A/N:

Cirex Review: Before the war he signed everything 'Corrin Aurelius'. When the war started, he got pronounced a traitor and just introduced himself as 'Corrin' to avoid getting the wrong kind of attention. When he ended up as the head of the Hoshidan-Nohrian army, he introduced himself as 'Corrin of Houses Minamoto and Aurelius' to avoid favoritism (even if he personally prefers his Nohrian name, he's savvy enough to know ignoring his Hoshidan side completely is a bad move). That's how he's going to introduce himself from now on too, until he marries Azura and reclaims the 'Rheos' family name.

As they approach his parents' estate at a steady trot, Silas tries to calm his nerves. He knows his parents are good people. They've always been supportive of him, and while there had been a period where they'd blamed Corrin for his brush with death years ago, they'd moved past it. There's no reason to think they'll be anything less than supportive of his friend's new reign, or Silas's decision to stay in Elysium.

But if he's honest, those aren't the heart of his worries. He's been gone for months. He hadn't been able to write once they'd stepped into Valla. His parents were probably worried sick about him, and he's a bit afraid to face them again after essentially disappearing off the face of the continent—literally.

And that's not even including the part about Mozu.

How would his parents react to that? They've always been more tolerant of Hoshidans, but she was a commoner too. Maybe one or the other would have been okay with them, but both? His mouth goes dry at the thought of not having his parents' blessing.

"Silas." He glances to his right to see that Corrin has moved his horse next to his. The prince gives him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. I'm sure they'll be happy to see you again."

"Thanks," he mumbles, grateful for his friend's support. "But that's not it. Not entirely."

Corrin's brows crinkle in concern. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." Then: "Yes. I don't know. It's just…my parents are so important to me. I don't want them to disapprove of Mozu."

His friend nods sympathetically. "I don't remember much about them, but they seemed like good, level-headed people from what I do recall. I'm sure they'll support your choice."

His father had been assigned as a guard to the Northern Fortress, and brought Silas along to train him as a squire; that was how he'd met Corrin. Mother had stayed in their estate to manage things, but would often send up letters and pastries. After sneaking Corrin outside and getting caught, his father had been forced to leave alongside him.

Silas thanks him again, and then they turn back to the road. They'd sent word ahead of their arrival, so servants are waiting to take their horses when they reach the courtyard some ten minutes later. The paladins's eyes run over the familiar stone architecture of the house, the crenellated walls and slanted purple roofs. They're drawn to the motion of the door, which is swinging open for…

His parents, Lord Adrien Chalon and Lady Renata Chalon. They haven't changed a bit since he last saw them, his mother's silver hair still expertly coiffed, his father's green eyes still sharp and hawk-like. Their gazes immediately lock onto him, and he watches the emotions play over their faces. Were it not for the need for proper etiquette, he knows they would have run straight to him. But as the hosts, they must address the royalty first and make them comfortable.

"Prince Corrin, Princess Camilla," Father greets with a bow and kiss of Camilla's hand. His eyes slide to the redheaded woman to the left, and with only a moment's hesitation betraying his wariness, adds "…Princess Hinoka. Welcome to our estate. Please, make yourselves at home."

"Dinner should be ready in an hour," Mother adds, stealing a second glance at her son. "Until then, we could give you a tour of the grounds while our servants care for your mounts?"

"It's alright," Corrin says with a smile. "We can waive formalities this once. I'm sure you're eager to catch up with Silas."

His parents don't bother to hide the relief at the suggestion. They all dismount, and pages step forward to lead the animals away. Other servants guide the party into their estate, splitting off to take them to separate rooms; Silas alone follows his parents to the parlor. A hundred childhood memories assault him when they step inside: his mother chasing him here when he was small because he didn't want to take a bath; the time he found his father huddled by the fire, recently released from service for a crippling injury received in the line of duty; afternoons spent struggling to sit still through his lessons.

Silas is yanked out of the memories by his parents simultaneously stepping forward and hugging him. He wraps his arms around their backs, closing his eyes. His mother's imported perfume, smelling faintly of jasmine. The stump of his father's missing hand against his back. Things so mundane and familiar, he'd taken them for granted. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed them until now.

"Mother, Father," he mumbles into their shirts. "I'm back."

"I can see that!" Father's laugh has a slight edge of hysteria. "It's wonderful to see you're still alive."

"Months, Silas!" Mother hisses, grabbing his ear and tugging sharply, wringing out a little yelp from him. "You send one letter, saying you're deserting your post because you can't rightfully follow King Garon anymore and that you're going to serve Prince Corrin instead, and for months, that's it. One letter, then you never return, never write, never—gods, couldn't you have found some way to at least let us know you were alive?"

"That wasn't exactly possible," he mumbles, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "I assume you received King Xander's missives about Anankos?"

Xander, Ryoma and Corrin had all sent out letters summarizing what had happened down in Valla as soon as the barrier fell. Anankos had life-bound a curse on Valla, to be forgotten by all the nations; when he died, the curse died with him, as did the curse on the country's name. Everyone who had been alive at Valla's fall regained their memories of the lost kingdom, and it found its place in the history books again. So many of the kingdoms had easily believed the brothers' words.

His parents nod, and he says, "Then you'll understand that sending a letter wasn't exactly possible."

Mother sighs. "Yes, logically, I know you're right. But as your mother, I was still fraught with worry." She shakes herself. "But come, let's speak of happier things. Tell us how you've been!"

They sit by the fire and talk a while of mundane things; he regales some of his better war stories for his veteran father, avoiding any too bloody for his mother's sake. Thirty minutes into the discussion one of his old servants, Opal if he recalls correctly, arrives and informs them that dinner will be ready soon, and he knows it's time.

"I met someone," he says, staring into the fireplace. "During the war."

His father smiles proudly, while his mother's face lights up. "That's wonderful!" she exclaims, patting his hand. "Tell us about her! What's she like? Did she come with you today?"

"Ah, no, she didn't. She stayed in Elysium." He swallows. This is the hard part. "Um, she used to be a farmer, but her village was destroyed during the war."

"Poor dear," Mother says sympathetically, while Father grumbles about the lack of effective soldiers nowadays.

They don't seem to mind the commoner aspect, so he moves on, rubbing the back of his head nervously. "Yeah, she's gone through a lot. But she never gave up once, even though she thought too little of herself…that's actually how we got together, she thought she was weak, so I offered to help her train. After each sparring session, we'd just sit down and talk, and she was just so charming and funny and…" He realizes he's starting to ramble and cuts himself off, face burning.

"She sounds sweet," Mother smiles. "What's her name?"

Here it is. He takes a deep breath. "Mozu."

"Mozu? That's not a Nohrian na…" Father's furrowed brows suddenly straighten out as he makes the connection. His face becomes unreadable. "She's Hoshidan?"

Mother pulls back in surprise as Silas says, an edge of defensiveness unintentionally working its way in, "She's from Hoshido, but she's not Hoshidan anymore; she's Vallite now, like us. We all had to work together to defeat Anankos. There were no Hoshidans or Nohrians in the army, just a single collective trying to beat a greater threat."

They exchange a look, doing that silent communication thing that always irritates him.

"Would you marry her?" Father abruptly asks, to which he responds with a firm, "Yes."

"Even if we don't give our blessing?"

"…Yes."

Father leans back and uncrosses his arms with a nod. "Well, that's fine then. A woman you'd be willing to go against your parent's wishes for must be quite something, right, Renata?"

"Indeed. You simply must introduce her to us sometime," Mother says, taking Silas's hand. "She sounds like a dear."

He looks from one to the other. "That's it?" he says incredulously. "No arguments, no threats, you're just completely okay with me marrying a Hoshidan commoner?" Nobility didn't get to choose who to marry, most of the time.

"She's not exactly what we envisioned for you," Mother admits, "But allowing you two to court sets a good example for the rest of the country. I'm sure there will be difficulties helping her adjust to noble life, but we'll deal with them as they come."

Their acceptance makes Silas want to weep in relief. It's as if a great weight has been lifted off his shoulders and he can just now breathe again. I can't believe I got myself all worked up and then for it to turn out to be nothing.

"Come on," Father says, rising and pulling Silas up with him. "It's been too long since we had dinner as a family—we'll make it a feast."

"My lady, the Nestrian ambassador is here."

Azura looks up from the reply she was penning to Elise, whose letter had arrived earlier that day, at Nestor's statement. Her step-sister's words had been equal parts solemn, imparting her on how difficult staying in Hoshido was when most of the country disliked her, and cheerful, because despite that she was enjoying herself. She was doing good work, and when she wasn't working Ryoma was taking her to sightsee in Shirasagi and the surrounding Hoshidan countryside.

She sighs and sets the letter aside to finish later. It's unfortunate that Corrin isn't back yet, or that she can't just hand this off to Nestor; Azura does not consider herself a particularly good diplomat, and she'd rather not do this. But given the crimes Valla had done to Nestra, even if under the rule of a previous king, sending them to her advisor instead would be inappropriate and a snub.

"Very well." She rises, smoothing out the fabric of her dress and mentally preparing herself. "Take me to him."

He leads her out of the office, weaving through the hallways. Azura marvels at how quickly the castle's look has improved; in the astral plane, most everything had accumulated a thick layer of dust, and technology was severely out of date. Now, with everything clean, proper heating and lighting, people milling about the hall on their duties, and tapestries and suits of armor and various bits of décor, it looks like an entirely different place.

They step into the grand hall, where a solitary figure is standing distinctly before the throne. "Princess Azura, I present Ambassador Abdul Karim of Nestra," Nestor introduces.

Even without the announcement, Azura could tell the man is Nestrian. He has the same tanned skin and light, airy clothing as most of his countrymen. She gives him a nod. An awkward moment passes before she remembers to extend a hand for him to kiss; it's been too long since she had to use her etiquette lessons. She does, and he bends to press his lips chastely to it, his dark blue hair gleaming in the sunlight. "Greetings, Princess Azura. I have to admit when I arrived I was expecting Prince Corrin to be here. But you are his betrothed, are you not?"

"Yes," she answers, if only because it's easier than saying he hasn't proposed yet but he probably will soon. "Corrin won't be back for at least another week, but I am capable of handling negotiations in his absence. If you'll follow me…"

And with an incline of her head, Azura leads him out of the room, wondering if she'd been too brusque.

"Queen Jamila does not blame you specifically for what happened at Cyrkensia," the ambassador says as they walk; if her manner insulted him, he does not show it. "But someone needs to pay the price, and Valla had the biggest part in the tragedy that took place that day. You understand."

"I do. We are, of course, willing to make full reparations for the damage Anankos did to Cyrkensia," Azura begins as they enter a chamber designed for negotiations. They take opposite seats in the modest but comfortable chairs, a long table between them. Someone, probably Nestor, had alerted the servants; Flora and Jakob are waiting inside. The pair bow and serve them tea and muffins, then go stand at the entrance of the door in case of trouble.

"But what of the lives lost, Princess?" Abdul stresses, leaning forward. "What of the people who died by Vallite blade, the people who lost loved ones to Vallite invaders? What reparations can you make for that?"

His words hit home, as he probably intended them to. Azura's hands still on their way to bringing her cup to her mouth. "None," she says quietly, lowering it. "There are none we can make. We can only offer our apologies and our assurances that we have no interest in such senseless warfare anymore."

He sighs, turning away. "I know, and it is unfair of me to ask that question. But I personally experienced loss that day, and I can't help but want to blame you. It's a feeling I'm not alone in; some of our people want retribution."

"The soldiers who invaded Cyrkensia are all dead, as is the king who commanded them," she says firmly. "Let that sate your vengeance."

Abdul chuffs softly. "I said some want it, not all. Queen Jamila is not one of them, and she will not be swayed by the populace. We are not a particularly militant nation, as you well know, and do not wish to throw away more lives in another pointless war. You have nothing to fear on that front."

Nestra's primary income is entertainment. Most of the country was desert, with little natural resources except along the coast, so that was where they'd flocked, building fabulous and sparkling cities meant to draw tourists in. They had even less military than Hoshido, relying mostly on Nohr's goodwill for protection, so it was unsurprising, though reassuring, to hear they didn't want a war of retribution.

"I'm pleased to hear it," she says, reaching for a quill and paper, "Now, what did the damage cost total?"

The Nohrian lords and dukes had, as Camilla predicted, been more receptive to Corrin, but not completely—he'd been an even more distant figure than his siblings, locked up in the fortress, and he knows many of them had eyed him and wondered whether he could competently rule. They'd also vocalized their displeasure to be rubbing shoulders with the Hoshidans, and seemed unhappy that he wanted them to get along. The trip was, overall, tense, and it's with great relief that Corrin returns to Elysium, feeling the weight lift off his shoulders when they spot the vague, towering shape of Castle Avalon in the distance.

It is to relative fanfare and pomp that they return, the citizens lining up on the streets to catch a glimpse of him—he'd heard about the influx of Vallite refugees, so their curiosity and awe doesn't surprise him. Azura is waiting for him at the gates of the castle, and he almost jumps off his horse to run to her, kissing her and laughing. Nestor is standing by her side, smiling. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Felicia and Mozu move to greet Kaze and Silas.

They fill him in on the ambassador from Nestra and the work Nestor and Azura have done for the coronation. Most everything is finished and with a little luck it'll be held in two weeks; actually a few days after his twenty-first birthday. He thanks the chamberlain for his skill and dedication in managing castle affairs, then tells a few servants to prepare a quiet dinner for himself and Azura; he's missed her badly, and he just wants to bask in her company alone.

He also needs to tell her about his father. It would be wrong to propose before she knows the whole truth of what she's getting into.

Jakob and Flora prepare the meal together and serve it in a solar—steak with chutney, creamy bean soup, and giant shrimp drizzled in honey. Corrin's mouth is watering just smelling it, and he and Azura dig in with relish. First they chat of national matters; the upcoming coronation, the reluctant nobles, the Vallite's happy adjustment to their new home. Then their talks turns to the personal; Azura tells him about her slow-building friendships with Felicia and Mozu, and he smiles broadly and clasps her hand across the table, genuinely happy that soon other people will see her for the wonderful woman she is.

As the duo brings out the strawberry pudding for dessert, Corrin decides it's time. He waits for them to leave, then leans forward across the table, meeting Azura's gaze evenly. "Azura, I'm ready to tell you what was bothering me now."

She lowers her spoon, bits of pudding clinging to it. "Yes, love?"

"Shortly before we left the astral plane, Selena, Laslow and Odin came to speak to me, and they told me…Anankos was my father." Azura's eyes widen, but she says nothing, trusting that he'll explain himself. And he does, giving her an abbreviated version of what he's learned so far.

When he's finished, Azura quickly rises from her chair. For half a second he's certain she's about to leave and his heart stutters, but instead she crosses to his side of the table. She bends to be eye-level with him; one hand rises to caress his cheek, and he leans into the familiar contact.

"I love you," she finally says after a long moment of silence. "The identity of your sire doesn't change who you are—the kind, wonderful man who reached out to me when no one else did, who worked tirelessly to unite two enemy nations. I could never think less of you, or stop loving you."

He lets out a shaky breath. "Thank you." The two simple words seem insufficient to hold how relieved and grateful he feels right then and there. Still, a thorn of uncertainty and fear pokes at him.

Azura's eyes search his. "What's really wrong?" she asks softly, and he inadvertently chuckles; he can never hide things from her.

"I'm afraid," he murmurs. "Of what people will say or do if they find out, of what…what could happen to me." Unconsciously, his hand moves to ghost over his dragonstone, still hidden beneath his tunic like a dirty secret.

He still has nightmares, sometimes, about what he did in Shirasagi that day. The blind fury that had overtaken him, the rampant destruction he'd caused. The buildings and bodies alike crumbled and the blood on his hands when he'd changed back. The feel of Azura's throat, pulse fluttering weakly with life, in his grip. Sometimes his nightmares don't stop there, but go into what if scenarios, where her voice didn't call him out of his rage and he choked her to death and moved on to his siblings and—

"Corrin?" A faint tone of concern is in Azura's voice, breaking through the sharp, painful memories.

"Sorry," he says, shaking the images out of his head. "I just…I don't want to end up like him." The war had distracted the Hoshidans from what he'd done, but he's never forgotten. And with recent developments, he can't stop comparing, in his mind's eye, what'd he done in Shirasagi to what Anankos had done to Valla.

Her eyes soften. "In terms of going evil or going mad? You would never become the former; it's just not in your nature. As for the latter…" she sighs, "I wish I could promise that you won't, but I don't know what it's like to be a dragon. I don't know what madness haunts dragonkin, or if it will plague you too. All I can promise is that I, and all your siblings and friends, will never let you go through it alone. And perhaps that will make all the difference."

Corrin sighs and rests his forehead against hers. "Thank you," he repeats, "Your support and your love mean so much to me."

She hums softly, that familiar tune she sang so often in the war. He lets his eyes slide shut to listen to the lovely sound.

Never, he silently vows as he soaks in the comfort of Azura's presence, I will never end up like you, Anankos. I swear it.

Guests for the coronation start to trickle in over the next few days, and the other countries begin sending representatives. Nestra's ambassador, Abdul, is there in lieu of the queen, and the new daimyo of Mokushu opts not to attend, sending a nervous-looking delegate instead (Corrin's not surprised by the wariness, given that his army had killed the previous ruler, even if they'd been attacked first). Kohga is too new for Shura to afford to leave, but he sends a courier with his regards and apologies for not being able to attend. Notre Sagesse, Cheve, and the tribes have people on the way as well.

His siblings will be among the last to arrive—they'd chosen to attend themselves rather than sending someone in their place, so they'd needed a bit longer to finish setting things in order at home. Takumi is the first to arrive, three days before the event, with word that Ryoma and Elise aren't far behind him. He'd just chosen to ride ahead.

"Couldn't wait to see us again, huh, brother?" Hinoka teases, hugging him warmly when he steps inside the entrance hall.

"The castle grounds are surprisingly quiet without the sound of you beating up training dummies in the morning," is all he deigns to say, before turning to embrace Azura and Corrin in turn.

"How're things in Hoshido?" Corrin asks as he releases his brother.

Takumi sighs. "A mess. Nohr pushed pretty far into the country while we were gone in Valla; a lot of the land is wrecked. Most of the feudal lords think the peace is a Nohrian trick, and are pressing Ryoma to charge Nohr now. And that's not even getting into the people's reaction to Princess Elise."

"They haven't hurt her, have they?"

"Of course not," the prince hastens to reassure him, "Between Ryoma, me, and her retainers, she's always with someone trusted. Still…most only tolerate her presence."

"Sakura tells me her luck is little better in Nohr," Azura murmurs. "They didn't take as much damage as Hoshido, but they're just as bitter and suspicious. And the court is worse than Hoshido's, though Xander and Leo are doing their best to reign the nobles in."

"Hopefully, everyone will be too tired from the war to try—" Hinoka starts, before a loud call from the guard by the front door interrupts her.

"Presenting Archduke Izana of Izumo and his envoy!"

The four of them wheel around to see a familiar, blonde, alive archduke walk through the doors, several men and women in tow. "Hey there!" he greets, waving cheerily at the royals as he approaches.

Corrin subtly pinches himself to make sure he's not dreaming. Azura's expression doesn't change at all except for a slight widening of her eyes. Takumi's face drains of all color at an interesting rate. Hinoka looks back and forth between them, a little baffled at their reactions.

Izana wiggles his fingers, his grin covering his entire face. "Prince Takumi of Hoshido, you have failed in your duties to help your brother! I, the Great Izana, have come back from the grave just to haunt you!" He starts laughing. "Nah, I'm kidding, I'm alive."

"Duke Izana?" Corrin says in disbelief.

"That's my name, don't wear it out!" he responds brightly. "How've you been? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

"You were dead!" Takumi finally yells, stabbing a finger at Izana. "We saw your body!"

The blonde snorts, waving a hand dismissively. "Oh, please. I'm a master spellcaster! A bit of magic here, an enchantment there, and all of a sudden it looks like I'm dying! One of my finest pieces of work, if I do say so myself."

Takumi gapes openly as Izana continues, with a little laugh, "I mean, honestly, I talk to the gods all the time! A little message like that won't give me more than just a headache. More than that, my current heir is some second cousin, and he's boring. No sense of humor. I can't die and leave Izumo in his hands." Izana shakes his head in mock—or real? It's hard to tell with him—despair.

"I have so many questions right now," Hinoka mutters to Azura under her breath.

As she quietly begins to fill the falcon knight in on the events at Izumo, Corrin asks the only question that can come to mind. "Why would you fake your death?"

Izana shrugs his shoulders and lifts his hands in a 'what can you do' gesture. "Well, your brother was being super-super-stubborn about not helping you. So I gave him a bit of an incentive to get him to go along. Nothing like good ol' guilt to motivate you, am I right?" He laughs again.

"Dying isn't funny!" Takumi snaps.

"I never said it was. But the fate of the world was at stake, so I did what I had to do. Now," Izana claps his hands together, cutting Takumi off mid-protest, "it's been a long trip, and my hair is frizzing. Frizzing," he emphasizes, as though frizzing was the worst thing that could happen to an individual, "So I hope you can direct me and my buddies to a place to drop off our piles of luggage, then it's off to the bathhouse!"

Corrin snaps himself out of his surprise. "Of course. Nestor, could you please show the Izumites to their chambers?" As his chamberlain bows and begins to usher them away, the prince steps forward and offers Izana a hand. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you're still alive." Even if it is hard to follow what you say sometimes.

Izana grasps his hand and shakes it enthusiastically, almost pulling his arm out of its socket. "And I'm very glad to still be alive!"

A/N: Corrin's birthday is July 10, to help give everyone a timeframe, and the coronation will be a few days after that. I'm a bit wary about using real-life month names when they aren't used in the game itself, so I generally don't.

Next chapter is the coronation, and that's when the plot will start to get moving—this was the last "set-up" chapter. The groundwork for almost everything I have planned for the rest of the fic has been laid out in these five chapters.

And yeah, Izana's alive. His death was sudden and contrived in the game, and I've heard several plausible theories about how he faked it. Keeping him dead would throw Izumo into political turmoil, which I don't want to deal with, and I like Izana, so he lives! He's kind of hard to write though.

Name origins:

Jamila and Abdul: The only Nestrian we meet in the game is Layla. Since her name is Arabic, that's what I used for a basis for other Nestrian names and culture, even though Cyrkensia looks like it takes inspiration from Venice. No reason it can't be influenced by both, right?