AN: My apologies for how long this chapter has taken me. I know it's not an excuse, but I've just been distracted with other things. That said, I'm gonna try my best to be more conscientious about working on this fic. Thank you to everyone who left a review last time

"What's With This Sassy…Lonely Princess?"

Chapter 6: Bonds of Blood

(Three Months After Kiran's Summoning to Askr)

The Imperial Princess of Embla stood at the edge of the woods surrounding an Askran outpost on the border between the two nations. Before her, a host of legendary warriors robbed from their various worlds, glared back. Verdant flames flowed like water around her hands as her eyes burned with a crimson gleam, like the promise of bloodshed, as she called upon the arcane magics that bound the outworlders to her in thralldom. Her soldiers stood at the ready, weapons bristling as they readied themselves to defend their lady to the last should the foreigners attempt an attack on her.

"How cute." Her voice was dry, paying no heed to the lance that was leveled at her. "My little toy is throwing a tantrum! But you know you're powerless to defy me," she mocked. "If you don't do what I ask of you, I'll force you to put Eirika to death." Not but a moment ago had she ordered the royal siblings of Renais to prove the strength of their bond to her, something which the prince had, at first, refused.

Ephraim fell silent at the threat, wrestling down the wrath which blossomed in his breast and told him to run the witchling before him through with brilliant Siegmund's blade. The spear-prince knew full well, however, that at their distance, he would fall sway to her foul witchcraft far before his lance could cover the gap. He would not be the cause of his own sister's death. Her blood he would not have on his hands.

"But," Veronica continued smugly, "if you obey my next order like a good toy soldier, I'll set you and your sister free." He brusquely asked her what she wanted. "Love is small and frail. Prove me wrong. Show me that your love is bold and unbreakable. Then I'll release you two from my contract." She turned her smouldering gaze upon the fortress.

"Simple enough," Ephraim said, smoothing out the features of his face once more.

"B-Brother?" Eirika asked worriedly, finally speaking up. "What are you planning to..."

"Oh, you two. Just go figure it out," Veronica said dismissively, fully expecting this assault on her foes' fortress to go just as easy as all her previous conquests. "Now, as for my other toys here..."

The prince of Renais took to the field followed by an array of other Heroes bound to Veronica's will, Eirika; Elise and Leo from Nohr in the World of Conquest; and Chrom and Lucina of Ylisse, in the World of Awakening. Each of these extradimensional warriors was backed by a unit of Emblian troops, making this the largest military action Veronica had taken against Askr in the past three months since Kiran's arrival.

Unfortunately for Princess Veronica, Fate had other plans for her this day and the Fortunes of War were no longer in her favour.

Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of a small warband dressed in white and gold livery marching towards them from the opposite side of the stronghold. Her lips quirked downwards, frowning at this interference.

"Hmm? It seems that someone's come to interrupt us. Go take care of that, will you?" she ordered her warriors, causing them to turn towards the oncoming foe.

Unfortunately for the princess, the stiff opposition her forces met with ensured that this engagement would not go quite so easily as she had originally planned. The Drakenblut boiled hard and fast in her veins, causing her pupils to narrow into cold, reptilian slits. It lent her skin a feverish red sheen as she worked her ancient magics, spitting forth long lost words in the Old Tongue were as she poured her anger into her spellwork. Wrath was given form by her sorcery, that most mighty of Emblian Seiðr, the Eleven Waves of Élivágar.

"Ár þær, er kallaðar eru Élivágar, þá er þær váru svá langt komnar frá uppsprettum, at eitrkvika sú, er þar fylgði, harðnaði svá sem sindr þat, er renn ór eldinum, þá varð þat íss. Ok þá er sá íss gaf staðar ok rann eigi, þá hélði yfir þannig, en úr þat, er af stóð eitrinu, fraus at hrími, ok jók hrímit hvert yfir annat allt í Ginnungagap!"*

With each word she spoke, the runes in her tome glowed a bright green, calling forth streams of poisonous ice that bit into the men that guarded the Askrian stronghold there. Quailed they before her might like so many lambs 'fore a starving wolf then. Their screams pierced the air as they fell before the sorcerous onslaught, limbs turning purple from wretched frostbite.

From across the battlefield, Kiran scowled as he heard the cries of pain, and directed his dragon detachment to combat the icy streams with their flames. The entire cohort, led by Tiki the Elder and her younger counterpart flew towards the princess, their combined breath weapons managing to beat back Veronica's magic and grant some succor to the men behind them.

As their respective hosts did battle, Veronica happened to look across the battlefield to meet Kiran's gaze, only to gasp in surprise, unbeknownst to all, even herself, as she saw the look of quiet fury in his eyes, which were normally so gentle and warm. Though they met only for a brief moment in the tumult of battle, this change in his gaze slammed into her like an iron mace. She looked away, trying to focus once more on the battle, but saw only her forces being routed by the Heroes at Kiran's command.

The Askran soldiers fell back to their fortress as the rest of the Order of Heroes faced down Veronica's men in the surrounding woods, where a pitched battle took place between the two sides. Kiran found his forces quickly bogged down by Leon and Elise's twin Gravity effects, leaving them easy pickings for the rest of Veronica's Heroes, and he knew he had to do something soon lest they be surrounded on all sides. Calling Nowi towards him, Kiran asked her to make off towards the Nohrian siblings and focus on the cavalier mage. She shrugged off most of Leo's attacks, batting them away with wing and tail, and shot back at him with her Lightning Breath as Cordelia followed right behind her, swooping in and out atop her pegasus mount to distract the pair of siblings.

Kiran's archers busied themselves by sniping at Eirika and Ephraim from behind the safety of the southern wall separating them as Merric, Caeda, and Marth flanked them and kept the bowmen safe.

Nowi and the other dragons withdrew as Chrom and Lucina, brandishing their twin Falchion blades, arrived from the northwest. The Order's ranks formed up again, this time with the lancers at their head, led by Caeda after she defeated the princess of Renais.

"No!" Veronica groaned in frustration. This was a terrible position to be in—left with nothing but light infantry and nothing in the way of ranged support. There was no way she could salvage the situation now. "Why can't I ever get what I want? All of you," she yelled, turning to her soldiers, "fall back and escape through that gateway!" The princess turned her back on the battlefield, shoulders slumped as she muttered to herself. "There's no need to fight for me until the bitter end. Then I'd be all alone again..."

Before stepping through the portal herself, Veronica turned to look at Kiran one last time, and flinched at the disappointment in his dark eyes…

The criminal blades of an icy hoarfrost gripped Veronica's heart as she stepped through the gateway back to her home, the memory of the Summoner's gaze lancing through her like cold lightning as she thought about how he had dismissed her.

The wind howled through hollows of her keep which had never before felt so lonely and bleak. The gray light that filtered in through the windows foretold rain.

Veronica trudged through the dark and stony halls of the Imperial Palace, arms hanging limply at her sides. All strength had fled from her limbs at Kiran's glare, and she felt a keen emptiness from within like a hollow sea.

Why?

Why was it that Kiran's expression had struck her so, she wondered for a moment, before a righteous indignation flared up in her breast.

What right did he even have to be disappointed at her—the Imperial Princess and heir to the throne of the greatest kingdom of men in all the Nine Worlds? Who was he to dare, to presume such impertinence?

And…why was it that his reaction affected her so?

She whispered to herself as she drifted through countless dark and shadowed passageways, a silvery wraith. "It's all so lost on me...sisters and brothers...families... All of it's so..."

The princess let out a little sigh, dainty as could be, as she made her way towards her apartments in the Inner Palace. She entered her salon and took a seat near the fireplace, absentmindedly gesturing for a servant to bring her refreshment. Her sharp, finely-shaped chin rested primly atop the back of her left hand as she stared unblinkingly into the fire that burnt in the chamber's hearth.

A familiar voice greeted her, breaking her from her fugue with its deep tone.

"Hello, Veronica."

The princess' head snapped up to see her own brother standing before her.

"Oh, welcome back. Where did you disappear to?" she asked, trying to keep the loneliness out of her voice.

"I'm looking for something. And I'm afraid that I've got to be leaving again soon," he said quietly, causing Veronica's heart to once again sink in despair.

"Oh, you! How tedious," she remarked, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. "Well, as long as I have you, how about we have a tea party? I've got a fresh pot right here." She fought to keep her voice even, hoping she didn't sound too needy.

Unfortunately (or perhaps not) for her, her brother heard the plea in her words and a pang of guilt budded in his heart, even as a peal of thunder rumbled in the distance, heralding the storm.

"A cup of tea would be nice. Please, just one though," he said as he took a seat across from her, all the servants having long disappeared from the chamber at his orders.

"Here you go. Is it good? Too hot? Too weak?" his sister asked, her cool facade almost giving way to the worries she hid beneath.

The prince breathed in the floral perfume wreathing the steam that wafted off the surface of his cup before he took a sip.

Elderflowers and roses…Interesting.

"It's perfect. Thank you, Veronica," he answered before taking a deep breath. "Now, may I ask, have you recently..." he began to ask, before his voice trailed off, unsure of how to word his question.

"Have I what?"

"Have you felt odd lately?" he finally asked her. "Like you were being controlled...by someone else?"

"Odd?" Veronica wondered. "What do you mean, odd? I don't know. I don't think so?"

Her brother seemed to ponder her answer as he raised his cup to his mouth. "Hmm. Good."

Suddenly, Veronica remembered a little detail that it seemed she had forgotten to tell him about. "Though now that you mention it, I do sometimes hear a voice."

Her brother's motions stilled. He sat up stiffly, body tensed as though he would leap out of his chair and pounce on some unseen prey at any moment. He fixed her with his gaze, the bronze mask on his face doing nothing to hide the lightning that flashed behind its dark depths. "A voice, you say?" he asked grimly.

"Mmm-hmm. It says...kill. And then I want to," she said, cheerily, a sense of smug satisfaction uncoiling in the pit of her stomach as the Dragon's Blood spread through her veins.

"…"

He stared at her silently.

"Now, won't you stay for another cup of tea? Pretty please?" she asked, her true feelings once again coming to the fore. Suddenly, much to her brother's surprise, Veronica's cheeks took on a slightly rosy hue as she averted her gaze, pondering how best to word this…

"Do…do you have anyone you like?" she asked shyly.

He almost choked on his tea.

AN:

* This is a passage from Verse 5 of the 'Gylfaginning' ("The Tricking of Gylfi"), the first part of the Old Norse scripture, the Prose Edda by Snorri Sturluson, after the Prologue, and describes the nature of the eleven rivers known as Élivágar. The translation (Arthur Gilchrist Brodeur, Ph.D., 1916) is as follows:

"The streams called Ice-waves, those which were so long come from the fountain-heads that the yeasty venom upon them had hardened like the slag that runs out of the fire,-these then became ice; and when the ice halted and ceased to run, then it froze over above. But the drizzling rain that rose from the venom congealed to rime, and the rime increased, frost over frost, each over the other, even into Ginnungagap, the Yawning Void."