightmare with a gasp. As she gulped down air the state of the rest of her body filtered into her awareness. Her ribs twinged and ached with each deep breath she took, tender in the way only bruised bones could be. Her head hurt, but not in that sharp, throbbing pain that'd plagued her so often since journeying to Nohr. Instead it was a dull pain, one that slowed her thoughts to a crawl and made her head feel like it was stuffed full of cotton. Her skin tingled, strangely oversensitive on what felt like the inside. Even as she shakily attempted to move leaden limbs, there was a soft caress that started at her temple then carded through the stands of her hair and was repeated.

Although the motion was soothing, it had Hinoka marshalling her muddled senses in order to take stock of her situation. Her bodily position was curled, three sides of her rested on solid warmth. The air was the stale sort common in Krackenbrug castle, but there was another scent— armor oil, horse, and faint earthy musk. There was a low sound, its pattern had her recognizing it was a song. Opening her heavy eyelids by a sliver, she looked through her lashes. The molding patterns on the roof tiles were unfamiliar to her, and the room itself seemed lowly lit by a strangely green illumination.

Glancing about, she couldn't help going tense as she realized that it wasn't bedding that she reclined against but someone. There was an arm curled behind her shoulders, and another tucked into the bend of her knees. This hold leaned her entire side against a broad span of male chest, she felt its firm contours beneath the thin linen shirt, and the muscles of his arms bunched visibly against her weight. The bend of her torso and bottom half were likely stabilized across this man's lap, which had Hinoka grateful that she'd not possessed the coordination to squirm.

The fingers stroking her face fell away and the singing under his breath ceased, then in the quiet a deep voice resounded. "Hinoka?"

She shut her eyes and forced herself not to tense further. It was Marx, the person cradling her so intimately was Marx. Being in such close proximity to Hoshido's enemy should've evoked strong aversion, disgust, or panic— yet Hinoka felt only a sort of numb, factual recognition. After all, Marx had held her this close once before, against his chest with an arm wrapped around her. Embarrassment wriggled within her breast as Hinoka's hazy mind recalled at the time she'd been worn his cape, and only that.

Yet that didn't explain her current circumstances. Fighting a sluggish mind, Hinoka searched through her memories for how she'd landed in this situation and drew a blank— the last thing she could recall was encountering Zero during her search for Kamui. Giving into a sigh, she pried her eyes open enough to look up at the Nohrian king's face.

He looked more alien than usual in the strange lighting, but he also appeared tired. There was a heaviness around his eyes, a tightness in his jaw, that spoke of a lack of energy. Hinoka was both concerned and proud of the fact she had learned recognize the differences between his facial expressions. However, his eyes weren't dark but shining like stars, and the way he watched her might've been with concern.

Despite having many questions, it was a stray thought that slipped off her tongue, "…you were singing."

Marx blinked, then cleared his throat. "Mmm, yes. It's a habit Aqua suggested, to keep myself calm."

Hinoka managed a half-nod, vaguely wondering why he wouldn't be calm to begin with. After a moment she asked, "Where am I?"

"The king's private chambers." Before Hinoka could do more than widen her eyes, he continued, "This room contains a Dragon's Vein, which we're currently resting upon. Foleo tried to use a healing staff on you, but it seemed to only make things worse. So I thought to try this."

At his words, Hinoka realized that was why her body tingled, both from the healing energy and in response to the divine power so close at hand. And the strange green illumination was from the glowing lines that surrounded them— a regeneration circle powered by the Dragon's Vein. Unlike moving stone or conjuring fire, such a thing was complicated to create because of the delicate control required. She'd never had quite the patience to master them, unlike Sakura…and it seemed Marx's self-control extended to even this.

"Why did I need h-healing?" She couldn't quite hide the tremor of fear from her voice.

"You don't remember?"

Hinoka felt her eyes stinging as she shook her head. Marx gave a long exhale, then said, "Apparently there was an incident was Corrin transforming, but… he refuses to tell me much about it. My sons were just as unforthcoming."

Transformation, that inhuman form. Suddenly she was thrown back, to the disaster in Shirasagi's city square— the shattered stone and flesh, and horrible roar rending through the screams of the fleeing crowds. There'd been attackers, Nohrian troops, she'd had to use a curtain pole to fend a group off from civilians. She hadn't seen it until the standoff at the river's bend, her brother turning into a dragon, into a monster.

Kamui attacked me.

Hinoka pushed away from Marx and tried to sit up; the world tilted alarmingly, as if in an effort to throw her off. Marx caught her before she could collapse and she let herself settle against him, shutting her eyes with a groan. Like this, she became aware of all the sensations she'd awoken to— his warmth, his smell, how gently he touched her —alongside all the aches and pains of her still-recovering body. She was breathing hard, and turned her face into his chest to hide shameful tears brimming her eyes.

"Rest here until you feel better." Marx said, and then began to hum a foreign lullaby.

.xxxii.

Once Hinoka felt well enough that she could stand on her own two feet, the healing circle was deactivated. They then moved from the bedroom to another room that held a large desk and sitting couches. Perched on one was a small figure swathed in sheer robes, her veiled face framed by a bob of dark hair turned towards them and Hinoka was struck with recognition.

Words slipped off her tongue, "You cut your hair."

"And you're growing yours out." The small woman cut a look as if Hinoka was simple-minded.

Marx chuckled, and then gestured. "Queen Hinoka, this is Sorceress Nyx, my Adviser of Magics. I summoned her to check for harmful hexes. May she inspect you?"

Still fighting a blush over her wayward observation, Hinoka simply nodded. Marx stepped away as the Nohrian sorceress rose to her feet and approached. Her hands traced glowing ruins from the page of an open tome and she began to chant in some unknown language. Hinoka made sure to stand her ground, even when doubt seeded wariness of trickery, of dark magic. Rather than giving over to paranoia, she closed her eyes and to clear her thoughts silently catalogued any lingering pains and small aches in her body.

The sound of a book shutting followed by quiet, drew Hinoka back and she opened her eyes to the sight of Adviser Nyx rubbing at her temples.

"What'd you find?" Asked Marx.

"I detected three magical signatures. Firstly, her own, the dragon's blood flowing in her veins. The second magical source put her out like a light but seems faint, likely only encountered recently. It's a very peculiar sort which I'd have to research more before giving any specifics." The small woman's hand fell from her face, her expression grim. "The third has clung to her much longer and it's very malignant. I'm guessing this is what actually began the trouble."

'Trouble' as in Kamui attacking her, a claim she still couldn't quite believe.

"A hex?" Marx asked, stepping up beside her.

Adviser Nyx shook her head. "Nothing so simple."

"Can you fully remove it, Nyx?"

"I'm flattered you so overestimate my abilities."

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Hinoka spoke up, "Then… how can it be prevented?"

Adviser Nyx's expression shifted, for a moment it was almost pitying. Yet her tone of voice remained sharp as she said, "It feeds on negative energy, so try to stay in good spirits."

Hinoka did her best to nod, yet couldn't hide how disquieted those words left her. A curse based on ill-spirits… how could one avoid it? Life had been more difficulties than happiness of late, and no matter how she forced a smile onto her face it couldn't change her heart. She tried to think of times it might've afflicted her before, but most days felt like a blur and no memories seemed especially off. What have I been doing that's accursed?

Marx's voice pulled her before she could become truly lost in her thoughts as he said, "Nyx, please research the matter further. You have my permission to use whatever means necessary."

"Very well. I'll investigate methods that might to help ward it off." The small woman heaved out a long breath, then gave a shrewd glance. "In all honestly, King Marx, wouldn't it be simpler to leave Hoshido to its fate rather than expending Nohr's resources to prop up a collapsing house of cards?"

Hinoka went tense, and even Marx had gone still. He voice was stern as he said, "That is uncharitable of you, Nyx. Our allies are sharing their resources in turn thus are not a drain. And I must right my father's wrongs."

Hinoka choked down a gasp at his audacity. As if he can fix anything!

"Bad blood is not so easily forgiven. The other kingdom growing weak would give ours time to fortify against the inevitable counterattack. I doubt this Hoshido's Queen has soft feelings towards you or any Nohrian." Adviser Nyx pointedly looked at her, and Hinoka had to smother the anger that'd built alongside the many insults. "Ah, I'm upsetting her. I refuse to bend truths for convenience's sake, so will take my leave." She then turned her back on them both and headed to the doorway.

Despite the blatant disrespect Marx didn't seem upset as he ordered, "Nyx, please inform relevant parties that Hinoka is recovered."

"I'll let your family know, but your personal retainer will have to talk to the Hoshidans," the small woman snippily rebutted, before abruptly closing the door behind her.

Hinoka's body felt as taunt as a bowstring, and she had to clasp her hands together to hide their shaking. The anger that'd so quickly built was doused by a mix of anxiety and some other emotion that tensed her muscles. Gathering her nerve, she looked the Nohrian King in the eye. "T-that's really what you want from me? Forgiveness?"

Marx tilted his head, not quite a nod or a bow but acknowledgement, without breaking their gaze. His voice was quiet, soft in his way, as he said, "Mere words cannot bring back those lost. My people, and I, have wronged you. I wish to try and make things right between us and our kingdoms."

Reconciliation, it wouldn't be the first attempt. Her father had hoped for such, that an accord could be forged between Hoshido and Nohr. It's why Sumeragi had gone to Cheve, it's why he'd died— for a thwarted chance at peace. Killed at the hands of King Garon, this man's father. Then Kamui had been stolen, converted to Nohr's cause, that was the fracture that'd ultimately broken her family and happiness. There's too much to make right.

Hinoka felt a dull hopelessness in that moment that had her laughing emptily. "Your Adviser wasn't entirely wrong. On your last visit to Hoshido one of my lords had his men hiding along the roads in hopes of waylaying you." Marx appeared to tense, his expression becoming severe, but Hinoka heedlessly continued, "I forbade it, but he's not the only one who wants vengeance. And he won't be the last. Even if your death wouldn't truly erase my people's anger."

"Is that why you attacked Corrin? To get even?"

Her mind momentarily halted at the accusation, unable to comprehend the idea of attacking, hurting her last surviving brother. Utter nonsense! Yet Was that what he'd meant, not that Kmaui had attacked her but the opposite? She also couldn't deny her memory had been poor of late, this latest blank of what'd actually happened had her more worried than she cared to admit.

So she shook her head, and snapped, "I've not raised a hand to a Nohrian since the treaty was signed! Because if I do something to displease you, if Hoshido makes one wrong move- Nohr would end us." And we couldn't stop you.

Marx's brow furrowed. "You fear I will take advantage."

"Haven't you already?" She couldn't hold the cynicism out of her voice. "Will saying 'I forgive you' do, or would you prefer it in writing?"

Leaning over her, Marx frowned and he raised a hand towards her only to abruptly stop mid-reach. Refusing to let him back down, Hinoka's own hands grabbed his wrist and pulled until his fingers rested over her neck, the span of his hand was disconcertingly large enough to wrap around. She hadn't broken eye-contact, instead poured every ounce of challenge into her glare. "The forgiveness I'd give you would be false. So why leave such a threat? End it."

He wore no gloves, so had to feel the quick kick of her pulse under his bare hand and the increasing speed of her breaths. Truthfully, Hinoka was afraid. Everything he'd told her, even if it was all lies, the word of Nohr's king would not be ignored. Marx could kill her, and no one in this kingdom would object. The threat of war wouldn't stop him, if anything the western army would celebrate at another chance for glory. So better that she die now— keep her pride and go defiantly, than to cower.

"Do you truly think so poorly of me?" His eyes, dark as the night sky, stared into her own with that intensity that never seemed to dim. He leaned close, head bent close enough that their lips brushed when he said, "Hinoka, don't throw away your life."

He closed the distance pressed his mouth to hers in a feather-light kiss.

Marx's lips were warm and soft against hers, the sensation sparking her entire jittery body. Hinoka should've pushed him away, reinforced this newly crossed boundary with harsh rejection, but the rush of relief was dizzying and her heart raced without fear or anger. It'd been so long since someone had touched her kindly and she'd felt something good. So instead her numb hands curled into the soft linen of his shirt and pulled Marx closer. In response, his hand moved from her jaw to the back of her neck, thumb stroked her nape as his fingers tangling in her hair. The kiss went from fleeting to his lips pressed against hers with a yielding firmness that made her exhale in shaky sighs. It seemed like he was going to leaned away to say something, but she stood on her tiptoes to chase close the distance then he uttered a soft sound and kissed her again.

Marx tasted her gently, savored her— kindled a low ache that had Hinoka trembling with how she craved more. A desperate noise escaped her when he pulled back and broke the kiss, her body felt feverish and thoughts were slow as if drenched in honey. Only belatedly did she realize the door to the room had opened.

"King Marx, is Queen Hinoka free to speak? I was told she's with you-" Charlotte's eyes went wide, taking in their inappropriately close proximity. The Princess Consort hadn't long to gawk, however, as the door was flung fully open and a blur of black, white, and silver came barreling in.

"Sister, you're awake!" Hinoka barely had enough time to turn and brace as her brother threw himself at her, his weight pressing her back against Marx's solid form. After colliding he babbled, "I didn't mean- I shouldn't have- I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

Kamui's arms wrapped around if she might try to escape. The tight hold squeezing her tender ribs, Hinoka bit her lip to keep quiet. He kept apologizing over and over, even as he dissolved into hiccupping sobs. She'd never seen him like this wracked with grief, almost out-of-control. Something about it, the wildness— her chest suddenly felt tight and the urge to flee hit hard.

It was ultimately Marx's large hands that gripped Kamui by the shoulders and made him give them some breathing space. "Corrin, she is alright. Calm yourself."

"Y-yes," Her brother rubbed at his eyes and nodded, stepping back. "Sorry."

To keep herself from bolting Hinoka breathed deep and measured, grounding herself with the twinges of discomfort. Yet she couldn't hold back a flinch when she was touched. Large hands were warm on her elbow and the small of her back. Turning her head, she met Marx's eyes, saw that his gaze was questioning, and tried to say something but the words tangled on her tongue.

That seemed to be enough of an answer. "Queen Hinoka, I must speak with our brother, alone. Princess Consort Charlotte, please if you could entertain Her Majesty for the rest of tonight."

.xxxiii.

The sky was the prettiest Hinoka had seen it in Nohr. The moon was full, its round shape peeking through the scattered breaks in the cloud-cover. Clouds piled in soft billows, highlighted in silver by the moon's glow and weighted with dusky shadows. Beneath the sky was equally enthralling. Enough anima lanterns lined the road that their orange glow rivaled the hidden stars. The nighttime streets of Windmire were as full and bustling as Shirasagi at high noon, however, those masses parted hastily for the horse-drawn carriage they traveled within. All this was easily seen through its glass windows, large and clear portals compared the latticed sort palanquins sported.

The carriage itself wasn't large, her retainers had to ride with the driver and footman outside. Its velvet-lined interior had only enough room two comfortably and Charlotte's full-skirted gown made it feel like three took up the cushioned bench. The satiny billows rippled with every bounce on the road and brushed against the side of Hinoka's leg exposed by the torn split in her robe. The fact that Hinoka had allowed herself to be dragged out in public with damaged clothing attested to how out-of-sorts she'd been when the Princess Consort had hustled them from Castle Krackenburg and to this carriage.

She didn't remember how her clothing had become damaged, though acknowledged it had to have happened after she'd gone to visit Kamui and before she'd reawakened. If she thought to hard, recalled what'd happened with Marx— conflicting emotions welled up in a murky mess. So Hinoka kept seeking out the distractions on hand, forcing her troubled mind into order.

Almost as if sensing her thoughts, Charlotte broke the silence and glibly said, "After a year alone, figures such a man would move on. Shouldn't be surprised, you're just his type."

At her words a deep-seated anxiety washed over Hinoka, and had her stuttering, "P-pardon, his type?"

"Thin as a whip with a tongue just as sharp, belied by a pretty face." Blue eyes looked over her in a way that had Hinoka self-conscious of all the differences between them: features, height, build, and size of breast. "And you can hold your own in a fight. His Majesty has a taste for difficult things."

The was Charlotte spoke plainly, as if assuredly quoting fact, as if she'd witnessed the indiscretion firsthand rather than its immediate aftermath. Hinoka's efforts not to think on the kiss— warm in his arms, gently caressed by his hands, his lips soft on hers —fell to pieces and the unwanted feelings that began flooded over her.

Marx had kissed her, and Hinoka had liked it. Why had she liked it? How could he dare touch Hoshido's queen like a lover would?

Desperate to rein in her spiraling thoughts, she asked, "You'd call Princess Aqua 'difficult'?"

"It's the truth! A frustrating woman, who was cryptic to talk and kept everyone at an arm's length." Charlotte's entire face scowled with derision. "Any sane person in Nohr would be King Marx's for the asking, for the gods' sake I'd tried to catch his eye! But only a truly stubborn man would pursue Lady Aqua's distant hand."

"And now you think he'll seek mine."

Charlotte hummed contemplatively. "That's the difficult part. Would you permit it?"

The mere possibility of it, shook Hinoka to her core. That the man who could crush her kingdom with a word might want to make her his own personal conquest. Would he simply ignore rejection? Could she even afford to try? Wouldn't her people hate her if she didn't? Why'd he kiss me? I can't, I can't- The meager contents of her stomach threatened to rise up her throat, and desperately Hinoka wished the numbness she'd initially woken with had remained— better than drowning in this emotional whirlpool.

"I-I-I can't s-say," she choked out. After a long moment and several measured breathes, Hinoka managed to swallow down the nausea and replied, "Wouldn't you h-hate me if I did? A foreigner stealing the hand of your king?"

"It's foolish turn happiness away when it finds you. Life is too short for regrets." Charlotte replied primly with practiced poise. "Besides better than my brother-in-law miserably pining for the person who abandoned him and his boys."

Hinoka had to keep herself from gaping at her bluntness. Her confused heart tight as she asked, "You really think Aqua chose to leave?"

Blue eyes rolled immaturely. "Dunno, but she's not around. You are."

"I-I didn't come to Nohr for King Marx!"

"Next time you should."

She really thinks that. That Marx and I should be an item. Hinoka had to bite her lip against an outburst, hysterical laughter or yelling she wasn't quite sure which. In no mood to continue the conversation, she turned away from the Princess Consort and resolutely stared out the window. Though her composure had been eroded by the conflicting emotions that returned like ocean waves. As much as the concept dredged up logical problems and panic, the kiss' memory was sweet and had her lips tingling. By all rights she should've hated the Nohrian king with every fiber of her being— but it was obvious she did not.

Traitor, whispered the darkest corner of her mind.

The rest of the carriage ride passed in silence, which Hinoka was grateful for. It gave her the opportunity to reorder her thoughts and stew over her feelings. By the time the carriage rolled to a halt at their destination Hinoka had the inoffensive mask of a smile back in place, determined not to show any more weakness that night.

As the footman assisted them down from the step, Charlotte chattered, "Now, Queen Hinoka, in this shop is a handsome pair yellow topaz ear-drops. I think their color and the gold wire would complement your eyes."

Hinoka listened with half an ear, responding when necessary, but desperately keeping the appearance of being together. Though she mustered enough backbone to reject the notion of getting her ears pierced, multiple times, as the Princess Consort insisted to offer. Any other night the shop filled with cases of sparkling jewelry and polished gems might've impressed her, but now she found herself only risking a glance— after finding a tourmaline broach to be the same shade of purple as Marx's eyes. By the time her Nohrian minder had settled on some purchases and they'd left the shop, Hinoka felt weary down to her bones.

Yet as Charlotte passed through the door ahead of them, she noticed the odd behavior of her male retainer. The priest's brow was furrowed long, fingers tapping on the haft of his spear incessantly. He seemed restless, perhaps upset, enough so that Hinoka stopped and asked, "Asama what's wrong?"

"It's the man who gathered Setsuna and myself for this outing. A royal retainer, sworn to serve the king of Nohr. I knew his face," Asama shook his head, scoffing with disbelief. "He's that traitor formally of the Saizou clan, Suzukaze."