Strong like Death, Sweet as Love

A Fire Emblem blog. Formerly known as earlgreybutler. Main blog at spheri.

[eternally6pm]

Friends, I fucked up. I thought I was ready to publish chapter 8 at the end of this week but I am not. I am actually going to rewrite a massive chunk of it. I am both mortified and exhausted.

I can only laugh at myself.

[eternally6pm]

It's become a mess. The more I pull, the more unravels.

I promise I'm working on it, but it's still a shambles. I need to duct tape it all together and then come back and find something to reinforce it with.

It'll come. It'll just take a bit of time.

[andrumedus]

Morgan Parker, Other People’s Comfort Keeps Me Up At Night; “Greetings from Struggle City”

[Text ID: For a taste of your neck I would / burn my tongue]

[eternally6pm]

Friends, I fucked up. I thought I was ready to publish chapter 8 at the end of this week but I am not. I am actually going to rewrite a massive chunk of it. I am both mortified and exhausted.

I can only laugh at myself.

[eternally6pm]

The Echo of Thunder - Starved

Rating: M

Characters: Takumi, Camilla

Warnings: hunting, animal violence, attempted (?) violence against animals, leaning explicit.

- the hunger grows -

Contains almost sex, masturbation.

In the glaring white of the snow, his vision started to alternatively blur and sharpen; the edges of trees, the path, the stream, occasionally melded, oddly distorting, movement in the shadow like a snake, the stirring of feet, of fur.

At last he spotted it: a slash of pale moonlight, shifting and slinking before it burst from the brush, frantically darting across the clearing in a wild bid to escape. He surged after it at full pace, immediate pursuit into the thick of the woods. Determined not to lose his mark, he loosed an anxious shot that missed, buried uselessly in the snow as the fox leapt, desperately scrambling up a tree where it perched, panting and cornered.

His heart twinged in pity for the second it took to raise his bow and still the tremor in his draw.

He missed.

The shot whistled, streaking into empty air, swallowed by the darkness. 

She was gone.

Impossible.

His breath released in a gust, mist lifting into the silence as he stopped, disconcerted, drew another arrow, straining to see even a glimmer of moonlight in the dark. 

The fox leapt at him.

A snarl of heat, claws and fur, snapping and hissing, teeth around his arm, teeth at his neck and he was falling, slammed onto his back - this creature was huge. An arrow released in the fray - the fox cried and he heaved with all of his might, kicking, thrashing, two animals entwined and struggling until he roared, forcing her off, and she laughed. 

The sound crashed against his ribs, crushing the air from his lungs, knocking him out of his panic and wrenching him into stunned wonder as he fell into softness beneath him, above him, warmth enclosing him, cradling him.

Fur became hair, long pale curls between his fingers as he brushed them back from her face, her cheek bearing the silky blush of a flower petal, the low, honeyed hum of her sigh trembling in the space between them.

She was hurt; the arrow had struck just as he meant it to, even though he wished with his entire heart to call it back. He had sworn that she would never be harmed again and now she bled because of him, lay prone as it streamed from her in a blossoming swirl of scarlet.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, faltering as he reached for the arrow, but it dissolved in his hand, fading into the same smoke that his words took as they curled into the space that was a scar, remorse that filled his chest with the scent of roses instead of air.

Her hand closed on his wrist, dragging him closer, her eyes soft and sedated. She wore not armour, but the black gown of velvet that he had longed to touch, familiar down to the same row of buttons, picked apart so deep that her sleeves slipped from her shoulders as she moved, squirmed, writhed beneath him, against him, and he could feel her breath, her pulse, the warmth of her bare thighs as he reached beneath the hem of her skirts and pushed them higher, hungry, curious and wanting.

“Takumi.”

When had she learned to say his name like that? Perfect in time and in tone, enticing, so deeply comforting that he longed to find the origin of it within her, to taste it and let it soak in his lungs, swallow its sweetness so that it might intoxicate him completely.

Her lips yielded so easily against his own, parted and filled with him, all of her warm and irresistibly soft beneath his touch and he couldn’t stop, couldn’t remember ever wanting anything as badly as he wanted this, a need harboured for so long finally folding, breaking as her arms took him, gentle and forgiving, so lovingly.

“Oh, my prince.”

The whisper flooded him like the heat from a cup of wine and he could only think of dragging her neckline down, pulling her skirts further up, kissing her like it would save him, like it might kill him, so drunk with desire that he could not stop himself from pushing his hips against her open thighs, and was met with a friction so illicitly gratifying that he moaned and she moaned with him.

“Ah, Takumi.”

He needed her, needed her, wrenching his robe aside, her dress having fallen to, and risen past her waist. He felt drawn like an arrow in his own bow, a heartbeat swelling until it consumed him and he wanted nothing else but to sink into her, inside where she was overwhelming heat and he could let her swallow the last of his sanity.

“Camilla,” he begged, spoke it against her lips like a prayer, an appeal for her allowance, approval as he pressed the aching head of his shaft against her opening and grasped her lovely thighs to thrust -

Takumi's eyes flew open.

His pulse raced like he had just run for a mile without rest, blood rushing in his ears, his face, as he lay prone, every muscle in his abdomen tightening and his fingers tingling as he gripped the sheets and tried to breathe without shaking.

Beneath him, pressed into the mattress, his erection throbbed.

It had been ages, years, since he had dreamt of anything like this, and - mortifyingly - never with quite such intensity. 

But even as he pushed a long exhalation through his throat in an attempt to reorient, wait, until his thoughts subsided and he could calm the thudding of his heart, he knew it was impossible. 

In mere seconds, his mind had taken him back to the thought of her, axe in hand and fire in her eyes as she seized and dragged him like a beast with captured prey. Threw him to the ground and descended upon him with teeth and fervour and brutal force, her lips crimson, roses scenting the top of her neck, her arms as she held him down and snarled fiercely at him to hold silence, to submit.

Nothing like the sweetly placid fantasy of her that felt both obscenely true and utterly forbidden, a frightening revelation that only made his need more desperate, a wicked thrill that heightened with the realisation that it would violate every belief he ever held, every last bit of his pride. 

Only alone, hidden in the dark could he even dare to consider the notion that he wished for both; craved her in every form and frame he knew her. 

Craved her like a thirst craved water, like a fire craved air. Like a tiger craved blood to fill its belly, urgent and ravenous, uncontrollable.

And he knew it was wrong, which only in fact made the temptation greater, stirred a hunger that left him weak, pitiful, pining for the taste of her mouth, the scent of flowers on her breasts, the warm press of her upon him, and all of him inside her - 

Oh, gods, he wanted her.

Capitulating, he tossed the covers aside and rose from the futon, urgently working his night clothes off his hips, closing a hand about his cock as he shut his eyes and swallowed the shame that surged up against his relentless need - a sensation so sinful, he could not contain the sound in his throat, could barely dare to breathe.

To permit himself a single moment of weakness, just this once, surrendering to the sight of her astride her mount, flashing the pale insides of her thighs, imagining the soft swell of her breasts cupped in his hands. It was too easy to find a version of her beside him at the lake from a daydream, dragging the skirts of her gown up to her waist and inviting him to eat, or to gather hazy recollections of her hands in his hair, on his shoulder, at his waist, her lips against his ear as she whispered something private, scandalous, filthy to him, and he sighed, biting down on his lip, a whine, wanting it to be true, wanting her to make it real so he could hear her say it again, say it aloud.

Ah, my prince. My prince. Takumi.

He came, choking her name under his breath, a humiliating release of hot white fluid into his other hand, as he clenched his teeth, head swimming with relief and disgust. 

It was silence that followed, unbearably hollow as his heartbeat finally grew calm and he sighed, truly wretched and completely defeated. There was nothing that could exist at greater disgrace than he in this moment, the aching throb gratified only to deliver in stark clarity

- the horror -

that he would never find this hunger cured in reality, made only worse with the fear that without it, he could not expel her, could not banish this possession from his person. 

What void was created became immediately flooded with her, a tide so strong and vast that he had been dragged under before he even realised his mistake. 

In the dark, he thought he saw a glint of amber, a flicker of moonlight and madness.

And the hunger grew louder.

[eternally6pm]

The Echo of Thunder - Shadow

Rating: G

Characters: Beruka, Takumi

Warnings: None

- What guidance do you seek? -

A little extra scene from the universe of No Ordinary Tempest with absolutely no consequence.

Takumi noticed her presence in his periphery - a direct approach with uncharacteristically bold strides - long before he had any need to. It was a strangely familiar courtesy that he recognised from certain members of Ryoma’s guard, if not somewhat less elegant in execution.

At least it seemed that other forms of courtesy were much the same. She bowed low at the waist and waited for him to acknowledge her.

“Beruka.” It was odd to be addressing her without Camilla or her retainer companion, but there was an air about the girl, particularly in the absence of the usual associated fuss that put Takumi at ease, despite knowing that she was once an assassin - hired to kill her current mistress, no less.

“Your Highness.”

“If it is Oboro you seek, she is presently occupied.”

It was the way Beruka always politely averted her gaze, he realised - that seemed entirely different to every soldier, guard or retainer that Takumi had met from Nohr. She did so now, carefully training her gaze at a point somewhere upon the ground as she spoke, her voice low and even.

“Forgive me, Your Highness, it is you I seek. I hope it not imprudent that I speak directly. I request guidance.”

He had to take a moment to reorientate himself against his own his assumptions. “Not at all. What guidance do you seek?”

“Forgive me…” she lowered her voice even further, and Takumi found himself inadvertently leaning forward, intently keen on catching the detail of her request. “It is to do with the night you made an attempt on Lady Camilla’s life.”

He recoiled, heat rising to his face at the reminder of his frankly humiliating failure, but also at the thought that he had, at some point, harboured such a needlessly antagonistic attitude.

“I-I see.”

“Forgive me,” Beruka repeated, and thrice was beginning to feel somewhat excessive, “but I would like to learn how you managed to avoid me.”

For this, Takumi had no immediate response. It had hardly been a consideration at the time, and there was no true answer or explanation to provide. Ultimately, he had been acquainted with the edge of her blade, regardless. “You were asleep.”

“I… I was.” 

Now she was starting to colour in her face, and even while she remained slightly bowed, Takumi could see that the girl was deeply uncomfortable in admitting her deficiency, a position that he found surprisingly admirable, although also strangely empathetic. 

This resulted in the unfortunate effect of his own embarrassment deepening.

“I am usually… attuned… and sensitive to sound and… space,” she attempted to explain. “Even when asleep. I would never allow someone to approach Lady Camilla, let alone draw a weapon on her.”

It was a compliment, he realised, and the understanding only made his face warmer and the palms of his hands feel damp. 

“F-frankly speaking, it is not my strength,” he confessed. “I required endless training, from one of the best.”

“An… assassin?”

Takumi shook his head, refusing to concede to the description, although welcomed the opportunity to focus on something other than his own discomfort. “Hoshido has a class of warriors who work exclusively with shadow arts. They excel in covert operations. My brother keeps two shinobi as retainers. If you like, I can introduce you to -”

“Prince Takumi.”

Both Takumi and Beruka jolted in complete alarm.

“K-Kagero!”

Beruka whipped around to reveal the kunoichi standing behind her in a deep bow, having approached the both of them entirely unnoticed. It was as though the mere thought of her had manifested her form. 

“Lord Ryoma requests a word.”

“Of - of course,” Takumi mumbled, dithering between relief and the aftermath of a complete fright, sharing one more pointed glance with Beruka, who could only stare as he was led away.

[eternally6pm]

No Ordinary Tempest - Chapter 4

READ HERE

Not much to say about this one outside of what I’ve already touched on in my existing author’s note, and elsewhere on this blog regarding Takumi and wielding Fujin Yumi - except that I’m not sure I love the magic system in this game from a story-telling and narrative aspect. I am, of course, a filthy causal [sic] who knows nothing of overarching FE laws/lore (not to the same depth I understand the lore of say, Final Fantasy - hey, poke me, I’ll link you my FF blog), but to me it appears that magic is item-dependent. You have the right scroll/tome, you cast the spell. No issues. 

Perhaps I’m missing something. Perhaps I simply lack imagination. 

On that note, I will mention again out of sheer confusion and a little frustration that I’m disappointed Takumi and Ryoma don’t really have canon confrontation dialogue in this encounter. So much that I’ve latched onto its absence and headcanoned a very strained family dynamic between Takumi and his older Hoshidan siblings. More on that later. Another AU was born from this tangent, to do with Takumi’s possession, the trauma in his life and emotional neglect that got him there. This is also why I ship him with Camilla so eagerly. In an ideal world, he is given the chance to heal. In this world, he’s given a hot and toxic wife, who instantly gratifies him with physical affection and obsessive adoration. More on that later, too.

Random research for this chapter: ember storms are something that occur in Australia. You can probably imagine what those entail: strong winds, extremely hot conditions and flat expanses leading into dry bushland. It’s no wonder the fires get so bad.

[eternally6pm]

The Echo of Thunder - Scented

READ HERE

The first of a number of unused scenes and oneshots that either didn't fit the tone of the main story or just felt a little too far removed to sit within it.

Naturally, Oboro/Takumi is the more popular ship, so I do feel a bit apologetically contrary when I post things like this, but it does coincide with the upload of Chapter 7 on AO3 - despite chronologically taking place within Chapter 3. I have more notes on Oboro for the actual scene that takes place within the fic itself, so I'll save those for now.

Please accept instead, a dump of tangentially related research for other parts of the fic that found its way into the scene:

The Tōshiya is a historical archery contest that took place along the western verandah of Sanjūsangen-dō in Kyoto. I've visited this temple, marvelled at the arrow shafts still embedded in the ceiling beams and can confirm that it's a long verandah. Interestingly, notable stats for this event seem to always include young boys - one of these being an eleven-year old who managed to hit the target curtain 995 times after firing 1000 arrows. I give Takumi a couple extra hits in this, but I am also aware that his accuracy is always depicted in his supports with various people (including Camilla!) as being strangely low.

Thanks to Oboro's hard work, I imagine Takumi is viewed as a bit of a trend-setter, being a major point of notice and discussion at large events and royal appearances. Young men in Hoshido, particularly those attending court and residing in the capital, copy much in the same way that Hinata and Oboro do, his signature stylings.

I did a fair amount of reading about kimonos and traditional Japanese fashion in general. If I'm not mistaken, Hoshidan styles and aesthetics seem have been drawn from both Heian and Edo periods. Which is great and all, but they're separated by some thousand odd years. This threw me for a bit of a loop when I started to think about what sort of things Oboro might consider when dressing Takumi, because as you'd imagine, the trends for dressing a prince during the Heian period are wildly different to those during the Edo period. A good example of this is when you compare Prince of Soup Takumi with Troubled Heart Takumi.

I lean a little more modern in this regard, so when he's off-duty, I've got our boy running around in kimono and hakama, and later, when it's colder, haori.

While researching, I was pleasantly surprised to learn how beautiful and intricate men's haori and kimono can be, especially when you factor in coloured and painted linings - combine this with elaborate nagajuban, and I think I can understand why Oboro enjoyed making Takumi's clothes so much.

The title for this scene comes from the one detail that kicked off all of this research - fragrance. Incense used to perfume clothing and hair and would be expected to linger on the skin. I imagine a blend of agarwood, sandalwood, pine and occasionally, clean, sweet florals, adjusted here and there depending on availability. This is not typical of a young man, of course, but not much about Takumi could be described as typical. For someone like Camilla, who comes across to me as a hedonistic sort of individual, I'd like to think this heightens the temptation that Takumi presents.

Finally, I did not realise until after I wrote this that there exists a Support conversation in Warriors between these two where Oboro is asked to manage a robe that Takumi has torn. In my defence, the vibe here is vastly different.

[eternally6pm]

No Ordinary Tempest - Chapter 3

READ HERE

I love the idea of forced physical proximity with the guise of rules - a neat little barrier behind which to hide while blindly lobbing denials at anything that can possibly be hit.

I mention somewhere else in this blog that I headcanon Camilla to be the mortal incarnation of a goddess of war. If a weapon exists, she can wield it, and if she cannot, it is only a matter of time before she figures out how. I imagine she might have been originally trained with a sword, and is actually very proficient with one. 

It tickles me that the friendship set Takumi obtains through Ryoma grants him the option of promoting to a Swordmaster, with the absolutely fascinating coincidence that his armour for the class bears a high resemblance to Sumeragi’s. While I actually don't think it's intentional (Ryoma = red; Takumi = blue), I'd like to pretend that maybe there is some narrative thought behind it. Considering the (not quite canon) content of the Drama CDs, I have spent too many hours musing on the complexities of the relationships these three men have with one another and how they all intrinsically revolve around a sword of some sort.

All that said, I view swordsmanship as a secondary skill Camilla and Takumi both have, and the middle ground on which to meet one another eye to eye for the first time. There’s a surprising number of people out there that seem to want to know whether a katana would beat a long or straight sword in a duel. Friends, you’re asking the wrong question. I was more interested in whether will could defeat want. Support B occurs immediately afterwards - the one that helped me realise that Camilla isn’t just doing this for kicks - but Takumi is so discombobulated by the disparity between his determination to hate Camilla and her clearly friendly teasing (and the fact that she’s… just hot) that he can’t figure out what to believe anymore. 

Support A absolutely kills me. If that had been the tone with which their S Support was written, this fic would not exist. However it is what it is, and I ended up dialling the discomfort up instead. I've figured out now that I don’t like it when someone is condescending to Takumi, and I insist on this relationship occurring on equal ground. Camilla will not get away with treating him like a child - at least, not until she obtains consent to do so - and not until she thoroughly understands by Takumi’s own admission that he actually likes it.

Until then, she will respect his boundaries, be polite, and accidentally plant a seed that becomes the most rampant brambly brush that Takumi has ever had the displeasure of housing in his chest. 

Hinata turned out to be a pleasantly fun time to write. I like the boy. I imagine him to be that enabler friend that encourages you to take three extra shots, tear off your top and dance on the tables, but absolutely holds your hair and rubs your back as you puke. I think a lot of people in Takumi’s orbit are inadvertently affected by his pull, and Hinata is one of them - he’s probably more of a brother than Ryoma will ever be - and incidentally, by sheer proximity to Oboro, and out of pure respect and admiration, develops a crush on Takumi too. 

More on Hinata later.

And speaking of Oboro, the first of many deleted scenes is attached to the spar, and occurs between the first and second halves of this chapter. Takumi sustains a tear to his kimono sleeve. It is up to, of course, Oboro to fix. 

More on Oboro later.

Unexpected research this chapter included:

The history of bento in Japan. This becomes tangentially attached to a later chapter.

Katana lengths and metals used to forge blades, wood and materials used to construct a saya and tsuka, respectively. Clearly not used very much here.

What the heck the deal is with Windmire and Castle Krakenburg. I honestly still don't really understand, but don't get me started on Shirasagi. More on that later, too.

[eternally6pm]

No Ordinary Tempest - Chapter 2

READ HERE

Originally, another whole chapter existed before this one. At the time, I felt a need to justify why Camilla might even be interested in the royal little shit after he not only attempted to kill her, but also continued to openly promote hostility towards her entire kingdom. 

A lot of this was reduced to the line it was the proper thing to do.

I mentioned previously that I originally dismissed Takumi as an archetype, present to check a box, but I’ve since come to understand that due to his place in the canon, he’s probably the most developed character out of the entire cast. It’s no accident that he’s consistently one of, if not the most popular male character in polls.

This chapter is the one that I return to when I’m trying to latch onto the vibe of Takumi that I want to write. He’s right on the cusp of becoming a man, but still only a boy; a seasoned master of his craft with a lot to learn. He’s one of the most dedicated and talented warriors in Hoshido, but he’s convinced he doesn’t deserve the accolade.  He’s 167 cm of crackling live wire bundled tightly into a stylish uniform, with a face sculpted by the most affectionate and lonely gods.

Turns out the answer to “why” is: because he’s interesting.

It’s also probably why he’s so easy to ship with absolutely everyone else in the entire cast. 

My Camilla POV chapters tend to be quite a bit shorter than Takumi POV chapters, and in hindsight, I think it’s because I have a bit more fun being in Takumi’s head. I also relate a bit better. 

All of this isn’t to say that Camilla is uninteresting or that she’s unrelatable. I think this fandom does sometimes shoehorn her into the somewhat empty role of sexy big sister with jiggle physics - through no fault of our own. She’s marketed this way. She doesn’t have a head for politics or diplomacy. She takes long baths. It’s honestly way too easy to make those assessments and leave it at that. She’s got dialogue, descriptors, traits and flavour text that encourage this interpretation. I’m not about to gaslight anyone into thinking that she’s intended to be a deep and complex character. But I’m also not going to fall down a nine-year rabbit hole and not invent a whole heap of complexity to justify my shipping fixation. 

My interpretation of Camilla is inherently violent (and sometimes, cruel) due to a number of reasons, not the least involving trauma, conditioning and the means to survive the environment she was raised in. As a result, she experiences crippling guilt, and as I describe, a repentant wish to rectify her actions by practising the kindness and compassion she sorely craved as a child. 

I originally intended the entirety of this fic to simply be one of those Support Convo Rewrites. When it began growing out of control was when I started conceding to the notion that I would have to confront the writing in these dialogue exchanges. 

I re-read all of the supports many, many times in both official Treehouse script and direct fan translations (honestly, BLESS you guys) from the Japanese dialogue to construct chapters where the supports feature heavily such as this one. It was inevitable that I had to adjust some of the wording for flow and context,  but I did my best to hold onto the vibe for all except for the instigating (offending) support, S. Turns out it’s a lot easier to write when you have a fundamental setting and structure to fill out - although it’s also a bit of a trap, especially when you can’t quite get a grip of the tone. I rewrote this chapter, perhaps… five to six times. I’m still not quite happy with it.  

C Support doesn’t have a lot of rational logic. Camilla appears out of nowhere and literally harasses poor Takumi because… she actually wanted to personally train him herself? I’m no Camilla expert, but I suspect it’s more because she wanted to annoy him for the sport.

One of the things I never expected to be researching for fic was kyudo. Traditional materials for arrow shafts, bowstrings and targets; technique and practice, uniforms, equipment - even events and cultural significance. It not only gave me a better feel for what Takumi might do in training and maintaining his skill, but spawned a one shot. 

On that note, I will be posting extra scenes that didn’t make it into the main story, as well as these one shots both on this blog and on AO3. 

And perhaps when I finally finish posting this fic, I might join the local kyudo school in my area. 

[eternally6pm]

No Ordinary Tempest - Chapter 1

READ HERE

In hindsight, I would have maybe liked to have gone all in on the action in this and had Camilla burst out of the grey like a rabid fanged beast, roaring and maiming as she went, but I wanted to at the time, make the point that despite the nerves, Takumi is an experienced warrior who can think through his instinct, and is absolutely the most efficient choice for annihilating Camilla in a single shot.

I make a very concerted effort to write my Takumi as Capable. Deeply (toxically) insecure and ruminating, but consistently strong, sharp and skilled. This is a matter of personal interpretation, and of course, taste. His limitations are due to prejudice, arrogance or poor temper, rather than any lack of ability - this makes him a bit of a double-edged sword. He needs to conquer himself before he can begin to understand his place in the world and properly take on anything else - otherwise, he’s also capable of causing a lot of unintended damage.

Based on my own understanding of ancillary information in the game, it’s possible that Takumi trained to become an archer under any one of his three parents - so I want it to be Ikona.

I… don’t mind Mikoto as a McGuffin and a character, but I find her role in the narrative to be more… coherent, if she isn’t just a clumsy, pure-hearted, unnaturally selfless individual with god-level skill, but is somehow unable to rescue a child so precious to her that she would literally die to preserve them. Call it cynicism, but I can’t comfortably buy into the fact that everyone not only accepted her without any question, but allowed this strange woman to just take over the entire country and royal family - and adored her as well. 

So reads the infamous line from Takumi’s profile: Has the worst nightmares. Dreams in writing are one of my bugbears, and as expected, something I find really difficult to write. Because they’re so subjective and emotionally intertwined with the author, I don’t think I can truly say what makes a good or bad dream sequence, only what I imagine might knock about in the head of a boy that thinks too much and is worried about almost everything. And because I am bad at them, I have then endeavoured to pepper this fic with as many of Takumi’s dreams as possible. While I only bring her up again in Takumi's conscious thoughts, I imagine Mikoto’s death to be an incredibly frequent and invasive presence in his unconscious mind.

I’m sure you’ll recognise a few lines in here lifted directly from the in-game script.

Finally, I thought it would be fun to not only have Takumi attempt to kill Camilla in battle upon first sight, but to double down and to attempt it again as soon as he could. Takumi is, if nothing else, a man of principles - even if they are deeply flawed.

[eternally6pm]

No Ordinary Tempest - Preface

In 2017, this fic existed as a chaotic scramble of 200-odd words and included a hysterical paragraph sent to a friend about how I imagined these unlikely two might get together. These words have since been wiped.

This monstrosity was birthed, like many ship fics in this fandom are, from a desire to expound on the scraps we were fed in these characters’ support conversations. I activated Camilla and Takumi’s supports very quickly in Revelation because I was always either pairing or setting them beside one another - I’m a bit of a lazy RPGer and on my first run, I’ll throw anything that works repeatedly at the game until it doesn’t. And camikumi always worked.

I assumed immediately in their C support that this was going to be one of those typical older sexy woman hits on younger man situations.

Thankfully, I was wrong.

I had a pretty shallow understanding of Takumi’s character at the time. He was the abrasive little brat that was too immature to do anything other than yell for attention in Birthright, and then the angy possessed boss boy in Conquest. He existed, in my mind, to be ship fodder for the teenage prince from Nohr, and for the oneechans that liked a tsundere bishounen to keep as a pet.  I didn’t care too much and I didn’t care to trial him with anyone else. I married him to Oboro originally because it made hella sense. I would have single mindedly married him to Leo in Revelation if I could because that made even more sense. 

But these supports suddenly threw a spotlight on the guy. Takumi is anxious, insecure and frankly, pretty racist. Camilla not only realises this and provides a challenge to these traits, but offers a means to work towards resolution. While Takumi is neither mentally nor emotionally prepared to be scaroused, Camilla genuinely seems to be pretty objectively unconcerned, and appears, even more so than individuals like Jakob, to want to simply alleviate any preconceived animosity between them.

Their A support fatally shot me in the head. I had this idea of gradually building rapport from an unlikely place and then was given a scene featuring a boy who is starved of acknowledgement and recognition suddenly being the centre of attention of a woman who is not just undeniably physically attractive, but is willing to treat him like something valuable - someone important and precious.

To this day, I’m convinced that the writers never meant for Camilla to marry anyone other than Corrin - and certainly not either of the Hoshidan princes. She frankly has more romantic chemistry with Leo. But if their supports helped me shift my perspective on Takumi, it completely evolved the way I thought about Camilla. She went from an eye roll inducing fanservice add-on to a woman with at least a couple more layers to her - disarmingly, strategically playful, patient and generously tolerant, and most notably, kind. She is overbearing to comedic effect, but it places a very effective sort of pressure on Takumi to accept the kindness, to be nurtured and forced to grow, to allow his understanding of what is good and bad to take on a few extra shades. 

I knew once I read that A support that I had to marry them as soon as possible - and then I read their S support.

The disappointment when all of this build up I had formulated in my head amounted to an epic, monumental effort on Takumi’s part to swallow his pride and ask perhaps the toughest question he’s ever had to ask his entire short and deeply traumatic life, and Camilla basically staring down her nose to say, “Hmm. Wasn't on my bingo card. I guess I could shape you into something serviceable.”

I nursed that injury for six damn years. And then I suddenly busted out Chapter One.

[eternally6pm]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 5/12 Fandom: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Camilla/Takumi (Fire Emblem) Characters: Camilla (Fire Emblem), Takumi (Fire Emblem), Oboro (Fire Emblem) Additional Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Minor canon divergence, Angst, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Melodrama, Fluff, Drinking, Mutual Pining Summary:

A skilled flyer tests her luck against a storm.

[eternally6pm]

Update

As you've likely observed, I've been writing for Camilla/Takumi.

In fact, I've been writing for them for the past three years - I've been publishing under a separate account on Ao3. However, at the end of 2023, I went on a long hiatus.

After a lot of reflection and false restarts, I've learnt to make peace with a lot of things, and now I'm (kinda) back.

I'll be using this blog still, mostly and almost entirely for Fire Emblem Fates fanfiction, but it will also from time to time branch into other games in the franchise. Couple of things:

Right now, my focus is Camilla/Takumi - primarily tagged as takumilla on tumblr, and camikumi by me (I'm a bit oldschool). Most of the posts you'll see from this point will be about this pairing.

I will be using this tumblr for fanfiction, extended author notes and... rambling.

Yeah, I still ship Jokamu. I ship a lot of pairings in Fates. Flick me an ask if you want to know immediately. Hang around if you want to find out eventually.

I've realised that I love to talk about fandom. It's hard to commit to consistency from time to time and I'm on a timezone that no one cares for, but I do love a good screech about my fictional favourites. It's just a little hard to find companions because this fandom is old, and I choose very niche ships. But please. I welcome all messages. I do my best to be nice.

Thanks for swinging by and having a read. Hope we get to chat soon :)

[eternally6pm]

Irresistible Force - Extra

Penalty

Rating: T

Characters: Silas, FCorrin.

- He's fine -

Written in response to an old ask on the main story, this is a brief peek into Silas' point of view, in the aftermath of the mess.

Mind the angst.

Once, when Silas was in high school, he had received a charging shoulder to the gut.

It had been on the football field. A defender decided to centre himself low, and when the whistle sounded, Silas had watched the world flip wildly, the wind slammed clean out of his lungs as his ears burst with white noise.

Possibly, he had screamed at himself to move, or maybe his coach had, but it was like someone had flipped a switch and deactivated every muscle in his body. When he finally managed to blink the blinding white light out of his eyes, it was to see Corrin bent over him, concern written on her every feature.

“I'm fine,” he told her.

Only he wasn't. 

He didn't even have the time to reach for his helmet. Silas only managed to haul himself up on an elbow, before he turned and vomited violently through his mouth guard.

Apparently, he had held onto the ball the entire time.

And now, the sickening lurch just below his sternum was back. 

It was deja vu, Corrin peering at him worriedly as he tried to will his limbs to move, tried to breathe, and desperately clung onto something he really should have just let go.

But still, he held onto the ball with a smile, and if he could just make it through the nausea, he would be fine.

“So, he's not your cousin?”

“No. It's all a cover.”

“And that crazy chick, she wasn't one of our classmates, was she?”

“No. She's actually got a PhD in forensic science.”

He thought about making a joke about how that was gravely concerning, but his stomach turned, and he couldn't find his voice. 

Corrin had wanted to go to the campus bar, maybe have a drink, but Silas knew that he didn't want anyone around when this happened. 

So he had dragged her to the football field instead. Sat down on the winding steps that lead up to the higher tier of bleachers so they could face away from everything and huddle down in their coats as the wind snatched their voices away and carried their words to where they wouldn't ever mean a thing.

Thank god she had managed to ditch the damn guy as well. Her bodyguard. Her boyfriend.

“Silas?” She reached for his hand, and he knew it wasn't so much a gesture of comfort as it was a question of acceptance. 

Are we okay?

Can we still be friends?

On the tip of his tongue, the answer was yes. He wanted to see her, to spend time with her, to be by her side when she did silly things at parties, went on vacation during the summer and he wanted to be there when they graduated together in the spring. 

But he wanted to be with her.

And it was unfair as hell, because he had wanted to be with her for so long. 

From the moment they sat beside one another in home room in seventh grade, he had dreamt about kissing her, and he thought he’d be over it by the time high school was done, but come senior year he found himself studying his ass off, not because he wanted to do well, but because he would have been devastated if he ended up going to a different college or university to her.

He'd done so much, waited for ages. 

Waited for too long.

Silas pulled his hand away.

“I… think it would be best if we don't see each other for a while.”

His words hurt her. He could see it in her eyes, the way her eyebrows scrunched together and the corner of her lips turned down.

“Silas, you're my best friend. I don't want to lose you. Not like this.”

He sighed. God it hurt. Hurt more than any misplaced tackle ever could.

“I still want to be your friend. I just need some time to myself.”

To be away from you.

To learn to be without you.

She nodded, and his heart broke.

“I understand,” she whispered.

He wanted to hold her, to pull her close and feel how warm she was, how sweet she smelled, how soft and giving her embrace was.

He wanted to tell her that nothing in his life was more precious than she was, because in her hands she held a thousand happy, wonderful memories, and at least those, no one could ever take away.

He wanted to tell her that he loved her.

But she already knew that, and he… 

He was going to be fine.

“Good bye, Corrin. Maybe I'll see you around.”

It was terrible of him, but there was something oddly satisfying about seeing her cry.

“See you, Silas.”

He stood, picked up his bag and didn't look back.

And finally, he let go of the ball.

[eternally6pm]

Irresistible Force - Part 8

Infinite Resolution

Rating: M

Characters: Jakob, FCorrin, Xander, Silas, Camilla.

- We can say it's my fault, even though it's clearly yours -

PART 7

The sound of Corrin’s laughter mingled with that of her sister’s, and Jakob couldn’t help but smile as he wheeled her suitcases out towards the door. Selena was there to receive the luggage, gesturing at the bellhop to load them onto the trolley and take them away.

“You’re in a good mood,” she remarked.

“It’s been a good trip.”

Selena raised an eyebrow at him, but didn’t provide any further commentary.

He returned to find Camilla attempting to suffocate his charge. 

“I want updates! Pictures! Messages! I won’t let go ‘til you promise!”

“I promise!” Corrin shrieked with laughter. “I’ll send you everything!”

Camilla released her and pulled her into a somewhat more conventional embrace. “When you finish University, let’s go on holiday together. All of us.”

“I would like that,” Corrin said, holding on tight.

“I love you, sweetie. Safe flight.”

“I love you too. Bye, Cammy. See you soon.”

Camilla pressed a kiss to her forehead and let her go. Corrin took up her handbag and gave her sister one last smile and wave before following Selena out the door. 

Jakob extended a hand to Camilla. “Thank you for having me.”

“Oh, it was no biggie.” Her voice was warm, but her eyes seemed edged with a touch of frost as she shook his hand, and then all of a sudden her grip was vice-like, alarmingly strong as she tugged him closer and fixed him with a steely glare. “If you hurt her, I will personally ensure that you never find another job in the English-speaking world again.”

He nodded, caught off guard and unable to tell for the life of him if all of this was a joke.

And frankly, he didn’t know if he wanted to ask.

“Good.” She smiled brightly, and he shivered. “As long as we understand one another. I would hate to have to send you back to your motherland by scattering your ashes in the ocean.”

Xander was like an adorable little puppy compared to this woman.

“Have a safe flight, Jakob. Look after her.”

---

“Ah, Corrin, stunning as always. Whole day of air travel? You wouldn’t be able to tell.”

It was Laslow who picked them up from the airport.

He managed to maintain a mindless stream of smalltalk throughout the entire process, and it slowly pushed Jakob closer and closer to the edge of insane, listening to Laslow shamelessly flirt without any concern for the fact that this was his own boss’ sister.

“I’ve heard the salted egg chips over there are amazing.”

“Oh?” Corrin pointed into her suitcase as Jakob lifted it into the boot of the car. “Camilla gave me some. Would you like one?”

“You have to wait in line for ages for those! If I knew you were going to be this generous, I would have asked for something else.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Oddly enough, Corrin seemed entirely accustomed to this sort of interaction and knew exactly when to cut him off. “Ah, the fish skin? Sorry. Didn’t get any of those.”

Jakob sat in the front with Laslow and made a point to give him a lengthy glare as he buckled his belt.

Which didn’t deter him at all.

The ride back to Corrin’s apartment felt decades long, and still, he was talking, even as Jakob unloaded their luggage with an efficiency spurred by sheer irritation.

“It was good to see you, dove. When will we meet next?”

“Who knows?” Corrin smiled, shouldering her handbag. “Treasure this moment, Laslow.”

“Or perhaps you want to meet again soon? Make a date of it?”

Jakob’s hand twitched with the urge to connect his fist with the side of Laslow’s face.

Corrin giggled. “Sorry, but you’re too late. I’ve got a boyfriend.”

Laslow’s mouth fell open as they turned and wheeled their suitcases into the lift and Corrin waved cheerfully at his astounded expression as the doors closed.

“Boyfriend, huh?” Jakob asked.

She coloured slightly. “What, you don’t want to?”

He leaned over and kissed her full and long. “Don’t assume, Miss Nohr. I am thrilled at the prospect of promotion.”

“Good.” She grinned, putting her arms around his waist and pulling him close, standing on the tips of her toes to kiss him again.

“He’s going to tell your brother.”

“Can we not talk about my brother while we’re doing this sort of thing?”

They missed Corrin’s floor.

After riding the elevator down (and apologising sheepishly to the woman who called it) and all the way back up again, they dragged themselves out and up to her front door, where Jakob made himself a nuisance by wrapping his arms around her from behind, kissing her neck and slipping a hand through her coat and under her shirt as she tried to concentrate for long enough to enter her pincode.

“There’s a camera out here,” she admonished, though it somewhat lost its effect when he nuzzled her ear and she bit down on a small moan.

They all but stumbled into her apartment, a clattering mess of suitcases pushed out of the way and bags carelessly deposited wherever as they kissed and groped, undressing in parts and pauses.

Corrin barely had the mind to palm the control panel for the heating before Jakob pulled her coat off and reached under her shirt again to unhook her bra.

“Bed,” she murmured, but he wasn’t really listening, his hand up the front of her shirt now as he kissed her neck. 

He pinched a nipple and was delighted when she went weak in his arms, whimpering with pleasure.

“Jakob,” she moaned, and he wanted to do whatever he could to make her say his name like that as often as possible. “The bedroom -”

They got as far as the sofa.

“You’re surprisingly impatient,” she observed afterwards as she nestled against him, tucked into his embrace as they lay on the white leather, not quite dressed and slightly out of breath.

“You could have stopped me anytime.”

“And missed doing it here?” She giggled softly. “Unlikely. I’ve thought about this ever since you came over to kill that spider for me.”

“Seriously?” Jakob was taken aback by the very idea that she had harboured feelings for him for that long.

“Yeah. I thought about it every time you helped me put on a coat.”

He didn’t know what to make of this. “Clearly… I have no idea how to read you.”

“Good. This means I can continue to tell you lies.” She untangled herself to stand and he watched her with a small smile.

“What would you possibly have to lie to me about?”

“Well,” she said, nonchalantly pulling off her shirt and letting her undone bra slide from her shoulders, “I’m going to tell you right now, how much I did not enjoy that. And how I absolutely do not want you to join me in the shower I’m about to take.”

Jakob sat up. “I’m not quite convinced.”

She grinned. “See? You’re getting better at it already.”

---

Her alarm had gone off a good ten minutes ago, but she was reluctant to obey and lay awake without moving, her blankets still tucked about her and the one other who shared her bed.

In the warm golden glow of morning that came in slivers through her curtains, she studied him as he continued to sleep. Gently, she reached across to push the hair away from his face. It caught the light, and in a brief moment, gleamed silver.

Like starlight.

He was so handsome, her heart throbbed painfully with joy at the thought of having him only to herself.

My Jakob.

And god, he was impossibly warm and comfortable. She felt her eyes sliding shut again as she gave in to guilty contentment and curled up against him.

One more day off wouldn’t hurt.

---

As predicted, the first thing Gunter did was threaten him with death.

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Yes,” Jakob sighed, and he heard the echo of the sound on the other end of the line.

“I should fire you for sheer stupidity. She’s our highest paying contract. So of course you had to go and sleep with the client.”

“I’m… sorry.”

Gunter snorted. “No you’re not, you smug little shit. You’re not even slightly sorry.”

Rude, but accurate as always.

The silence that followed sat tensely on the edge of disapproval.

“Congratulations, I suppose,” Gunter told him at last, and to Jakob’s relief, there was a note of amusement in his voice.

Despite himself, Jakob smiled. “Thanks, I suppose.”

“It’s about damn time you got yourself a girl.”

---

He folded his arms warily as he watched Laslow jab the button on the intercom of his desk phone.

“It’s Jakob.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line before it clicked on.

“Send him in.”

Xander’s office was situated on the eightieth floor, a vast, clean space furnished with sleek leather and polished steel. It was not the first time Jakob had been in there, but the panoramic harbour view through the tall windows along the curved wall behind his desk never failed to be an impressive sight to behold. 

Xander looked up as Jakob placed the report on the desk and gestured for him to take a seat.

“Good morning. I trust all is well as usual?”

“Yes. No major concerns. No breaches, no threats.”

Xander nodded. “Singapore went well?”

“As well as it could have.” Jakob wondered briefly what Beruka would be communicating to Xander about the events at the Grand Prix after party.

“Very good. If that will be all, then, I’ll see you next month.”

“Actually, no,” Jakob said, and even though he knew he was here to simply deliver the truth, he started to feel nervous. This was the final step, the last thing that stood in the way of him being together with Corrin, and he really did not want to screw it up. “I would like to inform you that I wish to resign.”

Xander frowned deeply. “I don’t understand. Is there a problem?”

“No. No problems. I just think -”

“Is there no way to convince you to stay?” Xander interrupted, folding his hands together on the desk in front of him as though he intended to make a business proposal of considerable gravity. “You have proven reliable and capable. And Corrin does seem to have become comfortable with you. I think she would prefer your company.”

Jakob shifted in his seat. “Unfortunately not. Given current circumstances, I believe I am unfit for the job. It would be best to sign a new bodyguard. For her own safety.”

Xander’s voice was sharp, and it slashed like a sword. “Current circumstances? What do you mean?”

Jakob could barely push the words off his own tongue. “I-I… I’ve fallen in love with Corrin.”

Xander stared at him, aghast.

And then slowly, reached across his desk to hit a button on his phone.

“What do you have to say about that, Corrin?”

Jakob felt his mouth drop open as he flushed so hotly, he wouldn’t have been surprised if he had simply started to smoulder in the chair.

In fact, spontaneous combustion would have been ideal, considering the pressing urge he currently had to throw himself out of a window.

There was a soft click as the line unmuted.

“I… I’d say, I love you too, Jakob.”

Xander’s mouth worked furiously as he did his best to keep himself from laughing. “Well, then. I suppose I have no choice but to accept your resignation and bid you the best of luck.”

He rose to extend his hand and Jakob shook it, still slightly dazed by the turn of events. “Th-thank you.”

“Oh don’t thank me,” Xander smiled, moving the report to the corner of his desk. “You’re doing me the favour. My sister is an absolute handful. You need all the luck you can get.”

---

“We're going to be late.”

“Mmmn.”

“Corrin… Corrin, stop.”

She sat back to give him a look, her eyebrows raised and her lips twitching with the self-satisfied knowledge that he didn't mean a word of what he said.

There were faint red smudges of lipstick all over his mouth, a perfect print of a kiss on his jaw, and… goodness, that stain on his collar might be a little bit of a problem.

“We can say it's my fault,” she suggested, leaning in for another kiss, a hand creeping up the inside of his trouser leg. “Even though it's clearly yours.”

Work had kept him away from her for the better part of the week, and he had actually needed to apply for leave to ensure that he was able to make it tonight. Busy as he was, the invitation was from Xander himself and there was no excuse for non-attendance, much to Corrin’s satisfaction.

The gala dinner was a black tie event. At half-past six, Corrin had left her room to find a large bunch of frost-pink peonies on her coffee table and Jakob seated on her sofa, done up flawlessly in a three-piece suit. 

“Hello,” she whispered, unable to articulate much more at the sight of him.

He had taken her hand to kiss her knuckles and despite everything they had done together, her heart still fluttered at the sensation of his lips. “You look spectacular in white,” he told her, and that was all it took.

Corrin had pounced on him with an appetite that was ravenous, and she'd made a most delectable mess.

Her gown was tight, fitted down to her knees before it extended straight, all the way to the floor, and she had to kneel beside him to press herself flush against his chest, kissing him breathless as she wrestled with the desire to simply start undressing him.

He smelled fresh with the clean scent of soap and aftershave, and she inhaled deeply against his neck, eager to run her hands over the warm, warm skin and toned muscle that she knew was just two rows of buttons away. Her fingers worked his jacket open and she growled hungrily against his lips, her hands rough as they explored the fitted fabric of his waistcoat.

“Don’t,” he murmured, but his hands betrayed his own impatience, sliding down her back to rest below her waist, squeezing firmly just at the top of her thighs in a way that made her feel like she was melting in his arms as he held her.

He let out a small moan when she ran her fingers over the growing bulge in his pants.

“Corrin, please.” He took her wrist to ease away her touch. “If you don’t stop, I am going to do unforgivable things to your dress.”

Despite his measured tone, he looked far from composed, colour faint and high in his cheeks, his breathing uneven.

Corrin sighed in frustration. “It’s just… it’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”

In reality, it had been only five days, but it felt like years since they had touched one another last.

“I know,” he replied, pressing a quick kiss to her lips, “and you are making it incredibly difficult for me to resist.”

She laid a hand against his cheek as she admired him with a head full of irrational suggestions. 

“I want to stay home and just fuck.”

“God, Corrin, don’t tempt me,” he groaned.

“We could get take out. Watch a movie.”

“This is your brother we are trying to please.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You really need to stop bringing up my brother when we’re in the middle of things like this.”

Jakob rolled his eyes. “All right, that’s it. Off. Get off, we’re going.”

She slid off the sofa giggling, and went to retrieve some makeup remover.

When she returned, he had found the novel that she had left the night before on the other side of the sofa. He picked it up and flipped it over to glance at the cover.

“You’ve finally gotten around to reading this.”

She dabbed at the lipstick on his jaw and mouth. “Yeah. And now I know why you looked so depressed the first time I met you.”

He blinked at her. “I what?”

“That’s why I talked to you. You were sitting there, all alone with your book and you looked so sad, I wanted to distract you.”

He sighed and gave her a small smile. “It worked. I still haven’t finished the book.”

“Don’t,” Corrin advised, trying to rub the stain out of his collar. “It’s horrible.”

“All right.” He endured her attempt for a few more seconds before starting to laugh. “What have you done?”

She flushed in embarrassment. “I’m sorry!”

He waved her off with a fond shake of his head and disappeared into her room. When he returned, he held a long white coat with a tall collar that he placed on her shoulders, pulling it snug around her and smoothing it down at her arms.

Some things changed. Others didn’t.

“You look like a princess.”

She blushed again.

“Would you like to give your princess a kiss?”

He leaned towards her, but then stopped, a hand cupped at her chin, a smirk on his face. “Perhaps later.” He let go, falling into familiar motions as he shrugged on his own coat, took the keys from the bowl on the kitchen counter and headed for the door to hold it open for her. “Seeing as we are horribly late.”

She pouted playfully at him. “It’s not polite to keep a lady waiting.”

He laughed quietly, and turned to kiss her lips, his mouth warm with the promise of more later. 

“Then I will oblige as my lady desires,” he whispered.

FIN.

[eternally6pm]

Irresistible Force - Part 7

Collision

Rating: M

Characters: Jakob, FCorrin, Xander, Silas, Camilla.

- I can't do this anymore -

PART 6 | PART 8

Jakob smoothed down his tie and buttoned the jacket, studying his reflection with a critical eye. The suit fit surprisingly well considering the fact that it was standard issue, and he wondered vaguely if anyone would notice if he simply didn’t return the shoes.

Fitting his earpiece into place, he left his room and wandered into the living area to wait. The hotel suite was immense, possibly twice the size of Corrin’s apartment back home, complete with its own gym, a white pebbled zen garden and an infinity pool. As a matter of practicality, he had been given a smaller room within the suite, and it was still the most luxurious place he had ever stayed in.

He stared out at the myriad lights of the city against a blushing sunset and thought, not for the first time since arriving in Singapore, of simply begging Corrin for forgiveness. It was one thing to request a reassignment, but another to stand back and watch their friendship go up in flames. Even if he couldn’t be with her, he could at least strive to remain on amicable terms - 

The sound of her bedroom door closing made him turn, and for a solid few seconds, Jakob couldn’t remember how to use his voice.

Someone had chosen for her a strapless dress in a green so deep that the folds of the fabric appeared black. It clung tightly to her form, and it was like he was seeing her for the first time: the curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts, her long legs and pale skin where the dress split from above her knee to the middle of her thigh.

Her hair had been pulled back into a sleek knot at the nape of her neck, and she wore tall black heels that gave her hips an enticing sway with every step she took. 

She was a half-hour fantasy made real, and quite frankly, the most breathtakingly seductive thing he had ever seen in his life.

Nice enough? 

He stared and stared and couldn't stop.

“Do you need a coat?” He asked, desperate to jumpstart his brain.

“Jakob, it's nearly ninety degrees outside.” 

“O-of course.” 

Wake up!

Swallowing hard, he strode towards the door to escort her downstairs, grateful that positioning himself beside her meant that he wouldn't be compelled to gawk mindlessly while she walked ahead.

In the car, he allowed himself a few guilty seconds to watch the way the hem of her dress rode up her thigh as she crossed her legs, conjuring to mind dirty words and sinful intentions.

God, he wanted to turn the car around and ask her to change. The idea that anyone else could stare in the same way he did, entertain the very thoughts that distracted him now gave him the burning urge to do something spectacularly violent.

But she was not the kind to tolerate this sort of jealousy, and he could only guard her as far as the suit on his shoulders would allow - from a distance, looking on helplessly as she gathered the attention of every single person in the room.

This trip could not end soon enough.

Already, he saw the effect she had as he held open the door for her and accompanied her into the Amber Lounge. 

Her appearance at the entrance caused minimal fuss. She was nobody here, an unknown who simply had the right connections to score an invitation to a private pavilion, but every last gaze she caught, she unknowingly held and dragged mercilessly, heads turning to follow her path to where she took a seat. Champagne that was probably worth more than what he would make doing his job that evening was delivered straight to her hand and almost immediately, she had a companion, tall, handsome, well-dressed and disgustingly eager to make a good impression.

From the edges of the rapidly gathering throng, all Jakob could do was watch.

He felt more and more out of place, an accessory in this foreign, glittering world where everything had a name known on an international branded scale and one’s worth was actually a number that didn’t count unless it was cast in anything more than seven figures.

Everything that had happened a couple of days ago now seemed false, like a dream he had only just woken from.

It was almost a relief to receive the notice from Beruka through the radio, and it gave Jakob an excuse to approach Corrin at last, lean close so he could drink in the intoxicating scent of her perfume as he murmured, “Camilla’s on the red carpet.”

The result of the message was immensely satisfying. Corrin nodded and rose from her seat with a brief apology to the disappointed young man she left behind, and headed towards the bar.

Camilla's entrance garnered a small commotion as she breezed into the club with Beruka in tow. She immediately attached herself to the arm of her sister, and then proceeded to start introducing Corrin to everyone in sight.

Beruka nodded politely at Jakob as she passed to take a spot at the other end of the pavilion. 

“You can relax,” she informed him over the radio. “Camilla knows what Xander’s conditions are.”

But he couldn't relax.

Unfortunately, Jakob’s lack of experience meant that he didn't have a point of reference, but a few hours into the evening, he found himself trapped in an exhausting state of hypervigilance. He was watching out for her drink, counting the number she'd had, chasing her visually all over the place as she spoke to anyone and everyone Camillia could beckon closer. 

At half-past nine, a DJ began her set, pumping the room with deafening bass as the lights dimmed and the patrons were given sufficient cover to grow rowdy and reckless. It was inevitable, but amongst the crushing mass of guests, he eventually lost sight of Corrin.

In moment of anxiety, Jakob nearly radioed for Beruka, but then decided against it and pushed into the crowd.

He located her at a table near the bar, surrounded by people, drink in hand (fifth, he counted worriedly), laughing animatedly along with two other girls at something that she'd just been told by a young and incredibly good-looking man.

Camillia was nowhere to be seen.

There was something vaguely familiar about the guy, but any attempt to determine a recognisable name dissolved in an instant as Jakob watched him move uncomfortably close to Corrin, using the volume of the music as an excuse to lean towards her and run a hand up her arm.

She pulled back, but he took a step forward, wrapping an arm around her waist.

Jakob saw red.

His feet were carrying him before he even realised what he was doing, and he pushed in between Corrin and the young man, who was forced to step back, looking immediately indignant at the intrusion.

“I'm going to have to ask you to not touch her.”

The entire group stopped and turned to watch.

“And who the hell are you?” The guy waved his hand as though shooing a fly.

He could feel Corrin grip his elbow, her voice barely audible over the music. “Oh god, Jakob, don’t -”

“The lady and I are just having a little chat.” His voice was thickly accented and his tone set Jakob’s teeth on edge. “So why don’t you fuck off, before I throw you out?” With a condescending smile, the man reached up and patted the side of Jakob’s face with the back of his hand.

An entire weekend’s worth of fury and frustration surged like a storm front and Jakob couldn’t tell for a second whether his ears were filled with the throb of the bass or the rage in his own blood.

“Kindly refrain from further contact.”

“Or what?”

The second attempt to touch his face backfired. Jakob seized him by the wrist of his outstretched hand, wrenching it sideways and up against the man’s back so fast, he didn’t even have time to utter a cry of pain before Jakob slammed his face so hard against the table that it shifted forward.

Something shattered; someone shrieked.

All of a sudden, venue security was mobilising, and with a look of abject horror, Corrin turned and fled.

Jakob released the man as the first guard reached him to pat him down and he flashed his identity badge, leaving them in a state of confusion as he paged for Beruka and strode after his charge.

Corrin was small and agile and he lost her again almost immediately in the heaving crowd. By the time he finally caught sight of her, she was outside and the valet service was retrieving a car and driver while she furiously tapped out a message on her phone.

He barely managed to reach her as she climbed into the car and he circled around to take the other seat.

The door shut, sealing them in a pocket of muted sound, uncomfortable and cold.

“Corrin, I’m -”

“Don’t,” she snapped. “Just don’t.”

The entire trip back to the hotel was endured in silence. 

When the car pulled up to the entrance, she didn’t wait, throwing open the door and charging straight out, across the lobby to call for the lift. Jakob almost missed that too, having to stop the closing doors by throwing a hand between the sensors and hoping for the best. As the elevator raced up to the topmost floors of the building, he felt his irritation and resentment overflow at last. All space for patience and rational thought had run out - he was raring for a fight.

And a battle he got. The moment the apartment door slammed shut, Corrin wheeled on him, eyes flashing. 

“What the fuck is your problem? Seriously! You can’t relax for just two seconds -”

Jakob folded his arms, willing with all his might to remain calm. “Are you listening to yourself? Would you rather I’d just left him to just do whatever he wanted with you?”

“I can look after myself! Just because a guy is coming onto me doesn’t mean I need to you to save me. I’m not helpless.”

“That’s not the point. This is my job. This is what your brother has paid me to do.”

Excuses, lies.

You just want her to yourself.

Corrin hurled her clutch onto the ground and it skittered away, several thousand dollars of black leather against the polished tiled floor as she stepped forward, her voice raised defiantly. “To what, ruin my entire evening? Chase away my friends? I’ve never been more embarrassed in my entire life! Are all of you guards fucking psychos?”

Something in Jakob snapped. 

“Look, I have spent months trying to keep you safe. You might think it’s acceptable to be friendly and lead people on, but no one else lives in this fairy land of yours! People misunderstand. And people will take advantage of you, they will hurt you, but you know what? That’s fine. Clearly, you don’t think it’s a problem.” He pulled his earpiece out, yanked the radio and baton from his belt and dropped them on the table. “I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”

“What?” She asked, and all of a sudden her voice was weak and small. “What do you mean?”

He shook his head, dismayed. It wasn’t fair, not when she pleaded with that look, not when every other word was a honey-laden trap and she gave false impressions of affection only to steal away everything that he gave in return.

But his sense of resolve was pathetic in her presence, and it was already crumbling even as he tried to tell her no and walk away.

“I’m a liability, Corrin. I can’t protect you when I'm like this.”

What did it matter what he said to her now? It was like throwing pages upon a fire - a meaningless waste that only knew how to flare bright in a single second before it flickered and faded, expendable, gone. 

For so long, these few moments of light and warmth had starved for air and he knew that if he told her, the truth would simply expire on his lips.

But what did he have left to lose, anyway?

“What do you mean?” She asked again. “Like what?”

“Like this,” he whispered, and with a three-word confession burning beneath his tongue, he kissed her.

She inhaled sharply but didn’t pull away, didn’t resist, and so he moved to take her hand, reached up to stroke her cheek and pull her close, kissed and kissed her, poured every breath, every minute he craved and ached for her into the place where their lips met. He was consumed by it, so obsessed with the idea that this was fleeting and doomed that it wasn’t until he broke the kiss that he realised she had kissed him back the entire time.

He stared at her, speechless as she wiped a tear from her face with the back of her hand.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for you to do that?”

She reached for him this time, and now there was too much to process. Her mouth was hot and demanding, her kiss fierce as she slid her hands up his chest, pressing herself against him, unbuttoning his jacket and dragging his tie from his neck.

“Wait,” he murmured, “What are you -”

“What do you think I'm doing, Jakob?” She raised an eyebrow, dropping the tie and slipping her fingers beneath his suit jacket to push it from his shoulders. “Don’t I have your approval for this yet?”

Obediently, he let her drag his arms from the sleeves, discarding the jacket on the sofa and then followed, mute with admiration as she took his hand and led him into her room.

Corrin was upon him again as soon as the door closed, so frantic in her intent that he was bewildered, drunk on the taste of alcohol that lingered on her lips, every brush of her hands, the way she responded to his touch with soft sighs of approval, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt when he kissed her in places other than her mouth.

She slowly pushed him back until he sat on the bed and she stood between his knees.

“Help me out,” she murmured, guiding him by the wrist and he reached behind her to find a zip. It tugged smoothly open and he ran his hands down the length of her body, taking the dress with the motion.

Beneath she wore a strapless bra of black lace, and matching panties that arched criminally high on the curve of her ass. He watched her kick the dress away, still in her heels, with her hands braced on his shoulders and he had to remind himself to breathe, breathe.

Corrin blushed at the attention, though she smiled as she slowly stepped out of her shoes.

“Are you just going to stare at me all night, or are we going to fuck?”

He dragged her into his lap and kissed her so hard, he felt faint.

She pressed herself greedily to him, stripping him of his shirt as she ground her hips against his, eliciting a quiet moan that made him realise that he was already much harder than he had any right to be.

A brief fumble unclasped her bra and he let it fall away as he lifted her easily and turned to lay her on the bed. She took him into her arms, a sweet sigh falling from her lips as he slid up against her bare skin and she wrapped her arms about his neck, her legs around his waist. She was soft like the edges of a dream, smooth and warm all the way down to the exquisitely inviting heat between her thighs. 

He wanted to touch her everywhere at once, taste everything from her eager mouth to the insides of her thighs, leave traces of himself in a dark red mark at the base of her neck, skin pink at her collarbones from the gentle nip of teeth. She was ardently responsive, moaning breathlessly when he ran his tongue over the tender skin of her breasts, playing with her nipples until they were hard in his mouth and she pulled her hands away from his belt to dig them into his hair. Every soft, sweet whimper he teased from the back of her throat drove him wild. 

Jakob rose to his knees, drinking in the sight of her as he mouthed kisses all the way up the inside of her thigh. 

She was perfect, divine - so painfully beautiful - and he didn't deserve any part of her.

Pressing a kiss almost in apology to the top of her hips, he hooked his fingers in the lace of her panties and pulled them away.

He flushed at the sound she made when his fingertips slipped easily over the slickness on her pretty pink clit, the blood rushing dizzily to his head as he felt her arch up into his touch. 

“Oh god,” she gasped, and the words flared pure heat in the depths of his hips.

With impatient hands, she reached for his belt to complete the task she’d started, her motions now urgent with need. 

He complied eagerly, helping her until she dragged his pants past his hips, her fingers sliding down the length of his cock and he leaned heavily upon his elbows, pressing his face into her neck, his voice catching in his throat.

“You're so hard,” she whispered, almost in wonder, stroking him and smiling when he bit down on a groan at the sensation of her thumb gliding over the tip, precome speading slick and warm over red hot skin.

“Stop,” he told her, crushing another deep kiss to her mouth to distract himself from the pleasure piling, building, moments short of unbearable.

But she was done with waiting and pulled him close, rocking her hips against him and she was warm, moist, so mind-meltingly good that his breath was stolen clean from his lungs with one movement, and in the next, she lost herself as well, clinging to him as they moaned into each other's mouths.

“Fuck me,” she whispered, and with that one command, burnt away the last of his self-control.

She was hot, wet, so tight that he could barely keep himself from being rough. He thrust in deep and her eyes slid shut in ecstasy, expelling his name in a sound that made him want to just give into the desire to take her mindlessly with something close to violence.

“Harder,” she begged him, moaned loudly when he obeyed, every thrust of his hips a accompanied by a breathless gasp, a blooming heat that felt like falling, drowning.

She held him close, crying aloud as she clenched tightly, arching off the bed. He watched her come, pressed deep into her, desperately starving off his own orgasm so he could feel her pulse hotly around him. She was utterly captivating, flushed and frowning, her lips parted as she helplessly moaned his name, and the sensation was too wonderful, so deliciously overwhelming that he was only barely lucid enough to drag himself from her before he came in thick white streaks over her stomach.

Without waiting for the pleasantly dreamy haze to settle, he laid a gentle kiss to her cheek before going to retrieve a soft towel and some tissues from her en suite.

For a long time afterwards, they lay in silence beneath the sheets, side by side, content to simply look.

“So,” Corrin said finally as she regarded him with wide eyes, “I would say that was grossly unprofessional of you.”

He hummed in amusement. “In my defence, Miss Nohr, I was provoked.”

She smirked. “I would have provoked you sooner, if I knew this would be the result.” Her smile faded a little and she took his hand, gently running her fingertips along the inside of his wrist. “I'm sorry I've been such a pain these past few days.”

“I'm sorry I've been such an idiot,” he replied. “I... had no idea.”

“Well, in your defence,” she laughed, “neither did I.”

He laughed too, his heart wonderfully full and light. She was gorgeous, her eyes bright, cheeks pink and her hair in disarray. As he stared, delighted with this newfound permission to openly adore her, his gaze fell on a glimmer of silver around her neck.

A small star.

She had worn it, even though its price tag was a mere fraction of any other item she had shed from her person that evening. 

She had worn it even though she had been angry with him this whole time.

Jakob gathered her into his arms, overcome with the absolute strength of affection he felt for her. 

“Will you forgive me for being so stupid?” He asked.

“Sure,” she murmured against his skin. “But only if you promise that we can do this again.”

[eternally6pm]

Irresistible Force - Part 6

Miscalculation

Rating: M

Characters: Jakob, FCorrin, Xander, Silas, Camilla.

- It was better this way -

PART 5 | PART 7

It was a quarter to eight. Jakob had been standing at her front door for almost five minutes.

He knew that Corrin was getting better at being ready on time when he arrived in the morning, and the drinks were only going cold as he stood there, but still he hesitated, turning the key card in his other hand, trying to find the words to excuse what he had almost done last night.

There he found himself at a line he shouldn’t have even thought of crossing, but if he was really being honest with himself, the whole day had been a prelude of sorts to seeing if he would be game enough to try.

And so it appeared that he was, or at least, it seemed that he completely lost sense of what was acceptable and appropriate as soon as the word please passed Corrin’s lips.

He couldn’t think straight around her. He couldn’t say no to her. And he was starting to think that he was more of a hindrance than a help to her safety.

She needed a new bodyguard.

With only apologies running through his mind, he took a deep breath and unlocked the door.

And stopped dead in his tracks.

Standing across the apartment in nothing but a towel around his waist was Silas.

“Oh. Hey. You’re here early.”

Jakob felt his stomach drop out through the floor beneath his feet. 

“Jakob.” 

And there she was, seated at the kitchen counter before a laptop in nothing but a large t-shirt and her underwear, her eyes wide and her hair pulled into a wild bun. He could read the guilt as clearly on her features as if she had spoken what had occurred last night in this apartment out loud.

“Are you done, Silas?” Her voice was quiet, but it pierced through the space between them, settling heavy and painful in his chest.

“Um, yeah.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you at uni.”

“Yeah? I was hoping I could get a lift with you guys.”

“It’s a coupe,” Jakob could not keep the venomous tone out of his words. “There are only two seats.” You moron.

Silas shot him a disgruntled look. “All right. Calm down.”

Jakob fought the urge to leap across the room and break every bone in his body.

“Silas,” Corrin sighed, and there was a note of warning in what she said. “Please, just go.”

“What the hell,” he muttered, turning to open the door to the spare room and stepping inside before shutting it again.

He watched as her hands twisted up her shirt. “Nothing happened,” she whispered, and the simple fact that she felt the need to explain herself fed the growing resentment in him.

Jakob couldn’t reply.

She hovered for a long moment, uncertain, and finally, turned towards her room. “Give me a few minutes to get ready.”

He waited until her door closed before he put down the coffees on the kitchen counter and pressed a palm to his face, sighing deeply. He was an idiot. An idiot for trying, for thinking that he had a chance at all. None of this had been a good idea to begin with and now he had nothing but a dull ache in his chest and a dark voice in the corner of his mind that told him over and over that he always knew it would turn out this way, who was he even kidding?

“I don’t know what your problem is, but you need to stay away from her.” 

Silas had emerged from the spare room, dressed now, and he looked furious.

Jakob glared. “Who are you to tell me what to do?”

“Look, I don’t care if you’re her family, I love her and I’m not gonna let jerks and freaks like you take advantage of her.”

How stupidly easy it was for him to spout such declarations. Jakob felt frustration clench in his throat and he had to draw a deep breath to kill the compulsion to reach for his baton. “If anyone is trying to take advantage of her, it’s not me.”

Silas scowled. “Don’t touch her.”

“Or what? I’m not the one turning up to her apartment at night and trying to force myself on her.”

“Hey, don’t put words–“

“Silas!”

Corrin stood in her bedroom doorway, dismay written all over her face as she looked at Jakob and Silas in turn. “Silas, you need to go.”

He took a step towards her and she recoiled. Jakob felt his body tense, seconds away from stepping across the room and slamming the boy face down onto the hardwood floor.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, shaking her head. “I think… I think we need to talk about this later.”

He faltered at her words and turned quickly to glance at Jakob in disbelief. “This is so fucked up.” With a sigh, he grabbed his bag, wrenched the door open and left without even saying good bye.

The silence that followed drew tense, like a wire about to snap.

“What was he doing here?” Jakob demanded.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” she replied, and he was surprised to hear the irritation in her voice. “And he wasn’t forcing anyone, you can’t talk to him like that.”

Something thorned and cool as steel lodged itself in the depths of his chest. Reflex took over and he let himself slide back into practiced words, even tones. “Miss Nohr, you are to inform me when you intend to have guests over. This sort of behaviour constitutes a breach of security and a threat to your safety.”

“God, Jakob, he’s my friend,” she snapped. “I’ve known him for ten whole years! Are you telling me I can’t even see my fr –“

“He’s in love with you.”

The words were louder than he thought they would be and the sound stunned both of them into silence.

When Corrin spoke again, there was ice in her voice, hard and cold.

“So what? Why do you care?”

They were the four words that he hated hearing from her, the only question that cut so deep he couldn’t brush it away with a snide remark or an offhand comment.

Why do you care?

“Corrin… I –“

“Screw this,” she muttered, stalking into her room and returning with a deep frown on her face, a coat in her arms.

He watched, his heart lurching sickeningly as she pulled it on and snatched her keys out of the bowl. 

“So are you going to do your job, or am I going to drive myself today?”

---

In the car, she stared determinedly at her phone.

“Camilla’s bought me a ticket to the Singapore Grand Prix after party. We leave tonight.”

The words were cool and flat, spoken like a command with no room for argument. 

“Xander knows.”

He matched her tone for tone, even though he wanted nothing more than to tip a thousand apologies into her lap. 

“Good. Get me in contact with Camilla’s PA and PSD. I’ll take care of the rest.”

But it was better this way. 

Work such as this had no time or place for foolish, misplaced emotions. Love caused distractions.

The jealousy was driving him mad.

Neither served any purpose other than to make him unfit to continue this contract. The timing of her sister’s invitation was unfortunate, but for Corrin’s convenience, he could pretend for a little longer. Once he got back from Singapore, he’d ask Gunter to reassign him somewhere else.

Claim issues of incompatibility that had led to compromised security for the client.

Until then, it was best to maintain the frigid atmosphere of the disagreement.

Professional, distant.

Uncomplicated.

His phone pinged a minute later, and he glanced at her, catching her eye for a brief second before the light turned green and he had to return his attention to the road. 

Away from yesterday. Away from her.

The feel of her arms around his waist, the soft sound of her laugh, the warmth of her fingers on his wrist. Regret in a moment that would never happen. A checklist to be struck off, things he needed to forget, one by one.

---

Past customs, there was a sign with bold text, and it read her first name, but only the first letter of her last. Not that she needed it – the woman holding the board was instantly recognisable.

Corrin felt the fatigue built up from twenty hours of restless, broken sleep and struggling to not think about her flight companion slough from her shoulders. 

“Selena!”

Down came the sign, and with a small smile, she spread her arms as Corrin ran up to her.

“How are you?” Her words were warm and her hug lingered with a gentle pat at Corrin’s shoulder. “Cammy’s at the hotel.” Her gaze flicked to the other person that had accompanied Corrin through the gates, and the look was one of stern appraisal. “Jakob?”

“Yes.”

They shook hands, and Selena gave Corrin another small smile.

If only it were that simple. 

She turned to lead them out of Changi airport, walking briskly past duty-free and then instead of through the hustle of the main mall, out towards an unmarked exit.

“It’s nearly five in the morning. In case you haven’t been outside, it’s twenty-seven degrees today,” Selena informed them as she quickly brought up a call on her phone. “That’s about eighty Fahrenheit, so you’d better take that off.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Corrin saw Jakob move to help her, and then stop. Which was fine. She didn’t need the assistance and she just wanted to be away from him at that moment.

In all honesty, she had already forgiven him, and felt somewhat guilty for the events of Friday morning, but when she had approached him in the hopes of reconciliation before they left her apartment on Friday night, he had brushed her off coldly, to her dismay.

It was as though he had shut a door in her face, and it made her angry all over again, indignant that her effort to apologise for something that wasn’t entirely her fault had been rudely rejected.

The entire flight ended up being an arduous affair punctuated with one-word answers and copious, uncomfortable silence.

Thursday was now a distant dream, fading and almost irrational, the details slipping through her fingers even as she ran a hand over the blue velvet box tucked into her carry-on and tried to cling to the ghost of his touch and the promise of his lips.

The only reason they were in Singapore at all had been a result of Thursday - or perhaps Friday - a gap of time that sat undefined on the edge of wakefulness and sleep. 

Corrin had finally finished the assignment with Silas at nearly half-past one in the morning, and giving him a few blankets from the spare room, told him to crash on the sofa.

Retreating to her own room, she had quickly showered, changed and crawled into bed, fully intending to sleep when she noticed a notification on her phone. 

Camilla had liked her little potted cactus photo on Instagram and added a comment.

Cute! But who’s the fave? I’ve been replaced!!

It was followed by a broken heart and a crying emoji.

Corrin scrolled up to look at her own caption and couldn’t help but smile a little. Brunch with my fave. 

Secret, she replied, and added a wink.

Immediately, a notification came through her personal messages.

Sweetie, you’re up? What time is it??

2am. I was studying.

Camilla’s next messages came through in three parts.

A smartie and a cutie! You should sleep, but I want to know! Who is this new fave?

Corrin hesitated. His name is Jakob.

She received a row of open-mouthed surprise emojis in response. I’ve never heard this name before, WHO IS HE?

The pause this time was much longer. So long, in fact, that Camilla thought she had fallen asleep.

Sweetie? Still there?

Corrin took a deep breath and prayed that Camilla wouldn’t tell Xander. He’s my new bodyguard.

The three dots undulated in their row up and down for what felt like an eternity, but when the next bubble popped up, it only contained three letters.

OMG.

She filled her response in so fast, it was nothing but a bunch of typos. Dint teel Xabdet. Please. Corrections were sent through next, but Camilla was already moving on.

Photo. Details. Corrin, you naughty girl, how long has this been going on?? 

Three months. Wait, no, that was how long he had been working in this role for. Two months. It didn’t matter. She was sleepy and honest and it felt so good to be able to finally tell someone the truth – she had been attracted to him from the very second she had asked him about the book he wasn’t reading.

I think I’m in love with him.

She let the phone slide from her hands onto the bed beside her, buried her face into her pillow and wanted to laugh and groan and shout all at the same time. Oh, god, she had really done it now. Telling Camilla made it known, made it real, and she couldn’t decide if she was elated to realise just how strongly she felt or terrified of the consequences of letting the confession see the light of day.

When she picked up the phone again, there were fourteen notifications and a wall of messages from Camilla.

You’re coming to Singapore. The Grand Prix is this Sunday, I’ll get you into the after party. Tell me everything when you get here, sweetie, I can’t WAIT!

There were hearts and heart eyes and blushing and… sweat drops. Corrin giggled. She knew what they meant, and she knew Camilla wasn’t about to tell anyone. Excitement gripped her at the thought of a spontaneous weekend trip. She hadn’t been anywhere overseas in almost a year, she was going to see Camilla, and she would be with Jakob. It sounded like it couldn’t be anything but a lot of fun.

But then Friday happened, and suddenly, staying at home, holed up in her room seemed much preferable to this.

She couldn’t understand him. Was it better to perhaps simply not?

Camilla was indeed awake when they checked into the hotel and made their way up to Corrin’s rooms, an ear-popping ascent to the one hundred and seventeenth floor that apparently housed in total only three executive suites. 

She wore a long black silk robe, and - Corrin suspected, but couldn’t be sure - nothing underneath spare a spray of perfume. Her hair was arranged in neat curls, freshly coloured in her signature lilac, and her makeup was already applied even at this ridiculous hour. She looked like a goddess, always photo-ready and flawlessly, effortlessly beautiful.

Camilla rose from where she sat on the large black sofa and Corrin all but threw herself into her sister’s arms.

“Sweetie, sweetie, it is so good to see you!” She peppered kisses all over Corrin’s face and Corrin let herself be swept away, giggling as Camilla snuggled her, sat her down on the sofa and gestured to the dining table, which was laden with breakfast food.

“I hope you don’t mind. I ordered room service because I knew my adorable little sister would be hungry,” She gently tapped Corrin’s nose, but her gaze was caught by Beruka, head of her security detail, who crossed the room to shake Jakob’s hand and lead him out of sight.

“Is that him?” She whispered conspiratorially.

Corrin nodded and then sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“What?” Camilla asked incredulously. “You were telling me only yesterday that you were -” She lowered her voice with a quiet laugh, “that you were -”

“Yes,” Corrin cut her off, not wanting to hear the word spoken out loud, trying to ignore the heat that rushed to her face. “We had a bit of a fight before we left, and now…” She frowned, staring at her hands. “Nothing feels the same.”

Camilla’s smile fell into a pout. “Oh, baby, baby, come here.” 

Corrin surrendered to her sister’s embrace, leaning into her shoulder as Camilla lovingly stroked her hair. She felt like a child, comfortable and safe.

“Do you want me to fire him?”

“No!” Corrin exclaimed, almost bewildered at how extreme the suggestion was. “No. I just want to talk to him. But he won’t listen.”

“Well, sweetie, would you like to hear my solution to this kind of thing?”

“Never fall for a man again, because they’re horrible and confusing?”

Camilla laughed. “There’s that. But there’s also shopping.”

From her seat behind the desk in the corner of the room, Selena looked up from her tablet.

“If he won’t listen, we’ll at least ensure that he can’t help but look. And if that doesn’t work, my darling, at least you’ll be well-armed for an evening where anyone else would be damned lucky to have your attention.”

Corrin felt excitement stir at the thought.

Camilla cupped her chin and pecked her on the forehead. “Good girl, there’s the Corrin I wanted to see! Now eat up and tell me everything. Spare no detail, my dear.”