The Northern Fortress is a dour place, with long shadows, thick, impenetrable walls that keep the cold in and the heat out, and no sound but the high screeching of winter winds under its warped oaken doors.

Camilla has never been to this place, but her elder brother comes often in his training.  The Northern Fortress is a place of rumors and nightmares; Camilla shivers slightly as she remembers the tales she once told tiny Leon on the long, humid nights of autumn when her young sibling could not sleep – the same ones Marx had once told her.  The stories whispered of the Northern Fortress claim it is filled with bogeys and sentient shadows and Camilla can see quite easily where these tales come from; the Fortress is truly an imposing spectacle on its own, but even more so on this night, with its great hall filled from wall to wall with countless soldiers and three members the Nohrian royal family.

“Camilla” her father’s familiar voice is more severe than she ever remembers hearing it and Camilla straightens her back instinctively even as she cowers slightly.  It is the first time he addresses her this evening, but her father is often busy and Camilla understands her responsibility as Princess.

“Father.” Camilla smiles and for a moment the rest of the world comes to a halt as he focuses his attention on her.

“This child -” Her father guides a very small creature forward towards Camilla until it stumbles and falls into the older girl’s arms.  The bundle is covered in what appears to be a brown hempen sack and the creature inside tries to draw away, but is too weak and fragile. Camilla holds it firmly as her father finishes “- will be staying here with us.  Take care of her.”

As her father turns away to speak with Marx and an advisor, Camilla finds herself breathing heavily with anticipation and excitement at the trust her father gives her at taking care of a guest.  There is a brief flash of confusion as to why she is selected for the duty, but the thought gets nowhere before the servants begin pushing and tugging the two females through the mass of soldiers into the silent halls, lit only by the flicker of torches.
The “child” Camilla is assigned, if it can be called such, is filthy from what appears to be long days of riding, with dirt smears all over her cheeks and crushed in her hair.  The girl’s hair is filled with tangles and slightly matted; her nails are short with some unknown substance caked beneath them.  The dirty child tries to wear a brave face as she is pulled alongside Camilla, but the Nohrian can see the clear trails tears had made through the dust on younger girl’s cheeks.    What strikes Camilla most are the strange, foreign eyes, of a color no Nohrian naturally exhibits.

It does not take long for Camilla, the servants, and the strange girl to arrive at their destination; Camilla is unfamiliar with the layout of the fortress, but even she knows where they are by the warm, humid air with a mixed tangy smell of sulfur and smoke.
The large door shudders closed behind the group and for a moment no one moves, the only sounds in the room are the soft lapping of water and the sobs of the girl.   Camilla pushes the filthy child forward away from her and the little girl approaches the servants obediently, head tilted down to her chest to hide herself.  The efficient females immediately begin doing what they do best: stripping the girl and scrubbing her.

“Stop.” The child whimpers over and over as the servants remove her clothing, struggling as best she can against the larger, more powerful adults. The girl’s heavy foreign accent makes her speech almost impossible to decipher as the despairing words slur together; her young age and obviously limited vocabulary only compound the problem.

 “I want to go home.” She continues and feebly wraps her arms around herself and leans over in an effort to defend herself.  “Please, please-“ Her words are cut off as she is lifted from the ground and dunked into the warm bathing pool repeatedly until the only sounds she is capable of making are harsh coughs from inhaling water.

“Enough.”  Camilla’s voice is firm as she attempts to emulate her father’s tone and is satisfied with the results.  The servants immediately halt their dunking at the young Princess’s command and leave the small girl into the water.  Tasting a small bit of freedom, the child immediately curls up on the stair, her entire body up to her chin under the water.  “Father told me to care for her.  Go away!”

Obediently following the command of the oldest royal daughter, the servants remove themselves from the sides of the pool, leaving clean clothing and grooming tools as the only evidence of their former presence.

“I’m Camilla. What’s your name?”  The princess continues once the two are alone in the bathing chambers.

Prolonged silence marred only by raspy breaths are Camilla’s only answers.  Unused to her orders going unfulfilled by those younger than her and frustrated at the child’s refusal to communicate, Camilla’s annoyance rises and she clenches her fists.  It is only when she sees the pale-haired girl trembling violently and cowering fear that Camilla again calms; the poor thing must have been through so much, she muses, and her heart fills with pity.

Before she can second guess herself, Camilla pulls her dress over her head, not caring that she tears it in the process.  She tugs off her petticoats and undergarments and throws them to the side until she is as nude as the child below her and jumps into the deeper end of the bath and swims over as close to the small child as she can get.

The warm water, dirtied by the muck and filth that had previously covered the child, laps between them and steams the air.  If the little girl was capable, she would have turned her skin inside-out to get away from Camilla, but the older girl has none of it, and continually presses closer until there is no distance between them. The princess’s arms encircle the shivering girl in a stiff hug.
Camilla is unsure how long they stay like that, but when she finally pulls away both of their skin is covered with wrinkles.   She leaves the pool only for a moment in order to pick up the wash and brush so that she can finish the work the servants had left her.  With the child calmer and no longer crying, Camilla is able to guide her so that the young girl’s back faces her chest.

Unable to hold back her cringe at the mess of hair, Camilla bites her tongue and pours inordinate amounts of wash into the clumps, until the oil drips down the child’s back and Camilla’s chest.  She hesitates for only a moment before pushing her hands into the oil and tangles and massaging it over and through her scalp, only to stop at the strangest sight she had ever seen.

“Your ears.” Camilla blurts out before she can stop herself.

“W-what?” Is the first word the child ever speaks directly to the Princess.  Camilla immediately regrets her words at the hurt in the younger girl’s voice and bites her lip, unsure of how to take them back.

“They’re cute.” Camilla corrects herself with the first thing to come to mind. The girl in front of her turns her head and eyes the princess, at first affronted, but when the older girl offers a smile, the offense quickly turns into a deep blush and a shy smile, even as she covers her ears as best she can. Camilla returns to washing the child’s hair, very pleased with her now-smiling success.

“You’re pretty.”  The young girl finally speaks to her elder, once the grime is washed from her hair and they are out of the bath drying themselves.   Camilla is surprised at the softness of her voice after the screeching and fear she previously exhibited.

Camilla’s heart warms; it feels just like when Leon gives her hugs and tells her he loves her.  A blush rises on Camilla’s own face and she quickly pulls down the white nightclothes over the girl’s head. “Now you’re pretty, too.”  Camilla smiles at the young girl; it’s not a lie.  The older girl ruffles the younger’s hair “Just like a princess.”

“I’m Kamui.” The young child finally confesses, grasping her hands together tightly and blushing.  Camilla weaves her elbow into the young Kamui’s and pulls the newly-groomed child towards the door to find out where her assigned chambers are.

“Don’t worry, Kamui, I’ll protect you.  Nothing’s ever going to hurt you. I’m your big sister now.”