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“Hey Laslow, why do ya wear that ring around your neck?”
Laslow froze for a moment, pausing in sharpening his sword, and was suddenly extremely aware of the feeling of his wedding ring against his skin. Prince Xander paused in his own maintenance of his shield to look at his retainer with a curious gaze.
“I had been wondering the same thing. I’ve never seen you without it.”
“Ah,” Laslow gulped, an uneasy grin on his face, “It’s a family heirloom. It’s my mother’s wedding wing. She left it to me when she died.” It wasn’t a complete lie-he had kept his mother’s ring with him, tied to the inside of his shield near the grip to keep her in his mind. Peri seemed to buy it, happily going back to her lance with a whetstone, but Xander’s eyes narrowed.
“Your mother has remarkably large fingers for a woman then. That ring looks like it would fit your fingers, Laslow.” The prince tilted his head, “So is it truly your mother’s ring?”
Laslow withered under his liege's gaze, and his shoulders slumped. There was no point lying to Xander. He was too sharp to fool. “It’s mine, my lord. A parting gift from...an important partner of mine from my homeland.” The words felt heavy in his mouth, and he prayed that Xander would find the explanation good enough. It was a tense moment before Xander went back to polishing his shield and Laslow went back to sharpening his blade.
“I have been thinking, Laslow. You’ve been good to me. And to the war effort against Hoshido. I’ve noticed your sword is getting a fair bit less sturdy. Would you mind if I commissioned you a new one?” Xander offered, never taking his eyes off his shield.
Laslow smiled up at the crown prince and nodded. “I’d be honored, my lord.”
--
Later, in his chambers, Inigo took the ring off the chain he wore on his neck and slipped it back on his left ring finger, breathing a long sigh of relief as he relished the feeling. It had been familiar-but the past 8 years had worn on his memories.This small nightly ritual helped remind him of home. Of who he really was.
Inigo.
He was Inigo.
He squeezed his eyes shut to fight the tears at the faint memory of Lucina’s soft smile as she whispered his name early in the morning and late at night. It was more than just a matter of memory though. The tactile feeling of the ring grounded him. His home wasn’t some far away false land. It was real and his past was real.
He sucked in a shuddering breath, and slipped the ring off again to slide it back on it’s chain. He laid his weapons and armor aside and slipped into a dreamless sleep.
--
“I’ve noticed something about you, dancing queen,” Niles drawled one day while they were riding to their next objective, a rare moment where the two crown princes were working together. “You’re rather hesitant to dive head on into a battle, aren’t you?”
Laslow cocked an eyebrow at the former thief, taking in the lazy smirk on his face, and the teasing glint in the one visible eye. “It would be unworthy of me to rush headlong into a situation I haven’t assessed. I wouldn’t dare shame Lord Xander that way.” He replied, plastering a grin on his face.
“Ah but see, there’s a difference between thinking about tactics and just plain fear.” Niles pointed out, as he leaned forward. His smirk grew predatory. “You’re afraid to die, aren’t you?”
Laslow felt his blood chill and he opened his mouth to deny it-but the thief had already ridden ahead to go to Leo’s side. His heart began to pound, and his face flushed in embarrassment. Was it true? Had he been hesitating?
The ring pressed against his chest felt like a hot coal.
Of course he had no wish to die. He needed to return home. But it would do no good if he could not be trusted in the job he had here. Staying by Lord Xander’s side allowed him to keep an eye on Corrin as the war progressed, and he had made a promise.
Still.
His thoughts wandered to the thoughts of Lucina’s timid smile as they swayed together while dancing and his blood chilled at the thought of never seeing that again.
--
It was a bloody battle, fought in the field. Lord Xander had been correct about his blade-it had grown weak. Laslow realized this a moment too late as he brought it up to block a raider axe headed towards his head. His blade buckled and snapped at the hilt and it was only the years of hardened battle instincts that stopped his head from getting snapped clean off as well. Instead his shoulder bore the brunt of the attack, the blade crunching against his collarbone.
Dimly Laslow had the thought that he might get sick from the sound, but it was over-compassed by the overwhelming pain that erupted from the wound. His throat clogged with bile and blood as he attempted to scream. His legs failed him as he collapsed to the field with a pitiful gurgle. He desperately pressed his working arm to the wound, fingers growing slick with blood already.
His vision swam with stars and was starting to blur around the edges. He heard his name called out across the field-Odin’s voice cutting through the haze like a razor. Laslow gritted his teeth and pressed on the wound even harder, wishing his other arm wouldn’t hang so limply so it could help.
Father fell in battle like this. I wonder what he thought of as he died?
Laslow’s brain started to run in overtime, the fear of death closing in around him as voices rushed towards him.
I can’t die. Lucina’s waiting for me.
The feeling of Lucina’s hair slipping through his fingers as they lay in bed together. Her laughter when he spins her around a tavern’s floor to the beat of the music. Her smile when he tells her how much she means to him. Her fingers against his face as she kisses him goodbye. Her voice whispering for him to return in one piece.
Tears sprung to his eyes, and he whimpered out in pain as a pair of stronger hands batted his weak one away from his wound and pressed firmly against the wound. His eyes could barely focus-but he saw the black armour of his Lord above him. To his side he saw the silver that he knew could only be Corrin. She screamed for someone to come and heal him, her fingers pulling at the armor on his chest to see the wound more clearly.
Blonde curls suddenly filled his sight and the feeling of healing magic hummed around his body. He attempted a smile at the sight, his body racked with the beginning shivers of shock.
“Sorry Lady Lissa, I didn’t mean to worry you.”
He felt the hands on his wound falter at the sound of his voice, and he knew that Xander was yelling at him to keep his eyes open but he closed his eyes to the familiar and nostalgic feeling of healing magic taking away the pain. He could almost believe he was home-and Lissa was fussing over him and Owain being reckless in battle together.
--
He woke to the sterile white of the hospital wing of the barracks of their base in the Astral Planes. His shoulder throbbed with a dull ache, and the fingers of his sword hand barely responded to his request to move. He was hit with a bitter pang of sadness that this wasn’t the tan medical tent of the Shepherds.
“Ah! You’re awake.”
Laslow turned his head to see Corrin sitting beside his cot, a book on her lap. She closed it and placed it on the end table beside her and picked up a wooden bowl and ladle. She scooped some water into the ladle and motioned for Laslow to open his mouth and drink. After a few grateful gulps, Laslow coughed, wincing at the pain it sent down his arm and shoulder.
“How long have I been asleep?”
“Two days. Understandable given how deep the wound was and how much blood you lost. If Elise had been a few minutes late…” Corrin frowned, “Well, I’m just glad that Vallite didn’t take you from us, Laslow.”
Laslow turned away from the crimson gaze of the young noble, his eyes blurred with tears. His left hand clenched, and he was startled to feel the pressure of his wedding band on his ring finger. He slowly brought his hand into view and marveled at the sight of the ring in its rightful place.
“Selena and Odin were sitting with you last night and Odin took off your necklace and put your ring on your finger.” Corrin explained, her eyes on his hand, “Don’t worry though-no one else has seen it. Only us.”
Laslow let his hand drop slowly to the bed again and he took in a deep breath of relief. It was a moment before he glanced at the dragonling. “Thank you, Lady Corrin.”
The woman smiled, the scar across her nose tilting with the smile. “Think nothing of it, Laslow.” She paused and her gaze flickered down to the ring, “And I won’t ask anything that would make you uncomfortable about that ring.”
“I don’t think you could make me any more uncomfortable than I am right now, My Lady.” Laslow teased, his smile grim on his face. Corrin’s smile dimmed to a stern frown, and he averted his gaze. “Sorry. I just...You know as well as I do that someone will ask, so it may as well be you, and not Lord Xander.”
“Who is Lissa? You called Elise that as she came to heal you. Odin and Selena reacted poorly to hearing you call her that.” Corrin’s brow furrowed and she pressed onward, “She’s from your homeland, yes?”
“Yes. She was a healer in the royal family.” Laslow answered, wincing at the thought of having called out for Owain’s mother in his delirium. “She...looks very similar to Lady Elise. When I was going into shock...My memory was playing tricks on me.”
“You knew her well?”
“I fought beside her.”
“Then was Lucina a fellow soldier as well?”
Laslow went stiff at the sound of Lucina’s name. His heart began to pound loudly and he had to fight the urge to cry. It had been so long since someone beside him had said her name-he was beginning to fear he had made her up. Corrin peered at him, noting his reaction with a worried expression.
“She...Lucina…” Laslow fought against his emotions-the rational part of his brain reminding him that Inigo was not here right now. It was Laslow who was talking to the Princess and Laslow did not have a wife. He screwed his eyes shut, his mouth pulled in a grimace, “I haven’t seen her in years. She was my partner.”
“I’m sorry,” Corrin whispered, “It’s clear you cared for her deeply. You kept calling out for her in your dreams. You kept telling her you were sorry.” She reached out and took his left hand in her own, “I’m sorry she’s not here with you, Laslow.”
Words did not seem as though they could tell the dragon born girl how he felt in that moment so he simply gave a jerky nod before turning his head away from the woman. She squeezed his hand again and rose, fixing his sheets as she did so.
“I’ll tell Xander you’re awake. I’m glad you’re still with us Laslow.”
--
“How is your sword arm doing?” Xander inquired one evening as they went over troop reports, his eyes peering at Laslow’s arm-still in a sling.
“Ah, well, I can move my fingers and hand at the wrist again, so better than two days ago. Lady Elise says the next healing should give me full range of motion again-so I may resume training.” Laslow informed his lord, a grin playing at his features, “Sadly the fetching scar will have to stay, much to her chagrin.”
“That’s good,” Xander nodded, “We need you back at 100 percent to fight this war. But you will not be going in until your new sword is prepared for you. The blacksmith said it should take another two weeks here on the Astral Plain-so you shan’t miss too much battle time in Valla but...are you feeling up to returning to the field after such an injury?”
Laslow took a moment to think about his answer before sighing, “My Lord, I would be lying if I said I didn’t have reservations. But I made an oath to you to fight at your side and protect you. And I will not break my oath.”
Xander put down his pen and folded his hands in front of him, “Is this about what Niles said to you two months ago? About you being afraid to die?”
Laslow gulped, feeling himself shrink under Xander’s appraising stare. He averted his eyes to the floor and rocked on his heels. “I didn’t know you knew about that, my Lord.”
“It was fairly obvious that it was bothering you. A few inquiries led me to the truth of it all.” Xander stood, resplendent in his authority, “I would not have you die for me simply to prove a point, Laslow. Nor would I have you thinking you are a coward for valuing your life.”
“I-My Lord, it’s my duty to serve you. I don’t want to let you down.”
“You have somewhere to return you don’t you, Laslow?” Xander marched over to Laslow, standing in front of him, his eyes piercing, “You have people waiting for you, don’t you?”
Laslow’s eyes widened, and his mind wandered to the thought of Ylisstol, and the Shepherds barracks. Of the familiar sounds of sparring in the ring and the laughter in the air. Of Robin carrying parchments containing maps of all kinds. Of Chrom delegating the troops. Of Lucina tugging his hand to steal a moment away from the crowds to kiss.
“Do not make me responsible for them never seeing you again, Laslow.” Xander whispered fiercely, jabbing a finger in his chest, “I won’t stand for it.”
Laslow looked up at Xander, and marveled at how this compassionate man had been raised by one of the most sinister people he’d ever met. How he managed to inspire so much in others. In himself. How similar he seemed to Robin in bearing and compassion. He smiled up at the man.
“Thank you, Lord Xander. I needed that kick in the pants.” He turned to leave, bowing as he was about to exit the doorway, “With your leave?” Xander nodded and Laslow turned to leave, his smile growing, “Just then you reminded me of someone I respect greatly. You’re a good man, Lord Xander.”
--
He managed to land a couple of blows on Selena, which considering how tender his shoulder felt sometimes, he felt rather proud of. The sparring was to bring the two of them back up to speed. Selena had returned only a week ago from the Deeprealm that she had given birth in, and despite having only just recovered from the ordeal, was already ready to destroy Laslow.
“How is it you’re managing to land so many blows?” Laslow grunted, “Shouldn’t you still be weak?”
“Hmph! You think something like childbirth is going to slow me down? You’re sorely mistaken!” Selena flipped her hair behind her shoulder, leaning on her wooden practice sword with practiced ease. “You’ve gotten slow, Laslow.”
“Well, I couldn’t dance for two weeks. It’s put a damper on my training,” Laslow grumbled, massaging his shoulder, “Gods, it still twinges on my downswing.”
“You might need some herbs,” Selena closed the distance between the two of them, and prodded the scar firmly. “Your muscles are still recovering. I’ve got something that can help with that. Come by mine and Odin’s cabin later and I can give you some herbs for your tea.”
Laslow grinned, “Your father’s knowledge coming in handy, huh Selena?” He knew he was going to receive the withering look he got, but he took it with grace, “Thank you. I’d appreciate it.”
“I’m glad you’re not dead by the way. You gave me and Odin a scare.” Selena added, keeping her hand on Laslow’s shoulder, “The last thing I want to do is explain to…’you know who’ that we let you die.”
Laslow’s grin faltered and he dropped his gaze, “I’m sorry.”
“Gah, stop getting all mopey about it! I didn’t mean it like that. Come on,” Selena shook Laslow softly and he looked back up at her, “We came here together and we’re leaving here together! Got it? The three of us have to make it to the end of this. So we can go home.”
Laslow mustered up the grin again, weak as it may be, “Us and little Ophelia, right?”
Selena’s frown morphed into a small smile at the mention of her daughter, “Who knows how little she’ll be when we leave? But yes. The three of us need to show her where we came from. We have to show her home.”
“We do. You’re right. Far be it for me to disappoint my favorite God-Daughter.”
Selena rolled her eyes, “She’s your only God-Daughter, idiot.” She smirked, and added “And she needs to meet her Aunt Lucina-so we have to go home.”
It was rare for Selena to break their rule of silence on Ylisse and everyone who lived there. And by the look on her face, Laslow knew she had done it for him. He tossed his practice sword to the side and pulled her into a tight hug, ignoring her squawk of disgust. He knew she would pretend that she didn’t hug him back the next time they spoke, but it meant the world to him that she reached up and squeezed him back just as hard.
--
“I’m worried that Ophelia’s Brand won’t come in.” Odin confided in Laslow as they watched the small girl chase butterflies about her Deeprealm. Already she had grown to around five years old in a short time span. Laslow gave the laughing girl a once over, and gave Odin a grin.
“She’s shooting up like a reed and you’re worried about her brand? I’d be worried about missing her childhood.”
Odin shoved him in the arm and he frowned, “Come on! You know as well as I do how important it is! Proof of her noble lineage and proof that she’s my daughter.”
“Her magic and theatrics aren’t proof enough?”
Odin glowered at his long time friend before his shoulders slumped, “I’m worried that if it doesn’t come in and Selena and I don’t…” he trailed off, and Laslow’s blood chilled at the unspoken thought.
“I won’t let that happen. We’re all going back, Odin.”
Odin smiled weakly at Laslow, a weary look in his eyes, “Thank you, Laslow. I just want her to belong, you know? She’s spent her whole life here, in this world. Ylisse is whole worlds away.”
Laslow examined the ground, noting how the grass was different than the grass of their home. Ylisse had rolling plains with long and thin grass. Grass that could be laid in, and that dew clung to until past mid morning. Grass that he and Lucina had sat in waiting for the final charge against Grima. Grass he’d danced in late at night, stealing kisses from Lucina’s lips to replace them with smiles.
This grass was thicker and shorter. Scrubbier.
It was not Ylisse.
“I know.”
--
“You know that Felicia has been attempting to court you, don’t you, Laslow?”
Laslow sputtered at the comment, seemingly out of the blue. His eyes bulged as he gawped at Xander, who simply sipped his tea without hesitation. He glanced at Laslow, an eyebrow cocked.
“The two of you have always seemed so amiable, and I’m certain that Corrin would give her blessing.” Xander smirked, “I know I would, if only to stop you from flirting with every girl we encounter in towns we pass through.”
Laslow took a sip of his, stalling for a moment, before answering, “In truth My Lord, I was only intending to help her with her shyness. I had no idea that Felicia…” Laslow’s cheeks burnt in shame, failing to bring up the fact that he had initially offered to help Felicia because she reminded him so much of his mother.
“So your flirtations are empty?” Xander’s brow furrowed slightly, “You always seem so earnest in getting their attention.”
“Ah…” Laslow let his eyes go skyward, “I simply want to make people smile.”
“Is that so…” Xander trailed off, and Laslow hazarded a glance at his commander. A small smirk played at his lips. “Well, I’ll tell Corrin to let Felicia know that you aren’t interested in pursuing her hand seriously.”
Laslow slumped in his chair in relief, nearly spilling his tea. Xander chuckled.
“Whomever holds your heart, Laslow, is very lucky indeed.” Xander murmured just quietly enough that Laslow wasn’t sure he said it at all.
--
The war was winding down to the final battles by the time Laslow’s new sword was finally finished. The advance on the Vallite strongholds were going slowly but surely, and Laslow was itching to fight again. He’d finally been clearly by both Elisa and Sakura, and he knew that he was back in top form, having sparred endlessly with Silas and Hinata.
Weeks in the Astral Plane felt like forever when time seemed to never move forward.
Xander accompanied him to the smithy, watching with a critical eye as the blacksmith handed him the blade. He held it high, and gave it a few swings before nodding.
“It is a handsome blade, Laslow. See for yourself.”
Carefully, Inigo took the blade from Xander, marveling at the craftsmanship. It’s balance was suited perfectly to his reach and flexibility. The blade had a wickedly sharp edge, and per his own request, was a fair bit wider than a standard Nohrian blade, likened more to the blades he’d used in Ylisse. The metal seemed to have a pale blue glow to it, a bright reminder of it’s morbid beauty. It was the finest blade he’d ever owned.
Laslow smiled, aiming the sword to the sky, “It’s the most handsome blade I’ve ever held. Thank you, My Lord.”
Xander’s lips curled in a small smile as he regarded his charge. “A blade such as this deserves a name. What shall you call it?”
Laslow pondered the thought as he turned the blade in his hands, regarding the royal blue wrapping around the grip, the burnished golden gleam to the pommel. How holding it in his hands felt right . As if it were a handshake with a partner. The sword at his side.
The ring against his chest burned at the thought of this being the sword at his side. There could be no other name then.
He smiled.
“Lucina. I’ll call it Lucina.”
--
Assaults on Anankos’ castle were in full swing. Every time Laslow looked Corrin’s way, he noted the drawn look about her mouth and the furrow of her brow with a haunting sense of deja vu. The way her hand gripped the hilt of her sword, and the raised way her shoulders were set. How small she seemed under her cape when the battle ended and the soldiers trudged back to camp with injuries.
A rare moment of peace on the Astral Plane as weapons were repaired had the entire castle in a blanketed grim silence. It was a terrifying sort of silence. Rain splattered against the cobblestone paths and whispered into the grass as it fell without pause throughout the day. Still, Inigo couldn’t resist the urge to walk the fort that had become their home throughout the war.
Armor and weapons left safely in his quarters, he took to the paths with a quiet peace, allowing the rain to wash over him without a care.
“Laslow? What are you doing?”
He turned to see Corrin standing there, holding a Hoshidan umbrella, a confused look on her face. She frowned, looking him up and down for a moment as she waited for a response.
“I’m taking a walk, Lady Corrin.” He answered with ease, a grin falling to his face without a missed beat. “As you are too, yes?”
Corrin huffed, shaking her head. “Yes, but I’m under an umbrella and you’re just going to catch your death like this!”
“I’m sure you know that it rains more in Nohr’s capital than this. A little storm like this won’t get me sick.” He had gotten sick many a time in the first year they were here-unused to the mountains and wet air. He’d been weak as a child to this sort of weather, but the years had turned him into a hardier sort.
“Laslow…” Corrin ran a hand through her bangs, and he Laslow watched as her shoulders slumped against her cloak. She all of a sudden looked very much the young sheltered lady he remembered from the few times Xander brought him to her keep through the years.
He could see shades of Lucina in her. The impossible challenge before her. The loss of so many family members in such a short span of time. Conjuring strength through sheer force of will. The pained look in her eyes, the way she always hid it around her many siblings-all brought him back to being 14 in a forest and being set by an urge to help-
“Do you want to dance?”
Corrin blinked, raising her head so quickly Laslow was sure it hurt.
“I...I beg your pardon?”
“Dance. You and me. I’ll have you know, I’m a rather good dancer, My Lady.” Laslow’s grin grew as he twirled for her, offering a hand. “Just a couple of people enjoying the rain and having fun.”
He watched as Corrin regarded him with a wary look before taking the hand he offered. Before she could change her mind, Laslow yanked her out from under the umbrella and spun her around his fingers.
Corrin’s surprised yelp quickly morphed into delighted laughter as the two of them spun around and kicked at the puddles on the ground as they danced like children. Laslow marveled at the bright smile on Corrin’s face and let a small smile of his own grace his face. A smile like that was worth fighting for and protecting. Anankos would have been proud of his daughter. Would have been proud of the way she handled her birthright in the face of everything else.
Laslow was proud of her. And more than happy to catch a cold dancing in the rain with her to cheer her up.
--
As they watched the shell of Anankos crumble away, Laslow mused that maybe it was a little too much to have killed two Divine Dragons in his life. He would have to ask Tiki about the implications of this someday. As they finally landed on solid ground again, Laslow watched as families reunited all around him. The royal siblings all crowded around Corrin and Azura, who seemed to be swaying in exhaustion. Odin had Ophelia and Selena locked in a joyous bear hug, the three of them beaming and laughing the whole while.
Laslow stood apart from the rest, between husbands and wives kissing and children hugging parents tightly. He was tired. In his hand, his sword felt heavy with exhaustion, but he refused to sheath it just yet.
Was he truly done? Had he fulfilled the promise he made to the soul of the dragon he’d just helped slay? His thoughts went to the orb kept in his quarters, kept locked away in a box. Their getaway plan. Could they finally be ready to use it?
As he looked on at the people he’d grown to love and appreciate in the past 10 years he felt his heart clenched at the thought of never seeing them again. Elise, who’d stitched him up countless times. Peri whom he’d sparred with and ridden with and grown to love as a sister. Xander himself, the big brother he never knew he wanted, and a leader he could only hope to grow into. Silas-ever vigilant and loyal, a prominent reminder of the princess he’d left behind in Ylisse.
It was enough to cause him to cry for what he’d be losing in going home. Losing 10 years of his life as if he’d never had them to return to a world of peace. To a world without Nohr and Hoshido and Valla. Where those kingdoms were nothing but stories told to children. Where his friends were nothing but stories, and not the heroes he knew them to be.
As the clouds parted and the sun began to shine through the battered remains of the back of Valla’s castle, Laslow cried for all that had happened to them. In relief, in sadness, and in joy. All the while, the sword as his side was gripped tightly in his hand.
--
The preparations for Corrin’s coronation and restoration of the Valla people was a whirlwind. Laslow, Selena and Odin couldn’t even begin to think of leaving just yet. So they stayed along for the two months of rebuilding and delegations and healing between the two nations.
Watching Xander ascend to become King of Nohr caused Laslow to swell up in pride beneath the armor that had been commissioned just for the event, shining and fashionable, a far cry from his usual battered shield and pauldron. Peri had sobbed the whole way through and Laslow had all but been moved to tears as Xander had the crown put on his head. As Xander spared the two of them a smile at his side, Laslow couldn’t help but smile back.
Xander had pulled him aside after the coronation, the two of them still wearing their formal armor. He’d put his hands on Laslow’s shoulders, his smile sad.
“I get the feeling you’ll be leaving me soon, won’t you?” Xander had whispered, sadness tinging his voice.
“I have people waiting for me, My Lord.”
“You’ll be leaving me without one of my best men, I’ll have you know.” Xander’s smile quirked in amusement, “I would hope you have thoughts on who should replace you?”
Laslow nods, “Silas is a good man. A better soldier. But he’s sworn to your sister so...I recommend Sophie. She’s young, but she’ll grow into a fine cavalier yet.”
Xander chuckled, “A new misfit for my merry band, eh?” he shook his head, “No one can replace you, Laslow. I hope you know you’ve been a treasured friend for me.”
Laslow nodded to Xander, reaching up to place a hand on his shoulder. “I know. You’ve been more than good to a total stranger in your lands. I’ll never forget you, or what you’ve done for me.”
Xander sighed, shaking his head. “Is there nothing I can give you to convince you to stay?”
“I’m afraid you can’t bring her here, so no. I’ve left someone waiting far too long for me, My Lord.” Laslow shook his head in response, “I can’t allow her to wait any longer than I already have.”
Xander looked Laslow up and down and once more Laslow found himself seeing Robin in the man. The way his eyes scanned for honesty, and the way he was memorizing the way this moment felt. He was always aware that it could be the last time he would see someone. He always planned ahead for that. It was as Robin had been before their final battle against Grima. A grim finality wrapped in gratitude.
“I’ve known you for 10 years, Laslow. But I’ve never known your true name. As a parting gift, will you tell me?”
Laslow stiffened, years of defenses rising up to protect his task, protect his identity. But your duty is done. Lay down your burden. His mind ticked, and Laslow straightened up, grinning casually at his liege.
“My name is Inigo, Lord Xander.”
It felt like he’d taken off a heavy pack from his back as Xander smiled widely at him. Xander’s hands came down from his shoulders, and he offered his hand for Laslow to shake.
“A pleasure to finally meet you, Inigo.”
Inigo grasped the offered hand, shaking it firmly. He tried to etch the moment in his mind-Xander’s smile, the pressure of his hand against his own. The way the crown on Xander’s head just seemed right.
“The pleasure is all mine.”
--
Telling Peri that he would never return had been harder than he anticipated. Her tears had ruined her makeup, as usual, and her nails bit into Laslow’s arms painfully, but he grinned and bore it as she sobbed her way through her emotions.
“Ya better stay happy wherever ya going or I’m going to findjya and stab ya.” She threatened at last, though the bite was taken out of it as she sniffed pitifully into his doublet.
“I will. Keep Our Lord safe for me. He’s in the best, stabbiest hands in Nohr.”
Peri’s giggles as she smeared her eye kohl all over his training doublet were a memory he’d never forget.
--
Laslow had been the one tasked with writing an explanation to Corrin. He explained their task and her lineage, and that it was time for them to stop meddling in other worlds affairs. He was having trouble finding a way to end the letter. He thought back to the girl who looked too small in her cape, and the burden they’d placed on her shoulders.
Put your trust in your family, as large as they are. Tell them the truth if you think you must, but never shut them out for fear of them not understanding. Treasure the friends and comrades you’ve made here, Corrin. They love and trust you. Lean on them. And, as Jacob might agree, a nice cup of tea with a loved one is a great way to unwind.
Don’t forget to smile. Hang in there, Corrin. You’ve got our support even from worlds away.
--
The letter, along with all the information Anankos had given them before his death, were left in Corrin’s chambers the night before they all took off out of Valla and into the rolling hills between Nohr and Hoshido.
It had been hard to explain to Ophelia the need to leave. Selena and Odin had given her the choice to stay, knowing that she’d only ever known this life. But, determined to stay with her family, Ophelia had persisted. Laslow knew that Odin had breathed a sigh of relief as his daughter joined them.
As Laslow held the orb that would bring them back to Ylisse, he took one last look at the dawn breaking over the hills. He remembered the first time they touched down on the scrubby grass and promised Anankos to fix it all. Raising the orb above his head, he looked over his three companions and paused.
“Last chance everyone-are you all ready?”
Ophelia bit her lip and looked to her two parents for assurance, who in turn put a hand on each of her shoulders. The three of them nodded and Laslow sucked in a breath of relief.
He closed his eyes, picturing the barracks of Shepards, off the side of the castle in Ylssitol. He could almost smell the dust rising from the training ring, and the acrid smell of metal near the weapon racks. He could picture Lucina-hair pulled back as she sparred with her father, determination in every swing. He could feel the breeze.
“Bring us home.” He whispered, barely audible as he brought the orb smashing to the ground, magic surrounding them.
--
The light that had surrounded them was blinding and Laslow was still blinking the white out of his eyes by the time the four of them were able to stand. He sucked in a deep breath and nearly fell over all over again.
The air in Ylisse hadn’t changed in 10 years. Drier than Nohr and not as sweet as Hoshido, Laslow hadn’t realized how much he missed it until he was sucking in full breaths to savor it.
He hardly heard Ophelia boggling at the training yard-only returning to the moment when Selena grasped his shoulder. His eyes flicked to hers, hope daring to enter her eyes.
“So it worked?” Her voice was disbelieving, quavering, “We’re home?”
Laslow’s mouth went dry at the thought, and he was about to answer when Odin interrupted his response with a warning of company, his words sending a chill through him. These yards should be abandoned. No one should be here-least of all right now. Had they gone to some Ylisse that had gone unsaved?
“Can it, Odin! Let me see.” Hand dropping to his blade, Laslow stepped forward, standing in front of his friends as something in the corner of his eye moved into view. He nearly drew his sword but for his mind freezing his hand into place.
He’d know the movement of that cape anywhere-the sunlight glinting off the blade, the way she entered with purpose. His hands hastened to drop his cloak’s hood, and he watched as her sword arm swung limply to her side.
Eyes he swore couldn’t have been as blue as he remembered (and yet they were and so so so so beautiful) widened and watered. Her mouth parted, any declarations dying on her lips before she could utter them. Her face had seemingly stayed as radiant as ever-he couldn’t imagine 10 years had touched it. Was this really happening?
The moment seemed to rubberband for an eternity before she spoke, stretching on and on. Before it came thundering into reality.
“Inigo?”
He’d never been so happy to hear his name in his life. Not ever. He shuddered, soaking up the moment and tucking it deep away. This had to be real. She was here. He was here.
“Lucina.” That impossible name. That impossible girl. Right there before him-and he wasn’t going to waste another second apart.
They met in the middle- dropping her sword, his arms lifting her into an embrace 10 years coming. He knew his armor must have been uncomfortable, and the pack slung across his back full of what little he’d brought back with him had fallen off in the commotion, but he couldn’t be bothered to care.
He held off his tears just long enough to bring his hands to her face and just see her. To soak in the warmth of her cheeks and the curve of her lips, the way she seemed to glow with happiness. It seemed like there was no way this could be real. He was still dreaming, surely. And yet, he could see her breathing, and could hear her laughter.
He choked out his laughter through tears, dropping his eyes. It was almost too much. He shivered when her hands came to cover his, grounded him even further to the dirt of the training yard. This was real. Her lips against his were real.
His conversation with his comrades seemed to float by him as they left him and Lucina behind in the training ring. A glance down at her left hand confirmed his ring still sat there-twinkling when it caught the light. He took that hand in his own, hope high in his heart.
“I was hoping you’d hadn’t left me behind while I was gone,” he whispered, his voice strained, “10 years is a long time to pretend that you don’t have a wife you miss more than life itself.” He shook his head, “It was a long time to let myself doubt whether you were going to be there when I got back.”
Nights watching everyone he knew in the war return to tents and barracks with their loved ones. Standing next to Owain as he winked and said he was going to marry Severa again because why not? Staring at the ring around his neck, wondering if maybe he’d made it all up and there was nothing to return to. That maybe she’d moved on.
Lucina’s forehead against him collarbone, and her breath against his skin nearly made him lose his breath altogether.
“You’re the sword at my side, Inigo. You never really left.”
He came undone.
--
The rest of the day was a blur, from realizing it was Lucina’s birthday to the younger princess declaring him the best birthday surprise. To all his comrades embracing him and asking so many questions about where they’d been. To his in laws embracing him and ushering the two of them away from the gathering to recover. He’d nearly choked on his own breath at Robin’s wink after Lucina had turned her back to walk to her quarters with him.
It only dawned on him when people passing by saluted ‘Captain Marth’ that Lucina had actually gone and taken over the Shepherd’s just as he’d hoped when he left. Watching her back from where he trailed slightly behind her he marveled how easy it was to fall back in step with her. How her shoulders still stood high and her step was still sure. The door to her quarters were just as big as he remembered, and when she paused before it she looked back at him with a bit of fear in her eyes.
“I’m terrified if I open this door I’m just going to wake up from a terrible dream,” she admitted with a watery laugh, swiping a hand under her eyes. “I can’t count how many times I’ve opened these doors and then opened my eyes and you weren’t there.”
Inigo’s heart clenched and he reached for the door’s handle to match Lucina’s. “Then how about if we open it together? You aren’t the only one whose dreams let them down in the morning.” He smiled, and he knew it was a sad one. How many times had he reached out to Lucina in his dreams only to wake up alone on a cold cot, covered in the morning dew?
“On three then?” She whispered, her eyes burning into him. She didn’t take her eyes off him as he nodded and began the countdown.
He went slowly, taking each number to memorize the changes in Lucina’s face. Admiring the way her face had sharpened ever so slightly; The way her hair was parted to the side now instead of the middle; The love brimming over in her eyes. He nearly didn’t finish the countdown.
“...Three.”
The doors swung open as they pushed them forward. It really was a beautiful day. The large balcony on the opposite side of the room was letting the fading late afternoon sun spill in. The sudden brightness forced Inigo to wince, blinking a few times in the sunlight. Too many years in Nohr had changed his sensitivity to light. His eyes burned and instinctively he raised the hand that had opened the door up to shield his eyes.
The moment his eyes adjusted though, the panic set in.
Had he been dreaming? Was this just another disappointing dream?
He wheeled around, his head snapping to where Lucina had been standing, breath caught in his throat. His knees felt weak when he realized she was still standing there, staring at him with open disbelief. All over again he was swept up into her arms as she let out a loud bout of laughter, tears bleeding into his tunic.
He was home.
--
“Where did you get this one?” Lucina murmured, tracing her fingers over a scar glanced across his left palm.
“Princess Elise found herself at the mercy of an assasination attempt. I was closest to her at the banquet table. I caught the crossbow bolt if you can believe it.” Inigo explained, likewise running a finger across a thin line that bisected the joint of her hip to her thigh. “What about this one?”
Lucina huffed a breath of annoyance, “I hate fighting on horseback. An ambush on the road escorting refugees from a ravished township. I’ll never understand those who can fight that way.” She shivered as Inigo’s fingers pressed into it, as he leaned in to kiss it.
She let him linger a moment, before lightly pushing his shoulder back. Her hand lingered over the broad scar over his shoulder, the one that still ached in the rain at times. “...And this?” Lucina’s voice was a whisper, grim and worried. A warrior knew when a scar nearly killed a person. And the way her fingers trembled against his skin, Inigo knew she had an inkling.
“My sword buckled under a war axe. I would have bled out if Lord Xander and Lady Elise hadn’t gotten to me so quickly.” Inigo placed his on top of Lucina’s, squeezing it, “I wasn’t about to go and die on you though.” He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her palm lightly.
Lucina let her hand linger with his for only a few moments before she stood, letting the few sheets covering her fall away. She traced a path through discarded tunics and boots to where Inigo’s scabbard was. The sight of her, muscles working slowly as she drew the blade was enough to reinvigorate Inigo, to say the least. She studied the blade, lazily working it around in an arc and flourish.
“It’s a beautiful blade. It’s balance is incredible.” She was a vision, wearing nothing and staring in awe at his blade. If he were less enamoured with the sight he might have made a poor in taste joke about the metaphor. But she looked awe inspiring like this.
“A gift from Lord Xander.” Inigo explained, “Even before my sword broke he had offered to commission me a new blade. After I recovered, he presented me with it.” He stood as well, and joined her. She carefully handed him the sword and he held it aloft, taking a moment to appreciate the heft of the blade in his hands. The Nohrian blade with Ylissian flavor. The grip, once a brilliant blue was dulled slightly with sweat and grime, but he’d taken care to keep it as pristine as possible.
“Then I assume that Owain made you name it, correct?” Lucina mused, a grin on her face. “There’s no way that he wouldn’t have hounded you to name it.”
Inigo laughed at that, shaking his head, “If you can believe it, My Lord said I should name it before I’d even owned it for more than a few moments.” He turned to look fondly at Lucina, “And since it felt so right at my side I thought it was prudent to name it after the most important person in my life.”
It took a moment for Lucina to understand. Her brow had furrowed until it dawned on her and then it shot up; Her eyes went wide and her face flushed brilliantly. She shoved her face into her hands and groaned. “ Gods , that’s embarrassing.”
“Well, no one needs to know, right?” Inigo teased, sheathing the sword once more and placing it back against a chair. He bundled Lucina up into his arms, giving her a small shake. “You should be flattered! I’ve never named a sword after anyone else.”
“Gods, if Morgan finds out I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Well then, he never needs to know.” Inigo grinned, and decided this had been enough time spent away from the bed and his wife’s skin. “But enough of that for now. I still have scars to learn to love.” He scooped her up into his arms, reveling in the delighted yelp as her arms and legs wrapped around his torso to steady herself.
“You’re impossible .” Lucina couldn’t fight the laugh in her voice, even as she attempted to be cross. As Inigo laid her out on the bed, she couldn’t fight the fond smile on her face. She reached out with her left hand and Inigo relished in the feeling of her ring against his skin. This was worth the pain. Worth the struggle. It was all worth it to have her under him, smiling up at him in a way she did only for him. And he loved it. He loved her.
He grinned, a roguish one that he hadn’t had much use for in the past ten years. It made him feel ten years younger.
“You wouldn’t have me any other way.”
She rolled her eyes, blowing some hairs out of her face. She gave him a small smile though, hands slotting themselves against the side of his face. The fondness on her face was a balm. It erased the past ten years of gloom and darkness. He was home. Really.
Finally.