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It was a peaceful and starry night when Zola confronted Corrin. She sat and relaxed under a cherry blossom tree when he approached her.
“Why did you save me?” Zola had asked.
She smiled.
“Why?”
The former Nohrian princess stood up and walked over to the mage. She put a hand on his shoulder.
“Your bravery at the opera house contrasted very much with what people usually say about you,” Corrin responded. “That shows how much you care.”
“But I was going to forsake your friends!” Zola countered. “Even your family.” Surely even a person as kind as her won’t stand for that.
“That much is true,” Corrin replied, slightly more seriously. “But I haven’t lost hope in you. I believe you can be changed.”
“Changed?” Zola was incredulous.
“Yes. Whether you see it or not, I’m beginning to see something in you.”
“If I’m not mistaken, young Corrin, you have been isolated in the Northern Fortress for most of the past twenty-one years of your life. How do I know that the ‘changes’ you probably see are not fabrications of your naivety?”
“I know it’s foolish, but call it a knowing feeling.”
With that, she stood up and left for her treehouse. Zola watched, and slowly, he shook his head. He sighed.
“Well, princess, let us hope this feeling doesn’t hurt you. I would hate for that to happen.”
The illusionist, who usually indulged in mischief and puns, fell silent.
Whether he knew it or not, and whether he liked it or not, he was starting to grow fond of the princess.
Maybe it’ll get to the point where he might as well just start to change for her.