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[An extract from the memoirs of the tactician Robin.]
Finding Noire was a remarkable experience. Coming as it did hard on the heels of finding Morgan, it felt rather like being rewarded for something in some obscure way. To come across two daughters who were so vibrant and skilled in such a short space of time made me more proud than I can possibly express.
I must confess that I never quite understood Noire’s talisman. My initial assumption was that the talisman itself had little or no effect, and that the sudden apparent changes in her personality were in fact the expression of a deep reservoir of courage which lay within her, and which was so contrary to her nature that she behaved like a different person when displaying it. Subsequent observations lessened my confidence in that hypothesis, but I have never been able to get a straight answer from Tharja on the matter.
***
Tharja sighed in frustration, not for the first time. Honestly, how long could people spend crowing over yet another new addition to the camp? With all of these children showing up, it seemed like all the Shepherds did in the future was die and procreate. Which made sense, she supposed; after all, it was probably what she would do if faced with certain death. In fact, now there was compelling evidence that it was exactly what she had done in a different timeline.
The truth was, she felt for once she could understand people’s excitement a little. After all, the new arrival was her daughter. It was only natural that people would be enraptured by someone who came from such stock. Besides, the girl had her… quirks. Which was precisely the reason Tharja had been lurking in her tent for the last hour. This demanded investigation.
Finally, she heard footsteps outside the tent. The tent flap was pushed aside by Robin, who stopped mid-sentence upon seeing his wife. He stared at her for a moment, before nodding and turning away, whereupon Noire herself entered the tent, giving a small start at the sight of her mother emerging from the shadows (Tharja thought that if there were anything she’d be used to, it’d be this, but never mind). Morgan started to enter, chattering about something, but her father grabbed her shoulder and gently pulled her out.
Noire stared at her mother a moment before speaking. “I…I suppose we didn’t get much of a chance to talk, did we? What with… everything.”
Tharja surveyed her coolly. “No. But I did see you in battle, which is better. You’ve got some real skill.”
Noire blushed, which was odd, given how thoroughly Tharja had been understating her incredible, deadly accuracy. “Th-thank you. I’m never sure about it, though. I mean, how much of it is me, and how much is… this.”
Her fingers went to the talisman around her neck. Tharja stared at it with naked lust.
“Yes…that. That’s just what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Noire frowned. “I don’t really know how much I can tell you. I mean… you never told me much about how you made it, or…”
Tharja shook her head. “No, it’s not that. I can’t deny that it’ll help my experiments, but I’ll figure that out for myself. I need to know what it does. What it does to you.”
She leaned forward, a wide smile on her face, and her daughter recoiled slightly.
“It…well, you saw, didn’t you? It… changes me.”
“Changes you how? That tells me nothing. Is it bringing out some latent part of you? Are you carrying around two personalities all the time? Is it manufacturing another version of you? You must have some idea.”
Noire looked genuinely frightened now. Every word seemed to be dragged from her by force. “Well, it’s… when I’m wearing it, I can always feel it… feel her… but I can’t just bring it out. It’s like… losing control.”
“So it’s triggered by strong emotions?” Tharja couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. She’d hoped the talisman was some kind of incredibly powerful artifact that turned her daughter into a different person entirely, and now it turned out it just amplified emotions like any street corner wizard could. But, wait… that meant…
“So it all comes from you, then? It’s not giving you power, it’s drawing on your own power.”
Noire seemed shocked. “Er… maybe? You… never said that to me before...”
“It makes sense,” Tharja said in a low voice, mainly for her own benefit. “Dark magic is based in emotion; that’s why it’s inherent rather than learned. But to be able to alter someone so completely…” She smiled. “That other Tharja knew what she was doing. She must have sensed something in you. Like your father. Something inherent. Hard to grasp, but… potent.”
Noire stared. This didn’t seem to be something she had ever heard about before. “Something like… what?”
Tharja simply stared at the talisman.
“There’s something else I’ve been wondering about. Why did you become an archer? Doesn’t seem like something that runs in the family.”
Noire unslung her bow from over her shoulder and gazed at it, running her hand slowly down it like a caress. She did this for several moments before speaking.
“Father used to read us all these stories… legends, histories, it didn’t really matter. Stories of great heroes and battles. Morgan loved them all, of course; she wanted to hear about the leaders and how they’d outsmarted their enemies. But they were never the ones that interested me. Every story had a few people who were just ordinary soldiers, fighting for their homes and for the people they loved. Usually they stood just behind the front lines, supporting their friends however they could. They were barely even in the stories, but I used to recite their names like a mantra to give me courage: Norne… Rebecca… Rolf… Wolt.”
Tharja was fascinated. She hadn’t imagined her timid daughter could speak for so long at once, and without hesitation, but it was as though Noire wasn’t even aware of her presence.
“So then, after Father disappeared, we coped in different ways. You became obsessed with revenge, and spent all your time inventing horrible new curses.” Tharja felt a surge of admiration for her other self. “Morgan threw herself into studying strategy, as if she could fill the hole by becoming him. But I remembered those stories. I wanted to be like those people who didn’t care about politics or power or any of it, who just wanted to protect their families and friends. Father had picked up an old bow somewhere in his travels, so I took that up and started practicing. Every arrow I fired at the old stump near where we lived…” Suddenly her posture and voice entirely altered. “EVERY ONE WAS INTENDED FOR THE BLACK HEARTS OF THE FIENDS WHO DARED TO HARM MY ILLUSTRIOUS FATHER!” She gave a start as she returned to normal, and almost fell over.
Tharja grinned. “You see? Even that kind of recollection draws out your power. That’s not another personality; it’s an expression of your strength and passion. Normally you lock it up, but the talisman lets it burst free. It’s beautiful.”
Tears were beginning to form in Noire’s eyes. “So… I mean, you’re not… ashamed of me?”
“Ashamed? What could give you such a stupid idea? Your pure power is overwhelming. It’s perfect.” She frowned. “I do have some work to do, though.”
“What kind of work?”
“I need to draw out your power properly. Make you less reliant on that talisman. We’ll be an unstoppable mother-daughter team.”
Noire gave the slight jerk that heralded a transformation. “YES, MOTHER! WE WILL BE DARK AVATARS OF DESTRUCTION AND RETRIBUTION!”
Tharja nodded in satisfaction. “See? I knew you were the perfect daughter.”