A/N:

Galator: Yes, Anankos is less powerful outside of Valla, which is another reason he can't break the barrier. However, that's the sort of thing that he'd probably want to keep secret, so he wouldn't just tell Mikoto about it, and it's unlikely she'd know, so there was no way to point it out in the fic.

And now: the epilogue, aka the thing that's long enough to be an actual chapter rather than a conclusion.

Fourteen Years Later

"Your Majesty, I have a letter from Kaze, about Prince Kamui."

"My brother?" Saizo whispered, his usually stoic voice heavy with emotion. "My brother is alive?"

Kagero laid a hand on his shoulder, and it spoke volumes about the redhead's turmoil that he did not shrug it off.

It gladdened Mikoto to hear that Kaze was still alive—it had taken him years to confess that he'd spotted the Nohrian soldiers at Cheve but hadn't understood what their presence meant, and thus hadn't warned his father or Sumeragi of them. The guilt had been crushing him, and even after she'd absolved him she suspected he still hadn't forgiven himself. He more than anyone save the royal family was dedicated to finding Kamui, often volunteering to be a part of the infiltration squads they still sent to search Nohr.

But at the forefront of her mind was the fact they had news of her son. The first news she'd received in fourteen years. It took all her self-control to not rip the scroll out of the messenger's grasp as he bowed and handed it to her.

Her hands trembled ever so slightly as she unrolled the scroll, eyes rapidly scanning the writing and picking out key phrases. It was all encoded, of course, but Mikoto was well-accustomed to ninja code at this point.

…the king ordered us killed, but the prince stepped in…

…called himself Corrin. He did not recognize the name Kamui, but his resemblance to you is undeniable…

We have captured him. By the time this letter arrives we should be a week away from Shirasagi.

Her children—she'd come to think of the royal children as her own blood—had abandoned their food and cluttered around her, reading over her shoulder. They'd been having dinner when the messenger arrived, their retainers seated at a lower table as always. Normally interrupting the royal family during a meal was a social faux pas, but in this case… Well, this sort of news was the reason exceptions existed.

Mikoto found herself being grabbed by Ryoma and hugged as he whooped joyfully. Hinoka echoed it, and soon all her children were laughing and smiling, embracing each other—even Azura was pulled into it. Mikoto closed her eyes, relishing the words from the letter.

Prince Corrin of Nohr. All this time, he's been Prince Corrin of Nohr.

They'd heard of him, of course; one of the five survivors (so they thought) of Garon's concubine wars. Crown Prince Alexander, Princess Camilla, Prince Corrin, Prince Leonidas, Princess Elise. They should have made the connection sooner; Prince Corrin was an enigma, even to the best of Hoshidan spies, never seen in public but estimated to be about Kamui's age, and they'd never heard his name uttered until after Kamui's kidnapping.

Fourteen years. Mikoto had honestly expected them to rescue and return her son long before now. The constant failures had slowly whittled down her optimism, but she'd never quite been able to give it up. Her reign had had its ups and downs—thankfully more ups. Relations with Izumo, the Wind Tribe, the Fire Tribe, and surprisingly Cheve, of all places, had improved greatly. There had been a brief insurgent from the merchant lords, which she had put down, and afterwards the Hoshidans seemed to accept that she wasn't a pushover. Hoshido's military was stronger than it had been since the reign of Sumeragi's grandfather, which was fortunate, given what had occurred with her barrier.

Barricade had first been able to reject anyone. But eventually, it faltered, weakened; humans still could not cross it, but the undead and the mindless could. Nohr, realizing this, had created monstrosities they called Faceless to attack. Sakura's retainer, Subaki, had lost his father Masashi to them, taken off-guard when one raced across the border with surprising speed, the first casualty to the monsters. They had been embroiled in skirmishes with the beasts ever since; they weren't intelligent enough for coordinated attacks, but they did a lot of damage when they struck.

Mikoto suspected Anankos hadn't yet sent his soldiers to kill her because he wanted to keep his presence hidden from the world; she was so heavily guarded nowadays that he would never be able to assassinate her without people becoming aware of the attackers. He would have to wait for an opportunity to pin it on someone else.

Her eyes swept over her children, pride swelling in her when she saw how they'd grown up. Ryoma, tall and looking more like Sumeragi every day, noble and a true samurai, but still carrying guilt and uncertainty about the throne. Hinoka, who had kept her promise and kept her red hair short, so bold and headstrong, so different from the shy girl she'd been in her youth. Takumi, her once-happy son turned troubled, full of bitterness and deprecation, but towards none more than himself. Sakura, unaware of her own strength, timid but ready to bloom into a wonderful woman someday.

Her maternal love towards the four of them was returned in full—Takumi and Sakura knew no mother other than her, and had always addressed her as such with ease. Ryoma had been the next one to do so, when he'd been fourteen and she'd continued to carry the burden of the crown for him, using the word for the first time when he thanked her. Hinoka had taken the longest to come around, frequently clashing with Mikoto over her pegasus knight training, but eventually she too asked for permission to call her Mother. She made sure to keep the memory of Ikona alive, and they knew Mikoto wasn't their blood mother, but the love between them was as strong as if she were.

Her eyes next found Azura, lingering near the back. Her poor niece, always on the outskirts, never really welcome wherever she went. Despite Mikoto's best efforts, she'd only been able to get some of Hoshido to accept Azura—the rest still distrusted or despised her. She'd grown into a lovely, if melancholy, woman, but she was chained down by the pain of whatever she'd faced in Nohr, by the rejection of Hoshido, by the knowledge of Valla. And unlike her other children, Azura had never felt comfortable with calling Mikoto Mother, too aware of her technical status as prisoner. She was distant and aloof even on her best days, though at least she had a good relationship with the royal children.

Looking at them now, Mikoto wondered what sort of person her son had grown up to be. Had the cruelty of Nohr eroded his kind soul, made him bitter? Had his idealism died as he waited day after day for a rescue that never succeeded? Had he become rebellious and defiant, trying to escape time and again and being dragged back in chains? Her heart ached at the thought of the hardships he'd surely faced in that cold country.

One week and then you can find out. Just one more week.

She'd waited fourteen years. She could wait one more week.

The royal family had their own private shrine, but Mikoto had made another one for herself. Smaller, more personal, kept in her bedroom. She didn't have any portraits of her husbands or sister, but she still had her wedding rings and Arete's sending stone. While she always kept them on her, they were hidden from prying eyes, except for when she visited her shrine. Then she would take them out and toy with them as she prayed. Sometimes she spoke to her loved ones; she knew Anankos was mad and Sumeragi and Arete were probably possessed, but she liked to think her words could reach and sooth some fragment of their souls.

She was praying now, her fingers stroking the three precious objects, when Orochi rushed in. The queen instantly covered the sending stone with her sleeve—while her relationship with her retainers had improved, there were still some secrets she was keeping from them. From everyone. "Lady Mikoto!" the young woman gasped. "Kaze and the prince—they're here!"

"What?" Mikoto gasped. "They're a day early!"

"I know! Except for Prince Ryoma, none of his siblings are here—they're all out doing their own thing!"

"They'll be disappointed to have missed his return," she nodded, discretely gathering her treasures and following Orochi out of the room. Her heart was beating erratically in her chest, and her palms were sweaty—she wiped them against her kimono. Mikoto walked as swiftly as she could without running, time seeming to blur until she found herself standing before a side door leading into the throne room.

She entered, slowing as she stepped inside. Ryoma was standing at the base of the throne, arms crossed, and below him was... Mikoto lingered in the shadows of the pillars, one hand lightly resting against the stone, the other over her heart. Below Ryoma was another figure, one with distinct platinum hair. She licked her dry lips as she peered out to see her son for the first time in fourteen years.

The angle was bad, but the lighting good. He was tall, taller than her; the last time she'd seen him he'd barely come up to her hip. Now she guessed she'd only be eye-level with his nose. Sleek Nohrian armor encased him, and she could see Kaze off to the side, gingerly holding a dark-looking Nohrian sword. Affectionate amusement rose in her when she saw that her son's feet were still bare and his hair still a bit long and messy. But what she longed to see the most was his face, not his back as he spoke to Ryoma.

"—are you waiting for? If you're going to execute me, please get on with it."

The years had eroded her memory of Anankos's voice, but when her son spoke she could suddenly recall it with surprising clarity. He sounded almost completely like her first husband had, his voice low with nearly the exact same pitch and timber. There was an accent it, a distinctly Nohrian lilt that made the syllables long and the r's soft and rolling.

She had to see his face. Mikoto stepped out of the shadows, allowing her sandaled feet to clack sharply on the floor. At the sound her son turned, brows furrowing when he saw her.

Her first thought was that her estimation of his height was correct; he was indeed taller than her. It was odd, looking up at him instead of looking down. Her second thought was that Kaze had spoken the truth; with the baby fat gone, Kamui's resemblance to her had only grown stronger over the years. The shape of his eyes, the bridge of his nose, the curve of his jaw; it's all her. Only the mouth and chin came from Anankos. And the ears, of course; her eyes flicker to them, pointed as ever, then back to his face.

How old was he now? Nineteen, going onto twenty. Gods, her son had been in Nohr for nearly thrice the time he'd been with her. She'd missed so much of his life, and she was never more aware of it than now, now that she was seeing the result of those lost years without any idea of what had happened in them. It made her eyes water a bit, sadness mingling with joy.

He stiffened as she approached, body posture reminiscent of a cornered animal. Mikoto halted a few inches away; this close, she could see the reflection of herself in his slitted pupils. Her hands came up, pressing together against her mouth, heart in her throat. "I cannot believe it is really you…"

He blinked, but politely asked, "I'm sorry, do we know each other?"

Had Mikoto been paying attention, that would have been the first hint that the reunion was not about to go the way she'd always envisioned. But she wasn't, too caught up in a storm of exultation and jubilee. Unable to hold herself back, Mikoto grabbed Kamui and embraced him tightly. Hugging people in armor was never comfortable, but she just didn't care about the cold metal digging into her. Not when she finally had her son back. "Oh, I've missed you so much! Come here, Kamui, my sweet child!"

He jerked back from her, alarmed. "Your sweet child?! What are you talking about? Who's Kamui?"

Mikoto spent the time waiting for her sons to return from rescuing Hinoka and Sakura in a kind of horrified daze. Of all the things she'd imagined being inflicted on her son, amnesia was not one of them. But there it was—he didn't recall a single thing about his real family. Not even a flicker of recognition had sparked in his eyes when they related his past to him. Devastation didn't even begin to describe how she felt.

Had she…had really she been that awful a parent, for him to just forget about her? She thought she'd done a good job, for the little time she'd had him. Had she been mistaken, or—Mikoto shook her head. No, it was Nohr's doing, it had to be; they must have done something to her son. He wouldn't simply forget about all of them.

After her children came back—thank the gods all of them were alright, Mikoto thought, it would have been cruel to lose one of them now—she showed Kamui around the palace, hoping to jog his memory. Their last stop was his room. For fourteen years, it had remained untouched, his stuffed animals, drawings and clothes exactly where he'd left them. A thick layer of dust covered everything.

Her smile felt as though it would crack her face if she held it much longer, as she watched him pick up a drawing and gaze at it wordlessly. He'd been silent the whole tour, lost in thought, and she found that while she could always tell what her step-children and niece were thinking, she had no idea what was going through his mind. It was unnerving. She continued speaking, hiding the wavering in her voice, "That's something you drew when you were a little boy! That's your father, that's me, and that's you. It's so cute!"

He exhaled in a soft sigh, but still didn't speak. Mikoto thought she was going to choke on the words as she forced them out. "We couldn't bear to touch a thing in this room after you were taken. If we put your things away, it would have felt like giving up."

Silence.

"You've grown so much! I can't believe how handsome you are."

Letting the drawing fall from his hands, Kamui turned to her. "Queen Mikoto…"

I'm your mother! She wanted to scream. Call me Mother! Please!

Instead she said, "Yes, Kamui?"

"Corrin," he immediately corrected, not unkindly.

Smile and smile and smile, until your mask breaks and falls off.

"Corrin," she acquiesced, hating the sound of it, the harsh syllables, the undeniably Nohrian origin. Kamui had been a nice name, flowing easily. Corrin felt like chewing on a tough piece of meat.

He hesitated, biting his lip, then launched into a hurried flurry of words. "I'm afraid I still don't remember anything. I…I just don't know how to respond to your stories. I do believe I could be your son… But everyone here simply feels like a stranger to me." Kamui…Corrin ducked his head, apologetic. "I'm sorry."

Smile. Smile. Smile.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to sob. She wanted to go back in time and never let him out of her sight. But she couldn't do any of those, so instead she smiled and nodded and told him she understood. He apologized again, and she waved it off, hiding how his words had been bolts to her heart. She didn't remember what came next; she thought she might have recommended he talk a walk around the grounds. But when her mind cleared again, her son was gone, and she was kneeling in his dusty room, staring at the crumpled picture on the floor, and the tears she'd been holding back all day finally came loose. That was where Takumi found her, on his way back from archery practice.

"Mother?" Takumi cried out, dropping Fujin Yumi and rushing instantly to her side. Out of all her children, he was the one closest to her, thanks to the archery lessons he'd asked from her when he was ten. "Are you alright? What happened?"

"Nothing happened," she hiccupped, almost laughing at the harsh truth of it. "Nothing at all."

Dinners were always awkward affairs now. It had been several days since Corrin's return, and everyone was still tiptoeing around each other. The ecstatic joy that had initially been upon them had faded as the Hoshidan royal family realized the reunion they'd gotten hadn't been the one they'd expected. The simple truth was, Corrin just didn't seem to fit into Hoshido.

They'd tried calling him Kamui, but the sound of his real name seemed to grate on him, made his lips tighten almost impeccably and added a slight hunch to his shoulders, so they'd stopped. They'd offered him Hoshidan outfits, lovely kimonos and armor, and he'd taken them, too polite to say no—just like Anankos, she thought with a pang—but he never wore them except when his Nohrian things needed cleaning. He was trying to obey their laws and customs, but there were so many things he forgot, so many obvious things a native would never have forgotten.

She hated it. She hated that Nohr hadn't just taken her son, but brainwashed him too, made his real home unfamiliar to him and his real family strangers.

He didn't hate them, that was the one bright spot. Corrin honestly did seem to want to bond with them, but there was just so much tension and uncertainty on both parts. He seemed most at ease with Sakura, smiling and gently teasing and in general taking on the role of a big brother so naturally, it made Mikoto a little awed—until she remembered that Nohr had a princess, Elise, even younger than Sakura, whom he'd probably treated the same way. And that soured it for her.

Corrin was warily curious and friendly towards Ryoma and Hinoka. Mikoto knew her eldest son and daughter been waiting years for the chance to apologize to him, but now that it was here, they found themselves unable to take it. It just didn't feel right, they confessed, when he didn't remember them. They wanted him to actually forgive them, not pretend to or think he was obligated to. So instead they tried to bond with him in one of the few ways that was easy for them—through sparring. It seemed to work; sometimes she would drop by their matches, and she'd see them enjoying themselves. But she couldn't help noticing how Nohrian his fighting style was.

Takumi didn't like him at all, and he could tell. Mikoto's heart went out to her youngest son—he had, perhaps, been hit hardest by Corrin's unexpected acclimation to Nohr. It upset him that the brother he barely remembered, the brother whose return had been a dream for his family, wasn't just a stranger, but practically a foreigner. So he became prickly and harsh, suspicious and glaring, and made it clear that, in his mind, his real brother had died with Sumeragi at Cheve. Corrin didn't reciprocate the hostility, but it was so blatant he didn't really seek Takumi out, and Takumi definitely didn't seek him out, so they mostly avoided each other.

For her part, Mikoto wasn't sure how to really interact with him, so she did what she did best—slipped back into the shadows, watching him from afar. She knew this was no way to rebuild their relationship, but she'd been caught off-guard by the new person he was, and she just…needed time.

Mikoto watched her son fumble his chopsticks again—"Where are the forks?" he'd asked the first time he ate, staring at the utensils in puzzlement, innocent to how his insensitivity hurt—until Azura reached over and corrected how he was holding them. He gave her a thankful smile, then looked away, red creeping up his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

Watching the two of them interact, Mikoto could instantly tell what was up. The first day he'd been back, he'd returned from the lake with Azura, talking rapidly. He'd been more animated than she'd seen him all that day, and Azura had actually been smiling, something she rarely did around strangers. Now she was the only person whose company Corrin constantly sought, and the only one he seemed completely relaxed with. It wasn't surprising—their circumstances were so similar—but it made Mikoto resent the songstress, just a tiny bit, for just clicking with him when the rest of them couldn't.

Well, she thought, happy at what could be and bitter at what hadn't been in equal measures, at least their marriage would have been happy if the betrothal had actually gone through.

Dinner consisted of stewed beef and sashimi salad, a meal Corrin had loved as a child. She doubted Ryoma and Hinoka, who were old enough to remember such things, have missed the fact that more and more of their meals are things Corrin used to like. But Corrin ate without any particular notice of the food, chewing and swallowing as swiftly as he could without being rude, as he always did, before retreating to his room.

"Bastard," Takumi muttered as soon as Corrin left, his grip on his chopsticks turning his knuckles white.

"Takumi!" Sakura gasped sharply.

"What? Don't tell me you aren't bothered by how eagerly he escapes our company!"

"I understand you're disappointed with how things have been," Ryoma said, his deep voice sharp with disapproval, "but—"

"But what?" Takumi snapped. "I'm not allowed to voice my thoughts? My feelings don't matter at all, I can't say anything mean to Corrin otherwise it'll drive him back to Nohr? Well fine! Let him go back since he apparently misses it so much!"

"Your Highnesses," Kaze tried to interject from his position by the door. Hinoka overrode him, trying to soothe her brother. "He's just having a hard time adjusting," she said. "He'll be back to normal soon."

"Really? What proof do we have of that? How do we not know he's not just spying on us, biding his time before he can return to his beloved Nohr?"

"Please stop fighting," Sakura whispered, unheeded as Azura leap to Corrin's defense.

"That's an unfair accusation—"

"You be quiet, Nohrian!" The archer rounded on her, and she snapped her mouth shut, shocked. Takumi and Azura had never been very close, but he'd always been civil to her, sometimes even kind. His lashing out may have been brought on by stress rather than cruelty, but it was unexpected and hurtful nonetheless.

"That's enough, Takumi!" Mikoto said sternly, holding her anger back. She empathized with her son's feelings—she truly did—but a fight wasn't necessary. "First Corrin, now Azura? This is your brother you're talking about—"

"Your Highnesses—"

"Then why isn't he acting like it?!" Takumi slammed his hands into the table. Frustration and something suspiciously close to tears thickened his voice. "He was supposed to be happy when he got back! He wasn't supposed to go by a Nohrian name and wear Nohrian clothes and miss Nohr! He wasn't supposed to make you cry, Mother!"

"I get it, okay?!" Mikoto finally shouted, the pot of emotions she'd kept lidded all week finally boiling over. "I get being frustrated by how Nohrian he is now! And gods know I wish he were like he'd been as a child! Gods know I wish he were differe—"

"Your Highnesses!" Kaze almost shouted, and they all turned.

Corrin was standing in the doorway, his pale face and wide eyes showing he'd heard everything. Mikoto brought her hands up to her mouth, speechless horror plain to see. The silence that fell was heavy enough to crush a man to death.

"Corrin," Ryoma finally began, his voice breaking.

"I forgot my gloves," he said hollowly.

"Corrin," Mikoto choked, "I didn't mean—"

But he didn't answer, just strode forward and snatched his gloves from the table. Then he turned on his heel and stormed off into the hall. Azura rose to hurry after him, but she barely took a few steps before they heard him snapping at her that he just wanted to be alone. The songstress hesitated, then slowly returned to her seat.

Mikoto stared at her food, feeling wretched. Hinoka put a hand on her shoulder, doubtless saying something comforting, but she didn't register it. How could she have said what she had? What happened to just having him back being enough?

They finished the rest of their meal in silence.

Her son didn't make an appearance at breakfast, lunch or dinner the next day—Mikoto had Kaze deliver food to his room instead. It took a shamefully long time for Mikoto to gather the courage to visit him. It was evening went she went, a box full of chocolates in hand, determined to set things right. She knew what she'd said was truly awful and couldn't just be bribed away, but she needed to try to make amends.

She paused outside his room when she heard the sounds of soft voices filtering through the open door. Curious as she was to eavesdrop, she'd wronged her son enough. Raising her voice, she called, "Corrin?"

The voices stopped. Then from within the room, a figure rose, its shadow easily visible through the paper screen, and crossed over to the door.

The queen found herself faced with Azura. Her eyes were sympathetic, but her body posture suggested she would have to be forced away from the door. Behind her, Corrin was sitting cross-legged on the ground, his gaze on the floor. Calling on him this late in the day was how rumors started, and Mikoto was thankful they'd had the good sense to leave the door open.

"Could I speak to Corrin alone?" Mikoto asked.

Azura looked back at Corrin, a silent do you want me to stay? He shook his head, and she nodded, giving Mikoto a small, sad smile as she left. Mikoto hesitantly entered and knelt across from Corrin, who wasn't looking at her.

"I'm glad you have Azura to support you here," she said, for lack of anything else. At least Azura wasn't holding him to standards that didn't exist anymore.

"She's a good friend," was all he said, though his heavy blush indicated the feelings, at least on his end, ran deeper.

Mikoto handed him the box, unsure of where to start. He weighed it in a hand quizzically.

"Chocolates," she explained. She almost added you loved them when you were younger, but bit her tongue. She doubted he'd appreciate any more comparisons to the boy he used to be.

He tilted his head up in acknowledgement, selecting a truffle and popping it in his mouth. Surprise flickered across his face. "It's good," he murmured.

It was a relief to know his sweet tooth hadn't changed. It was a common link between Kamui and Corrin, and Mikoto treasured it. Still, that wasn't what she was here for.

"I am," she began, folding her hands in her lap, "so sorry for what I said yesterday. As a mother, I had no right to say such a terrible thing. You are you, and it was wrong of me to be unhappy with that when I should have just been grateful to have you back. I know this isn't even remotely acceptable penance. But I promise, I will try to be better in the future."

"You seem like a fine mother. Ryoma and the others obviously love you dearly." He chewed on another chocolate. "I won't pretend your words didn't hurt," he finally said, swallowing. "But I…can understand where you're coming from. And I'm sorry I can't be who you want me to be."

"Don't be," she stressed, boldly placing a hand on his shoulder. "Never be sorry for being yourself. I am so, so proud of the man you've grown up to be, a good man, and I've been a fool for not saying so before now." It was like Izana had told her so long ago; the Astral Dragons must have truly been watching over him and protecting him for him to turn out as well as he had.

"What about my siblings?"

"They still love you, as do I," she promised. "Takumi will come around when he's ready. And before then, please don't rush him."

He nodded, and for a few moments the only sound was him making his way through the chocolate truffles.

"What…did Garon tell you your heritage was, growing up?" Her son's strong resemblance to her meant he looked more Hoshidan than Vallite, and definitely more Hoshidan than Nohrian, so Garon would have had to get creative in inventing a backstory if he'd wanted to successfully fool her son.

Corrin shrugged. "He said my mother was a Hoshidan merchant he'd met in his travels and grew to favor, eventually bringing her to court like all his concubines. She died in childbirth to me and that's why I was locked away; it was punishment because I'd 'killed' her in his eyes."

She nodded, slow. "I see." There was a bitter taste in her mouth, but Mikoto swallowed it down, knowing the next step was vital in repairing their relationship. "Would you…would you mind telling me about your life in Nohr?"

She didn't particularly want to hear about it. She didn't want to hear that he'd been happy there, away from her. But—but it was necessary. Compromise was necessary. It had been unfair of her to expect him to adjust to Hoshido all at once, to try and force him into being the boy he'd been years ago instead of the man he was now. They couldn't make any progress without concessions on both ends.

"I don't want to hurt your feelings," he hedged.

"Please," she said. "Maybe I'll have an easier time understanding your love for Nohr if I knew the experiences you had there were good ones."

He hesitated, eyeing her uncertainly. Then a smile stretched across his face. Mikoto inhaled; she suddenly realized that this was the bright, boyish smile of his youth, the smile he smiled with all his heart and soul. How could she have missed the fact that, throughout his entire stay, he'd been wearing a mask of strained smiles like her own, and that this was his true one? He practically wore his heart on his sleeve for the gods' sake. Apparently he inherited my ability to mask his emotions when he needs to.

And so Mikoto spent the next few hours actually talking to her son, listening to his tales of life in an isolated fortress, of the four siblings who'd visited him every week, of the kind servants who had cared for him. He told her about the book clubs and snow fortresses and piano lessons and rescued animals. She was jealous, of course, that other people had witnessed his childhood and she hadn't, but she was so, so relieved to hear that it had at least had its good parts.

Fourteen years of anger and hate towards Nohr wouldn't go away just like that. But it did soften, slightly.

It was easier to speak to him after that, and it was easier for him to speak with the rest of his family. He still requested time to himself to think every now and then, but he didn't seem to be wearing that mask anymore. His siblings—excluding Takumi—all apologized for their behavior at that dinner, and from then on their relationship improved by leaps and bounds. Only his relationship with Takumi hadn't improved, but Corrin had started trying to talk to him now. It was enough.

Three weeks after Corrin had returned to Hoshido, Mikoto organized a picnic for her family. It had been deemed unsafe for her to leave the safety of the castle grounds, so they went out to the gardens, spreading blankets down beneath the sakura trees. Summer was close and their pink blooms had long since died, much to Corrin's disappointment, but he still found plenty to admire in the rest of the flora.

Currently all her children were relaxing, happy with full bellies and fair weather. Mikoto and Hinoka were pointing out all the different flowers to Corrin, and even Takumi was scowling less than usual as he talked to Ryoma. Azura was speaking to Sakura, a soft, teasing smile on her face as Sakura hid her face in her hands. Her golden eyes caught Mikoto's own, and the queen waved her over; with a quick word to Sakura, the older princess rose and crossed over to her. Mikoto bade her children a quick farewell and met her halfway.

"Azura," she greeted with a smile. "I have something for you. I'd like you to give it to Corrin, when you get the chance."

Out of her pocket she pulled out a shiny blue gem roughly the size of an egg—a dragonstone for Corrin. Obtaining it had been a stroke of pure fortune. Several days ago, a messenger from the ruler of Notre Sagesse had arrived with it in hand, saying it was a gift from the Rainbow Sage. It was very rare for the sage to just give things out, preferring to let people test themselves against him before deeming them worthy or unworthy. But he'd foreseen that her son would need a dragonstone in the future, and, as Mikoto could not leave Hoshido to take his test, had made a rare exception.

Azura turned the dragonstone over in her hands, worry fresh in her eyes. Like Mikoto, she knew what it signified for Corrin. "I will, but…Lady Mikoto, why don't you just give it to him yourself?"

Mikoto smiled serenely. "Just wait for the right moment. You'll know when it comes."

Azura sighed, knowing she wouldn't get anything else out of her. "Very well."

The songstress returned to Sakura, and Mikoto sighed, remaining rooted to her spot. She closed her eyes, welcoming the caress of the breeze on her cheek and in her hair.

She knew her death was approaching soon. She had foreseen it—a purple explosion, a dark sword, a rampaging dragon. She didn't know which of those things would kill her, but a worried Orochi had approached her about it, which had confirmed that this time, the future could not be changed. While she didn't know when it would happen, she could sense that it was coming soon. She'd probably be dead by the end of the month.

She thought she'd taken it well, all things considered. Some may have panicked at the news of their impending death, but she swallowed her fear; fear wouldn't accomplish anything. Instead she set about trying to make Ryoma's transaction into rulership as smooth as possible and spending as much time with her family as she could.

Still…suddenly being confronted with your own mortality, with the fact that you were going to die, was scary. Worse, she knew there would be no peaceful embrace of the afterlife; Anankos would take her, as he'd promised, and she would serve him. And she didn't know if she'd ever be freed, or if her eternity would be a hell of slavish devotion to him.

The one comfort she had was that she knew, somehow, that she would die protecting someone she loved. And if she died doing that, she would die content.

Mikoto tilted her head back, gazing at the clouds above. Yukimura had told her of unease in the city; some people believed their prodigal prince had finally returned, but other whispered about Nohrian spies infiltrating them and plotting their demise.

She had kept Corrin's return secret to give him time to adjust to Hoshido, but no longer, she decided. Rumors were dangerous, and to keep her son safe she needed to weed them out. It was time to announce his return. A public message in Shirasagi's town square, perhaps. Most of the population would be assembled there in mid-day, and she could let his siblings take him on tour around beforehand, showing him the different stalls and landmarks. She nodded; yes, that would work.

"Mother!" Sakura called, voice joyous and giggling. She started; her family was gathered at the edge of the stone pathway winding through the rest of the garden, large smiles on their faces. Corrin's was a little awkward, but genuine, and his eyes were bright as his little sister held his hand. "Come on! We're going to show Corrin the koi pond!"

"On my way!" Mikoto responded. She put the preparations from her mind and turned towards the path, hurrying to join her family, heart light as air.

The future could wait. She would enjoy what she had now.

A/N: And that's the final chapter. I can't believe it's over, guys! I had a lot of fun writing this, and everyone was so encouraging and nice in their reviews. I appreciate everyone who reviewed, favorited, followed or even just looked at this! If you have any last questions about the fic, drop them in a review or send me a PM, and I'll PM you with an answer!

And now shameless advertising time—I mean, discussing future fics. There's a few that I have planned. The big one is Fire Emblem Fates: Aftermath, which will start immediately after Anankos's defeat in Revelation and cover the reconstruction of Valla, Corrin's difficulties to adjusting to being king, and the struggles to rebuild relations between Hoshido and Nohr since there is no way everything was hunky-dory between them afterwards. I'm also going to expand on stuff I found lacking in the game—some examples include Corrin's draconic urges and Lilith, to whet your appetite. I have no idea how long it will be, but it's definitely going to be as long if not longer than this, and the outline covers events for several in-fic years.

The second idea is a counterpart to this. I've received a few PM's and asks about writing a fic showing Garon while he was alive, and if enough people expressed an interest, I'd be willing to write one such thing, either from his or Arete's perspective. So if you like the idea, let me know in a review or a PM. There's also a possible semi-sequel to Invisible Princess I'm tossing around, following Mikoto after her resurrection at Anankos's hands in Revelation.

And that's it! Thank you all for your time! 3