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Chapter Text

The Taguel Legend

It began with him. The day she joined the army and saw him fight so valiantly. She didn't even notice him watching her in the heat of that battle or every battle after that till he approached her. "Hey Panne! Do ya got a sec?" At first she had been insulted by him telling her not to run off during battle but she had soon discovered why he had been so concerned and asked her not to run ahead or fall behind in battle. He wanted to fight side by side with her. He wanted to show her that friends were different then just being human or taguel.

It is to the sound of leaves crunching that she leave her memories and smiles when he appears. "Mornin Panne." He says as he sets his ax down.

"Was there any luck today?" She asks but then catches the scent of Risen. She then took notice of the blacking, rust color blood on his ax. This would not be good news.

"Yeah and no." I found some stray risen outside of town and made quick work of them but I still couldn't find him. I have no idea where that kid ran off too but he hid well this time." Vaike says then rubs his head. "I have checked every nook and cranny and then some. I even have some of my mates lookin’." Vaike says looking tired.

Panne stands up. "His scent is old and if that wasn't enough the rain has made it almost impossible to track him." She says but turns to go inside the house.

"What are you doing?" Vaike asks looking up at his wife in hopes that maybe he had come home.

"We have a visitor and they may be able to help." Panne answers and smiles at Vaike's confused face. "Yarne can you please help us?" Panne asks as she steps into the house.

Yarne comes scurrying out right past her. The war had been over for six and a half years now but he still often came over to visit. At first he only popped his head out of the door but then he smiles when he sees Vaike and quickly hugs him.

"It's great to see you dad. You seem to be doing well." Then Yarne noticed the anxiety he was giving off. "What's wrong?" He asks as his brows furrowed. The look made Vaike smile. He just looked so darn cute but more important matters were at hand.

"Yarne, um our, no this time stream's Yarne. Um I mean younger Yarne has runoff. Not you of course since yer here. Why does it have to be so dang confusing?!" Vaike shouts, pulling on his hair.

Panne ignores him. "Do you know where he might have hid?" She asks the elder Yarne as his expression changes to a thoughtful one. "You know someplace?" She asks noticing the spark in his eyes after a moment of silence.

"Yes. There was this place that mother often told me about in her old stories about taguel legends. Every taguel tribe had a cave where all taguel went to share their legends. They would write or draw their stories on the walls of the caves. I found a place, when I was little that I made into my own cave. I wanted to write about all the amazing things I planned to do." He stops there, his face becoming red. He didn't tell them about all the pictures and stories he had written about him on the walls. Thinking about the cave caused him to smile but then his heart became crushed when he realized he would never be able to go back to 'his' own again. "Actually. It was down the street from my house when we were living in the slums part of the city." His father had grown up there and his mother was very popular and well known after they moved back to it. That was what he remembered. It seemed to be true for these two as well.

Panne and Vaike exchange glances. There were no caves anywhere near here. "I can show you two. Come on." Yarne says and starts running. Panne and Vaike hurry after him. After about ten minutes they are all crouching in front of a small piece of cardboard that was placed up against a wall as if it was suppose to be a door.

"There it is."

"You sure about that?" Vaike asks skeptically.

"Positive." Yarne says as he nods. He then removes the small cardboard to show that the whole was actually big enough for them all to walk through. It was in-between two tall buildings as well. "Yarne we're coming in. You in here buddy?" Vaike calls out as he crawls in.

For a moment it becomes extremely tight but it widened out again and after crawling about ten feet in. It dips down and opens up. Panne smiles as she sees it and Vaike gaping at it all. There was Yarne in the middle coloring on the wall with a substance that Miriel had given him. Older Yarne walks past his parents and sits right behind his younger self.

The six year old looks up from his drawing. "Hey there Yarne. Mommy! Daddy! You found me. Look at my drawing." They look pass the child at the drawing. Panne's ears were much too big and so was her tail but Vaike's entire head was much too big for his body and in the middle was Yarne waving.

"That's us." He goofily points to the child then smiles at the tall taguel above him. After a while Panne picks up Yarne and says it was well past his bedtime. Vaike laughs as the boy pouts. Older Yarne smiles at the scene as they start to leave. Vaike notices him hanging back. "You comin'?"

"I'm coming. I just want to hang back for a minute. I'll catch right up." Vaike gives him a curt nod before following Panne out. Yarne stares at the picture in front of him and thinks about the rest of the legend. He could practically hear his mother's voice in his ears.

"There's an old legend among our people Yarne, a legend that revolves around a cave. Our people's cave. All taguel packs have their own cave. It tells the stories of our ancestors before us. It tells us our history and it serves another purpose."

"What?" He had asked in a small, timid, but curious voice.

"If ever we had lost our pack we would go back to the cave. When one of our own was lost we knew that's where they would be or they had meant their fate and their story would be written onto the wall by their family and close friends."

"Where's our cave?" What she had said next would forever be burned into his mind.

"Lost. It was taken away with our brethren but we have found a new cave. Here in this city. This house is our home and if ever you feel lost come here Yarne we will always come back for you." He smiles as he remembers looking around and saying that the house couldn't be a cave because it was a house. He remembers the tired look on his mother's face and how right then his father had walked in just in time to announce that dinner was done and that some of the neighbors and their kids were over. Yarne smiles to himself. He rubs his hand over the painting in front of him. He had completely forgotten about the cave. Now he was happy to be back in it. Even if it wasn't his it still felt like home. It was where he hid when playing hide and seek. Where he was safe when the risen attack, and where his mother had always came for him, until the day she no longer could. It was his protection and now it was his hide out again, but for a younger better him.

Yarne stands and leaves, leaning against the wall above the entrance once he was outside again. "As long as you find the cave you'll always find home."

"I'm home." He whispers under his breath and places the wood in front of the hole again. When he arrives dinner was already set out and a place was set out for him. He looks at his younger self who was smiling and pointing at the seat next to him. "I don't think I should stay. It's late and,"

"Yarne sit down and eat or you are not welcomed back."

"You better listen to her Yarne." Vaike was already digging into his roasted meat. Yarne sighs in defeat and sits down eating happily as he discusses the latest news with Vaike.

Panne sits silently putting in a few words here and there but she was content just sitting there and watching her family. She had forgotten about that old legend but she was pleased to be reminded of it again. "To imagine that all of this started with one worried man and his stupid suggestion."

"Huh? What was that Panne?" Vaike asks with a mouthful. "Nothing. I was talking to myself." Yes she was very content at the moment and it all began with him.

Chapter Text

The Mage and her Evil Lord

She smiles as she finishes her latest curse. This curse was unlike most of her curses. It was, in truth, a prayer that Libra had taught her long ago before the change in her love. It wasn't noticeable to anyone else but Robin's aura had changed. He seemed more menacing and where that wouldn't have bothered her before meeting him but it bothered her now. She thought it was because of Chrom's death. She absolutely refused to entertain the rumors that Robin had killed Chrom. He never would have done that. Chrom was Robin's best friend besides herself. Actually even counting her Robin was probably even closer to Chrom.

She stands up and walks to the door. Why was she still thinking about such things? Were the rumors really that worrisome? "Noire." She calls out walking into the small room where a ten year old Noire was aiming an arrow at an apple that was on a fidgeting, nine year old Morgan's head. She was focusing on a book in her hands.

"Stay still Morgan." Noire urges.

"Oh come on Noire this book is exciting I can't stay still. Besides," Morgan grabs the apple and takes a bite out if it before sitting it on back on her head. "You're the best archer in the world."

Noire frowns. "Morgan that isn't true, now hold still." Noire instructs.

"Eh-hmm." Tharja says causing her eldest daughter to let the arrow go as she jumped a few inches into the air. Noire turns to face her mother, her bow hidden behind her back but it was still in clear view. Noire was now wondering if Tharja had a new curse for her.

Morgan looks up and saw the pierced apple. "Bulls-eye Noire! You really are the best archer. Hey mom." Morgan says now changing her attention to her mother. She smiles hoping there was a new spell.

Seeing her daughters only strengthens her resolve. Tharja approaches the girls and tries to form a smile. She hugs them. "Noire watch Morgan for us. Morgan listen to your sister till we get back." Tharja says but they knew it was a command no matter how nicely she said it.

Behind her their father had appeared. He wore a kind, loving smile on his face and when Morgan ran to him and hugged his waist, his embrace felt warm. "Are you going to defeat the villains that killed Uncle Libra and the others?" Morgan asks and smiles as Robin ruffles her hair.

"Yes we are." He says as if it were true.

Noire hesitated though. She had felt something sinister begin to grow around father and whereas he had always protected her she felt this time was different. Something was wrong. She rushes to her father and starts crying. "Don't go! Please, you won't come back! Just like the other warriors." Her parents were the strongest and only ones left to defend their home. The city that had so quickly diminished. Noire didn't want them to go.

Tharja frowns and tries to think of something but Robin speaks in answer first. "We will return. I won't let anything happen to us. Just like every other time. So protect your sister and be a good girl Noire." Noire nods and squeezes her arms that were still securely wrapped around her father's waist again. She tried to fight back the tears but couldn't.

Morgan pulls her away. "Don't worry we'll be careful and make sure to protect ourselves and the village." Morgan smiles at her parents. It was a charming, innocent smile and it almost broke Tharja's resolve. It would have torn her heart but she often is told she has no heart so why consider it there now.

Tharja grabs Noire's hand and an amulet slips into the young girl's hand. "Wear this Noire. It will give you courage. No daughter of mine will be so, so." She couldn't think of what might have been best to say. Then she decides and whispers, "Cowardly. Wear it whenever you need some extra courage to face your fears."

"I-is it cursed?" The timid girl asks staring at her mother not the amulet.

Tharja smiles slyly. "Of-course. What kind of sorceress would I be if it wasn't?" Tharja walks away wrapping her arm into her husband's and they walk away.

Morgan smiled till they were out of site then she turned and immediately went to her books on the shelf beside her bed. Noire watches her with concern and soon saw the light raise and fall of her shoulders. Noire knew even though she couldn't hear the sobs and she hurries to grab an extra coat of father's before making it back to her room.

Noire silently sets the coat on Morgan's shoulders before taking the book from her hands and closing it. "You don't want to ruin the book. Don't worry they'll come back." She ties the front together on Morgan as the girl's head falls into her sister's left shoulder. Morgan always smiled and even would pull pranks on mother but Noire knew better. Noire knew that every time their parents left that she would stick herself into her books just to keep herself from worrying.

"The others didn't. Every time they are called away someone dies on our team. Even father's strategies can't save them. Uncle Libra, Cherche, Henry, Uncle Lon'qu, Donnel, Olivia, Aunt Cordelia, and even Aunt Sully. What if they simply can't defeat Grima?" Morgan asks as tears stream down her face, soaking her sister's shoulder.

"Don't say that Morgan. Everything will be fine. Lucina has already told me she's looking for a way to fix all of this. To stop it from ever happening. She told me last time she was here. We just have to be strong till then. I'll protect you."

That night they went to bed thinking of new hope. Noire never realized that, that would be the last day before things really changed. How was she to know that her parents would never come back to their home, that after all the battles Morgan and Noire fought together that Morgan would disappear and after they had finally found Lucina again to, after three years of looking? How was she to know that all of this was because of her father? The kind, gentle, protective, and always patient man who had always been there, the man who would take her sister away. She wouldn't know, there was no way of knowing. Just like she wouldn't never know what had happened to her mother in her final moments

Chapter Text

Gaius was enjoying a walk around town. Of course it was the best night ever to be out in town. Everywhere people were making, selling, and buying candy. This night was his favorite. People's guards were down and their spirits up. He smiles to himself as he quickly moves through the crowd. He turns off of the main rode and into an alleyway. He smiles at his treasures. He was so busy trying to decide which to eat first that he hadn't notice the sound of wings and of a lance being drawn out. Or notice the fact that the wings were steadily getting louder. No he did not notice any of this until the battle cry echoed through the air.

He was ready to run but he wanted to see who he needed to avoid. It was not what he expected. "Hey Sumia are you alright?" He asks the fallen pegasus rider. She was laying on the ground.

"G-gaius? Gaius you're the theif?! Gaius, we're suppose to be tricker-treating and you're stealing candy!" She lifts her face from the ground and even through the dirt that covered it Gaius could see she was upset.

"Sumia I can explain. I was getting ready to meet with you and Cynthia at the festival but I got s-sidetracked." He helps her up and tries not to laugh as he sees her costume. It was true that he had agreed to meeting them but he was going to pick up some treats on the way. "I was just."

"Daddy! You're suppose to be a hero!" Cynthia yells jumping off her mommy's Pegasus. She lands on her face too. She quickly stood up though and pointed at him. "You're a crook and crooks are taken to Frederick to be judged."

Gaius starts sweating a llittle and tries to smile though he bet it had looked more like a look of desperation. "Come on now Cynthia. Daddy doesn't think that's necessary. Do you want daddy to buy you some cakes to calm your nerves."

Immediately the young girl's face lit up but her mother's grew red. "Gaius! Bribing Cynthia with sweets!" Sumia shouts.

Gaius sighs. "Fine. I'll give back the candy."

"You will?" Sumia asks.

"Yeah. Hey, Cynthia watch daddy if you can." He says with a wink then he moves into the crowd with the candy he had 'collected'. In a few moments he was back, clearly disappointed and with empty bags now. "Had to avoid a fight but," he looks up from the empty bags, at his girls, "all the candy has been returned." He says sadly.

"Oh Gaius." Sumia hugs him and so does Cynthia. "Hey I know. After trick or treating we can get honey cakes!" Sumia suggests.

"Uh, sure." Gaius says as Cynthia jumps onto his back.

"Yay honey cakes!" Gaius wanted the candy he had given back but there are other ways to get candy he guessed. Besides Cynthia's smiling face somehow had lifted his spirit. He lifts her up higher so she was on his shoulders instead of his back. He laughs as she almost knocks both of them over.

Chapter Text

Ricken smile begins to strain. He continues to suffer as he waits for the last few paint strokes to strike and flow over the paper.

"H-how much longer do we have to stand here?" Brady asks hesitating to talk at first.

"Hush Brady."

"But ma,"

"Hush and I told you, you will call me mother. Not ma."

"Please stop moving?" The painter pleads as he pauses to stir one of the colors that had started to dry. Ricken couldn't help but wonder how they weren't all dry by now.

"Mommy please let me sit." The younger Brady asks.

"You should have sat on my lap when we started out then." Maribelle says, still bitter that her youngest son had fled from her arms when the painter was setting up.

Ricken laughs. He couldn't help it. He was quickly reprimanded by his dear wife and the painter. "Sorry." He apologizes whispering, as it seemed appropriate in the otherwise silent house.

When Maribelle had suggested this weeks ago, he thought it had sounded great. He suggested sending a letter to Anna and requesting to buy and use one of her strange tomes. One of which she had used when they had gone to the beach outerworld. Maribelle had shot that idea down immediately. She wanted a more traditional portrait. One she could have set next to the pictures of hers and his relatives.

"But wouldn't it be quicker and simpler to try one of these new tomes? Maybe Anna will show us." Ricken had said hoping to change her mind, remembering his own experience when standing to be painted with his parents.

"No. Tradition is how we will have our first portrait done. Now I will write a letter to Brady and tell him to make plans to pause in his performances to come and visit us." Maribelle had said and left Ricken's study without another word.

"Pa, tell ma she's lost it if she thinks I'm standing here another hour." The elder Brady says before yelping and bending over.

"Don't move or I have to restart."

Ricken looks at his eldest with pity. He knew how much it hurt to be at the receiving end on Maribelle's umbrella. Brady's eyes were close to watering over. "Don't worry I am sure it will be done soon."

Brady nods, biting his lip. He stands back up, sniffling as he did so. That was when Ricken saw the painter watching them impatiently. Brady noticed as well and glares at him. "What're ya lookin' at?" That made the painter jump. The sudden hostility had surprised him.

"Brady please," Ricken begins but was interrupted by his younger son.

"Yeah! What are ya looking at fool?" The younger one adds the insult to the end of it as if it made him sound tougher.

Maribelle's gaze was the only thing needed to set the boys straight. As soon as they saw it they stopped and stood still again with a muttering, "Sorry ma'am."

Ricken holds his smile through it all. Though it began to falter as he watches his sons' outbursts and their mother's furious gaze. He felt bad for his sons but he knew better then to move himself. This was important to Maribelle and he wanted to make her happy. She had been so upset these past few months even if she did pretend to just be busy.

He couldn't help but wonder if it was because the Brady from the future was always gone. He wasn't just assuming that though. Miriel had taught him better than to just assume and act on it. No he had evidence.

"There all done. I hope it is too your liking Mrs. Maribelle." Ricken and the boys let out a collective sigh of relief.

"So do I or you shall have a serious lack of work from now on." Maribelle says as she stands, lifting her umbrella up onto her shoulder.

Ricken laughs as the taller Brady sticks his finger down his throat in a mocking gesture. The younger Brady laughs, gaining his mother's view. He stops and covers his mouth with his hands.

Maribelle turns her attention back to the painting her pursed lips slowly turn upward into a small smile. It left her as she faces the painter. "This is satisfactory. Thank you. You will receive your payment momentarily." She says and looks back at the painting, fondly.

Ricken walks over and leads the painter away. He pulls out a coin purse and hands the man his requested payment. “Thank you for coming today.”

The painter gives a slight bow before leaving. Ricken turns around and walks over to Maribelle. “Shall we go hang it with the others Maribelle?” He asks and sets his hand on her shoulder.

“No. I think not. I shall go set it in your study. We will hang with the others later." She says and gently lifts the picture.

Ricken watches her with a careful eye as she walks by. "What's wrong with ma?" His eldest son asks once Maribelle was out of the room.

"I think she feels lonely." Ricken says and straightens his hat. He had, at some point, grown in to it over the years.

"Why? Aint we all 'ere?" He asks looking down at the other him then back to his father.

"Yes, well you're often gone and Brady just turned five. I think she feels as if it won't be long before he too is old enough to leave then it will just be us in this place." Ricken says voicing his thoughts out loud for the first time.

"Eh? That's nonsense. She's got plenty of years before the other me leaves." Brady says and leans on his staff.

"True, but she doesn't see it as such. Plus, since the end of the war you haven't come to visit very much Brady."

"Ah, well. Um." Brady rubs the back of his neck.

"You know you're always welcomed Brady." Ricken says with a warm smile before taking a book away from the smaller Brady.

There was a moment of hesitant silence before Brady replies. "I know. Isn't it," he pauses and watches ricken pick the other Brady up and set him on his shoulders. "a bit strange?"

Ricken laughs. "Brady there is nothing normal about children coming from the future to save their parents."

"Still,"

"You're always welcomed here and I think it would cheer your mother up if you did stop by more often." Ricken spins around and little Brady giggles joyfully.

"Haha. I think that's enough Brady. Here, go to your brother I have to help mommy set up the picture.” Brady says and hands the small boy to his older self. The older one takes him but holds him awkwardly on his side. Ricken leaves them be. Brady had been avoiding spending too much time with his younger self and Ricken knew it. That was why he always found at least one reason to have him interact with each other when BRady from the future visited.

Ricken walks through the long halls of the small mansion. It was in no way small when one looks at it or walks through it but when compared to the other royal houses it was certainly considered so.

Once he arrives at his study he knocks before openly the door. There was the sound of quick shuffling before he heard the small call, “Come in.” From his wife.

He opens the door and notices the picture sat against the small lantern on his desk. He was glad it was not aflamed. He smiles at Maribelle’s back and hums as he starts walking over. She looks up pulling a napkin away from her eye. She saw it was Ricken and sat up a little straighter, turning her head back towards the picture. “They’re growing up so fast.”

Ricken nods even though she couldn’t see it and his humming becomes a higher pitch before slowly returning back to the key tunes. He pulls his chair from behind the desk and sits it next to Maribelle. He was taller than her now and her hair was longer and never up as much as it use to be. She let her curls fall onto her shoulders without restraining them into ties anymore and Ricken thought it was a beautiful look for her.

“They are getting big. Well one’s already quite taller than us. Heh.” Ricken jokes and looks over at the picture before looking at Maribelle form the corner of his eyes.

Maribelle didn’t respond or turn away from it.

Ricken sighs and sets his arm around her shoulders. “I talked to Brady. I think he will start visiting more often then he has been.”

“That’s good.”

Ricken nods again. “I think Lissa is coming to visit with Owain tomorrow.” He mentions hoping to cheer her up.

“Really? That is good news. I have been wondering how they have been doing as of late.”

“Maribelle what’s wrong? I know something is. I have been with you long enough to tell when something is on your mind. Is it the boys?”

“Yes. Brady already doesn’t need us anymore and soon the other won’t either. We’ll be alone in this house and they won’t visit anymore.”

“Maribelle he may be growing up and the older Brady may not visit us often but they will always need us and we will be able to be there for them when it happens. We’ll always catch them when they fall and hope that the advice we give them will be enough after we’re gone.” Ricken says pulling her closer. He couldn’t help but become saddened by the thought but he knew one day one of them would leave the other, and he could never imagine her not being there. He had loved her for years and would continue to for the rest of his life and longer if possible.

Maribelle looks up at him and he saw the tears that lay in her eyes. He wipes them away with his thumb. "Come on Maribelle. Don't cry. I'm really trying to cheer you up here."

She laughs but chokes on it a little. "I know. I know Ricken." She lifts the napkin to her eyes again and dabs at them with it. "Ugh. Look at me. I am a lady I should not be crying. It is unbefitting." She says with only half of her normal conviction in her words.

Ricken pulls the napkin carefully out of her hands and stands from his chair. Maribelle gives him a look of confusion but he offers no explanation as he kneels in front of her and raises the napkin to her eyes himself. "Everyone cries Maribelle. Even lords and ladies. I have seen Chrom and Lissa cry before. It is nothing to be ashamed of."

"That is different. That was during the war. I am crying over the passing of time Ricken, my dear. It is not charming."

Ricken shakes his head and sets the napkin aside. "Maribelle, you are the most charming lady I have ever met or seen, and I am the luckiest man in the world to have you as my wife and my dearest."

Maribelle's face grows softer at his words until a small smile graced her lips. She looks from the Ricken kneeling before her to the one standing in the picture. "You have grown into a fine man and lord Ricken. You are responsible, sensible, understanding,"

"Wow that's two ibles in one sentence."

Maribelle sighs at that but continues, "and you are as wonderful as you were the day we married. I love you my darling."

Ricken blushes at that but smiles still. He stands up and offers her his hand. "I think we have a painting to hang."

"Yes we do." Maribelle takes his hand and once she was standing she took the painting into her hands.

"To the hall then." Ricken says and opens the door.

Maribelle walks by and leads the way to the other portraits. It was a hallway lined with portraits of Ricken's ancestors. When they married their estates became shared but Maribelle thought it was only right that they lived and raised their family in his. That decision only felt more certain as she places the portrait at the end of the hall on the right side. It filled the last empty spot to even out the walls. One day both of the Brady's families will lie on either side if the hall right across from each other when the time came.

It had been discussed. When their time came their sons will share their estates and could either choose to split them between them or share them together, but both portraits would be hanged here.

Maribelle walks over and places her arm around Ricken's. He lifts it and they walk with their arms looped through each other. Maribelle lays her head against his arm as they walked. Ricken truly couldn't imagine his life without her. This all simply felt too right to be wrong.

"Ricken."

"Yes?"

"I want another child."

"What?!"

Chapter Text

"That's preposterous." Lon'qu says as he lowers his sword and casts a doubtful look towards the army's tactician. Honestly if she went around spouting things such as that everywhere, it was a wonder they hadn't lost the war yet. "Swordplay is for men." Truly she had been up too late last night.
"No it's not and it certainly isn't preposterous. Think about it Lon' qu. A woman really is like a sword." She smiles as his face changed from one of doubt to confusion. He was cute when he was befuddled though she would never tell 'him' that. She knew better. "They can be an extension of one's self. They are efficient. If taken care of and treated right they can even be powerful weapons. Better to have one on your side then one pointed at you as well." She begins, listening off the similar features.
"A sword is a weapon of one's self. A woman if a weapon is one of her own free will. They are not part of someone else. They are of their own control and are accounted for the things they do. A weapon can not be blame for the things it does, only it's wielder, Franny." He prayed she wasn't going to start throwing figs again, the way this conversation was going.
Franny brushes a few strands of short, brown hair out of her eyes. Lon'qu looks away from her then. Why was she always so relaxed around him. He had announced more than one he did not like the company of women. Still he had grown use to her always appearing from nowhere and starting conversations such as this one. Her lack of tension always made him more tensed and while he was use to her being nearby and even touching him occasionally her train of thought and how she came up with ideas such as this truly left him wondering.
"I mean, come on Lon'qu there's really a lot of similarities. I'm surprised you haven't noticed before. I wonder if Gregor ever has. Anyways, if you think of women as swords then you can overcome your fear of them. That way every woman who wants to get close to you won't have to act strangely or throw fruit to do it." She says with a sly smirk.
Naga could she read his thoughts. The chance that she might be able to scared him, though he had only heard false telling of such magic before. "Fran," He began growing wearisome from the their talk.
"So it won’t work huh? Well that's poor luck. I thought if I could convince you then you would start a conversation with me for once."
She looked so disappointed and that made his stomach churn. What did she mean 'start a conversation with her'? They talked often. Whenever he saw her around camp he said hello to her and ate his meals with her. He talked to her more then any other woman in camp or man for that matter. He opens his mouth to say something but the look in her eyes silenced him. She was smiling and made a big show of giving up but there was something in her eyes that made him think maybe she truly was sad. He closes his open mouth and thinks back. In truth she often was the one to say hi first or start whatever odd conversation they would have at any of those times.
"Well, I suppose I should stop distracting you from training Lon'qu. I finished mine own this morning in a practice match with Frederick." Franny says in a cheerful disposition, interrupting Lon'qu's thoughts so she did not mean too. She begins walking away, not even noticing how crooked her coat was as she did so.
Lon'qu reaches out for her, and before he even realizes he had done so he was pulling her back by her right shoulder. She fell back a step from the tug, but had caught herself from falling. Good, he was glad. He had not met to pull to harshly, nor was he why he had in the first place, but already he was busying himself with adjusting her coat from behind.
"Lon'qu,"
"Wait." He moves the lopsided coat from her right shoulder and moved it far enough left that t sat cleanly on both. The front was loose now. He sides-steps from behind to the front of her. "It's loose now."
"Yes, that's because you have moved my coat." Franny restates, feeling the blood rush to her head and fill her cheeks as he unties and pulls on the strings that hung a little ways from her neck, but far enough to cause her to blush and wonder if he was purposely trying to embarrass her or if the coat had truly just bothered him. She also couldn't decide if she should smack him while she had the chance to catch him unaware or let him finish.
Lon'qu didn't notice the flush on Franny's face until he was nearly done. He was almost done tying the elaborate knot that he had seen her perform so many times to keep the coat from falling off, but also from choking herself with the strings. "I think this is how it is done." He says and that was when he had looked up to see her face a bright red. He was confused. Why would it be so red? He looks back at the strings n his gloved hands and then notice what else was right in front of him. He freezes up and starts to shake slightly.
"Uh, Lon'qu." Franny says wondering if he was going to finish before it grew uncomfortable. Well uncomfortable for both of them. She was already self-conscious about it and casts a look around to see if any of the soldiers were watching the,. None seemed to be paying them and heed. She lets out a sigh of relief and looks back down at Lon'qu. The top of his head was almost touching her chin even though he was bending now. From here she could practically catch the scent of Ferox's lands from him his hair. It somehow always smells like the trees and food from there though they hadn't been to Ferox in months.
She takes notices of his slight shaking as her minds comes back from the past the smells ahs carried. "Lon'qu? Lon'qu, um are you going to finish, because this is sort of an awkward position. If you could stop staring I would appreciate it." She says when she notices his gaze. She was starting to grow angry. Slowly. "Before someone notices. Lon'qu."
He snaps out of it and pulls the strings tight, quickly before jumping back a few feet. He prayed no one had seen him or her. Of-course they did, the training grounds were right there. He looks around to see if anyone was saying anything or were still watching.
Franny was surprised by how quick he had jumped away, having just freely staring moments before. Almost as surprised as she had been shocked by suddenly being choked by the strings. She had to catch her breathe again before she could loosen them. She was seething now, but that ebbed away once she saw the panic attacked Lon'qu seemed to be having as he frantically looked back and forth, his hands on his sword as if ready to silence anyone who took notice, any second. She couldn't help but laugh. He truly had just been fixing her coast. She should have remembered he was nothing like Virion. She had nothing to worry about.
Lon'qu turns his attention toward the laughter, his sword at the ready. He realizes the one laughing was Franny. "What's so amusing?!" He asks, practically hissing venom as he did so.
"Y-you." She says and doubles over.
Lon'qu felt his own face grow hot then. "What's so amusing about me?" He asks as he approaches her again. He was glad she was laughing, maybe he had not offended her. Still, he did not understand what was so funny.
"Lon'qu you're so sweet."
His face turns a bright crimson. "No I'm not. I'm a warrior they are not sweet,"
He was interrupted by her wrapping her arms around his neck, in a tight embrace. She had her head set against him before moving it to look up at him. She was smiling and her smile as large as the day itself. Lon'qu didn't know how that was possible. "Franny have you lost your mind. If someone saw then,"
"Lon'qu you worry too much. Training again tomorrow?" She asks and he nods, slowly, as she began to slip her arms from back around him. He pulls her back close to him and kisses her. He didn't know why he had done it there, in front of everyone but he was happy and his heart only elevated with his soul as she returned the kiss. When she pulled away from him, Lon'qu let's her go.
"About time Lon'qu. Still, I'm shocked. Someone could have seen us." She teases an easy laugh escaping from her lips. He wanted to kiss her again to close them, but he loved her laugh, how long had it taken him to notice? How long has that jump in his heart been there when she laughs.
"Now who's worrying too much?" He jokes.
"So how is that fear of women coming along?"
"Really, now you bring that up? Baka.”
“Well?”
“I think I have found an exception to the rule.” Lon’qu says and Franny hugs him tighter than before. She pulls away a moment later and says, with a smirk. “Miriel will be interested to hear her test subject has developed an immunity for a certain tactician.
Lon’qu shakes his head slightly but doesn’t stop smiling. Instead he goes along with the joke. “I’m sure she will.”
Franny pulls away from him once last time and looks ahead of her, past him. “Well, I am on dinner duty tonight. If you want we can perhaps spend some time together soon.”
Lon’qu nods. “I would like that.” He smiles as he watches her disappear from his view but it disappears as soon as she was gone so no one else saw it. He knew that if things went well then soon he would have to find a ring. Perhaps women were as troublesome as he first thought.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
“Ah. Where am I?” The lone voice of a boy asks as he finds himself alone in a field. He pushes himself into a sitting up position and rubs his head as he looks around. He wasn’t home that was for sure. Wherever he was there was a light layer of snow covering a vast ocean of green grass. His home was either always covered in snow or was always green with vegetation. Which it was he couldn’t remember for sure but he knew it was not ever an in between of the two.
He stands up and turns in a circle, looking out carefully, into the grass. “Which way is home?” He wonders aloud and waits for a reply. None. Wait did he still have his robe? or was it an overcoat? It didn’t matter which it was, what was important was knowing i he had it. After looking over the ground for it he feels around his neck and feels the edges of the hood of the robe. A sigh escapes him. Yes. He still had it.
Now, where was mother? Surely she wouldn’t allow him to go out by himself, not this far out by himself at least. Or leave him alone in a strange land. Mother would never allow for anyone to leave him here alone so why was no one answering? Maybe something happened? Wait what did happen? He tries to think but it causes a searing pain to tear through his head. He continues until he was worn out.
After falling to his knees he stops trying to remember. At least he knew enough. He knew who his mother was, what she did, how she loved him, and that his name was Morgan, and that he dreamed of being a tactician like his mother. That explains the book at least, but what of the sword? They were both lying on the ground besides the imprint he had left in the grass. how long had he been dozing there?
“Oh well, I should probably start heading home.” He still wasn’t sure which way home was however.
“Eenie, meanie, miney, moe.” He points in a different direction as each word leaves his mouth.
He landed on the direction he assumes is north once the game of chance was over. “Well, I guess going anyplace is better than just standing in a field for the rest of my life.” He tightens the string on the front of his robe before picking up the book and setting it deep inside an inside pocket of the robe. He then picks up the sword. It was in a sheath already so he ties the sheath to the side of his pants.
It seemed that his clothes were that of a swordsman besides the robe. Was he a swordsman? Maybe he was a myrmidon? If he was then why would he wear such a heavy coat? Wait, wasn’t this the coat identical to his mother’s? That was right. She had given it to him. No wonder he wore it though it would slow any other swordsman down. He suddenly grew even fonder of the robe. He hadn’t thought that possible.
“It might be a good idea to bring anything that I can use in case I need to defend myself. Mother would tell me to bring it along as well. I’m sure she would.” He tells himself. Now he was finally ready to go. After looking around once more through the grass for any lost items or people he starts walking. The farther he went the more snow and ice there was. It couldn’t be too hard to find the world’s greatest tactician ever, could it? He was sure he would find her soon, this was mother after all.
“Don’t worry mom. I’ll find you and then we can go home.” Morgan says cheerfully already loving the thought of going home with mother again.

This story was requested by http://www.quotev.com/Horselady on quotev.

Chapter Text

A Moment When

Gerome pets Minerva as he waits for Noire and news. They were visiting Lady Lissa. It was by chance that Brady and Maribelle were there as well, though that did not surprise Gerome. Maribelle was often visiting Lissa, but he was somewhat surprised to see Brady. They had made small talk in the hall as Noire was taken back into the second room on the right. They were still talking when Maribelle came and ordered Brady to come back with her and Lissa. Apparently he was needed to help. Everyone was needed but him. That made him feel anxious. Discussed

He did not like not being in there. Left with Minerva in the gloomy hall, even if it was well lit and very clean. Noire was sick and he was stuck outside. Being no help at all to anyone. He had called his mom and asked her if she knew what might be the cause of Noire’s sickness. She would suddenly grow very weak with fatigue, and that would not have struck him as odd if it was not for the fact that it would happen when she was doing day to day activities. She wasn’t doing any extra work, and he made sure that she was never over exerting herself. So it befuddled him as to why she was so tired.

The mood swings were strange as well. Much different from her usual tendencies. She didn’t even notice when these ones would happened. She would grow ravenous and eat more then usual and just as suddenly say that she wasn’t hungry as she continued to eat. Plus she was more violent whenever she was in a bad mood. Well, more so than what she had already been. What once would have been her yelling because of the cursed amulet her mother gave her was turning into a game of hunt and he was the target if he tried to calm her down or she was not satisfied after destroying whatever had caused the outlash in the first place.

Afterwards she would quickly apologize and help him clean up whatever mess had been made. She would tell him how she had no idea why she reacted the way she did and that she just sorta lost control. Noire’s fears were that her mother’s amulet was growing stronger. He wrote a letter to Tharja asking if this was possible. Her answer had been a curt no. When he questioned Cherche over any possible illnesses that may have been caused by living in wyvern valley his mother assured him that there was none that would cause such symptoms. None that he knew of. However, he was no healer.

So he had packed a few days of food and weapons, for the bandits that still roamed the lands around the valley and beyond, then he and Noire left for Ylisse to speak with the the cleric they trusted most. He did not like having to leave the valley. Whenever he and minerva was gone, was a chance for any hunters to sneak around the edges of the valley and pick off any wyverns they would find. Some would surely try to steel themselves and brave the journey to the center of the valley. Thinking about it even now made his spine shiver with unease and his teeth clench in anger.

“Gerome.” Hearing his name being called Gerome lifts his head and leaves his thoughts of the valley. “How long has she been like this?”

He thinks back. “A few weeks or so.” Seeing that Lissa was smiling eases him, if only just a little. “Is it, serious?” He asks a bit nervous of the answer.

Lissa smiles grow larger, just slightly, before it turns into a fake glare. She closes her eyes and wags one finger as her other hand rests on her side. “It most definitely is. I hope you know that it is not going away anytime soon and you better be ready because the next few months maybe even worse than they are now.”

“W-why? What is wrong with her? Is there nothing I can do to help her?” He had always watched over her. How could he had let her get so sick?

Lissa opens one eye and peeks at him through it before quickly shutting it again and with a huff she crosses her arms. “Only make her as comfortable as you can?”

With that grim sentence Gerome’s face fell. “Only make her comfortable?” He fell back, onto the bench behind him and rested his head on his hand. Minerva’s muzzle rubs against his knee and Gerome pets her with his free hand. He was doing it subconsciously, not able to truly focus on anything he was doing. What was wrong with his wife. Could he truly not do anything more? Minerva, as if reading his thoughts pushes herself closer to him so her large snouts was against his chest and his hair fell around her as well.

“Yep.”

“Please, tell me what is wrong with her. Is it some unknown disease?”

Lissa couldn’t stop herself anymore after that. She had fooled the poor boy long enough. She giggles.

This causes Gerome to gaze back up at the healer with a mixture of horror and anger at her cruelty. How could she laugh when his poor Noire was suffering? Minerva looks over at Lissa and snorts before nuzzling Gerome’s hand. He had stopped petting her.

“Gerome what she has is well known. In fact I’ve gone through it myself.” His anger was replaced with confusion. “Congratulations Gerome. Noire is pregnant.” Lissa shouts with cheerful glee, and abandonment. As if she had not just scared the boy by making him think his wife was dying.

You could see the fear leaving Gerome’s eyes as he stares at the princess. “She’s pregnant?” He asks again. Had he heard her right? He was going to be a father. A father.

“Yep!”

He quickly stands and walks over to Lissa grabbing her by the shoulders to hold her in place. He squeezes them, looking her square in the eyes. “There’s nothing else wrong with her? Are you sure? She is truly pregnant?” He had to make sure the devious cleric was not messing with him still.

Liss stares back at Gerome, pretending not to notice the increase of pressure on her shoulders. He wasn’t reacting as poorly as Gaius had, he left town for a few days before finally returning. He had gotten in trouble but in the end was forgiven after proving he would not flee again through rigorous trials. Those had cause Lissa to feel sorry for the thief though he should never had ran. Gerome wasn’t acting erratically as Henry who had literally cast nothing but wards and blessings of safety and good health Libra had taught him on the spot for the rest of the day. He wanted everyone else to feel as happy as he did in that moment. The biggest reaction she had ever witness was when Gregor found out he would be a father. The man took all his money and literally threw a festivale. He had everyone contribute and play a part in the festivities. He would not let anyone be left out, and celebrations had lasted for a week before he would let everything be taken down.

Whereas Lissa expected none of those from the boy she did expect him to seem, at least a bit more happy about it. He was just so tensed and on edge. Could he not at least smile though?

“C-can I go in now?” He asks after taking a deep, shaky breath. He releases Lissa from his grip now.

“Yes. You can.” The only reason he had been left out in the hall was because Lissa was not sure if Noire wanted privacy or not when she found out. Lissa had already received mail from Gerome’s mother so she had already suspected Noire was carrying. S she decided to just leave the boy out in the hall with his wyvern and Brady, that was until Maribelle decided this was a perfect learning moment for her boy. She wanted him to know how to tell a lady was ever carrying if he should ever have to.

Gerome rushes past Lissa, roughly pushing her to the side a little, by accident. He opens the door, with a slam as it hits the wall, his hand still on the handle. “Noire?!”

She sat up on a bed, smiling her cute little awkward smile. She holds her hands on the blanket that covered her lower half while she was in the bed. “I’m fine Gerome. It turns out,”

He interrupts her with a kiss. Pulling her in as he held her face gently in his hands. He deepens, and holds the kiss until he had to pull away for breathe. It had only been for a few seconds for he could not hold it any longer. He now noticed that he had been holding his breath the whole time he sat in that hall. “I know.”

She smiles and places her hand of his as they still held her face. She squeezes it and pushes her face against his palm, more as the tears well up in her eyes. She had been so worried as to how he would react. So nervous about what he would say.

“Noire why are you crying?” He asks, confused as to why she was. He wipes the tears away from her face with his free hand, not even trying to recover the one she held onto with her fierce grip.

“I’m, I’m so relieved.” She says and hiccups. She looks back to him now, still crying.

Gerome didn’t want her to cry. “Hey, don’t cry. Not while you’re smiling. It covers up your beautiful smile. I need that to brighten my day.” He knew he didn’t sound like himself but she still laughed.

She hiccups again, and wipe her eyes with her own free hand. She lowers their interlocked hands away from her face but doesn’t let him go. “I c-can’t.” She says and laugh a lightly.

Gerome pulls her close and sets her head against her chest. “Shh. It’s alright.” Nothing felt more right then holding her there, in that moment.

They sit on the bed, silently for what felt like an eternity, but Gerome didn’t mind. His mind was still preoccupied with thoughts of being a father. Would it be a boy or a girl? What would they name their child? Would it get along with the wyverns of the valley as well? Would it prefer the bow or wyverns in the battlefield? Neither if he could help it, but they would have to teach their child to protect themself. Anything could happen. He knew that better than most.

“Gerome, what are you thinking about?” Noire questions, her face looking adorable as she looks up to Gerome.

He squeezes the one hand of hers that he held. “Our future.” He answers, with a smile. Her face was one of pure bliss, after he said that.

Nine months later

Gerome sits besides Noire as Lissa washes the child. “Congratulations.” THe cleric says, smiling down at the bundle in her arms. “It’s a healthy baby boy.” Noire holds out her arms and accepts the bundle. She moves the blanket from covering his face, so she could get a better look at him. She coddles him as Gerome watches. “Though I am concern that he hasn’t cried yet. If he doesn’t soon, we’ll have to make him.”

He was surprised when she suddenly looks up as in a fright. “What are we going to call him? We never decided.” She was in a panic, and over a name. It was as if she hadn’t even heard Lissa.

Gerome had to stop himself from smiling. “Well,” he begins his tone completely serious, “We were thinking about Ignatius.”

“Heheh. Yeah, little Iggy. Still, I think I like Melvyn better.” Noire says and looks now at the soft bundle in her arms. He hadn’t yet opened his eyes. Noire begins humming the song Gerome’s mother use to sing to him. She had always loved that song.

“Farran was also on the considering list.” Gerome says and sits on the bed besides Noire.

Noire stops humming and looks over a Gerome. She carefully moves her arms to hand Gerome the delicate child and Gerome leans over to meet her halfway. With a slight drop of his arms he was now holding his child. Looking him over he saw the small patch of dark hair on his head. It wasn’t much but he was surprised by the bit of hair, wasn’t babies born bald? No, he guessed not all were. “Agh.” He looks down at the small noise the quiet child had made. His face was contorted and he held it that way for a few moments before he began crying.

“Why is he crying?” Gerome asks Lissa.

“Maybe. It’s actually good that he’s crying.”

“How can it be a good thing that he’s crying?”

“It helps them with their breathing.”

Gerome was about to say something else when Noire calls for his attention. “Gerome look.” The way she says it was so soft and gentle, he was surprised he could hear her over the crying. He follows her fingers and sees she was pointing at the baby. He pauses in his crying and blinks. His eyes were light and carried a hint of grey and brown. “Asher.”

“Asher?”

Noire leans her head against Gerome’s shoulder still watching her their child. “Yeah. Isn’t it perfect?”

Gerome lifts asher up and looks at him from a different view as if checking to make sure it fits. “Yeah. Asher is perfect.” The baby curls up his fist and argues about being lifted. Gerome brings him closer again, to still his protest. “I can’t wait to get him home.”

Three months later

The crying could be well heard throughout the room. Gerome suspected it could be heard throughout the entire valley. He sits up as Noire gets out of the bed. He rubs the sleep from his eyes, wasn’t it his turn to get up? He watches quietly as Noire picks up the child and rocks it back and forth, slowly in her arms. Gerome felt Noire slip back into bed with Asher in her arms. She was humming the song Cherche had taught her again.

Asher calms down and Noire scoots herself back towards the wall by the back of the bed(they didn’t have a headboard on theirs), with one arm while holding Asher still in the other. Gerome listens as she begins singing the lyrics to the old nusery song.

“Oh, my sweet, sweet.

Don’t close your eyes.

Or else you’ll miss a day that’s gone by.

Oh my sweet.

Don’t close your eyes. Or sleep will claim you.

Oh my sweet, sweet, baby boy.

Can’t you hear the wyvern’s call outside?

If you close your eyes sleep will claim you and we’ll have to say our goodbyes.

So my sweet.

Don’t close your eyes.

Don’t close them yet.

I’m not ready for that goodbye.” Noire sings.

Gerome watches. She was so good with Asher. She already had him yawning again. Gerome sits up and takes him from her. “You need your rest. Let me finish the lullaby.”

“But Gerome,”

He stops her by setting his arm around her shoulders and resting his head on tops of her own. She buries her face into his neck, already feeling the hands of sleep digging into her. Gerome runs his fingers through her hair as he begins the next verse.

“So with a kiss on your head.

I sing you this melody.

Knowing it will take you from me.

In good faith that you will once again wake.

And send these tears dashing from my face.

On the day when we awake.

I know that you have lived all of our fates.

But until that day.

My sweet.

I beg you to stay, with me just a few more days.

So we may fight off that night

when we meet such a fate.”

Gerome closes his eyes as he finishes the last line. The slow breathing of Noire’s let him know she is deep in sleep again. He opens his eyes and slowly moves his shoulder from under her. He catches the nodding sniper before setting her down carefully back onto the bed. Now he just had to put the baby back to bed. He looks down to make sure Asher was comfortable in his arms and saw that the baby was wide awake. “Heh. You’re mother did a better job of putting herself to sleep then you.”

Asher smiles and Gerome felt his chest swell with pride. “Well I guess it’s just you and I.” As if to correct him Minerva growls outside. Asher giggles and Gerome looks out the window and smiles. “Well, us and Minerva.”

“Gerome.” Noire says her eyes still closed. “Lay down, Asher can lay between us tonight.” Noire says, practically ordering for Gerome to set the child down as she smacks the space besides her.

“Alright, but tomorrow he sleeps in his crib. Maribelle says it’s bad for babies to sleep with their parents too often.” Gerome says being the stern one. If it was in his family’s best interest then he would definitely follow the advice given by the loud noble.

Noire opens her eyes slightly and pouts. She wraps her arm around Asher and rests her head against the side of his. He smiles and his tiny hands grab at her arm. Noire laughs and Gerome smiles, slipping back into his place in the bed and pulling the cover back over himself and Asher. Gerome turns onto his side and wraps his left arm around Noire and Asher, pulling both a little closer to himself. The move made Asher wiggle a little but he soon stopped and was as fast asleep as his mother beside him.

Two years later

At first it had been so great. He wasn’t sure when things had gone bad, but they had. Once again fate had played with him. Gave him a shred of happiness then stole it away. How was he suppose to win? Was it truly fate that conspired against him or some other entity out there?

“Dada?” Gerome looks away from the picture he held in his hands. It was one taken by Anna with an extra tome of hers. It took pictures, and he was now glad that Noire had talked him into taking it with her.

“Daddy?” The voice came again. Gerome pastes a smile onto his face and sets the picture down, as he walks over to the child that stood alone in the hall.

Gerome bends down so that he was now on the boy’s level. “Yes, Ash? Is something wrong?”

“Mommy was here.” The young boy says, casting a fearful glance down the hall. It was the middle of the day, and Gerome was waiting for Minerva to return from the wherever in the valley she had gone to today. So that they may leave.

Gerome sighs and picks up the young toddler. “Yes, she is. Mommy will always be here. In every corner of this house.” Asher had been claiming to see Noire everywhere since her death. Gerome wasn’t sure if her ghost was there or if it was his son’s imaginings. He carries him into the kitchen and sets the boy on the table. “Are you hungry Asher?”

“Yeah.” The young boy looks around as if searching for something, as Gerome opens a shelf and pulls out a small bowl. He watches as Asher stands up and starts walking around on the old wooden table. He watches closely as he pulls an apple from the fruit that sat in a bag hanging up so no sneaking animals that Minerva hadn’t stopped, got to it. He begins peeling it before cutting into thin slices.

Asher stops at the other end of the table, staring at the chair. He bends down and holds onto the edge of the table before leaning over and setting his feet first in the chair. Gerome began to wonder what the boy was doing, and where he was going. Typically he would sit still until his food was ready.

Gerome’s gaze follows his young son as he climbs down from the chair and then goes over to the closest wall to his right. Asher was staring at something. There was nothing to look at besides the window. “Min.” He says and tries to grab the window. He was far too short.

“Min. Min! Min!” The flapping of wings and a call outside announced Minerva’s arrival. Asher was jumping up and down in a flurry of movement, trying desperately to reach the window. Minerva stops right outside the window and pushes it open with her snout.

Gerome approaches Minerva with confidence. He lifts Asher and sets him on his shoulders. Asher laughs and Gerome pets Minerva’s snout.  “Ready for the trip?” He asks and Asher nods with such eagerness that the boy began to kick his father’s shoulders. “Okay, okay.” Gerome grabs his bowl of food from the table as he walks through the kitchen and to the front door. Minerva greeted them there.

Lifting Asher from his shoulders Gerome set him on the lower end of Minerva’s neck. The wyvern held very still as the child was placed upon her. She was always careful with Asher and was always watchful when the boy was near. She was as protective of him as she had ever been of Gerome, if not more. It made him wonder if she had acted the same when he was a baby.

Turning away from the two for a moment he acquires the saddle from it’s spot on the wall beside the door. Gerome saddles Minerva with great ease as he tightens the straps and checks the knots of the bags. Asher was still sitting patiently on Minerva’s lower neck as he ate.

Gerome was surprised at how well Minerva and Asher got along. He shouldn’t have been if he considered how she was when he was a child, but she really was patient with Asher. Asher was always climbing on and over Minerva, only ever getting reprimand when he would hit her. After her snapping at him a couple times he learned not to hit her and instead would pull on her scales. Gerome had told him not to many times. Too many, but Minerva never seemed to mind. He was sure if it was anyone else attempting to she would eat them alive.

“Are you ready to go?” Gerome asks and finishes tying the saddle down, and adjusting the straps.

Asher nods and tries to stand up but trips. Gerome moves to catch him and caught his arm. He was hanging in the air now, Minerva having caught the sleeve of his other arm. They slowly set him down and Gerom throws away the spilled food, before he put the bowl into a pocket on the side of the saddle.

“Come on.” He says and Asher runs over to him. He held his arms up and closes his hands, waiting to be lifted.

Gerome laughs and sets Asher on Minerva’s saddle before climbing on behind him. “Hang on.” He warns Asher and pats his head full of dark black hair, that resembles his grandmother’s.

“Yay!” He shouts and raises his hands up, light sparks of bright light coming from his hands.

“Careful.” Gerome scolds as Minerva begin to pick up speed. He held onto Minerva’s reigns with one hand, while he held onto Asher waist with his other. This was his first ride, and Asher had been excited about it for days. Gerome was happy. Asher hadn’t smile like this in months, after Noire was gone. He was glad that he was smiling again. Even if his powers were acting up a little while they were in the air.

“Do a spin! Do a spin!” Asher shouts over the rushing wind.

“Alright. Minerva.” She begins to flip and Asher clings to Gerome as he laughs.

“More. Can she do more?”

“Of course.” Gerome says with a light chuckle.

“Are you having fun?” Gerome asks after Minerva finishes somersaulting through the air.

"Yeah." Asher laughs and stands up, raising his hands into the air. "I love the sky."

Gerome smiles a fatherly smile. The first time he took Noire up she had been very scared and nervous but was soon thrilled with the trip. He was told that Asher had his facial structure, even though he had Cherche's eyes and Tharja's hair. He also had begun showing signs of magical capabilities. Which made Gerome nervous.

Looking at him now, Asher reminded Gerome of Noire more than anyone. His hair was soft and curled around his face like Noire's did and his skin as fair. He had her nervous enthusiasm and it made Gerome smile and grow concerned for his future.

"-er!" Asher sits down and looks up at his father a huge grin on his face. "Can we?"

"Huh?" Gerome scolded himself for not listening to his son.

"Can we go higher papa?" Asher asks again his excitement filled his voice.

"Maybe next time. We're almost there." Gerome answers and Asher's face falls. "On the way back." Gerome promises.

"Really?" His small fist were balled up in anticipation now.

"Yes."

"Yay."

Gerome slides off of Minerva with ease and lifts Asher up and sets him on his shoulders. Gerome walks through the empty clearing of grass with solid steps. The ground was muddy from recent rains but it did not bother him much. He did not want Asher outfit to be ruined by the mud.

"Too long." Asher says as his father ducks under some trees so their low branches did not hit Asher.

Gerome sighs. Sometimes his son could be so impatient. He keeps walking without answering the boy until his feet reach a stump.

"We're here." He says more to the stump then to Asher. He gently lifts him up from his shoulders and set him besides the stump. Wiping his hands carefully over the top of the preserved stump.

The stump's roots were large enough to form the perfect seat for Asher. He was too distracted by the dying roots to care though. They would fall apart in his hand. He looks over at the other side of the stump and saw the roots were bright and didn't fall apart under his touch.

"It's dying." Asher says, as he climbs onto the top of the stump and hits it.

Gerome pats Minerva's snout and she drops a bag at his feet. "Thanks Minervakyns." He opens the bag and pulls out an amulet and a few lilies.

Asher cuddles his knees as he watches his father set the flowers around the edge of the healthy half of the stump.

"It is already dead. Your grandmother had cast a spell to slow the aging of it. On the outside at least."

Gerome frowns as he finishes setting the flowers around it. He closes his eyes and mutters a quick prayer. Asher watches him with curiosity.

After the prayer he smiles a small, remorseful smile. Then lifts Asher from the stump and sets him down in his lap.

"Dada?"

"Your mother wanted to come with when I took you for your first real flight on Minerva. So I decided we should visit her during it."

"Mmhmm." Asher says agreeing, but he wasn't sure what he was agreeing with. The small tree was pretty, even if the other side looked scary. What was special about it? He really wanted to know.

Asher wiggles out of his father's arms and touches the stump again. The plants around it, start growing taller  the stump. They begin to wrap around the half-dead stump and climb it. Asher wiggles his fingers before clapping his hands and slapping the stump again. almost as if he wanted to see what else he could do.

Gerome watches in awe as his son worked with his magic. When the plants stop moving the stump was completely engrossed in beautiful blue lillies. “Lookie daddy.”

“I see.” Gerome says smiling a little. He almost swore that he heard Noire singing again. He reaches up to his face and felt the phantom feeling of his mask resting there. Seeing magic reminded him of his time in the war. Never had he seen it used in such a simple, pure way before. Gerome is summoned from his thoughts by Minerva who butted her head against his back.

“I’m okay Minerva. Asher,”

“Huh?”

“Do you want to go visit Grandma Tharja?”

“Reewy?”

Gerome nods slightly.

Asher returns the nod with vigorous speed.

“Come on then. We’ll finish this ride then pack once we get home.”

Chapter Text

My name is Robin. At least I think it is. Some other names have flashed through my mind as well but they do not seem to be my own. They don't feel right. They don't fit as well as Robin does. Yes. Yes, Robin is definitely my name.

The names, Lucina, Lissa, Gaius, Frederick, Inigo, Morgan...they just don't feel like they're me, yet I know I've heard them before. One name above the others. Chrom. The name pulsated throughout my head. Yet there was another who followed after it. Even louder. Flavia.

I open my eyes just for a second and see blue hair, but nothing else. Everything was too bright. I had to close them again. The sun, was it the sun? If it wasn’t then whatever it was burning my retinas. Miriel told me that word once, didn’t she? Wait, which face was Miriel’s again?

"Get up! You have to wake up." Says a panicked voice. A girl if I am guessing right, but why is she so worried? Why do I have to get up? I'm so tired. Just let me sleep.

"Calm. We found him at least." Says a deeper voice, calming the first. The voice was definitely that of a man's. He used a soothing tone. I knew this voice.

"But,"

Whatever the girl was going to say was interrupted and replaced by light shaking. I wished they would leave me be. I'm tired and I think I have well deserved my nap. I can't remember why I felt that way though. I did something. What was it again?

"Chrom, he's breathing. That's a positive. Here let me,"

Chrom! I open my eyes slowly again and look up. That was one of the names that wouldn't stop chasing me. Maybe he knew the others that wouldn't leave me be. Blond hair, beautiful brown skin, dark eyes that could terrify and amaze anyone with a simple look.

“You know, there’s are many better places to sleep then on the ground.” Says the blue haired man as he offers me his hand. I take it and he easily pulls me up with one easy motion. “How many times do I have to tell you that before you take it to heart?” He asks and I laugh.

“Chrom.” I say my voice sounding tired and dragged out. As if I had been sleeping for months and hadn’t bothered using it. Maybe I had.

He hugs me his cape flapping around his side as he does so. The motion was so quick I would have been surprised had I not already came to expect it. Soon he releases me and I look towards the girl. Blonde hair in twin ponytails. She looks the same as always, with bright, innocent eyes and an easy going, comfortable feeling to her. Her hair was longer than before though. “Lissa.” She practically jumps into my arms. “Not so suddenly.” I beg, cringing from the pain that shot up through my back.

She quickly releases me and steps back, resting her hands behind her back now. “We were beginning to lose hope. You had been gone for so long.” She says and I could see the guilt in her eyes before her head is downturned.

“How long?” I ask my voice starting to sound normal once more. Unused was probable cause for the hoarse tone to it. Undoubtedly. How long had I been gone through? Why did they look so down casted?

Chrom looks back at Lissa with concern before turning back to his friend. “A year. Almost two now. Our hopes were starting to grow dim. But our lead was right, and we’ve found you.”

I shake my head and try to recall why it was I had left in the first place. That’s right there was a fight, and, and I had killed Grima. Wait, shouldn’t I be dead then?  Wait, Flavia. How could I forget?

“W-where,” I didn’t have to finish.

“Flavia is still Khan, frankly she has been running Basilio and her troops ragged with new training methods during your absence.” Chrom says his smile soft with a nervous ease to it now. Why the change? Chrom answers Robin’s thought as if he was telepathic. “I suppose it was because Feroxi and Ylisse lost their best tactician.

“Flavia.” I say trying the name out loud. It was the only one that repeated itself in my head more than Chrom’s. Always louder and longer. Demanding so much attention. I laugh. She was always that type of woman. The kind who always demanded respect and attention from her soldiers.

“I have to see her.”

“Robin, that wouldn’t be such a problem if not for the fact that we’re nowhere near Feroxi.” Chrom rests his bare arm on his old friends’ shoulders. “We will make it back but you must wait. It will be a few days before,”

“Where are we?” I interrupted which typically I wouldn’t have done so abruptly, but there were more important matters.

“Robin,”

“Where?”

Chrom’s expression becomes one of pity and genuine sadness. “Plegia. Where the fell dragon’s remains had once rested.”

“What?” To say I was surprised was the simplest way of putting it. However, upon thinking more about it I suppose it only makes sense that I would be sent back here. Had I been here the whole time or was I just recently sent back? Most likely the latter or I would have been found sooner than this, if not we surely would’ve wound up baked by the heat of the sun in this desert.

“Heh heh. Of course. Ah, you are bitter to the end.” I say to no one in particular but this statement raises alarm from my friends.

“Robin, are you sure you are feeling fine?”

“Yes. I’m just a bit befuddled. So many memories, and moments, just rushing back. All at once.”

“Memories? Are they of your past? Are they before the shepherds?”

“No. I don’t think I’ll ever get those back.” I adjust my coat and realize that I still had it. It gave me some comfort. “It’s just that there were so many people and my mind has been picked and messed with quite a lot over this last year.” I adjust my coat again, this time brushing off any residue from the sands. “Well we should be setting out. I have to be at Feroxi by the end of the day.” I inform them. I begin walking in the direction I was guessing to be north from the position of the sun. It appeared to be early in the afternoon. Now I wish there was a sundial nearby.

“Robin?! You just woke up, shouldn’t you take it easy?” Lissa questions.

I shake my head in response. “I told Flavia that as soon as I got back I would be home within the day. Judging by the sun I have around twelve hours left. So I have to get moving and make it count.”

“Surely she will understand.” Lissa says with such earnest. She really was concern about my wellbeing. Still, standing around and arguing on if we should be going yet or not just took up my time.

“Lissa, if I do not keep good on my word. You won’t have to worry about my health because Flavia will kill me.” I smile at her and Chrom before walking away from them again.

I hear a whistle then a stomping of hooves. I was too curious to not glance back. Chrom was talking with a Pegasus rider and that was the first time I took notice of them. Looking up I saw two more pegasys and their riders hovering above in the air.

“You’re in luck.” Chrom calls and he regains my attention. Once he saw he had done so, he smiles and continues. “I thought you might be in a rush to go home so,” he looks up at the rider of the first pegasys and I now saw it was Sumia. Cordelia and Cynthia soon land behind her instead of staying where they had been in the air. “I thought we may need a few hands.”

I smile and climb onto Cynthia’s Pegasus as Chrom helps Lissa onto Sumia’s. Once Chrom was seated on Cordelia’s Pegasus, Sumia made a motion and they all took flight. We were in Feroxi by the end of the day.

Flavia was ordering soldiers through a training session. They were being run ragged and Robin couldn’t help but notice the frustrated Basilio in their midst. His usual smile was not present on his face as he blocks the sword of a soldier. Judging by his heaving breathing and the sweat dripping from his face he was certainly being worn down. Robin watches, wondering what they had done to earn such a training session.

“Robin you have to hurry up and go see her!” Cynthia shouts which catches the attention of the soldiers. Before Robin could say anything Flavia had spotted him as well as Basilio. The older man was smiling and waving before he smacks the other soldier he had been fighting down.

Flavia was already walking over towards Robin and the others who had landed gracefully behind Cynthia and her Pegasus. Robin manages a nervous half smile as Flavia get dangerously close. Her face was pointed downward which caused an overcast of shadow over her eyes. He couldn’t read her expression so he couldn’t tell if she was angry with him or not. By the way she was walking towards him with her fist clench, and in a very deliberate style he was sure it was the former.

“I’m back.” Robin says gaining some courage. He holds out his arms to embrace her but Flavia instead looks to Chrom who had taken a few steps closer to them out of concern for his friend’s safety.

“When?” She asks giving Chrom a very uncaring look.

“Today. Just a few hours ago.” Chrom answers honestly.

Flavia turns her head back to Robin. A smile was now on her face and her eyes shine brightly with the news. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you. I’m glad to be back, but I’m even happier to see you.” Robin says honestly. He hugs her before she could say any snarky comment back. After a moment of hesitation, he could feel her hug him back tightly, as if she thought he may rush off to kill another evil and destroy himself all over again.

Chapter Text

Kellam stands in the corner of the tent as he listens to everyone discuss the possible battle formations for the fight tomorrow. It was no surprise to him that almost everyone took no notice of him while he was in that corner. He had chosen to stand there because he was worried of someone bumping into him if he stood closer to the table.
“Kellam why don’t you come stand beside me?” Robin had suggested when the meeting was in the process of beginning.
“No, I’m good over here. Out of the way, and I can see everyone from this spot.” Kellam says to reassure her that he did not feel left out. Robin looks over the rest of the room with her keen observant eyes. He loves how the light purple of her hair contrasts with the dark purple of her eyes. She gives him a soft smile when she lands once more on him.
“If you’re sure,”
“I am.”
“Alright dear.” She stands up on her feet a little higher and plants a quick kiss on his cheek before squeezing his hand and walking away to join Chrom at the head of the war table.
He stands vigilantly, making sure no one inside was planning any attacks. They would be foolish to ever consider so since the strongest of Ylisse was here but they had assassins try to attack them before during these meetings. Typically he would standing outside but Chrom and Robin wanted his, Sully’s, Stahl’s, and Frederick’s opinions over the current situation. Of course Lucina, Owain, and Lissa were there as well. All of the strongest knights of the Ylisse shepherds in one place made the meeting seem all the more important, and it set Kellam on edge. If someone managed to get inside or past the guards on the outside then they would all be at risk, but he trusted the guards, and his fellow soldiers.
“Mother! Am I late?” Morgan asks through huffs of breath.
“A little dear.” Robin admits they had already started the strategies for how they were going to get through the soldiers and actually to Grima.
“Sorry.” He says and winces, looking off to the side as if he was in pain.
“It’s alright. Hurry we need our second best tactician as well for this one.” Chrom says invitingly with a wave. Morgan hurries over to the table, but pauses as he passes his father by. There was a questioning look in his eyes that asked him a hundred questions. Kellam never was sure which one Morgan wanted to ask when he gave him such looks. So he decided to ask one himself.
“Stayed up reading again?” Kellam leans down a little to whisper the question to his growing boy. He sometimes felt sad that he hadn’t gotten to see him grow up, but he was glad and hopeful that maybe the other him had been a good father, for Morgan was such a happy boy.
“Yeah. Don’t tell mom, please?” Morgan requests with a childish grin.
“I think she already knows.” He gestures over to Robin who was glaring at Chrom for some reason. She casts the occasionally stern but concern glance over to Morgan and Kellam. “Mother’s always know.” Kellam smiles and pats Morgan’s shoulder. “You better hurry.”
Morgan nods and runs off towards the table.
The meeting drags on. It was getting darker outside of the tent as the discussions continue. Finally as the candles were being lite Chrom suggests something.
“I think we need to discuss our final plans. You were very adamant about what we should do Robin but,”
“Morgan, Kellam, would you two mind writing outside for a few moments?”
Of course the two remained where they were.
“Why?” Ask Morgan, his eyebrows furrow down with concern.
Kellam stays silent, standing still as if on a vigil. Maybe she would miss him, or overlook him. Would that work if she already knew he was in the room. If he moves to a different spot that may draw her attention to him or it could make him invisible to her. He never thought he would want to be invisible to anyone, especially Robin.
“Robin have you not told them?” Chrom questions his anger showing. Rarely was Chrom angry at one of the shepherds.
“A decision was reached Chrom. I told you what I planned to do. I had not yet had a moment’s peace to speak it over with them.” Robin states barely above a whisper.
“Robin, what is going on?” Kellam asks stepping over to his wife. He knew this battle would be dangerous but what decision did they speak of? “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Robin’s voice was barely audible now. She casts a glare at Chrom that could freeze a risen in place.
Chrom was stubborn. Maybe even more so than Robin. He stood his ground and didn’t flinch under her gaze. Crossing his arms he waits for her to say something.
Robin sighs and stands up. She regains her composure before looking around at the familiar faces of friends and family at the table. Her eyes only rest on Morgan and Kellam for mere moments before moving on.
“I have decided that it would be best to end Grima forever.” She looks at Chrom from the corner of her eyes.
“Sounds best to me.” Announces Sully. No one ever did accuse her of having tact.
“I thought we had settled upon that.” Robin continues. Chrom doesn’t move or say anything.
“What’s the problem, besides the obvious complications of getting to him?” Stahl questions.
“There are two ways to defeat the fell dragon. One, Chrom uses Flachion to deliver the final blow and the fell dragon Grima falls once more. However he may rise again in the future.” Robin eyes harder and her voice grows sterner. If was as if she had already settled on something. “The second way to defeat him is if I destroy him, however that means I too will be destroyed. Grima and I are connected. I share part of his power. Only I can kill him because only his own power can. I don’t imagine Grima committing suicide anytime soon so I have to use my power to end this. However my body will be no more because his power, that I will use to destroy him, will be destroyed as well and that is part of my physical form.” She was trying to explain it for everyone. “That is at least what I understood form Naga.” Her face and voice softens. “Kellam, Morgan, I was going to tell you but I wanted it to be in private.” She turns around to where Kellam stood beside her. “I didn’t want all the shepherds knowing.” She moves to rest her hands on Kellam’s face but he steps away from her.
“How... how could you even consider that?” His body was shaking and his voice trembling. He wasn’t sure what he felt. Anger, grief, betrayal, insecurity. It may have been all of them and more. He didn’t know.
“Kellam if I don’t do this I would be endangering lives in the future and there may not be anyone around to stop him next time.” Robin didn’t sound remorseful or as if there was even a reason to question why. “Right now I can save everyone.”
Kellam had been staring at the ground, his fists balled up. Morgan was quiet. This causes Kellam to look up too see how his son was doing. The boy had stepped away from the table and was in the shadows at the far end of the tent. Lucina and Owain was nearby but neither was paying him any mind. He was standing alone, invisible, to everyone else.
“Kellam, I don’t want to leave you or Morgan here, but you won’t be alone. You’ll have each other and the shepherds. I know you’ll be in good hands and,”
Kellam stares at Robin and she stops. He wants to scream to shout, to beg and plead. He wants to tell her how unfair she was being and how she couldn’t do this to Morgan and him. He knew she was right though. He understood and could forgive that, but he could not forgive her for standing there in front of him and not going to their son. He was alone right now watching all of this. Disappearing into shadows that Kellam knew all too well. Robin’s face falters and her strength in gone. She starts to tear up and Kellam hated Chrom for making them talk about this now, here, in front of others. For hurting her and his son like this. He knew it was ridiculous but he was so angry at both of them for this.
Her head falls onto Kellam’s armor, her eyes and tears between his shoulder plate and his neck. He squeezes her closer and looks over to Morgan. The boy was unmoving, until he sees his father’s eyes. He breaks, his shield falling down and Morgan starts to cry. He rubs at his eyes and chokes on sobs. Robin looks up and over to him now. She holds out one of her arms to him and the boy runs over to them now.
Kellam squeezes them both as they cry. Robin quietly with the occasional sniffle and Morgan profusely with the occasional bout of coughing. Kellam looks around and asks Chrom if they could have a moment. The exalt’s eyes were sympathetic. With a nod chrom makes everyone leave. Once they were alone Kellam felt the final piece of his strength leave him. His eyes start leaking tears slowly.
“You don’t have to do it. You don’t have to leave.”
“Yes I do.” Robin says her voice temporarily clear.
“What if I do it? I have your blood, doesn’t that mean I have some of his?” Morgan asks looking up at his parents. He was almost the same height of Robin now and he had grown since being with them. Kellam remembers when Morgan ran to him, overjoyed at the news that he was still growing.
“No.” Both Robin and Kellam declare in unison.
“That isn’t an option.” Kellam makes clear.
“It may not even work if you do it.” Robin adds making sure Morgan wouldn’t try to go behind him and perform the act.
They stay with each other in the war tent for a while longer before finally they had all calmed down. Kellam still wouldn’t let them go. Despite Robin’s fussing. He didn’t want to let them go yet. If he held them there then maybe tomorrow would take longer to get here and the fight would still be another day away. Eventually his reason did give out and he releases his family from his tight embrace.
That night the meeting ended early, Robin told Chrom that she would not be returning and that her decision was final and her mind unchanged. She was the only person besides Chrom’s sisters that Kellam had ever seen get away with telling him what will happen. Kellam smiles proudly as Robin left him and joins arms with Kellam.
They walk Morgan back to his tent and spend a few hours talking about life, strategies, whatever he wanted to talk with them about. They gave him advice. Well, Robin mostly gave him the advice about war and girls, Kellam gave him advice about growing up. They even discussed the future with him. They answered all of his questions until he had fallen asleep.
They left and return to their own tent which was next to Morgan’s. Quietly and slowly they prepare for bed. They didn’t say a word to each other. Kellam tries not to think about how many days or maybe hours he has left with her. Such thoughts would ruin those moments if he lets them creep into his mind. He did not want her to go. He did not want to be without her, but he understood her. He knew she would never be able to live happily, knowing that one day lives may be lost because she did not kill Grima when she had the chance. She would never be able to live peacefully. So he would just have to live without. He still had Morgan. That was a ray of light and hope in these dark times Kellam had never expected. Then again he had never expected the boy’s mother either. Both were surprises he was happy that life had given him.
When they lay in bed and Robin pulls the sheets up to her neck, she stares at him. Kellam was use to this. She often would stare at him for different reasons. Sometimes it wasn’t because of him at all, others she was scared he would disappear. He pulls the blankets up to his waist before staring back. This time he was scared she would disappear.
“I’m not gone yet.” Her voice was back to normal, the only sign of her previous state was the redness of her worn out eyes.
“I know.” He rest a hand behind her neck and leans to kiss her forehead.
“I may be able to come back.”
Kellam doesn’t go rigid. He doesn’t pull away, or squeeze her. He simply inquires, “How?” He would make it happen. No matter what he would find a way to bring her back if he could.
“Naga said I could come back if my ties to this world, to the shepherds, was great enough. She didn’t say when or where I would be, but there is a chance that I can come back.”
“You’ll come back then, and I’ll do my best to find you when you do. Who better to find a missing person than someone who’s been invisible by most for the majority of their life?” He jokes. He knew if that was all it took then Robin would come back. She was the close friend of many within the shepherd’s numbers and was well liked by those who were not.
Robin kisses him. When she pulls away again he felt as if she had already been stolen. “Don’t tell Morgan. I don’t want him chasing anymore ghosts then what he already is.” Kellam bites his lip. He wasn’t sure if he agreed with keeping this a secret from their son. He had the right to know that his mother may come back, but Kellam could understand her need to keep this quiet. She was thinking of all the outcomes. If she didn’t come back Morgan still wouldn’ give up on finding her. Neither would Kellam, but Morgan was young and without a memory he needed to find his own place in life and make more. Not to be held down forever searching.
“He’ll ask why I still search.” Kellam whispers.
“I trust you to refrain from telling him this bit of information then.” Robin gives him a nervous smile. She was rarely ever nervous.
Kellam kisses her this time. It was quick and rushed but he felt the desperate need to do it before he agreed. “I promise.”
“Thank you.” Robin wraps her arms around him and her grip grows stronger. “I love you Kellam.”
“I love you.” Kellam says his voice muffled by her hair. Don’t worry this wouldn’t be the last time you see her. He tells himself wrapping his arms around her waist to hold her there against him. It won’t be the last time.

Chapter Text

This one’s a Nobleman. This one’s a Squire.

Chrom stood beside his wife. They were preparing to leave, but before they could, they had to say goodbye. “Lucina, Morgan. Be good for Aunt Lissa while we’re away.” Looking up, at the lord you probably couldn’t tell anything was wrong. He sounded as if they were simply going out for a stroll. The children knew better.
“We’ll behave. We promise.” The children swore.
Nodding in approval Chrom ruffles the hair of his young son as Lucina hug her mother goodbye. Without saying a word he passes a small iron sword to the ten year old. Holding it with a firm grip, like he often saw his mother and father do, Morgan lifts the sword and moves it around. He had only practiced with wooden swords and wind tomes, as those were the ones who could cause the least about of damage in the castle’s yards. Chrom smiles down at the little boy whose eyes were alight with joy at the gift.

One man will sing in the heavenly choir. One will descend into the licking fire.

Looking back towards his soldiers Chrom raises Falchion in rebellion and strength. “We will not be told what our fates shall be. We decide, and it is not too late to stop the Grimleal and their leader Validar!” The soldiers raise their tired arms in union.
Robin stands before the soldiers, just behind Chrom. She smiles a knowing smile. One she often wore when he inspired his comrades. This time there was something else behind that smile. If only the dear lord had noticed it. That strange fire in the eyes or the one he held so dear. A fire that was not her own. A fire that was filled with hunger. The desire to consume the world in that fire.

But to tell which is which would take better then I.

Watching the distant two, Validar smirks. He had everything planned. As soon as they had entered the lands of plegia he had been working to gain his daughter’s loyalty once more. She was persistent, and continued to defy him but they were by Grima’s bones now. His power was strongest amongst those. She had never stood a chance.
Now the young Lord and his wife shall fall. His god, Grima, would leave Chrom as nothing more than a smoldering pile of burning ashes, and his dear Robin will truly take flight and rise above all other mortals. Guiding the way Grima intended for their kind to be led. Singing the songs of destruction and endings.

This one’s a father and this one’s a son.

No! How had it come to this? “Morgan please come out, and assist your dear mother.” The chill tone of her voice shook him to his core. She had barely missed him. He knew of her perfect precision with her spells. She meant to miss him, leaving him scarred but still able to fight. Now, she was not only betraying her love but calling out their son?! How was he even here?
Morgan walks out, nervously, approaching his mother. A sword in a scabbard to his side and a tome in his hand. This one was an archthunder. He had seen the Robin use that spell often. “Good boy.” Robin praises and pats his head. Morgan lifts up his hood and covers his face. “Ah, why do you cover your pretty face, my dear, precious son. Do you not want to see the father that left you and Lucina to fight a losing war?” Morgan begins to shake. Chrom wanted to run over and comfort the boy. Tell him that all his mother said we're lies. He left to protect them. Robin held him back though. Looking at him as if she was waiting for him to move. To give her the chance.

One man was right and the other was wrong.

Validar smiles at the sight. His daughter filling up to all her potential, finally accepting the full force and power of Grima. He always knew she would return to him in the end. Now the final moment of truth, and not only was she betraying Chrom but the child of Exalt and Grima blood was betraying him as well. It was better than he had imagined.
Chorm watches, holding his side. He puts what pressure he could manage, onto the wound. A trick Emmeryn had showed him when he was little to slow the bleeding of the cuts he often ended up with. Him being the boy who played rough even then. He watches as Robin whispers into Morgan’s ears. He was still shaking as he raised his tomb. “No. The sword.” Robin says just loud enough for Chrom to hear.

But both of them died in the maddening throng.

Chrom’s eyes grow wide, with realization. He thought she had summoned Morgan out to fill his ears with lies before she ended him, but she was truly going to use their child to finish her dirty work. No. That wasn’t her. That was Grima. His Robin, no matter how much he did not want to believe, was dead. He wasn’t sure when but it was clear she was just an empty body for the evil dragon that now used her.
He watches in anger and defiance as Grima rests Robin’s hands onto Morgan’s shoulders. “Go on. It’s alright.” Morgan lifts up his tome. “No, no, dear. The sword. Show your father your true skills with the sword.” Morgan pauses and Grima hug him. Once he was released the boy slowly makes his way to his father, Grima holding onto the tome until it slid out of his arm’s hold as he walks away.
“Morgan.” The name came out quieter than what he meant for it to, but no less soft. It was how he would say their names before putting Morgan and Lucina to bed. Chrom watches as Morgan stops, just two feet away. The small prince looks up at his father, and Chrom saw why the boy shook. His cheeks were stained with tears that still flowed from his eyes. “Morgan,” Chrom begins and saw Grima was preparing an arc thunder. She held it in her hand, waiting for Morgan to fail so she could end Chrom, or at least that was what he had guessed, until her hand was pointed to low for that. “Morgan, it’s alright.”
“D-dad, I-I don’t want to, but mom says. She says,” He chokes up.
“It’s okay Morgan. It’s alright.” He bends down, onto one knee, wincing as pain throbbed from his side. It hurt his lower back, but he ignores it. “Morgan, I want you to leave here. You must get back to Lucina and Aunt Lissa.”
“I can’t. Mom says I can not leave. She says I have to,”
“I know. After this, I want you to run as far and fast as you can go.” Morgan looks down at the ground and Chrom uses the moment to plunge himself onto the sword.
Morgan gave a yelp of surprise. The sword falls slightly in his hands, staying up only because it was held up by his father’s body. Morgan wanted to let out a shrill scream but he didn’t. He wanted to run but he couldn’t. He fell to his knees still barely holding the handle of the sword given to him by the very man whose life it just took. As the tears poured from his eyes the boy was sure a part of him had just died.

Carry them home boys to where they belong.

Lucina stands by the window, waiting for her father's return. There had been no word in the last few days and with Morgan missing she had grown quite concerned.
"No!" She hears the cry of her aunt and runs for to her.
Preparing herself for a fight against Risen of Grimleal forces. Only to be met with the site of her father's body being carried into the city by a few of badly injured soldiers as they walk through the castle's gates. She felt her body jerk to a stop at the site of it. There, with a gaping sword wound in his chest, carried by Frederick, Kellam, Vaike, and Gregor, was her father’s body on a large shield that was not his own. As her heart clenches in her chest the detail that struck her hardest was the thought that he should have been carried home on his own shield.

War between brothers. Sire fighting son.

"I am proud of you Robin." Validar says as he walks over to his daughter. He was greeted in return with a levin sword sticking through his chest.
"I do not need your pride." She sneers at the confusion on Validar's face. He tries to stand up and fire a spell but Grima uses Robin's most powerful magic to burn him with purple flames.
Grima smiles wickedly as he watches one of his most loyal servants burn before him. He had promised Robin she could dispose of him when Chrom was dead after all.

Only division where once there was one.

The city begun falling apart. Between the fearful citizens fleeing and the ones who fell to the risen, Ylisse was almost empty. Half of it already burned down. There had to be a way to fix this.
Lucina would find a way by turning to the other children of her father’s Shepherds. The problem was that they were spread all over the land, and Feroxi was a shadow of it’s former self. The lands across the sea were destroyed long ago and Plegia had grown in considerable power. It would not be easy.

War between brothers. Son fighting sire.

Morgan follows his mother carefully as she walks to meet with their army. Today she would be summoning more risen and then Morgan would continue his lessons. Until his mother was sure he was ready to help. He really wanted to help but the site of father still filled his mind.

Kin laid with kin in the funeral pyre.

Lucina steps back and watches as the fire burns. They had planned to have him buried but it had been interrupted and now he shared the flames of the pyre with Vaike. She watches stone-faced and ready for war. She had gather, Owain, Cynthia, Yarne, Kjelle, and Brady so far. There was still more to find and as the flames grew higher it was only Owain and Cynthia that stood beside their princess. She felt nothing like one.

These two were blinded by jealousy flame.

Grima grins as he watches a mercenary looking group attack. He would destroy them and take everything in this world that was theirs away.
The group stood ready. Ready to fight, to destroy all of the forces in their way. Everything would be consumed by their fire.

One pointing fingers. The other to blame.
“You started this Grima, not Ylisse!”
“You are wrong. Ylisse started this many years before your time girl.” There was a roar as the Grima’s dragon body rises. “You have failed.”

One lived in rage and the other in shame.

Robin swings her fist and Morgan flinches. “She has escaped again!”
“Who?” Morgan asks innocently. He could guess but his mother always denied that it was his sister that gave her trouble. She said a demon had taken the form of Lucina and was marching people to their deaths in the good name of the Exalted princess. Morgan believed her of course. Why would his mother lie? He would practice his spells more a grow powerful enough to defeat the forces that troubled her. Then maybe they could go home. Maybe.
Lucina’s head falls as her body follows. She covers her eyes with her hands to try and stop the tears. To cover the ones already flowing so none would see her weakness. She felt as if darkness began to swallow her whole as she cries. Quiet and out of site, in the middle of the night, to cry out her shame and guilt and failures alone.

But which was the better of what they became?

Morgan raises his sword and brings it down to cross swords with the Lucina imposter. She grinds her teeth as she pushes him back. His mark of grima glowing and clear even through his robes. Her mark of exalt on fire in her eyes. Him of seventeen years and her of nineteen. A lot had changed the two over the many years.
“You are out of practice sister.” Morgan says, he was having trouble believing that this was a demon instead of his sister but he would not betray Lord Grima. He would not let her down. He had spilt too much blood already to turn tail and run. Lucina had as well. He moves his sword back before swinging it to her right side. SHe quickly parries.
“Morgan please.” She pleads, taking a step back and holding Flachion in front of her. She did not want to fight her own brother.
“How much blood did you spill by bringing your forces here Lucina? You know none of them will survive.” The words were twisted to her, coming from the mouth of her innocent, gullible, little brother.
“Morgan, help us. I don’t want to kill you.”

War between brothers. Sire fighting son.

He didn’t listen. He lunges in to strike again, but he left his lower left side open, as he always did when training back at the castle. Lucina saw the chance and she took it. She swings falchion to meet his blade and slams herself into his side. Using her full force.
He fell into the mud. He use to love this part of Plegia. It was the only part of the dry desert country that ever seemed to have rain, but now he wished the rain and it’s mud would go. She points falchion to his neck with one hand and offers him her other hand. Her eyes pleading that he accepted it.
“Please. Come home.”

Only division where once there was one.

“You will have to do better.” Morgan says as blood slowly drips from his nose.
“Morgan, see reason.”
“I will not betray Lord Grima.”
The air left Lucina’s lungs as she heard that. She had hoped there was still a way to save him but now she saw there was none. The realization that there was no way she could save him was slow to take but once it did her choice was clear. She raises her sword and readies herself to bring it down upon his head.

War between brothers. Son fighting sire.

The sky turns black and Lucina felt herself be pushed down, and stepped on. She grunts and tries to push herself back up onto her feet. A larger weight presses down on her harder and she felt her back begin to crack. there was a sound of thunder and then the sky became a dark grey again. The weight left Lucina and she saw that Morgan was gone, and Falchion laid beside her covered in mud.
She slams her fists into the ground and let’s out a cry of exasperation. “Lucina!” The call of the others did nothing to break her out of her fit. She continues slamming her fist into the ground, mud flying everywhere. Soon she was covered in it and she didn’t stop until her eyes burned from the contact with the foreign substance. She calms down, slowing her breathing, and trying to regain herself mentally. She had just made herself look like a fool in front of her soldiers, her friends. They didn’t seem to mind the fit but was more concerned with her welfare. Still, she mentally chided herself.

Kin laid with kin in the funeral pyre.

“Are you alright?” Owain asks.
“Yes.” A moment of silence goes by before she adds. “It was always going to end like this wasn’t it?” Lucina asks as she watch the bodies of her friends being moved into piles and set on fire as they all prepared to move on. She was still covered in mud but she didn’t mind.
“Maybe, but it doesn’t have to again.” Owain says giving her one of his famous smiles.

War between brothers. Sire fighting son.

“You still don’t understand.” Robin says as she uses a simple fire spell to blast Lucina away. She had been a pain to the dragon god and it’s forces and now it was time to destroy her. The one simple fire spell tossed up dirt and clumps of grass everywhere. Even a simple fire spell was more than any one of them could handle full on. The children run as Robin cackles. She aims more so for Lucina then the others.

Only division where once there was one.

Brothers and sisters fought against the dead, and Morgan watches from afar as his mother raises her hands to go against him. He wonders if it truly had to come to this. If they could not go back to being the family they use to be. When he thinks back he could barely picture it anymore. That old life.

War between brothers. Son fighting sire.

Morgan grits his teeth as he fights the tears that were trying to fall from his eyes. “Grima!” He shouts right before Robin fires at Lucina. The spell misses, hitting a ruined structure above her head instead. The princess ducks before ordering her soldiers to stand back as she tries to spot the source of the blast.
Robin turns her head towards her son. No that was wrong. It wasn’t Robin, it was Lord Grima. “What is it you fool! I almost had that wretched little,”
“We are being flanked. They had soldiers lying in wait.” Morgan lies. It was true but he could have handed it himself he wanted her distracted. He risked a glance at Lucina and prays to all the gods in this world that she would leave now, but he knew better.

Kin laid with kin in the funeral pyre.

Lord Grima was angry. She yelled at Morgan for his incompetence, and his lack of skills as a tactician. Morgan flinches when she began to get closer and was practically in his face but he held still. No matter what, it still looked like his mother and he honestly wished he could meet her standards. He would do anything to impress her. Even pretend not to see through her lies. When she left he was ordered to handle the princess and her companions. So he began to burn the palace. Anything for Lord Grima. Right? He ignores the cold feel of the tears that stream down his face.

This one’s a b____ and this one’s a king.

There came a time when he was forced to take the ground. Someone had shot him down from the sky. Whoever it was were skilled enough with magic to knock someone out of the ground without tossing them into the surrounding fire. He manages to roll into his landing, which helps prevent some bruising but he knew he was going to need a healer as soon as this fight was done. He stands up and rubs his face, shaking the resulting dirt and sweat off of his hand. He looks around for who could possibly use such magic, only to see a young man with a sword in his hand,and his hair was almost as pointed as the blade.
“Morgan?” He asks and that was when Morgan finally realizes who it was. “Morgan were you the one trying to burn us all?” He asks. The genuine hurt in his voice stuck a chord in Morgan. A chord he thought he had burnt away a long time ago. He raises his hand and holds the tome in his other hand close to his chest. “Don’t do this.” Owain pleads. “You have to know that this isn’t right. We’re blood Morgan. Princes of Ylisse. Please.” There was that pleading again. Morgan says nothing. There was nothing left to say. His heart was too far gone, and broken to even care who he was fighting anymore. The pain in his body was the only thing he focuses on. The pain, and the magic that was working it’s way through him.

Both fought for power and what it could bring.

Grima laughs loudly as the insignificant forces that opposed him. Grima had thought their forces greater. They were truly insignificant. Why had he even bothered bringing his real body when he could’ve destroyed them all using the husk of Robin’s? Looking around Grima’s eyes fall on the figures of Morgan fighting another warrior. One who also held exalted blood. That was why. To keep the loyalty of the one who held both his blood and the exalted one’s. An abomination but extremely loyal. Grima watches as Morgan was tackled by the soldier and pinned to the wall by a sword that went through his clothes and almost through his arm. Grima could hear the other one whisper pleads of Morgan joining him and the others when they left. That could prove useful. If a new world they went too. Then that was another he could rule. “Go with them.” He uses the husk of Robin to whisper into his ear, the warrior noticed nothing. Only Morgan and Grima could see her right now. Slowly Morgan accepted, but was then separated by a collapsing pillar that seemingly burying him underneath. Oh well. Grima would find another way to this new world.
Lucina runs and cuts down the risen in her way. She had to win, so they could save this world, and if they had to abandon this one then they would escape and save another. They had too. Lucina now faces the giant dragon herself. It was the last thing blocking her way. The portal was nearby, the others were already making there way to her. She had already seen Nah and Laurent fall through. Somehow she manages to slip by and into the portal. As she slips through time, she places her mask on and ties away her hair with the few moments she had. She could hear risen behind her. Maybe even some ahead. Grima must’ve sent them through the portal as well. Whatever the reason she would not let this world fall as well. This past will be changed for the future as well.

But fighting each other they lost everything.

“Goodbye mother.” Says the last young man before he followed the others through the portal. He was the last. It was over. There was almost nothing left to fight for. Now it was all up to the ones that fled into the past. Leaving behind the world of the dead and the dying. They would change this fate, change this world. And if this one could not be save then they would save whatever world or worlds they could. It was their job after all. The shepherds and their friends. Fires burn everywhere as the living fight the dead. As the castle falls to ruins. As the portal that held all their hopes closes behind them.
“Lissa we must leave! Grima is on his way. Have the children left yet?”
“Don’t worry Maribelle.” Lissa says and she cups her hands around Maribelle’s. “They’ve gone. Grima can’t stop them now.”
“Is that so?” A haughty voice asks and Maribelle turns frighten.
Lissa met the gaze of her use to be sister in law with a determined one as she spoke and it made Maribelle proud to be there with her. “You have lost.”
She laughs and looks over at the closing portal. “Really? Because it looks as if I still have time.”
“You will have to go through us.”
“Really now and tell me, why didn’t you follow your sons?”
“Someone needed to stay behind.” Lissa answers.
Maribelle grabs her hand and squeezes it. The portal was almost closed if they could only delay Grima by a few minutes then it would be too late for him. Lissa squeezes her hand back and lifts her stave as Maribelle opens a wind tome. This was it, and she was glad she got to be with her friend as long as she had.
“Wind!”

Chapter Text

Olivia was practicing a dance she had read about in one of Robin's books. It was suppose to be an ancient, ordinate dance. She was having trouble figuring out the last few movements however. There was nothing about them that seemed overly complicated but for some reason she simply was able to make her own movements look like the diagrams in the book.
“Hello.”
She jumps and stops dancing. The voice was calm and collected. With a coolness to it that she was well used to. She smiles cheerfully and turns around to greet him with open arms.
“You’re back!”
He scoops her up and spins her around twice before letting her graceful feet touch the ground again. He didn't let go of her though and she didn't want him too.
"Have you told Lucina that you have returned?" Olivia asks as she buries her face into his chest.
"No not yet. I have checked on her however. She's fast asleep in her bed and Inigo in his crib." Chrom says and hugs Olivia closer.
"The rumors. I thought," she begins but chokes on the tears she had been holding back.
Chrom rests his hands on her shoulder as he pushes her back, to look at her face. He silently wipes away the tears, gently with his hands. She looks down, ashamed of herself for crying like this when he had finally returned.
Chrom smiles and lift her chin. “The rumors were half true. We were swarmed, and some of us did not make it back.” His face falls. “The risen have been getting more vicious as of late. Robin does not know what we will do if we continue losing so many soldiers.” Chrom turns and sits on a small bench. He rubs his eyes as his headache returns.
Olivia sits besides him and rests her right arm around his shoulders. “Was it,”
“We loss fifthteen foot soldiers and,” He stops. “Robin is contacting Panne as we speak.” He says and sighs.
Olivia gasps and covers her mouth with her hand. “No.” Chrom just nods solemnly.
“We’re losing this war Olivia.” Chrom looks back at the castle from their spot in the garden. He was thankful for the silence. He had heard nothing but the march of soldiers and the chaos of war for weeks.
“How is Feroxi doing?”
“Khan Flavia is trying to handles matters as best as she can but even she is running herself ragged with everything. Robin is growing weary of the powerful movement Walhart is contending to as well as the increasing ferocity of the risen’s attack and their strength.” He reaches for Olivia’s free hand and squeezes it. “The situation is growing dire. Frederick has suggested many times that we have the family moved to a more secure place but I do not think poor Lucina would understand why she has to leave her home.”
Olivia nods. “She would learn to cope with the change. She is a strong little girl. The threat of Walhart and Grima rising are both increasing. We have to keep them safe.” She insists and Chrom grows silent. Olivia knows this silence all too well. It was how she knew when he was thinking about the future. Nowadays that preoccupied much of his mind. She wished she could help ease it, but with everything as it is she wasn’t sure how to anymore.
“When is the next march?”
“Two days from now. Until then we have smaller teams on patrol and spying in Plegia.”
“Then we have two days to pack Lucina and Inigo and explain it all.”
He raises an eyebrow. “And you as well.”
“I will be packing, yes, but only because I am coming with you. Chrom now more then ever I have to be beside you. Anything could happen.”
“Exactly why you must stay with them.”
“Chrom, do you honestly think you could make me stay behind.
Chrom looks away from Olivia and instead casts his gaze out into the garden. “You know, this was my sister’s and I’s favorite play place as children?” Olivia nods and takes his hand. She stands up and begins pulling him up with herself. He looks at her with a confused expression but let’s her pull him up with more ease then it should have been.
He smiles as he spins her. After all the lessons she had given him since they had started dating, he could definitely hold his own now. He was nowhere near as skilled as Olivia but he didn’t step on her feet anymore, or accidentally spin her into the bushes. Nor did he need her to tell him which moves were next in this particular dance. He moves calmly to the right with a side step as Olivia does her few steps by herself before folding back into his arms. The dance slows and they pull closer together. Honestly this was Chrom’s favorite part, it was the easiest to learn and to mess up. It was also the only part throughout the whole dance where they moved completely together without and spins, bows, or long movements. Just a few simple steps together as long as he could manage to not step on her feet.
“Chrom,” Olivia begins but then she grows quiet as her face lights up her common bright red blush.
“Yes?” Chrom asks as the dancing slows down until they stop altogether.
“Chrom, you do know that you’re dancing can’t distract me.” She deadpans.
Chrom smiles nervously. “Yeah, I thought it might not do the trick.”
“Wherever you go I go.” Olivia responds before she stands on the tips of her toes. She kisses him on his brow before falling gracefully back onto the flat of her feet.
Chrom sighs and lets his head fall for a few moments before he laughs. He looks her dead in the eyes and smiles. “I should’ve known this would be your response.”
“What to keep dancing?” Olivia offers.
“With you? Always.” Chrom replies and they begin the number again from the beginning.

Chapter Text

“I’ve missed you.”
“Yeah. I love you.”
“Ew.” A young Gerome mutters as he strokes Minerva’s snout. His mother had just returned home from a mission Virion had sent her on. Gerome wasn’t told the details, but from Minerva he could tell it was a scouting mission. She smelt of vegetation and sand, she also had no wounds, plus Minerva had told him so. So there was no need to ask his mom. Who was currently embracing his father. Honestly they didn’t show affection often and never in public but it was strange whenever he saw it. He cringes as they let go of each other and just smile. It was even weirder when they didn’t say anything at all.
“Gerome, Minerva is hungry. Why don’t you go get her food?” Cherche recommends. She walks over to the old wyvern and rubs her snout as Stahl follows close behind her.
“How was your mission? I hope it wasn’t too much trouble bringing Gerome along.” Cherche asks as she rests her head on top of Minerva’s.
“It was fine. Sully made a few comments on my recent weight gain, but the mission was not as dangerous as I had feared it might be.” Stahl jokingly pats his stomach. It was true he had gained a few pounds but with cherche’s cooking who couldn’t? He would joke and laugh about it. Still he was strong and reliable and Chrom always had plenty of missions for him to partake on with others.
“All the chores are done. Gerome and I finished them a few hours ago. I was just considering what we would be having for dinner. I was not sure if you were arriving soon or not.” Stahl admits to having not cooked anything yet. He wanders back into the house letting Gerome pass him in the doorway as the boy runs past with a basket full of fruits.
Stahl smiles as he hears the giggles of his wife and child. He had everything for dinner set out on the table but it was clear that some of it had been taken by gerome for Minerva. Stahl sighs as his brows furrow. He never thought it odd how his family treated Minerva. She was Cherche’s oldest and most treasured friend and Stahl knew better than to ever question their fondness for her or Minerva loyalty to them.
Stahl puts the food inside the pot of boiling water and stirs. He hears Gerome laughing as his mother carries him in on her shoulders. When they step into the kitchen, she lifts him off of her and swings him around as if he was flying down to the ground. Of course he flaps his arms imagining he was a wyvern like Minerva.
“It'll be done soon.” The vegetables he used would cook fast and aid in making the meats tender. Their kitchen was large, larger than most. They both had an affinity for cooking but Stahl much preferred Cherche’s. The things that woman could do with food was magic, he swears. Even if Miriel had stated otherwise as fact.
She was smelling the stew before she walks over to one of the racks. Stahl watches with a smile as her lips turn upright and her eye shines as she pulls one of the spices off of the shelf. Her eyes did that sometimes when she found the exact thing she had been looking for. He seen her give that look to many who were on the battlefield before they would feel her and Minerva’s might wrath. He loved that look in her eyes.
“Here, try some of this.” She suggests before handing over the spice to him. “It should help cool off the food while adding a wonderful taste.
“If you say so, then I am sure it will.” He gives her a quick peck on the helm of her helmet before returning to the food.
Cherche rolls her eyes playfully before she removes her helmet and her gauntlets. Gerome watches her with clear fascination. Cherche hands him her helmet and he tries to wear it only to have it fall off. He tries wearing it a few more times before he gives up from frustration or maybe it was boredom. Whatever the reason for it he moves his attention away from the helmet to the gauntlets. Poor Gerome, he could barely lift them but he was determined to get the gigantic things onto his arms.
Stahl walks around the two and sets the table up. “Food’s ready everyone.” He walks around Gerome before lifting up one of the guantlets and holding it for him as he slips his arm in. “Are you going to be able to eat with this on?”
“Yes. O-ofcourse.” Gerome insists as he walks over to his chair. The poor boy had trouble even picking up his spoon, but his parents say nothing as they watch and eat their own food.
Minerva would get the rest of the pot Stahl had made for she always ate the same meals they ate with the exception of the few foods the wyvern would not be able to digest. Once Stahl was finished with his own food he began to take the rest outside after Cherche and Gerome stated they wanted no more.
“Wait!” He heard Gerome shout as he climbs out of his chair. “I will take it to Minerva.” He declares and holds his hands out expectantly.
Stahl furrows his brows. “Sorry Gerome but I think this would be too big for you to carry.”
“I’ll carry it by the handles as you do.”
Stahl sighs and bends down to the six year old’s eye level. “Gerome I don’t want you spilling it, because then that means Minerva doesn’t get any of the dinner I cooked.”
“I won’t spill it.” He declares with a pout. He tries to cross his armoured arms but it wasn’t comfortable. Stahl looks over the gauntlets on Gerome’s arms. He sighs and smiles. Soon the young boy will want to learn to fight like them as well and he was much too young for that.
“Gerome I understand you want to help,” Stahl begins using a soothing tone. “But I don’t think those gauntlets will allow your hands around the pot or in the handles. How about we compromise?” He offers with a kind smile.
Gerome looks down at the armor before looking back at his father. “What?”
“You take off one of the gauntlets so your hand can fit and you can carry one half of the pot and I’ll carry the other side. Like this, watch.” Stahl sets the pot down and grabs one of the handles. He slightly stands up a little and waits for Gerome to grab the other side. The child was slow to understand but once he did, he was even slower to take off the glove. Eventually he did though and they carried it outside to Minerva who was waiting. Her tail was waving back and forth impatiently and she was quick to take the pot from them and eat the rest of the soup. Gerome trips from the force that Minerva had used to take it away, but he caught himself on his covered hand first.
“You okay?” Stahl asks slightly concern.
“I’m good. Minerva shouldn’t eat her food so fast.”
“Oh really?” Stahl chuckles. “And why is that?”
“She’ll break all on our dishes.” Gerome states with a deadpanned look as he watches Minerva eat.
Stahl laughs nervously looking over towards Minerva. The pot was completely bent and torn out of shape now as Minerva licks it clean. “Next time, we let your mother feed her.” Somehow she always managed to get the pots back in one piece. How was he going to tell Cherche they need another new pot?

Chapter Text

Yarne sighs. Today's battle was a failure, even though they won and it really was just a small skirmish. Yarne had ran away again. He wasn't sure who would come to yell at him today. Maybe it would be Severa again or Kjelle; who would afterwards make him train until he drops dead. Maybe he would get lucky and she would have to go handle risen before then.
He closes his eyes and his head falls back onto the soft grass under him. It was sunny. He always expected the day to be gloomy after a battle with risen. Rarely was that ever the case though. He appreciated the sun, but often wondered how it could shine so brightly as people fought for their live, and in his case, his species.
Lost in his thoughts it was a few moments before he hears the footsteps coming. It causes him to start to shake such as a leaf would if it was stuck on a branch in wild winds. It was worse than he thought. Those footsteps belong to one of the leaders of this army. The chief, "Yarne are you alright?".... tactician. Drats.
He opens his eyes slowly and saw her bent over him, above his face. "E-eh!" He almost jumps up but he stops himself. He would have hit her if he had and he did not want to risk that. "Oh, hello Robin." Her face was alarmingly close. Right above his own. He tries to be calm but he could feel sweat already starting to form under his fur. He looks away, towards the grass to his side or towards her hands which were rest on her knees. He knew a lecture was coming and if the tactician had taken time out of her busy schedule just to do so then it meant he had probably caused even more trouble than he thought he had in the fight.
"Yarne are you alright? You're eyes have suddenly grown wider and you're face seems flushed. Do you have a fever?" Robin asks, the concern in her voice genuine. Why would she worry about his health if she was going to kick him out of the army? Wait, would she truly kick him out? AH! What would his parents say? No, she was concerned about his health that must mean she wasn’t there to kick him out of camp or the army. If she was why would hse care then.
"N-no. I'm fine. J-just surprised. Whyyyy are you so close Robin?" He asks cautiously, hoping the answer wasn't a chewing out or another tug on his ears. He prays his fear are uncalled for.
She smiles and pulls her face a few inches more away from his so he did not feel as if his space was being invaded. He relaxes as she does so. The chief tactician always made him feel nervous. Sometimes downright uncomfortable but that was usually when she was mercilessly playing with his ears like some of the other girls in camp. He could understand now, why Lon’qu often avoiding the women in camp.
He closes his eyes and lays his head back again. He had gotten off lucky. Wait, why wasn’t her feet growing more distant? He opens his eyes again to see her sitting on small boulder nearby.
“Uh, Robin?”
“Hmm?”
“What are you doing?”
“Sitting of course.”
“Why?”
“Because I was looking for a quiet place to sit.”
“Oh.” Yarne says and looks away. So it had been a coincidence that she had found him. She really wasn’t there to chew him out. Yarne was happy about that and continues to lounge in the grass, soaking up the sun. His nervous sweating had stops and he closes his eyes once more.
He soon became restless however. Shifting back and forth from his sides in the grass, he felt as if he couldn’t find a spot comfortable enough to lay peacefully. He hadn’t realized how much he had moved around until his shoulder hit something hard and with a loud, “Ow!” he looks to see what he had ran his shoulder against, only to see it was the boulder, and that the tactician sat upon it. She was now giggling with an amused expression on her face.
“Couldn’t get comfortable?” She asks and his heart flutters. Why did it do that?
“Uh, yeah.” He answers hesitantly, turning his head to the side so he was no longer looking at her.
“You know, you really should try to relax. You’re always so jittery.”
“Jitteriness tends to come with being the last of a species. If you’re jumpy enough it could save your life.”
“But it also makes it harder to relax.” Robin says with a small frown before she begins thinking. She had the tendency to stare in the direction she had already been looking in when her mind ran away the turning wheels in her head. In this case it left her staring at Yarne. Which was more attention than Yarne ever wanted.
“Uh, Robin,” He begins but was interrupted.
“Got it.” She says determinedly. “Yarne, what if I read too you? That may help take your mind off of your surroundings and help you relax.” Robin suggests with a bright smile. It made Yarne feel even more nervous but not because he was scared. He knew he wasn’t, but he couldn’t tell what was going on with himself today.
“Um, okay. Which book are you going to read?” Yarne asks with a curious expression replacing his nervous one.
Robin smiles a wide smile that reaches her eyes and causes them to sparkle.
“Typically I read one of my strategy books but that’ll probably just put you to sleep. So how about one that involves the legendary hero Marth?” Robin suggests.
Yarne thinks for a minute. “Alright. Which story?”
“I’m not sure. I have a book Lucina gave me about him that I have yet to read. Shall I go fetch it?”
“Sure. I’ll wait here for you.” Yarne says. He sits up straight as Robin slides off the rock. He watches her walk away to retrieve the book. Wrapping his arms around his legs he pulls his knees to his chest. He rocks himself a little bit as he waits patiently. Looking above himself he sees the sun had moved a little bit since she left. After another hour Yarne begins to get nervous. He was now standing and leaning back and forth on the balls of his feet. Finally he couldn’t take it any longer. There was still daylight but she was taking forever. She should have been back ages ago!
Yarne starts with a jump before he starts running, eventually falling onto all fours. He was almost to her tent, when he turns a corner and runs straight into someone. Yarne falls back but catches himself on his hind legs. He rubs his head. “Ow. Sorry.” He was speaking fast, faster than normal, for he was in a rush. He had to check on Robin. Yarne was already running again. Once he spots the tactician’s tent he speeds up, which causes him to trip. He barrels into Robin’s tent and hits one of the portable bookshelves that dwell within it.
“Yarne! Yarne, are you alright?” Robin’s voice comes from behind him and he could feel her hands lift his head and set it on her lap. “Yarne you silly taguel. What were you doing running through camp like that?” She asks once his eyes were open and looking up at her. He then realizes just where he was. He was in Robin’s tent, with his head in her lap, scared out of his mind and there she was, safe and sound.
“You didn’t return. I-i grew concerned.” He admits as he felt his face heat up even more. He would turn his head to hide it but that would just be him burying his face into her stomach. He didn’t want to do that and looking the other way would do nothing to hide the flush red of his drinks.
“You silly bunny.” Robin jokes as she pets his head. Then he felt her hand move to rub one of his ears. “I was heading back. You passed me by as you were running here so frantically.”
He almost didn’t realize she was talking to him. He was trying his hardest to ignore her petting his ears. When he did notice he tried to come up with a good reason for his overactive nerves and imagination. Of course she was fine, she is the tactician for the army of Ylisse. She was the smartest woman out of everyone here, but he knew all too well even the smartest and strongest people could fall from an enemy’s attack, or need help.
“For a bunny that tends to run from a fight you were more than willing to run into one just to check up on me. I knew you were starting to overcome your fears.”
It was in that moment that Yarne realised he would run into a fight for her. He would run and help her even if she was surrounded by enemies, whether they were mages, foot soldiers, risens, or even archers. For her he could be a little bit brave.
“Robin.”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.” He wraps his arms around her and pulls her closer even though he was still in her lap. He buries his face into her stomach and doesn’t add, you make me brave, for the words were unnecessary. After a few moments and Robin overcomes her initial surprise Yarne lifts his head. “Can I hear that story now?” The smile that graces Robin’s face in that moment was his favorite smile ever.

Chapter Text

“She’s marrying her murderer?!” That was the rumour spreading through the ranks of the shepherds. People couldn’t believe it. After so recently finding her safe, and alive. Chrom and Lissa had been so excited. Lissa’s blonde hair had blocked the rest of her vision as the younger girl tackled her on the field. Chrom had somehow managed to get behind her without her noticing. His arms felt stronger than what she expected as he held her in spot, refusing gravity to let her fall. He would never let her fall again.
She did not know them then, she still remembers little of her past. She married her murderer. She was not the same Emmeryn as they all knew. He was not the same twisted king they had all fought against. They were different. They did not belong in this world, and together they had come to terms with this fact. Together they had made a home for themselves in this world that wasn’t theirs, just as the children from the future had.
“Emmeryn, are you sure you want to go through with this?” Chrom asks his elder sister. He was doubting her judgement but even he had felt pre wedding jitters before he was married.
“There is no doubt in my mind.” Emmeryn confirms what they all already knew. She was marrying the mad king and no one could convince her otherwise. Gangrel on the otherhand;
“Robin what am I doing here?” A panicking, redheaded, former king asks as he paces around.
“Getting married.” Robin says nonchalantly with a smile on their face.
“Yeah, I really am. Grima what should I do.”
“Get married.” Robin suggests.
Gangrel lets out a sigh of frustration. “I didn’t ask you.”
“You’re asking Grima. Since he was killed I’m the closest thing their is too Grima.”
“Guh, you know that is not what I meant Robin!” The mad king shouts.
Robin tries not to laugh. “Gangrel calm down. You proposed to her, you wanted this.” A expression of intrigue crosses Robin’s face. “Are you reconsidering your proposal?” Robin does not mention the fact that everyone in all of the kingdoms have heard of their wedding and would surely hear of it if the groom left the blushing bride. Gangrel did not need the extra pressure right now and Robin did not want him to let others make his decision for him right now.
“No. I am not considering that. Not really.” His voice grows quieter. “What I am considering is saving her from a mistake.”
Robin stands still and listens quietly.
“If she marries me, she’ll marry a monster. The same monster that took her life in this world, and almost hers in another.” Gangrel sits down and rests his head in his hands. “I can’t do that too her.”
“No matter how you look at it, to leave her now after coming so far, well you’ll be hurting her more than you ever had in the past. You will, not the other yous. She knows that you are not the same as them, and she loves you Gangrel. I can see it in her eyes.”
“You would know all about love, wouldn’t you Robin?”
“I know a few things. At least I like to think I do.”
“It was still me. I’m the monster in her nightmares no doubt.” Gangrel looks away from his friend. Robin was probably his only other friend in this world beside Emmeryn. “She’s always been forgiving. She’ll forgive me for this as well. I’m not the one who she deserves.”
“Yet you are the one she said yes too. Gangrel if you leave now I have no doubt she’ll forgive you, but things will never be the same as they were before. Don’t throw this away.”
There was a knock on the door Robin gives whoever it was permission to open it before Gangrel could shout for them to leave them alone.
Lissa peers in. Her hair was down with flowers of all sorts braided into it. Her typical yellow dress was replaced with a dress that fell to her the tips of her feet and was a very light shade of pink.
“Is everyone ready?”
Robin looks over to Gangrel for confirmation.
“Yes.” Gangrel says sounding as if he had come to a decision. Robin smiles at their friend.
“Shall we be joining the rest then?” Robin asks to make sure. Gangrel nods and follows his friend out.
The wedding was gorgeous. It was small and quiet, not even all of the shepherds were invited. Not that all would come. Some felt it was to strange, others were busy with life, still some, very few but still did not approve of this wedding and Chrom made sure to stand against them all and support his sister even if he did not always support it either. Robin’s breath hitched when it came time for the I do’s.
“I do.” Went Emmeryn.
“Gangrel do,” Libra was interrupted by none other than the groom himself.
“Emmeryn I know we have our differences and you have forgiven me for my sins, but I have not forgiven them myself yet. Can you deal with someone as foolish as I?”
Emmeryn’s signature smile was upon her face now. She cups Gangrel’s cheek. “My sweet, we are both very foolish and we both have our foolish moment. However this is not one of them and no matter what I will stand beside you.”
Gangrel could feel the tears prickling at his eyes. He whispers thank you under his breath before saying “I do.”
Within a few months the happy couple had disappeared. There were rumors about where they had gone and the royal family of Ylisse were distressed by the sudden disappearance of their finally reclaimed sister. No one found the couple despite looking within every country. Eventually they retired the search praying to Naga that Emmeryn and Gangrel were safe and happy wherever they were. Rumors and whispers stayed around for years about where the two went and only one person never theorized or made suggestions on where to look. Nowadays Robin works and receives many letters everyday from many different people, but the one with the strange emblems of unknown origins is the only one they refuse to read in front of anyone. Not even Morgan has read any of the contents within those letters of Robin’s. Rarely he would comment on fools when asked about the letters. According to him they were the letter of fools.

Chapter Text

My name is Stahl. Many know me because I am a shepherd. Some say I don't act nearly as heroic as I should. I don't think I do anything truly, that special anyways. So why act like a hero when I’m not. I'm not nearly as important as Frederick or Robin is to this army. I'm just doing my job and having some great meals along the way. I’m a soldier, and a friend to many of the other shepherds. I must say this has all been perfect. Well besides the risen and the lost homes, but I can look past that, to my friends. This has really been a great ride.

I smile as I approach my house. I'm rarely ever here but it'll always be home. As I open the door the first to greet me was Morgan. I smile and hug him. "Are you visiting? What a surprise." I say enthusiastically. I pat his head and he nods with his mouth already stuffed with food. I walk past him, allowing him to return to his meal. Ami was walking through the bedroom entrance to smile at me. Morgan hugs me from behind as Ami greets me with a hug of her own. I wrap my arms around them and squeeze until both were spurting out air pretending they couldn’t breath.

“So what is the occasion?” I ask Morgan as I take a seat in the chair sitting by the hallway.

“We have some special news to give you.” Ami gently pushes the topic. Okay, whenever she approaches a topic like that there is always something up. I look past Morgan to his mother. She was choosing to hide behind her ponytail instead of answering my questions.

“Which is?” I ask with a laugh and a nervous smile.

“Father I am to be married!” Morgan announces. The boy was practically bouncing off the back of his heels now.

“Well now, is that all?” I ruffle his hair. “My little boy is all grown up now.” Of course he is. I always knew the day would come but I had forgotten how old Morgan really was. As long as he’s happy.

“Yep!” He was giggly now.

“So when do I get to meet this special person?”

“Hopefully tomorrow night. I wanted to break the news to you guys first.”

“Fair enough. I can’t wait to meet them, son.”

"That is not all of whom you should be excited to meet." Ami adds.

"Is it not?" Now I was confused.

"Stahl, I'm pregnant."

Quickly I am off of my feet and sweeping her into my arms. Her hair falls into my face and I blow it away. I spin her around as I exclaim, “That’s wonderful!” Heh I guess we’ll finally be able to raise our son now.

Chapter Text

She was a master. A master in the artform of the sword. A master over her army. Even a master at cooking. She was also a princess. One who was beautiful but also commanded respect and could strike fear within the enemy. She even took up the name Marth once, which he thought was a testament to her skills, though some would disagree. Some would say she was too sure of her abilities to and it was because of arrogance that she took up his name, but that wasn't the case. That would never be the case. Sure she was confident but never arrogant. That was part of what made her beautiful. She was beautiful and so much more. Even though she was all these things she was still just a girl and even though he was a coward she made him want to fight harder. To become better, even if she never did see him in the same way he saw her.

He winces as the wraps tighten. "Ouch." That earned him a glare from Maribelle, there was never a time when Maribelle didn't glare at him. She wasn't the only one though. Severa often glares at him. Not that he didn't understand why. Lately he had been even more cowardly than usual and had been running more then damaging the enemy. He had talked to Robin, Morgan, and even Panne had talked to him about it. Yet every time he thought he had found courage it would fade away at the thought of any upcoming battle. His knees would quake and his chest would be riddled with pains. He didn’t know what to do when those kind of things happened, except, to run.

Then there was Lucina. She always fought bravely on the field and never fled when her allies were fighting. Even when she was terribly harmed and had trouble holding her sword she would still stand up against all the darkness that faced her. She never wavered for a moment. He could never reach her but she did make him feel braver. She made him feel like a fool but at least when she was near he was a fool who could stand his ground and fight for everyone. She melted all of his fears away and she had no idea that she could do that.

Yarne was walking back to his tent now but lost in his thoughts he passes it. How could he ever hope to stand beside the others when he could barely stand on his own? Kjelle’s training has helped. Robin’s encouragement has brighten his days, but none o f it was enough. Lucina didn’t need much encouragement to fight. Lucina didn’t need much reason to stand up for others. She had all the reasons she needed and more only added to the heavy weight of that plate. Yarne wanted to help her. To take away some of that weight.

His feet stop just before he bumps into a dummy. A wooden risen with an axe wedged in between it’s neck and shoulder blade. Who would ever leave their axe out in the open inside one of the dummies. That just guarantees it getting chipped or stolen. Looking it over Yarne realizes it was Vaike’s axe. Of course it was. He would give it back to him tomorrow after he frees it and puts it away for the night.

Yarne grabs the handle and tries to tug the axe free. He tries a few more time to pull it out directly before changing his plans. The axe was still stuck so Yarne decided he would push instead of pull. Yarne bends down so he was directly under the handle. He carefully places the palms of his hands under it and pushes with all his force. His legs help give him some extra force. Enough to actually get the axe free, but it fell straight and almost land on his toes. Luckily Yarne saw where the axe was falling to and thought to move his feet away in time.

Carefully, and keeping the axe at a distance, he picks it up. “You should be more careful.” He jumps a few inches in the air hears the unexpected voice. He looks behind him to see the blue haired, warrior, princess standing there.

“I’m sorry did I scare you?” Lucina asks with genuine concern.

Yarne could already feel his face heating up. “Uh, ah, um, maybe a little. Heh heh.” He lowers the axe and diverts his eyes to the floor. For some reason it was very interesting at the moment. All that grass. How had he not notice it before?

“I’m sorry. I saw you trying to remove the axe a precarious way. I thought maybe you needed help or was about to hurt yourself. Then you freed and caught it. I thought I would make myself known. I felt bad for just standing back and watching instead of helping sooner.”

“Oh no. It’s alright. It was really foolish of me. It could have ended poorly. Thank you for caring enough to watch, but you always care so I guess it really isn’t something to thank you for. Ya know? You being the princess, and all I shouldn’t cause you more stress or worries then those you already have.”

“Yarne do not be ridiculous. You have not caused me any extra stress. I was merely concerned for your wellbeing. That is what friends do. They care and feel concern for each other.”

“O-oh. I guess you’re right.” Yarne nervously grabs ahold of one of his ears.

Lucina smile grows wider. It strikes Yarne that he truly has never seen anyone as beautiful as her before. His heart begins to beat faster. He considers himself lucky, to have such an undivided moment of her time, but her time was precious. The others surely needed her for more important matters. He opens his mouth to say something yet he finds himself to be at a loss for words.

Lucina eyes twinkle. Oh he didn’t know eyes could do that. Can taguel eyes do that too or do only human eyes twinkle like that. Do only hers? “Yarne, would you mind helping me with something?” Lucina closes her eyes and her lips turn up into an awkward smile.

“Anything princess.” Yarne tries to stop the heat from rushing to his face.

“Could you please try to be more careful in the future. It would do us no good to lose someone so valuable as yourself.”

“M-me. Valuable?” He could hardly believe his ears.

“Of course you are.” Lucina assures him. “Especially to me.” Yarne could not move as his heart began to beat as loud as thunder in his ears. Lucina’s smile was so warm. Her hands look so inviting. Yarne could imagine himself laying in those arms, and she had said that he was valuable to her. That he was valuable especially to her. His mind wanders from his body only to return of its own accord as she leaves him. With a wave she calls how she must help prepare the meal for the night, but Yarne did not mind. He was sure that if she had stayed he would have only made a bigger fool of himself in front of her. So he remains stuck in his same spot as his eyes trail the way his heart takes to leave him.  

Chapter Text

One is never expected to marry an enemy. Sure it has happened in the past. Those times often involving complicated, and very in depth political deals. The fact that this was in fact not one of those times caused even more problems. Not less as some would have thought. Walhart simply did not care. In his mind he was no longer weak. For he had defeated many in their quest to claim the tactician’s heart. Only he had managed to keep her attentions away from them. No one was allowed to speak ill of Robin in his presence or he would cut them down. As he would cut down any who would speak ill of their union.

“Walhart, are you alright my dear? You look a little worse for wear.” Robin raises her hand carefully to her husband’s arm. Having fought for everything in his life, for so long, he had habits of acting out as if in the middle of the field. Throwing his arms as if they carried his old sword even at the slightest of touches.

“I was thinking of us, my dear.” Walhart admits. “About how rare it is for one to marry their enemy out of love instead of political needs. How some in this world will never let us have our peace. And how you truly would be a wonderful ruler as I told you before.”

Robin smiles sadly up at her husband. “I told you Walhart you should not let them bother you. Those who matter and are important to us understand. They have supported us, and our family.

“They support you. They look at me with still wary eyes. They still see the man that was once a conqueror.” Walhart declares as he turns away from his wife.

“Perhaps that is because someone keeps brandishing his sword whenever he believes someone is spitting on my name.” She sounds annoyed. Walhart knew better than to push an argument when she was annoyed but he could not help himself.

“They do not have the right,”

“That is how freedom works. They may say what they like. A few unkind words is no reason to take off and abandon everything we know.”

“Where is your sense of adventure my dear? I thought you wanted to always see new things. You have said so with much agusto in the past.” Walhart questions tipping Robin’s head carefully with his hand. He looks down into her eyes trying to puzzle out why she was being so reluctant.

Robin sighs as she pushes her cheek deeper into his palm. “I know.” She starts and looks back up to his eyes. “I know what I said. However, Morgan,”

“Can always find a way to us.”

“My job,”

“There will be others for one who is as smart as you.”

“Our home,”

“Is wherever we are.”

As Robin tries to offer up no more reasons Walhart finishes. “I want us to be able to start over new where no one knows us. So that they have no pre ill-conceived judgements of you and me. No expectations or let downs. Just us, with the allowance to be us.”

Robin grows silent. Walhart could see the battle taking place in her mind through her grey eyes. She wants to leave as much as he does. To escape the cloud Grima and the wars have left over her. To be away from all the expectations that were placed on her. Yet another part of her felt as if it would be cruel to abandon all they know, and selfish. Did they not deserve to be selfish every once in awhile?

“Alright. I will agree to leave, but we have to decide where we will go.”

“The outer realms provide many options.”

“I'm sure Anna would have a few recommendations about where to start our search. Plus I need to return to Chrom in the morning and put in my resignation.”

“I will tell our son.” Walhart promises.

“I hope he does not mind.” Robin bites the corner of her lip. A action caused by her nerves.

“As you said. Those who matter and are important to us understand. They will miss you but they know that if this makes you happy then it's for the best, and I want to make you happy Robin. I do.”

“I know.” Robin says with a smile. She leans against Walhart’s chest. “You do a great job at that.” She adds with a faint smile on her lips. She rotates her head to glance around their current room. “I suppose we should start packing.”

“That can wait until the morning I think. Tonight there are other things we can do before we begin our journey.” Robin eyes gleam with delight at Walhart’s words. The look releases a hearty chuckle from within him.

Chapter Text

“Mother!” Owain cries out. The cleric runs quickly through the field towards her little boy.

“Owain! I’m here. Mama’s here. What’s wrong sweetie?” She picks up her child with ease and holds him tightly within her arms.

“I-i can’t find papa!” His crying grows louder.

Lissa looks over her shoulder towards a patch of open space where grass had been earlier. She knew her husband was laying down in that exact spot snoring quietly. She knew this to be fact for she saw him lay down there. A perfect spot for the game of hide and seek he thought.

“M-mama why are you laughing. Papa is gone!” Her son reminds her. His eyes wetting the front of her dress.

“Don’t worry dear. I think your father is closer than you know.”

“Cause he’s in ‘ere?” The young boy of six years asks pointing towards his chest.

Lissa laughs again. “Yes because he is in your heart. He will always be there, but lets go look for him. Perhaps he will turn up in this feild somewhere.”

“Really?” Owain asks with wide eyes.

“Yes really, silly. Has mama ever lied to you?” She asks, setting him down and flicking his nose playfully.

“No.” Owain answers while laughing.

Lissa takes her son’s hand and walks with him towards where his father lays, asleep. When Owain took notice of the odd flat area where grass usually was he took off. Jumping in joy on top of his father as he found him. “Papa!” He shouts. “Mama I found papa!” Owain tells her, waving her down as he stands proudly on Frederick’s chest.

The man awakes with a very audible groan. “I suppose I trained you too well.” Lissa teases him. “You fell asleep playing hide n seek with your son. Honestly I am surprise he did not find you sooner since you are the literal worst at hiding Frederick.”

“What can I say?” Frederick asks with a smile. He sweeps Owain off of his chest and into his arms with one fell move. With his next he sat up and kissed his wife. “I learned from the best.”

Owain laughs at the sight of his parents sharing affection.

“Care to join us?” Frederick invites.

“Are we to take an afternoon nap in the grass?”

“Only if you fall asleep while we lay together.”

Lissa smiles wider. “Then let’s make a game of it. We’ll see who can lay here and stay awake the longest. Right Owain?”

“Yay!” Owain cheers as his father carefully lays him down in the grass between his mother and himself. “I’m gonna win!” He insists as Lissa wraps an arm around him. She rests her head carefully on Frederick’s arms as his other lies over Owain and herself.

“We will see, son. We will see.” Frederick replies already sounding groggy.

Lissa winks at her son as his father was already drifting back off to sleep. The boy holds his mother’s hand as he giggles. Lissa sighs in comfort. There had once been a time where she never would have been able to do this with Frederick. Now he was the one suggesting it. Oh my how things have changed as they grew. Her eyes catch her son’s and she wonders how much more will change in their future. An excitement fills her to think about their son growing up in front of them.

“I love you mama.”

“I love you too Owain.”

Chapter Text

He remembers what it feels like. What it feels like to be alone. Completely and utterly by himself. Lon’Qu would never forget that feeling. Even if he felt it no longer. He found friendship in his ruler as the champion. He found kinship in his fellow peers within the Ylisse army. Slowly, awkwardly, he found love. A love that grew deeper with every morning that he woke up to see the day greet him with it’s sun.

“Sweetie. Breakfast is ready.” She calls out from the door to the kitchen. Lon’Qu had posted himself outside of the door. Even though he was no longer a lowly guard, but also her husband and a prince of the country of Ylisse Lon’Qu still had trouble trying to suppress his urge to protect. Even when no danger was present he often found himself standing by the doors or sitting in places where all entrances were within his view. Just in case.

“Come on now. I promise I got it right this time.” Lissa reassures him as she wraps one arm around his. Her other hand carrying a tray full of food rather carelessly. “So I tried to make that recipe you said you loved back in your home country. I’m not sure if it will taste like it does there though. The ingredients weren’t as fresh as I wished they would have been.” Lissa explains as she sits him down at the table. She had borrowed the whole of the royal kitchen to make him this dish.

Lon’Qu glances around and sees just how much of a mess the kitchen maidens would have to clean later. He feels bad for them. Perhaps after he was done with the meal he could spare some time to begin the cleaning, before they came back. Lissa sets a plate down in front of him and hands him a fork. If he was being honest it looked delicious. Much more neat than he had ever seen it served back in Ferox. Taking a bite he chews it slowly, prepared for it to taste awful. Yet it was good. It did not taste like home’s did. Of that Lissa was correct, but he never expected it too. The fact that it was even edible was amazing. Yet it was also delicious.

Lon’Qu glances up as Lissa to see her staring him down, waiting for his review. Swallowing Lon’Qu sets his fork back down. “It is good.”

The way her face lit up was enough to bring a smile to his face as well. “That’s great, because I made myself a dish too.” He raises an eyebrow. “If it tasted awful I was just going to throw mine away, but since it is good I can’t wait to see what food from Ferox tastes like.” Lon’Qu does not bother to try and tell her it was good, but that it does not taste exactly as it should have. Instead he eats quietly as he watches his wife eat the food eagerly.

Suddenly he says, “After we are done we should clean this kitchen.” Lissa looks around the room and gives him a guilty smile.

“I got a bit carried away.”

He laughs. “Indeed.”

Chapter Text

She was not always quiet. For the most part the sweet archer kept to herself and never caused anyone harm, but occasionally a line would be crossed and she would change. Her anger would grow and her demeanor grew different. Her claims say it was the cursed gift her mother had given to her in another time, another place, her other world. However even dear Tharja herself said she no longer needed the amulet, and had it taken away. After the loss the Noire it left was the same girl as before, but she wasn’t feeling like herself. For years she received all her courage from the small gift. Now she has to find it on her own.

Robin watches from afar as the young archer learns to cope with the loss. He was unsure if she was in denial or finding herself out there among the practice targets. Her arms are steady as she takes aim. Robin could hear the whistle the arrow makes as it slices through the innocent air. With a loud thunk he watches the arrow hit its intended target. Straw breaks against the metal protrusion. She repeated the action. Had been for hours. When she ran out of arrows she would take a break just long enough to gather the remaining ones that were not broken. Then she repeated. A fine rhythm forming.

“I don’t think the straw deserves such harsh treatment.” Robin comments from his hiding spot as Norie pulls an arrow free viciously. “Are you alright Noire?” He questions offering her a chance to speak her mind while she gathers her belongings.

In a matter of moments Noire’s eyes melt into a softer pair. She sighs and her hands fumble along her weapon of choice. Quickly she shakes her head as a means of answering his question. As he continues to watch her she begins to fidget slightly. “N-no.” She answers.

Robin takes a glance around the yard. Other targets such as the one before the two were lying about in different stages of disarray. “Need any help cleaning up?” He offers already moving over to the closest target.

“No. I can do it. By myself that is. Not that I wouldn’t like your help I just would rather do it myself since I made it and all. You don’t have to feel obligated to help me Robin.”

“I don’t feel obligated.” Robin explains. White hair falling in front of his eyes as he hunches over to free an arrow. It was impeded deep into the wood the straw dummy was attached too. He struggles but tries to disguise it by keeping conversation going. “Noire I’ve asked you in the past to take care of yourself.”

“I-i know. You really don’t have to worry. I am fine.”

“Noire you are working yourself into an early grave out here. You been acting odd ever since your mother took you talisman away. You keep worrying and it has even affected you in battle.”

“I-i didn’t think anyone would notice.”

“I am Chrom’s tactician, Noire. It is my job to notice what others do not. Especially when it comes to his soldiers. I get to know everyone as personally as I can so that they feel they can rely on me with their troubles. Happy soldiers fight better. They have a will to live.”

“Oh, so that’s why,” Her voice drifts off.

Robin falls back as he finally manages to pull the arrow free. “Why what, Noire?”

“Is that why you invited me out to eat with you on t-that date then?” He twists his head to look up at her. “Because you do that with all the shepherds?”

She was upset. Robins sighs. “Noire, yes I try to get to know everyone. On occasion I do go out to eat a meal with them. Others I train with. Some even ask me to help them with their own personal quests to impress others. Everyone has there own way of bonding. I was worried about your health. You weren’t sleeping, you were upset because you saw yourself inferior to the others, and you were hungry. Even if you did not wish to admit it. Taking you out to eat was a way I saw to cheer you up.” Robin explains.

“I see.” Her demeanor grows worst. Robin struggles to figure out why.

“What’s wrong?” He hopes his concern reaches her ears.

“Nothing.” Her voice grew dark. “Nothing at all.”

“Noire, please tell me.” Robin requests as he stands up. He holds out his hand with the arrow, as an offering of her. “If something is bothering you we can talk about it.” He tries.

“Robin I don’t know how to be bold anymore. If I did I would tell you, but I don’t.”

“You’re plenty bold enough on your own. You get your thoughts across to others well enough. The talisman helped you, but it was not what you needed. I think your mother did the right thing in taking it away.”

Tears. His keen eyes spot the water droplets falling before her shoulders began to shake. She was upset enough to cry. He must have said something wrong to earn such a reaction.

“Noire, you’re crying! I’m sorry if it was something I said.”

“It’s not just your fault Robin. It is also my own. I got my hopes up.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I like you Robin. I really do.” She admits finally meeting his gaze.

“Oh Noire. Please don’t cry.” Her eyes start to flicker close. Robin at first thought it was a result of tears. He had not meant to hurt this girl. She was crying because she thought he felt nothing for her, but in truth he felt more for her then she knew. So much more.

“Noire,”

“I’m feeling very sleepy Robin.” With that her eyes close. Her lithe body falls forward into his chest. With ease Robin catches her. “Noire? Are you awake?” He shakes her slightly. No response. The poor dear had feinted. Being who he was Robin resigns himself to telling her the truth when she woke up. For now he carries her back to her tent. Later Tharja would confront him as to why he had been carrying her daughter through camp, no doubt. Her father would question it as well, but not nearly as terrifying as his wife. Perhaps some of the others shepherds would have questions. He knew how suspicious this appears to be. He pushes those thoughts from his mind. Right now Noire’s health was his concern. Rumors shall be put to rest later. After he and Noire could next talk.

Chapter Text

“Laslow!” Blood pounding in her ears, the adrenaline pushing her body further and faster then she should be able to go. She dives under swords and leaps over bodies only to be stopped by a voice more thundering then her own.

“ YOU MAY NOT FALL! Laslow!! Ally to darkness! ”

“Stop shouting that we are allies to darkness.” Inigo laughs as he catches himself by digging his sword into the ground. Geez Odin you keep making us sound like the bad guys.” The boy winces as he tries to push himself back up to stand. In moments they are at his side. His two closest allies. Inigo coughs and blood greets their vision.

“Guys, I think you should go.”

“What? No!” Selena shouts over the sounds of battle. She could feel her heart thumping. Her mind unsure of what was coming.

“We will not leave you behind Laslow son of heroes!” Odin adds.

“It’s either you guys go or we all die together!” Laslow yells at them, fear evident in his voice. “You guys have to get out of here. You have to find a way back home.” Laslow insists as the Hoshidan forces grow closer.

Odin’s face falls. “Inigo.”

“Stop. Leave!” Laslow orders them as he pushes himself up. Blood was dripping from his legs. “It’s too late for me, but not for you two.” He says with a smile.

“You idiot. Do you really think we’ll leave you?” Selena asks growing angry.

“You will, because I know you want to go home. Your mom is waiting Severa. Owain’s to.”

“You aren’t suppose to,” He stops her with a kiss. Holding the hand with her sword in it’s wrist away from them.

“I know. Forgive me?” He asks as a blush creeps onto her face. “Ah, there you go. You are as beautiful as ever my dear Severa.”

“Fool if you think I’ll leave you now then,”

Inigo shakes his head and looks towards his other old friend. “Owain.” A silent agreement passes through their eyes as Severa realizes what was going to happen.

“No! I will not go. If you die I’ll never forgive you Inigo. Never!”

“Then it is a good thing you fell for Laslow.” A sad, twisted smile finds its way onto his face.

She hears the words slither from Odin’s mouth. The beginnings of a curse. Tharja use to whisper such things at night in her tent. She had to get away. Severa tries, but as she lifts her legs her vision grows dark.

“How dare you!” She growls at her boys before seeing nothing else at all. The last thing she remembers is hearing Inigo whisper a promise into her ear.

“I’ll never forgive you.” She is crying. There was nothing Severa hated more than to cry. “I’ll never forgive either of you.”

“I know.” Owain whispers. Already he has shed his dark mage outfit, choosing to instead wear common clothes from Nohr for the last stretch of travel. “I’ll never forgive myself either.” He adds and it silences all the insults she wanted to throw. He had just lost his closest friend, just as she had. They never thought any of them would die here. Staying together, fighting together, training together just as they had always done before. Living with their secrets buried deep down within themselves. She had always found comfort in the fact that she was not the only one who knew the secret. That, in fact, Inigo and Owain knew as well. They never spoke about it, the three of them, but they all knew. It had always made her feel better, but now Inigo was gone.

“I’m sorry Severa.” Water falls onto her hand. Looking up she takes notice of the tears. “I d-didn’t want to leave him. I didn’t but we had promised.” A series of hiccups make him stop. “We had promised.” Owain repeats when they finally stop.

A promise? One she did not know? “What are you talking about Owain?” Laslow had told her everything. They were together, and they trusted each other like they had never trusted another soul. He would not have kept secrets from her.

“Before we took on the names. When we had first arrived.” Owain begins. “Inigo and I had made a promised while you were out. You were trying to find work, but we had taken a break in our search to eat. We knew there would be unknown dangers here, but we weren’t sure what kind or how much. So we promised that if we had to make a tough decision or if one of us were too fall, the other would protect you. You were the only girl with us, and even though you were tougher then we he wanted to make sure that you made it back.”

“You’re lying.” Her heart was slowing down, and a weight seemed to fall upon her shoulders suddenly. “You are lying. Laslow never hid anything from me. He would have told me. We told each other everything.”

Owain shakes his head. “He was Inigo then. C-can we please just stop calling him Laslow? The other will wonder.”

“How are we even going to get home? Huh, Owain!” She was shouting again. Anger, and grief mixing in a way that she had never felt before. Even when she had lost her parents she had never been this volatile. A voice in her head reminds her that it is not Owain’s fought. He did not kill Inigo. He did not take Laslow from her.

“Damn it.” Her voice chokes. Tears falling slowly onto the ground again.

“H-hey,” Owain begins unsure of what to say now.

“What are we going to tell Olivia?” Severa questions.

“I don’t know, but don’t worry Severa. I’ll figure it out. I promise.” He hugs her, but she didn’t want his promises. She didn’t want him to fix things, because her love was gone. Their best friend was gone, and she doesn’t want anything to be fixed ever again.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

“Gregor is happy.” Gregor murmurs into his wife’s hair. His eyes were shut tightly as he felt the wind crossing his face. He still held onto his fear of heights, but he held back fears whenever he was up with his wife.

“That makes Minerva and I happy to hear Gregor.” A roar accompanies her comment as they soar gracefully through the air.

They were sellswords. On a cause to help those who needed it and paid the right price. If not for Cherche, Gregor would often be talked down in price or tricked by greedy men as he had been once. The very result being Cherche finding Minerva. It was good Gregor had found her. Gregor was very happy with her and Minerva in his life. Even if it met flying to jobs in order to make it in time.

“We’re almost there dear.” Cherche calls back over the sound of the wind. She rubs his hand with her own to provide him with a comforting touch. “You are very brave.” She reassures him, but Gregor did not need her to boost his ego. He needed her to make sure they did not die while upon Minerva. Either by an arrow casts my a confused and fearful man, or by the strange air burst that seemed common in Valm.

“Gregor no brave. Cherche’s brave for flying so much. Gregor terrified.” Gregor states through chattering teeth. “When we land. Gregor will kiss the land.” Gregor announces earning him a laugh from Cherche.

Minerva calls out and Gregor buries his face deeper into his wife’s hair. It smelt so nice. Her perfume reminding him of the days they sent simply wandering in Valm. Before he got the job that allowed his career to take off again. Those nights were nice for him, not so much for her. She had tried to hide it from Gregor but Gregor knew she was tired. Cherche worked hard for Virion, and ever harder once home for Gregor. She always cooked and cleaned everything while Gregor was out and he felt guilty. He tried cooking but Gregor was no master at it like her. He also did some of the chores, but the truth was he was making no money and was always stuck in one place so Gregor was restless and that made Cherche worried. Now Gregor was never restless but often tired from hard work. It was a good feeling, and Cherche would laugh a lot once again.

After every job he was happy and proud to return to her. Eventually he had so many requests and was so busy that he could not come home in between his ventures. So she quit her job for Virion and joined him on his jobs. The employers was happy for another hand more often than not. Even if some did fear the dear MInerva. It was better to have the two near him. He no longer felt loneliness that he once had.

“What are you thinking about?” Cherche asks having heard Gregor soft sighs.

“We should spend less time with jobs, no?”

“What do you mean?” She asks looking over her shoulder at him.

“Gregor wants to have a place where he and his wife can settle down. A home. We should take breaks between jobs. At a home. Just us three.” He suggests happily as he pats Minerva carefully.

“That sounds nice.” Cherche admits as she leans back further into Gregor. The move both scares him and appeals to him. He like seeing his wife liked this. Happy, free of worries, in her element. She looks almost as peaceful here as she looked fierce on the field of battle. Gregor also very much liked being able to call her his wife. It made him very proud.

“Where would you like to live?” She asks looking up at him with a sensual smile and wise eyes.

“Wyvern valley. It is where Cherche will be happiest, Gregor thinks.” Gregor answers her leaning down.

“You are very right Gregor, but are you sure? I know that place holds bad memories for you.”

“And Minerva yes?” Gregor adds. “But it is also where you two met and it is both of your homes. Gregor can make it his too.” He says proudly as he leans down and kisses Cherche. Forgetting just how high up they were for a few quiet moments.

As they break their kiss Cherche says, “We’re very happy too.” She leans up and gives him a small peck on his reddened cheek.

Chapter Text

“Keep your guard up Kellam!” Sully orders as she pulls back from her attack.

“I’m t-trying Sully.” Kellam replies as he pants.

“Well try harder!” She spins her spear around and strikes at one of the hinges in his armor. He blocks with his shields. He tries to catch his breath as he remains still holding his shield against the spear. She was quick to lift it up and try again causing him to jump away. He never was very nimble though and she still scrapes his knee with her spear.

“I don’t think I can try harder.” That was a mistake. Sully grew angry at the sign of defeat. With her fury her attacks grew in strength and her feet picked up speed. Kellam was quick to try and retract his statement. “I mean I’m exhausted Sully. I-i don’t think I can react any faster.”

Sully strikes again. Somehow, miraculously, Kellam kept blocking and even managed to counter strike once. Of course Sully was able to deflect it with ease.

“You’re already tired?”

“We’ve been practicing all morning Sully.”

“So?”

“Sully it’s almost dinnertime.”

“Really?” Sully looks up towards the sky as if she wasn’t sure if he spoke the truth.

Kellam nods and pushes himself up. He stands weekly on his legs as his knees quake. Sully had really been into it today. She had been more ferocious than usual. Something had happened that had her upset and in such a mood. He hadn’t been able to figure out what it was yet. He grabs his javelin and keeps it close to him as he approaches her. She was already on the move again with her Javelin. He catches it on his shield and she glares at him.

“Sully, what’s wrong?” His hands

“How are you suppose to protect everyone if you can’t even handle a little training?” She shouts the question at him in anger.

He staggers back a little and she uses the moment to pull her weapon free. She kicks his shield away from his hand and it’s sent flying a few feet away. Kellam knew it would be buried in the dirt without even looking. Not that he even had a chance to allow his eyes to follow after the shield for Sully wasn’t finished yet. She kicks him and Kellam falls back. He was still sitting up when Sully bends down and looks him over.

“Sully?” He asks with concern now.

“Are you hurt?” She asks quietly.

“No.” She looks him over anyways. “You should have kept a stronger hold on your shield. I’m always telling you that.”

Kellam remains silent as she continues. Once she was done looking him over she starts to stand up. He grabs her arm and holds her in place. He looks up at her and he could see the turmoil in her eyes. He knew his own shows his concern. She looks away from him and he looks down at the ground.

“Sully, what’s wrong?”

When he receives no answer he glances up and sees her squeezing her eyes shut, biting her lip. He pulls her down to him and rests his forehead against her shoulder. The armor was cold against his skin and it was uncomfortable but he holds her tight. At first she argues and tries to fight her way free but eventually she stops and relaxes. She stops trying to force him to let her go and leans back into him.

“What’s wrong?” He asks once more.

“We weren’t strong enough.”

“What do you mean?” Was she acting this way because of the fight the other day? They had won but it had been a close call for Virion who had been surrounded.

“I spoke with Kjelle. We had a heartfelt conversation an’ everything.” Sully explains.

“Ah.” Kellam says pretending to understand it all from that one bit of information.

“If we left her alone then we must be dead in the future and if that’s the case then that means we weren’t strong enough. We failed at being the shield of the shepherds. We broke.” Kellam loosens his tight grip as she continues. “It means I let you die.”

Kellam shakes his head. “Sully I don’t think that’s what happened.” She was creepily still. Kellam continues. “If we weren’t there for her then it means we died, but that doesn’t mean you let me die. More than likely we both died fighting, protecting the others. Giving them a chance to escape or keep fighting,” silence as Kellam lifts his head to whisper into Sully’s ear. “And I bet you were the best shield till the end.”

A sad smile creeps onto Sully’s face before she breaks free from his grip and stands up tall once again. “Come on tiny man. Get up, training still isn’t done. I won’t let you off that easily.”

Kellam takes her hand and she lifts him back up with ease. He retrieves his shield and shifts his javelin within his hands. He takes up his defensive stance with a worried expression on his face. “Are you sure you don’t want to go eat first Sully?”

“Eating early is for the weak that need breaks Kellam. We’re training all night. We’ll eat when we’re done.”

Chapter Text

Fire burns rotting corpses as the living continue to fight. Risen were everywhere, somehow they had found their base of operations before the remaining survivors could move. It had been routine move every other week or so. How Grima and his minions had found them was a question Lucina was very much expecting someone to have an answer to as she led the charge.

He and the others follow her lead. Defending those who could not fight. Inigo fought on the front lines, Owain, and Gerome by his side as Severa, Lucina, and Kjelle was off to their right trying to enclose the forces and stop them from slipping through. It was hell, and they were tired. Yet despite all his fatigue Inigo continued to fight. When the source of the risen army had been found all of his fatigue was replaced by excitement. They could end the fight now and provide the other survivors the necessary time to escape. He follows Owain as the fellow swordmans runs towards the leader. Yet when Inigo saw him freeze he knew this must have been no typical Grima soldier.

When his friends almost drops his sword is when Inigo finally sees who it was. “Morgan!”

She reacts to her name being called as one who was not quite sure if they had heard right, might. Her head turns slowly to face the two. Her eyes were dark and had deep purple bags underneath. She attempts a smile as her eyes fall upon them, but it quickly vanishes. Still that was Morgan. Sweet, innocent Morgan. The girl he had a crush on the whole time they were growing up together. The one who disappeared right before the risen began their hostile takeover for Grima.

“Morgan? Is that really you?” Owain asks. His feet stumble forward and he holds out his hand to her. “It really is you.” He notes his voice growing weak.

Morgan nods sadly as she confirms their nightmares. With quick hands she raises her violet book with black markings on the front. Morgan grits her teeth and takes a deep breath before shouting out a spell.

“Down!” Laurent orders them as he appears from nowhere. Gerome and Minerva dive down behind them as Laurent casts a wind spell blowing away the attack from Morgan. Wisps of darkness slips past his protection. They turn almost solid as they hit the ground.

“That is a powerful mage!” Laurent announces as they all rn to avoid the attacks.

“It’s morgan!” Inigo informs the two as Owain flips backwards.

“Where did you come from Laurent?” Owain asks bringing his sword out to hold it in front of him.

“Gerome saw you two about to face a mage on your own and decided you may need my help. What do you mean it’s Morgan?” Laurent asks Inigo as he raises his spellbook again.

“I mean that it’s Morgan!” He shouts his answer over the rising noise of the undead monsters gathering. “Keep the risen off of me! I’m going to talk to her!” Inigo tells the others as he darts forward. He hopes the risen will not be too much as he leaps over a head.

“Inigo, what are you doing?” Gerome shouts as Minerva cuts down a risen.

He looks back to see Owain cutting a path through the risen as he runs after Inigo. “Don’t go alone!” The royal prince orders as Lucina and the girls begin to catch up right behind them. Inigo tosses his head back ahead. Morgan was standing still, watching as Grima’s monstrosities rose around her. She did not raise an hand to defend herself as they grow and begin to reach out. The risen had turned on their summoners before, but Morgan made no move to leave or turn away as Inigo forces himself to run faster.

“Morgan!” He throws his hands towards her as he jumps through the group of the undead. They built a barricade of flesh between him and her. He grabs his sword and slices through one of their arms. Raises his arms he elbows another away.

“Morgan!” He calls out her name again. “Grab my hand! Come back with us!”

An expanding lack of words filled with the groans of the dead. He pushes himself through slowly making a hole for his body. Inigo was not getting to her fast enough. All of the pushing arms try to keep them apart as she remains just out of his reach.

“Morgan, please!” He pleads finally breaking through enough for his hand to almost touch her. “We miss you.” Inigo tells her hoping it would be enough. The young dancer can imagine having her back. He could picture their life with her back. Everyone a little happier, a little more whole. Her eyes stare at his hand unblinking. If it was the flurry of movements or just his mind playing tricks on him Inigo was not sure, but he thinks he can see tears in her eyes. “I need you back Morgan. I love.” He confesses, and in that moment he believes she is reaching for him. Her hand almost touches his before a screech calls the attention of everyone towards the sky. There was the human embodiment of Grima, Robin. He rides upon a wyvern, one of the many Grima had stolen from the valley of Gerome’s home.

Inigo looks back to Morgan and her eyes are up. A sad realization comes over him as he realizes why she had disappeared in the first place. Her father was there. Even if he was not the man they all had known as children. No matter how much she cared for them, she would always choose him. The fight leave Inigo as the risen push him farther away from the young tactician. His eyes never leaving her until his face was buried in the decaying bodies of the risen.

He can breathe again as Laurent blast a few off of Inigo. Owain shoves the remaining risen off of Inigo Lucina orders the others to circle around and form a defensive stance around him. As Owain helps him up he sees Morgan rise with her father. The man laughing widely as he taunts the crown princess, Lucina. Her commands pull through and her soldiers won the battle. The risen lay dead about the field along with some of their soldiers. Lucina had Owain and Kjelle take Inigo back to what remained of their previous hideout. They had Lissa check him for wounds before Severa gave him a lecture on safety in a fight.

“She was there.” He interrupts. “Morgan was there, and s-she looked so sick. This war is killing her. He is killing her.” The poor boy mutters as his friends grow silent.

“So she is working for Grima.” Laurent reiterates and Inigo shakes his head.

“She thinks she is working for her father. There’s no other reason. She would not stay with Grima for any other reason. That’s probably why he keeps Robin’s body. To keep Morgan under his control. She won’t turn against her father, she couldn’t.” Inigo explains. Out of all of them he knew Morgan best. He made it an effort to know her best. The boy didn’t like to admit it to the others, but he did fancy her. Still does, and the night she disappeared he felt he had lost a little bit more of himself. First his mother then his father and then Morgan. “We have to collect those stones.” He declares looking at Lucina. “Then we can get her back.”

“We would have to defeat Grima first.” Lucina reminds him, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll kill him myself if it means she can come back to us.” Inigo swears. “I need her back Lucina.” He admits wishing he didn’t sound so desperate.

“I know.”

Chapter Text

Gaius pulls at the suit he had on. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but he was looking for it’s pockets. Sumia had asked him to dress up for the dinner tonight, so of course he had. The only problem was that he had to go out, and buy a new outfit for the dinner since none of his typical clothes were appropriate. The one he had stolen from Chrom would have worked, but that was stained from a berry treat he had a few days ago. It was sweet, but not cooked very well. He took one bite of it and the whole treat fell apart landing all over his outfit.

“Gaius!” Sumia calls from the doorway.

Gaius should not have been surprised to see the outfit she was wearing. A long thing made of silver and lace. Snowflake patterns dancing around her shoulders and tear drops of pearly white beads drip down her dress. It practically makes her shine as she walks through the room towards him. He felt his heart skip a beat, and in that moment Gaius forgot all about pockets. Instead he smiles and reaches for his wife.

“You look gorgeous.”

“Stop.” She says with a giggle. “This was a thank you gift from Maribelle and Lissa. Apparently they think me competent at my job. Why they would gift me a dress for tonight instead of new armour for tomorrow, I would not know.”

“They wanted you to shine. I’ll have to give them my thanks later.” He leans in closer, pressing his chest against hers. “But we both know you look good with or without this dress on.”

“Gaius!” She shouts his name playfully as he spins her.

“Mommy! Daddy! I’m ready!” Cynthia cheers as she comes running into the room. Gaius could count down the seconds before her fall.

“Cynthia are you alright?” Sumia was quick to their daughter’s rescue.

“Of course mommy, but I think one of my pigtails came loose.” Cynthia was always just as quick to assuage her mother’s fears.

“Here Cynthia.” Gaius works quickly, using his deft hands to undo the girl’s hair completely. “Daddy’s going to make it a little tighter this time so it may hurt, but it should stay up better.” He explains running his hands through her long orange locks. Using his nails to break through a few small knots that had been quick to form in her hair. When she flinches as he breaks one Gaius begins to hum. A trick he had found worked to distract Cynthia from small pains was humming. He would begin a tune and she joined in without fail.

As he ties her hair he decides to put her usual free ponytails into braids. The long hair that could fall just to her shoulders was a nice comparison of her brown and yellow dress that held stripes on it that seemed to twist around her body itself. His daughter was a spring but tonight she had chosen fall colors. Despite Gaius’ other suggestions.

“I’m putting your hair into braids. I think the style will fit your dress, plus you rarely have us place them in braids.”

“Okay Daddy. Do you think Lucina and Kjelle will like my hair.”

“I’m sure all your friends will be to focused in on your perfect little dress to even glance at you hair.”

“Mommy, Daddy’s avoiding the question again!” She cries.

Gaius rolls his eyes. “They will love your hair.” He says as he fakes enthusiasm.

“Yay!” The young girl cheers throwing her hands up. Gaius quickly moves his head back so he wasn’t smack. A few seconds more and he was done.

“All done. You’re free.” With a cheer she was off, running around the room, twirling and spinning with a speed Gaius had never seen anyone move. All of that just to show off her new dress. “She would make a great thief.” Gaius notes to his wife.

“She will not.” Sumia shouts back followed by one of her laughs. “You’re good with her Gaius. I do wish you would stop giving her so much sugar.”

“She’s a kid. Kids eat sweets.” Gaius notes picking up a lollipop from the nearby counter. “Besides that energy will help her once she is on the dance floor. Especially if she is going to outdance you and I.” He grabs Sumia’s hand and spins her under his arm.

Sumia laughs throwing her hand out lightly. “Tonight will be fun.” Gaius promises. “So just relax and follow my feet.”

Chapter Text

He remembers the day they first met. The young son of a rich noble and the daughter of a sky flier. Well her mom was technically a pegasus rider, but Brady was young. He never used the right terms for most things. To his mother’s irritation. Yet this day was different. This day Maribelle had Brady dressed in his finest clothes. He even remembers the words his mother said to him.

“Brady, mama has some old friends coming over today. Father and mother will be busy with our friends all day talking of some very grave news. Do not fret dear. They have a daughter your age. You two are going to have lots of fun while was room. Do not enter this room, understand?”

“Yes Ma.” Came his reply. His mama’s face grew red but he was dismissed to his room. It was in there that he heard the the whinnies of the pegasi from outside. Running to the window Brady is able to see the flying horse just as it was landing.

He could hear his mother greet them at the front door. No doubt after the butler led them insides. His father’s voice was clear as he also greeted their guests. A woman’s voiced thank them for their time and kindness. His own mother instructing the butler that their daughter be led to his room. Brady never even got a chance to see the adults besides the slight glimpse from the window.

A knock on his door before it opens.

“Master Brady. You have a playmate today.” Came the introduction, but Brady says nothing as a slightly taller, blonde girl walks into his room. Her hair was up in twin braids, and her face was covered in a huge smile. Her teeth were so white and her mouth was so wide Brady wonders if she was even human, and how could her eyes possibly fit on such a small space.

“Hello! My name is Cynthia! Are you Brady? That guy called you Brady.” The girl was practically shouting as she speaks. Brady simply nods in response hoping it would be enough for the stranger. His house was rarely ever loud. This girl was an oddity of sorts he had never encountered before. So happy, loud, and bouncy.

“Well what do you do here Brady?” Cynthia asks practically prancing about the room. “Do you have any fun toys? Owain has a lot of toy swords, but not really anything else. Gerome’s got a giant wyvern! What do you have?”

“What? W-what do you mean?” Brady asks growing impatient as she continues to talk about people and things he had never heard of.

“What cool thing do you have?” Cynthia asks again.

Brady looks around his room. In was an ugly, plain yellow color his mother delighted in. He had a box full of toys that his grandparents had given him. There was even a toy sword among the collection, but as she said Owain had a lot of those. He had a book of spells given to him by a man that visited his mother once, but he rarely ever opens it.

“What’s this?” Cynthia asks pulling out his violin from his closest.

“Hey! Don’t touch that!” Brady shouts as he pulls the case free from her hands. “It’s delicate. You have to be careful.”

“Why?” Cynthia asks undaunted by his mood.

“Because you can break it if you aren’t.” He explains his anger growing.

“I’ve never seen it before. What is it?”

Brady stares at this girl as if she was from another planet. His mother had him playing violin since he could hold one in his lap and pluck. How this girl had never seen one was unbelievable to him.

“You’re not very smart, are you?” He asks.

She glares at him. “And you’re not very nice.”

“It’s a violin.” Brady explains. “An instrument. You play it and it creates music.”

“Play.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“Please.” She begs. Her eyes were large and brown. Cynthia kept stepping closer and closer to Brady. She was in his face when he finally conceded. Not that he let her that close because he thought it would be nice. No, he just was stubborn and would not play for such a crazy person. Well, she did look hopeful.

“Alright. If it gets ya off my back.” Brady agrees, grumbling as he bitterly gets out his violin. He plays the only song he knows off the top of his head without looking at a music sheet. It’s short, and the first song he ever learned, but it was enough to calm the girl down. Or at least she was calm until the song was done.

“That was amazing, Brady!”

“Uh, thanks.” Brady looks away hoping his face was not as red as it felt.

When their parents were done talking her father came to take her away. Brady followed a step behind them. There were a hundred questions he wanted to ask. Where were they going? Would she be back? When? If maybe she would like to come to his next practice? How did her parents know his? Could he go with her? Would she remember him like she remembers this Owain, and Gerome?

Instead he walks in silence behind the two as they meet her mother at the door. She was a tall woman. One with a nice smile, but Brady didn’t care how nice she looked. They were taking his new friend away. He looks over to his parents with pleading eyes. Maribelle calls him over. Still pouting he slowly trudges over. Once he was near his mother takes his shoulders under her hands and holds him close.

“Smile dear.” She whispers into his ear.

Brady tries his hardest but there was little he could do to make himself smile at his new friend’s departure. That was until Cynthia looked over to him.

“Bye Brady. I had a lot of fun. Please invite me over again soon.” She asks formally looking to his parents for the last part. That brought a smile and a slight rush of heat to his face.

When their guests had left his mother told him he had done well. His father teased him for his newfound crush. Which was preposterous. Brady hadn’t crushed Cynthia. He had played music for him. Saying that to pa only earned him a laugh in return. Brady cried to his mother to tell pa to stop laughing, but his mother only smiled at him. Then she held a look of deep thought on her face. Brady gives up. His father had won.

Years later and Brady finds himself closer to Cynthia everyday. After the death of their parents the children of the shepherds had formed a new sort of band. There were not as many of them as there had been in their parents’ time. That was hardly their fault however, since there weren’t even as many people living in their time as had been in their parents’.

He had joined as soon as he learned a viable skill. Healing had been the skill of his choice. The book his grandfather had sent him years ago had come to be handy. It taught him the beginning of magic, and Brady was now able to cast his magic through his staffs to heal his friends. Now he was much like his mother or perhaps more like her closest friend, Lissa. The mother of Owain and one of the only two original shepherds that was still alive.

Brady was one of the early ones to join. He did not come to Lucina alone like many of the children had. His mother was the other shepherd still living from the original group. They were quickly put to work by the princess, er, queen now he supposed. Brady would do the healing while his mother would round up survivors and guide them to the safe spot. Wherever they had set up camp at the time. It was hard work, but it had his skills improving greatly everyday, and at least this way he was making a difference. Even with Lucina away so often Owain, or Kjelle were often left behind to aid in the protection of camp from the risen.

Brady still remembers the day she came back to them after what was suppose to be a simple scouting trip. Riding on a pegasus of her own now. Cynthia came crashing into the camp. She was injured, her pegasus had a few burnt feathers. Some were even torn. How it was still flying was a miracle. Brady had been the first to spot her. Crashing down at them all. At first he thought it was a wild wyvern come to kill them for food. Immediately he had people clearing the area. When he notices the creature was a pure white, not a scaly green or even grey his body relaxed slightly. Until he saw the rider on the pegasus and the condition of the flying horse.

When it landed Cynthia managed to slide off. Immediately her horse’s legs crashed from underneath itself. Cynthia was close behind her. Brady was quick to catch the always perky girl. Right now she looked like she just had the shit beaten out of her.

“Cynthia!” He speaks with urgency as he carries her back towards the first aid tent. “Can you hear me?”

When her eyes open Brady felt such a rush of relief that he had never again felt anything quite like it. “Brady?” Her voice was cracked. A sign her throat was probably sore.

“Don’t ya worry Cynthia. We are gonna fix ya right up.” Brady reassures her. He runs side long into the tent. Carefully he rests her on one of the few empty sheets they had hanging up off of the ground. Looking around Brady was quick to pick up the staff closest to him.

“Brady it was horrible.” Cynthia admits looking quite grim in the face for a moment. “But I managed to buy them time. They escaped. I’m a hero.” She sounds proud and a little more like herself.

“A hero who could have gotten herself killed. Ya realize that don’t cha?” Brady asks sounding furious. He could have lost her today, and he would never had known.

“Brady are you mad?” She asks this and he feels his anger swelling up. She should know that he was mad. She could have died. Her pegasus could have died, and she was worried about being a damn hero. Blasted Owain, helping fill her head up with such stories and obsession.

“No.” Brady lies as he begrudgingly stops talking. He wanted to give her a lecture. To tell her how foolish she was and how crazy this whole interference of hers had been. Instead he focuses on his job. He was a healer. Healing heroes is what he did. If Lucina, Owain, Cynthia, and Morgan kept insisting on recklessly risking their own lives he would always be there to heal them. He had more than enough experience to protect himself on the field, but she had not returned to base for backup first. She went off all on her own against who knows how many risens.

“There. I’ve done all I can for right now, but you need to stay here and rest.” Brady insists. Partially it was because she needed to. Yet it was also partially because he wanted to keep her a little closer to him. Just incase she wanted to try anything, he told himself. It is only so he could look after her.

“Thank you Doctor Brady!” Cynthia exclaims already sounding chippier. “But I don’t think I need to stay.” Brady knew where this would go. So before the cycle of their arguments could begin anew he cuts her a deal right off the bat.

“Sleep. Take a nap, and after that I’ll decide if you’re good to go or not.”

Cynthia smiles up at him. “Okay Brady, but I’m leaving after my nap.”

He replies with a “We’ll see.” But he knew she was right. She would. He could never get her to stay longer than that after all.

Cynthia fell asleep almost immediately. She rests just as restless as she works. If that even makes sense. Brady adds bitterly. He tends to their other injured as Cynthia sleeps, but she was always moving and rolling around in her little makeshift bed that Brady was worried she would roll out and hurt herself. On one hand if that happen Brady could use that as a reason she should stay longer and continue to rest. Yet on the other hand she could just roll out of it again or even simply refuse and march out of here. Basically all the children of the shepherds hold that tendency besides Morgan who has gone missing, Nah, and Kjelle. For some reason the one he always had the hardest trouble to get in here was always the only one willing to stay until she was fully healed.

Nonetheless Brady kept an eye on Cynthia at all times. Even when his mother released him from his duties for the day he remained within the tent. Insisting on continuing to help his mother until the day grew dark. When the woman used her umbrella to kick him out and send him to go eat Brady was reluctant but could do little to resist her.

He sat in the meal tent begrudgingly. He hated eating nowadays. All cause he would go so long without any food at all. Most days were only filled with work and the occasional snack so his body could still digest. He knew there was never enough food for all the people that were there. He also knew that all the people doing the fightin’ should be eatin’ before him. So when it came Brady’s turn to grab some food he was only going to take an apple. Maybe two, but unfortunately Laurent was on meal duty today. The mage knew well about Brady’s habits so when the healer approached him determined to take no more than normal Laurent caught his hands and instead gave him not just one bowl, but two.

“Please take one of these to Cynthia. She has had quite the day today from what I hear.” Laurent explains. News always did spread fast through here. “Brady please do make sure you eat tonight. We all have to make sacrifices but I am beginning to grow worried over your own health.” Brady nods and give the other shepherd thanks before stomping out of the meal tent. Now he not only had a bowl of food for himself but no fruit so there was no way he could get Cynthia to eat both bowls without starving himself. Damn that Laurent.

When he was got back his mother was still running around like a hen without her head. Many would see nerves getting loose, but Brady knew this was just how his ma worked. She was so use to running to the aid of everyone on top of her horse that she knows little else. Silently Brady bypasses his mom and sits on top of a crate next to the rolling Cynthia. He holds out her own bowl of food towards the sleeping girl. Waiting for the smell to work its magic and raise her from her disturbingly animated rest.

“Brady I told you to get out.” Maribelle states taking a moment to speak with her son.

“Yeah, and I did. Got some food for sleeping beauty ‘ere. Have you ate yet ma?”

“Mother.” Maribelle corrects through gritted teeth with an exasperated sigh. “And yes I did before coming to relieve you.”

When the bowl is wrenched from his hand Brady knows that Cynthia had finally woken up. He looks over his shoulder to see her pulling the bowl closer to her chest. She pulls the fork free from the mess of food and gleefully takes a bite. Her eating reminds Brady of a pack of ravenous wolves he had seen take down a deer once. Yet the look on her face was pure delight.

“Thank you Brady!” Cynthia cheers.

Hiding his face quickly Brady simply shrugs. “Why ya thankin’ me? Laurent sent the food. I only delivered it.” Brady explains trying his best to sound nonchalant.

“Then I’ll thank him later. Am I good to go doc?” Cynthia asks somehow managing to fall out of her bed as she tried to stand. In an amazing feat of priorities the pegasus rider managed to save her bowl of food from spilling as her face fell first into the muddy ground.

“Is there anyway I can stop ya?” Brady asks taking the bowl from her hands. With ease he pulls the girl up. When he hands her back her food he picks out small flecks of mud from her hair.

“Nope!” There was her goofy grin again. When he feels her lips grace his cheek with a light kiss Brady’s face grows an even deeper shade of red.

He ignores the rush of blood and his thumping heart all just so he could speak. “Then ya better get goin. And wash up when you’re done eatin’ that.” Brady instructs, but Cynthia was already rushing off. It would be a miracle if she made it anywhere without spilling her food before she was done.

Brady looks back to his own bowl of food. Suddenly he wasn’t hungry anymore. The painful growls of his stomach he had been ignoring were no longer there to ignore. Either that was a good sign or a very very negative one. When his mother pats his head Brady finally looks up.

“You take good care of her. Of them.” She quickly adds. “I’m proud of you.” Her voice was soft and it is one of the only times Brady can remember her ever saying that to him outside of his performances.

“Thanks ma.”

Brady opens his eyes and shoots up straight in his bed. His head snaps from the left to the right as he checks the dark tent with bare eyes. Risen. They had been everywhere. Cynthia! They had taken Cynthia! Quickly Brady hands reach for the spot next to him where his wife was suppose to be. Brady looks down as his hands touch her. She was still there with him. Still safe.

“Brady? Is something wrong?” She asks rolling around onto her other side to face him.

“Just a bad dream.” Brady lays back down and wraps his arms around her again. Her eyes still as bright as ever. The same ones that gave him a little light in his life even during the worst of times. As he stares he thinks back to the day he first met her. All the times she nearly got herself killed that he would have to interfere. All the days he would watch her train, and even the day they found her confused and mislead by the bandits.

“Come here.” Happily Cynthia wraps her arms around his waist. She buries her head into his chest, pulling him closer to her. “We’re alright.” She promises as her eyes close. Brady had grown use to her sudden affectionate actions. “Just close your eyes and try to rest again. I promise it’ll be better this time. If the risen show up again all you have to do is remember that you have a hero right here!” She exclaims cheerfully still sounding half asleep.

“Goodnight Cynthia.” He kisses her head lightly.

She sighs happily into her chest as sleep takes her once again. Brady lies awake for a while longer. He was use to this. Always being one of the last to fall asleep. His mind never resting. His fears were never quelled. Yes Brady was use to the silence of the night, but it was a little more comfortable with her near. Ever since they found out that she was with child he had been on edge. What if he wasn’t a good father? What if the risen came back? What if Grima really wasn’t gone? All thoughts that never ceased to plague him. Except for when Cynthia was near. True to the hero that she was. Somehow his pegasus rider managed to quell all of his fears. So while he laid awake at night he plans their future, planning to give her everything she ever wanted. Everything she and their child deserved. After all, chances were that they would never have even lived this long anyways.

Chapter Text

“It is unfair for you to do this my love.” Tiki chokes on her words as she holds Robin’s hands.

“I am sorry.” Robin begins looking back at the crowd of people in front of him. His mind flashes back to that day. The day he had slain Grima. He had left so many people behind than too as he was doing now. This time there was no wind crashing onto his face. No real choice to be mad. No one else can take this journey for him, and once again he must pass on. He was leaving them all again. Carefully Robin looks once more back to Tiki. Her green eyes filled with the pain of loss. A pain he knows she has felt many times.

“You know I would stay if I could.” He reminds her reaching out to caress her cheek.

“I-i know.” Her voice was wavering again. All the strength she had shown him throughout their lives now crashing out from underneath her. Robin knew the pain she had felt when she lost her other friends, other lovers, allies, even some enemies she felt a certain lost for. Robin never wanted to add to that pain. He never wanted to hurt her like that, but now he was doing so for the second time. The first she had been so certain of his return. So strong. Now it would be permanent and neither of them could keep up their facades of being fearless any longer.

“You are strong, and I know this will cause you pain, but you will live through it. I know you will Tiki.”

She wants to cry out that she doesn’t what to. That she can’t be strong anymore. How she can not continue to go through this, but she knows better. She will continue to live until her own time is up. Tiki was grateful to have even this much time for no other human had lasted this long beside her.

“I will continue to watch over our friends and their families as long as Naga allows until my own time comes.” Tiki promises. Her words had the opposite effect as Robin frowns.

“Tiki that is not your job. You have put yourself through enough watching so many pass on. Please just live a life that will make you happy. Please?” Robin begs Tiki. He was going to continue but his words were interrupted by a coughing fit. The people at the foot of his bed gasp and grow worrisome. Many were old friend of his. Some was their children or grandchildren. People Robin had watched grow up and live happily. Even Nowi was there looking as young as she had when they first met. Her own husband had passed on now and her daughter and her grandchildren were here with her. Tiki would not be alone. She had Nowi, her family, their own daughter will still be around. She would not be alone, and that brought him some comfort.

When his fit passes by Robin felt weaker. His strength was waning far beyond any point he had felt before. His body was cold despite the fact he was under two blankets. His eyes felt heavier than they had ever been. For once he realizes all the strength his body had needed to function day to day and how he no longer had that. He lowers himself a little more. Tiki brings the covers up to meet him so all but his head was now under the covers.

“I love you my Tikiwiki.”

“I love you dear.”

“I’m glad I was allowed to love you.” The words left a sense of peace around the Manakete.

“Such small moments make life worth living.” She answers as Robin closes his eyes. She sheds no tears as her love passes by. He may not have been her first, but his passing hurt her just as much. It took Tiki a great amount of time before she was ready to even walk amongst humans again. Everywhere she looks she see auras and souls that remind her of her love and friends. The daughter of Naga never was one who could easily move on, but her own daughter had a wonderful idea. They would build a statue, and not just one. Many. One for each of their fallen friends. These statues would rest alongside each other in a place where few others knew existed and it is there that the shepherds live on.

Chapter Text

My name is Iniabi. I am a third generation of Shepherds. My parents were Morgan and a young maiden he had found in a great time of need, Amber. Yet despite being a third generation of shepherds I was raised with the second generations. Since there are technically two generations of them, yes I know it is complicated. Anyways I am writing in this journal at the request of a childhood friend, Cynthia. Our world is facing constant danger. Danger that has threaten the lives of our families once again. I worry that I may not be able to rise to the occasion as my grandparents had. With my grandma Robin missing. I wonder how much longer it will be before.

Father promises me that it will all be alright. That his mother will return with good news. He tells me the stories of how this is not the first time Robin had disappeared, and he feels confident that she will return once again. Grandfather Chrom also held the same positivity at first, but as days creep by Grandfather seeks solitude ever more. All of his searches having turn up nothing. He does not speak to even father these days. A man who never sought to solve a problem by himself, now recluse to the darkest shadows of the castle. I wonder how much longer until we hear from them. Oh, Cynthia is here. I’ll let her read this first section.

Goodbye for now

• Iniabi

Hello, I am back again. Well we now know where Robin went, and now we have to raise our swords against her. When Grandma came back I was walking with Grandfather on patrol. One of the only times the man would remain distracted from her disappearance these days. It was a roar that caught our attentions and sent them to the sky. Then it was terror that filled us as we saw a very twisted looking person above us. Dark fumes came off of them in waves and it was when grandfather whispers, Robin, that I knew who it was.

I ran like I was told, to get my father and aunt. When we got back Grandfather was gone, and it was too late. Lucina was outraged, she charged at her mother while Morgan assisted with his magic. When he was given the order to run, father was reluctant. Lucina told him to take me away, since she and her husband had no children. If she fell to this fiend as grandfather had the next in line was Morgan, and then myself. It took a lot of convincing, but father did leave. Grabbing my sword he pulls on my hand and uses his magic to begin carrying me away. Lucina gave out one last shout before tossing falchion down to us. I remember the terror on her face, the rage, and determination mixing in with it. She was never one to give into her fears, but she could not deny the power of the force in front of her. Her words will forever echo in my mind.

“I fought Grima. You are nothing.”

We are with the other shepherds now. Father promises we are safe here, but I have not been able to find mother since arriving. I asked him, and he swears she will be joining us later, but Brady seems to doubt his words. Owain says that the shepherds including the older versions of themselves can not be beaten, but I know better. I’ve heard all the stories. They are all just humans too.

I wonder if I can help

-Iniabi

Cynthia came to talk to me today. Asked if i was still writing in you. Apparently she thinks this is more important than the fights. I have to reclaim all of Ylisse, and I don’t have time to be writing in books. Still, I don’t need to be fighting with Cynthia too. She’s nice. Even despite us all losing almost everything and one she still stays positive. Her older self died recently. She watched. It was terrible, seeing her die, then seeing her holding herself. It was in truth, a very eye opening experience. It made me come to the realization that I don’t want to lose her. I can not lose her. She means too much to me, but I’m worried. What if I lose her as Chrom lost Robin, as father lost mother. I can not allow myself to sink into such depths of mourning, not again, but perhaps I won’t lose Cynthia as they had lost. Alright, I’m going to go talk to her.

Maybe you aren’t useless

-Iniabi

Cynthia and I got a moment of peace in between all the fighting, running, and just trying to survive. It was nice. We went on a quiet date to the middle of a field. Apparently it held great sentimental value for her. She told me stories about how this was where her father, mother, and older her would train her. How they would all work with her as a team here. How those were the best times of her life. I want to make sure other times are the best of her life. I want to be the one she thinks about when she thinks back to her fond memories. So when the day was done. I asked her if she would be willing to go out with me again some time. She said yes! This is the best news I have received in a long while.

I’m glad she no longer reads this.

-Iniabi

Kjelle somehow found out about you! She read everything! Man I’m happy I barely write in you anymore, but now she knows how I feel for Cynthia. What’s worst is that she even interrupted one of our dates just to tell me she had found you! Apparently I dropped this damn book when I went for my meal. Of course when she saw who I was with all Kjelle did was state how we had to speak later. All she did was warned me not to hurt Cynthia! As if I would willing, or even consciously bring about harm to her. Of course I wouldn’t! The idea is ridiculous. Damn Kjelle and her keen eyes and nosy nose.

I’m done with this book!

-Iniabi

I saw Aunt Lucina today. She has succumb to evil just like Grandmother Robin had. Father did not handle it well. He has somehow still managed to smile each and everyday despite all that we have lost, but now. He never lowers his hood, forever covering his face. What I saw when we brought her down, Kjelle and I, was a heartbroken man who only had barely a spark of light left within him. Training became harder then. I made sure of it. If this wicked forces causes us to fight our own blood again and again then we all needed to be ready for that. War is not a game.

Father doesn’t laugh anymore.

-Iniabi

Well book I realized that within a few years this may be the only thing left of me. Laurent has pointed out to me that on several occasions books have lasted for century whereas most living beings only a few decades. Unless you are a manake then you tend to last a few centuries as well. In case you do indeed manage to survive this war while the rest of un remain in our graves then there are a few things I would like the future to know.

1. The kingdom of Ylisse was ruled for many years by the descendants of Marth. I hope that my descendants will also rule, but if not then I do not wish for the names Ylisse, Marth, Chrom, or Lucina to ever be forgotten.
2. We shepherds were a force for good, meant to serve and protect the people of Ylisse. Well within my Grandfather’s reign they became a force that protected all the realm, not just Ylisse. If we fail but others survive, please uphold this and protect everyone that you can. The job is tough, but if you have friends, and family willing to help it gets a little easier.
3. I’m going to ask Cynthia to be with me forever. We could die at any moment and I want each and every one of them to last. So if we die in this fight and this diary survives then let it be known by all that Cynthia, daughter of Sumia is the love of my life.

Perhaps I am being dramatic but I think that is what war does.

-Iniabi

So It feels like I’ve died. It has been over three years. We lost, we’ve fought, we’ve survived, and at some point my own blood made me turn against my family. Funny how that works. The brand of the exalt was always in my view ever since it appeared. Right hand, main hand, fighting hand. It time of deep thought I would often trace over that brand. Yet I have the mark of Grima as well. Left ankle. Often out of sight out of mind. I have fought my evil grandmother, my turned aunt. I was turned, and then was saved by the only remaining light in my life. Which is why I write today. It is finally over. Cynthia and I we can relax and rest now. Maybe even start a family of our own. Having reclaimed Ylisse construction has already begun. Kjelle is here with us, as my left hand while Cynthia is my right. The two I could always count on. Now we are rebuilding homes, markets, the castle. It is going to take a lot. Maybe more then I have left to give. But I know that the survivors will all be more than willing to help each other. The shepherds live on even when we have nothing else.

I hope generations to come have peace.

-Iniabi

The next few pages of the book are empty, and as you flip through them looking for just one more article. One more insert, another word of any kind, you find instead pages near the very back of the book filled with pictures. Some of them are drawn in. Some are photos that have been clipped or glued in somehow. None fall out. As you pause in your furious search you realize who the pictures are of. A family all except three with blue hair. On the bottom of the photo are the names going from left to right. The name under a child in the bottom right of the page reads as Iniabi. The picture below it is of a young man practicing with tomes as a man in a dark cloak watches him from closeby. The description read, ‘training with dad’. The next page was a hand drawn picture of a young ponytailed girl holding a shield far too large for her. It takes up nearly the entirety of the page.

The next few were all of different individuals. A healer with a scar along his eye. Three swordsmen who vanishes right before everyone’s eyes. A girl with short hair holding her spear in the gullets of three monsters. A photo of all of them together. A layer of adults, and seemingly a layer of almost identical children before them. Above the photo reads, before the war. Another lies underneath it. The number of people have nearly halved. All the children were now grown with scars of their own. All armed, all relieved. Some holding miserable faces instead of ones of joy and relief like their companions. The writing above this photo reads, after the war. The page across from it held a drawing of a man with very sad eyes and short, dark blue hair. His eyes were sparkling but not with light, just the reflection of unshed tears.

On the very last page of the book lies a drawn picture of the pigtails girl, now grown, and a grown up Iniabi in wedding regale. They look happy, almost at calm despite the storm happening around them that Iniabi had written about. Across from that page, on the hard back of the book is one last photograph. A picture of the two, with children, and friends. A family, happy, healthy, together. A sense of relief and understanding fills you as you now understand why you were asked to read the diary. It shows the short collections of a man grasping straws, yet it still manages to be okay. If he can fight, and survive this world. So can you.

Chapter Text

The castle was the noisiest it had been in a long while. She could hear the noise from several halls down. The plain, white hallways filled with ancient treasure, portraits, and vases that Lucina never quite understood why they were so valuable always so clean and quiet. Yes normally the castle was a sterile state of quiet and cleanliness, as Laurent liked to put it. Just as Laurent’s mother and her father’s most loyal friend, Frederick, liked to keep it. It was after all the place where the princes and princess was being raised.

The last pregnancy had been more difficult then the first one. Carrying twins had been a task that Lucina’s body found difficult. Far more than any of the endurance training she had ever faced. Not to mention the birthing process. After which Miriel decided that she would be needed to make sure Lucina’s health did not fade for months after. Then she often came up with reasons to visit and see the children thought that was never her stated intent. Not that Lucina minded an extra hand or two. Especially now five years later, when father was going to be handing the kingdom over to her soon.

Since her responsibilities were increasing everyday Laurent had agreed to pause his research on what he explained were the comparative traits between dark magic and it’s supposed opposite of healing magic. He had already written half of a tome over it yet still insisted he was nowhere close to bringing a conclusive if not at least acceptable end to his study. YEt he was willing to do the extra care it took to handle the children. It was agreed between Laurent and Lucina that hands on parenting would be best since both grew up cherishing their parental relationships and wanted their children to feel the same.

Now as Lucina traces down the source of the screaming she begins to wonder if having one of the handmaiden’s help them wouldn’t be such a bad idea. For what Lucina saw when she opens the door to the children’s playroom was indeed a nightmare.

Laurent was pinned to the ground by the twins Lucretia, and Renard. Someone had given them paint for Laurent was covered in marks of blue, brown, red, and green. Their hands were covered in a strange mix of the paints that also was all over their own clothes. Renard’s red hair was covered in blue and green paint as his blue eyes had rings painted around them. Lucretia’s blue hair was clean except for the ends of her twin braids. Yet her face was almost completely covered in paint. All except for her purple eyes thankfully. The floor was decorated as well but instead of paint theri were toys everywhere. Play swords given from Owain, pointed hats from their father were hanging off a pile in the corner, and the collection of wooden soldiers each given by one of father’s own soldiers were everywhere. There was no organization to this chaos. Just wild abandonment. While the twins dealt with their father Samuel was in the corner tearing pages out of one of his father’s tome’s. The five years old she understood, but she had hoped Samuel would have grown out of such behavior by now. Having finally had his seventh name day just a week ago.

“What is going on here?” Lucina asks finally making her children aware of her presence. Immediately Samuel hid the book behind his back as the twins smile up at their mother. They were still wiping their messy hands all over their father and his clothes.

“We’re playing!” Answers the giddy Renard.

“Ah Lucina, just in time I see.” Laurent slowly pushes himself up into a sitting position. Carefully he removes Renard and Lucretia from on top of him. “I thought allowing the children to stimulate their creative sides would help them, but it became a little chaotic and I loss control.”

“Was it before or after that when Samuel stole your tome.”

“Neither he told me the other day that he wanted to learn so I bought a practice tome along with me for him to use today. Though now,” Laurent raises his glasses up on his nose as he looks to his oldest. “I see that I will need a private space where I can teach him one on one.”

“Perhaps tomes aren’t his thing.” Lucina suggests as she offers her husband a hand up.

“Perhaps, but it does no harm in trying. My mistake was bringing it on me to play time.”

“Indeed my dear. I hope you can replace it.”

“Rather easily I believe.” Laurent adjusts his clothes and flattens out his hair again, ignoring all the paint on him.

Lucina turns to her eldest and holds out her hand. With a pout he does return what was left of the magic tome. Yet he keeps the shredder paper behind himself in the corner. Lucina shakes her head as she reaches over her seven year old to retrieve the scraps. As of late Samuel had taken to acting more like a petulant child then a young prince. Leading his siblings and himself into plenty of trouble. Lucina hands her husband the remains of the tome and turns back to her eldest son.

“Samuel,” and right like that the tears began to spring forth from his red eyes. The eyes he retrieved fro his father’s side of the family. “Please stop dear. I’m not going to yell I just want to talk to you.”

“Really?” He asks and suddenly his eyes were dry once more.

“Yes. Laurent can you take the twins and wash them? You seem as if you’ll need one as well after them.”

“Of course though I think I will ask your Aunt Lissa for help for the little ones. Our youngest son has decided he doesn't want his father’s help.” Laurent makes Lucina aware as he picks up Lucretia. Renard runs away from his father.

“Mother says I was like that with her at their age.” Lucina turns to her eldest. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.” Lucina picks up Samuel and turns towards her husband. “I’ll go get Aunt Lissa and send her to meet you.”

“Thank you.” Laurent sounds a bit relieved as he catches Renard’s hand. Lucina gives him a kiss upon one of the cleans spots of her red hair.

She leaves as Laurent gives a grunt and lifts Renard up. Lucina knew Aunt Lissa would probably be in the kitchens where she and Owain often spent their personal time practicing Owain’s cooking abilities. She wanted her son to never go hungry while he was on one of his self assigned missions for the Shepherds. Samuel stays quiet on his mother’s hip as he buries his face into her arm.

“Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?” Lucina offers the olive branch so they could solve the problem faster. For anyone who expects a child to, expects too much. “You can be frank, er, honest.” Lucina corrects herself reminding herself that this was her child not one of the bureaucrats she was often stuck listening to.

“You and papa don’t like me.” Samuel complains freezing his mother.

“Why would you think that?” Her mind could not fathom why her son would ever think that.

“You always work instead of training or playing with me, and when you don’t work you play with the twins. They always sleep in your bed while I have to sleep in my room alone. You don’t tell me good job or good boy Samuel, and you and papa haven’t been calling me Sammy anymore.” Samuel begins his rant by clutching his mother’s arm but was soon waving his arms about and growing increasingly hard to hold.

Lucina had to admit it was hard getting the twins to sleep in their own bed. Especially Lucretia since she had her own room, and didn’t like to be alone at night. Though she did not think she and Luarent showed that much more attention to Renard and Lucretia then Samuel.

“Is that why you asked papa to show you how to do magic?” A short nod. Lucina sighs and sets her eldest down. “Listen Sammy, mama is very busy. She is very sorry, but she and papa don’t dislike you. We love you.” She runs one of her hands through his blonde hair gently. The way her mother showed her to do it to calm children down. “Hey how about we go help papa bathe the twins then he can show you some magic?”

“Okay.” Samuel agrees still sounding a little dejected.

“What can I do to help you Sammy?” Lucina asks feeling her heroic blood pounding through her veins to answer the call. Or so her cousin Owain enjoyed saing.

“Can I sleep with you guys tonight?” He asks his red eyes looking a little scared.

“You don’t think you are too old?”

“No!”

“Then alright. For tonight you can sleep in our bed, but tomorrow you have to help keep Renard in your bedroom. Deal?”

“Deal.” She made have just solved the whole bedtime problem for one half of the twins. Now how to for Lucretia?

“Now are you ready to help and be a big boy?” Lucina asks offering to pick him up again.

“I am a big boy!” Samuel shouts before running down the hall.

Lucina follows at a leisure pace behind him. His blonde locks bouncing off of his shoulder with every step that hits the ground. Samuel led the way to the bathroom while urging his mother to go faster. She chooses to catch up to him as he reaches the bathroom door.

“Ah Lissa, Lucina said you would be,” Laurent stops mid sentence as he sees it was his wife and son instead. Then he smiles.

“We thought you could use our help instead. Especially since you need to bathe as well.” Lucina picks out a piece of dry paint from out of his hair.

“Yes well I was going to wait since I thought it was your aunt coming.”

“Go ahead. Sammy is going to help out with the twins. Get a bath ready for yourself.”

“Thank you.” Laurent smiles. Carefully he holds Lucina’s head up as he bends down to meet her face. Leaving a gentle kiss on her lips and a bit of blue paint on them too. Lucina laughs and Laurent moves to another tub on the other side of the room to wash up.

“Hey! Stay in the bath! Mom said you had to listen to me.” Samuel was shouting as he tries to keep Renard in the bath. Lucina sighs and begins washing Lucretia as her sons start to wrestle. She would apologize to the maids who clean the room later.

Chapter Text

“Dear, look at this new dress I bought for Kjelle.” Virion announces as he holds up a piece of clothing that was more frills then actual cloth. Sully raises an eyebrow for a deeper explanation from her husband.

“What in the world is that?” Sully asks standing up from her stool. Her horse neighs in displeasure at the shift of the knight’s attention.

“For the baby of course.” Virion insists smiling proudly at Sully’s slightly protruding stomach.

“No. Get rid of it.” Sully turns her attention back to her horse.

“But Sully. She will need to look like a proper little girl until she is old enough to train in the ways of the lance and court.” Virion insists.

“Then she can choose to wear nothing but frills or not, but our babe will not be dressed as if she is a cream puff pastry that Gaius wishes to make off with.” Sully explains curtly as her horse neighs in agreement. “If you want to buy her dresses then buy her ones that will be practical.”

Virion’s face falls as his hopes are visibly let go. When her horse pushes her Sully looks back at her husband. A mere glance over her shoulder was enough for Sully. If the fool was going to be so easily affected he should think wiser on his choices beforehand. A thought that arises oft enough for the red knight.

“Less frills, keep the ruffles, and I’ll have her wear the dress.” Sully admits rolling her eyes as her husband’s face lights up with joy. She turns her attention back to finishing the grooming of her horse, hiding her smile. Yes Virion was not at all the type of man she had expected herself to end up with, but he was a goodman. A coward at times, and still all too easy to ambush, but he held his own in a fight, and his wit was easily some of the best she had ever heard. Even if most of his words sound like nonsense to her ears.

“I also got you a present, my dear.” Virion continues and suddenly Sully’s endearing attitude is replaced by annoyance yet again. Virion spins around to the other side of her horse, holding a tome of sorts.

“What is that?”

“A present I bought from Anna for you. It is our anniversary after all.”

Damn she had forgotten about that. Later she would have to pay the village a visit and fetch him a gift. “What does it do?” Sully asks trying to hide her fretting.

“A simple task my beloved. It shows one their favorite memories, and allows one to immortalize them.”

“A mind reading tome?” Sully sounds disbelieving as Virion continues to enthuse.

“Yes! One that then turns whatever moment you chesire most into a physical form.”

“What kind?” Sully asks still wary of anything reading her mind.

“I’ll show you.” Virion says with a wink. Virion opens the book and closes his eyes. Sully watches as his face grows relaxed. He stands like that for a few minute before anything begins to happen with the book. Sully was growing bored watching nothing happen when it finally began to glow. A beautiful blue and pink glow fills the air around the top of the book. When it finally began to dissipate in it’s place was a statue about the size of Sully’s fist. It was made of stone but dyed pink, blue, and purple. It was Sully, and Virion holding each other hand with one of their own. Their free hands wrapping around the baby between them. A babe wrapped in purple cloth being held underneath by her parents. This was them. This was Sully, and Virion, and Kjelle. Sully was not a sentimental person. She was a hardcore fighter. A soldier. She once killed a man by headbutting him, yet in this statue you could see all that. You can see her fierce determination in her smile. Her strength in her muscles, but you could also see a motherly side of her that she had yet been able to fully embrace. Yes she loved Kjelle, but she had come to her fully grown. Placing a hand on her lower stomach Sully hopes she can be as good of a mother to her child as her mother had been.

“It’s beautiful Virion.” Sully admits softly.

“Wait you haven’t seen the best part.” Virion carefully takes the statue off of the book. He closes the book and tucks it away. Now that both hands were free Virion carefully turns the statue around so Sully could see the other half. It was her bending down showing a young babe, Kjelle, and the grown one that had come to them, how to use their spears. Virion was still there as well, back to back with the him on the other side. He was smiling proudly at the sight.

“Thank you.” Sully says, not sure what else she could say. “I love it. I feel horrible now.”

“Why?” Virion asks suddenly worried.

“I completely forgot.” Sully admits as she takes the gift from Virion. “This is,”

“Perfect.” Virion offers feeling proud of himself. “Honestly dear you do not have to worry about fetching me anything. What with all you do for my people I think that is a gift enough.”

“Wait, how much was this?” Sully asks suddenly suspicious of how he paid for it.

“Anna gave me a discount on account of our camaraderie.” Virion lies smiling.

Sully sighs and picks up her spear. Spinning it between her fingers as she holds the statue close to her chest and out of danger. “Tell me this. Did you divulge into the taxes collected.”

“Sully, m-my love. It cost me a pretty penny, but nothing so expensive!” Virion swears.

“Good. Then I shall find someplace to put this. Probably somewhere in the main hall.”

“Couldn’t it break there?” Virion asks concerned.

“Yeah, but it is where the most amount of people could see it. I don’t think ti’ll break.” Sully states with a curious look. “Yeah. No one would dare too.” As Sully walks away Virion tags along right beside her. His face holding a purely annoying, smug smile, but it was the same one Sully loved.

“Virion.”

“Hmm?”

Sully quickly kisses his cheek before continuing her steady pace inside. “Thank you.” She calls out never looking back to see her proud, but stunned husband.

Chapter Text

Lucina felt embarrassed wearing such revealing clothing. She knew there was nothing to be ashamed of. Since the clothes she had borrowed came directly from Olivia herself. The princess had been taking dancing classes with the dancer and Inigo. They had reassured her many times that dancing clothes were the best kinds to wear when you dance. Still Lucina felt awkward without all of her armor. If there was a risen attack then she would be vulnerable.

Ignoring her doubts Lucina takes a deep breath. She did this with a purpose. Robin had expressed curiosity about what she had learned thanks to Olivia, and Lucina was going to show him. So what if her heart was beating faster then she had ever felt it go? Or if her face was as red as Miriel’s hair. She could do this. No she would do this. Lucina takes a few more deep breaths before peering out from behind the tent she had been hiding behind. No one was coming, good. Quickly Lucina sprints across the dirt path that had been trodden by all of the shepherds. She runs straight towards the opening of Robin’s tent.

Stopping herself short just of the entrance to his tent Lucina makes sure her hair was tied up tightly enough so it would not fall during the dance. Steeling her nerves with years of practice Lucina pushes back all other thoughts as she enters Robin’s tent.

“Robin?” She calls out his name as she enters his tent. She could see him at his makeshift desk with his nose in one of his manuscripts.

His head rises as he hears her. Turning around Robin’s face grows a shade of pink Lucina had never seen it turn before. Lucina wonders if the dark blue had been a good choice for the outfit. Olivia never seems to get such tamed reactions before. Perhaps when the lessons started then.

“You said you wanted private lessons. It’s easiest to dance when wearing the uniform. Olivia gave me the closest shade to the dark blue as she had.” Lucina explains quickly.

Robin coughs before muttering something under his breath. He closes his book before standing up and smiling back at her. “I was not expecting this.” He admits gesturing towards Lucina.

“If you prefer I can go back and change into something else, I don’t know how well I could dance,”

“No it’s fine! Just a surprise.” Robin adds with a laugh.

“Well, you don’t seem dressed for the lessons.” Lucina points out and Robin laughs louder. Why did he ask for private lessons if he wasn’t going to take it seriously.

“I will be going then.” Lucina announces feeling more upset now then embarrassed as she had before.

“What? No, don’t go. Please?” Robin asks standing up now. “I’m ready for the lessons. I was just surprised is all.” Robin swears. He gently grabs Lucina’s hand and kisses it gently. “If you are still willing to show me.”

“I suppose that w-wouldn’t be a problem.” Lucina spouts out before taking her hand back. “Fine then, copy me.” She instructs as she pulls Robin into the middle of the room. She began with the moves Olivia first showed her. “Place your hand on your stomach and move your feet like this.”

They spend the next few hours going through the movements. Lucina had to stop dancing a few times to correct Robin’s attempts. He had a happen of moving his feet far more than he needed to. It was during these times when Lucina would help him move that Robin would smile before his face tinted red. The night goes on as the two dance it away. Lucina feeling happier to share her new interests with someone she loved, though she did not plan to tell Robin that. Not quite yet.

Chapter Text

Stahl was alone. In an effort to find clothing more suitable for the engagement he had made later on in the day. A trip into the town would have been thought of as the best option, but there were little choices in professional wear among the shops in town. At least for a man of his height. Stahl had no choice but to go to one person.

“Lissa, please help me?” He pleas with a helpless smile.

“Do you need help finding something in the shops again?”

“Yes, I’m hopeless it turns out.” He admits with a light laugh.

“What do you need to find?” Lissa asks.

“Well, um, an outfit. Cordelia and I are going to put on a show tonight. Playing our harps.” Stahl admits praying his face was not as red as it felt hot.

“You play?”

“Yes, Cordelia taught me, but I still don’t play as beautifully as her.” A devilish grin appears on Lissa’s face and he realizes he needed to speed this conversation along. “So I wanted to wear something nice, professional, while we play. Not armor or the such, but perhaps a suit of some sorts. Kind of like the royal orchestra wears.” Stahl suggests looking up at the ceiling. How would he ever find an outfit as well made as one of theirs?

Lissa giggles. “I think I know just what you need.”

Stahl smiles nervously down at the girl. “Well then, that’s good to hear. I was afraid I was on my own here.”

“Nope. Follow me.” Lissa leads him through the castle. Stahl had little trouble keeping up with the short, princess. Even with Lissa being as energetic as usual her speed was lacking compared to the knights. She leads him through halls filled with paintings, ugly wallpaper, some had nothing but older versions of the Knights’ armors, while others were wholly boring and plain. He had been patrolling the castle for many years, yet there were still a few places he had never seen.

“The castle is a lot bigger than I remember it being.”

“Don’t worry. I know exactly where we’re at.” Lissa reassures him. She slows her pace to barely a walk as they grow closer to a door that was almost as large as the great halls. “Come on.” Lissa opens the much too large mahogany door.

“Ta-da!” Lissa shouts holding her arms out wide as she stands before the stage of the royal orchestra. “Their clothes are in the back. We can find a suit that fits you back there. Even if none of them fit exactly I just have Maribelle help me tailor it to your size if we have enough time. Then later we can fix it and put it back.”

Stahl winces at the thought of ruining someone else’s uniform. Yes, he wanted to look nice but those would not be his. What if he tore it, or worse they did have to tailor it. How would Lissa find out who’s it was?

“I’m not so sure this is a good idea, Lissa.”

“Nonsense. You’ll be picking from the extra clothes at first.” She pushes him until he obliges and moves behind the curtain. There were a few boxes, but otherwise, it was empty. Lissa walks over to one of the closest boxes and So don’t feel so bad Stahl. Go on.” She shoves him towards the boxes and closes the door behind her.

At least she wasn’t staying. Having the young princess there would have felt really strange. Plus he wouldn’t want Cordelia to find out that anything was happening. Especially not before their big night. Stahl digs through the boxes until he finds a shirt and pant that fits him. A pearly white button up undershirt with a royal blue overcoat and a pair of pants. It even came with a white bow tie to match the shirt. The shirt, pants, and overcoat was the easy part, but Stahl struggles a bit trying to get the bowtie correct.

“Lissa? I’m done.” Stahl calls out as he opens the door again.

“Amazing! Your bowtie is crooked Stahl.” Lissa points out with a smile.

“I can’t get it to stay straight,” Stahl admits feeling defeated by the frustrating piece of cloth.

“Here. Emmeryn showed me how to fix them. Chrom always struggled when it came to ties of any sort really.” Lissa pats his sleeves down after she fixed his bowtie. Next, she pulls the man down so he was sitting on the ground. She then took her hands and ran them through his hair. Flattening some of it and pulling back other pieces. When she was satisfied Lissa then let go of the poor cavalier’s hair and let him stand up again.

“Perfect. Now go!” She screams.

“What?” Stahl yelps surprised by the princess’ sudden change in tone.

“You need to go find Cordelia now! The stage will be ready for you two when you get back!” Lissa was shouting to the walls down the hall for Stahl had already taken off.

He felt as if he had taken flight with how fast he was going. Only had his noble steed ever taken him to such speeds before. This would be the night where he and Cordelia would finally be able to share the stage and for a brief moment a song from their hearts to everyone. It would be the perfect declaration. Stahl had it all planned in his head. Now he had to retrieve the ring so that after he could declare his love to her and begin his wait. Stahl knew deep in his heart Cordelia still loved Chrom, but even if this would deem his a fool Stahl already knew he was one.

“Ah Stahl,” Suddenly there was the man in heavy armor with ruffled brown hair before him, blocking his way. “I was looking for you. The shepherds are ordered to head out this morning. Can you be ready to go within the next hour?”

“Ah, I, well,” Frederick cuts him off again.

“Why are you wearing those clothes?”

“The performance,” Stahl explains.

“That was tonight, was it? Well, I am sure if you bring your instrument you can play on the at camp. I believe I saw Cordelia pack hers as well. You were supposed to play together weren’t you?”

“Yes!” Cordelia packed her harp. That meant she truly did still wish to play. There was still a chance he could confess. “Don’t worry Frederick I’ll be there,” Stahl promises as he begins to run off again.

He was quick to pack up his few belongings. Getting out of the suit and into his armor took a bit longer. By the time Stahl was done, he did not have any left to return the borrowed suit. He would get it back to Lissa once the missions were done and they came home. With that in mind, Stahl heads down to the barracks to meet with everyone else.

It was a day and a half before Chrom and Frederick allowed the Shepherds to rest. A day and a half and they still had several more days to go. Stahl had not seen Cordelia at all during that time, and his horse was beginning to whine under all the weight. Perhaps bringing his harp was foolish, but he still had hope.

During the dining hours for dinner, Stahl became determined to find Cordelia. He spent much of his time searching for her both in and out of tents filled with peers of theirs. When he finally found her she was in the middle of a conversation with Sumia and Robin. Stahl suddenly found himself to be hesitant. This was the moment he had been looking forward to for days. All he had to do was ask.

It was Cordelia who began the conversation.

“Stahl?” She smiles as soon as she notices him. Her face lit up in his eyes. Did he do that? Could he do that to her? Maybe there still was a chance for him to get his feelings across even if the situation was not ideal.

“I thought I could suggest that we play. For the camp tonight.” Stahl states returning her smile with his own. “Do you have your instrument?”

“I do,” Cordelia answers before looking back at her friends. “If you’ll excuse me I must get ready for the show.” Cordelia gently bows her head before taking Stahl’s arm. He leads her back to her tent and stands outside it as she prepares. When she comes back out her armor is almost newly shined, and instead of a spear, she holds a harp in hand. Stahl fetches his quickly, not looking nearly as good as Cordelia, not that he could ever hope to.

Working with Frederick, Lissa, Robin, and Gregor the stage was constructed. As makeshift as it was Stahl knew it would hold them. His harp was smaller than her own, yet she carries it without trouble. With their instruments in place, the two musicians take their seats. With a look at each other, the music starts. Stahl’s eyes never leave Cordelia as he plays. Hopefully, his feelings would carry over to her through the song. With all his heart Stahl plays. Hearing nothing but his notes mingling with Cordelia’s.

Chapter Text

It was mid-day when Aversa found herself waking up. A nap had been what the healers suggested, and while she had trouble falling asleep before it had only taken a few moments this time. Perhaps for once, the healers were correct, Aversa thought as she opens her eyes to see what had disturbed her sleep.

“Aunt Aversa, can you help me?”

The dark flier slowly turns around to see who had approached her using such a manner. Before her, with a head reaching just a little above her waist stood a very short, very familiar looking child. Their height not even enough for them to talk to her without looking almost straight up. Bright, purple eyes meet her light-plum colored ones. A nervous face, completed with a small smile, and a pair of hands twisting around each other.

“What can I do for you young Morgan?” She asks, bending down. Carefully, subconsciously making sure she did not cut him with her sharp nails, she brushes some of his blue hair out of his face.

“I’m scared,” He admits his voice growing smaller.

Aversa looks around to see if perhaps it was the fault of someone from the castle itself. Robin and Chrom would never let anyone dangerous roam free, unless they had join the shepherds like her. The chances of an assassin were unlikely, but perhaps a servant or shepherd had just startled the little prince without meaning too. Still they would be punish by Aversa once she found them.

“Who scared you, my dear?” She asks using the soft voice Robin had taught her when he was born. He was always more receptive of soft noises.

“I-it’s in my room,” he cries grabbing her hand now. His soft fingers pulling tightly on her own.

“It?” Could have a risen been resurrected and sent here? Maybe a demon summoned by a mage, but then how has it not been seen? It could be a ghost but Morgan has dealt with many of those never even realizing it. Gangrel, Emmeryn, herself, are just some of the examples. While others tiptoed, unsure of how to approach them, Morgan would simply walk over. Both he and his older self from a future darker then she cares to give some time to think on, were kind, and treated them as if they belonged there. Where else could ghosts go? According to his older self, anywhere, and everywhere that is within this world.

Where was that Morgan now?

“Yeah!” Morgan pulls her along all the way back to his room. The walk took them a few minutes within the large castle, and Aversa can’t help but wonder how long had he been searching for someone to help him.

He lets go of her to push his door open. Inside his room was relatively clean. There were a few toys dropped on the bed as if that was where he had been sitting before the object of his fears appeared. Everything else, from his chest, to his drawers were all neatly cleaned and shut. Even his desk had a blank sheet of paper laying in the middle with the feather quills and ink jars put up neatly above it.

“Where is it Morgan?” What is it, she wants to add.

“It’s over by the window!” He is shaking as he points towards the large bay window on the opposite side of his room.

Aversa curiously wanders over to the windows. Besides the view of the city from outside, there wasn’t anything in the window. She notes that the clouds coming from the East may bring rain with them, if their darkening colors are a sign. There was also a very colorful bird sitting on a branch in the garden below. She points down towards the creature before asking, “Is that want scared you?”

Morgan slowly walks over to the window. Cautiously he looks around the large window before climbing up onto the wooden seat in front of it. He presses his entire face against the window to see the bird. “No.” He declares trying to hide his smile.

“I don’t see anything else. Was it the clouds?” Aversa asks before gesturing towards them with her palm.

“No, but those look like rain!” He announces sounding happier. Aversa makes a mental note that he enjoys the rain. She would have to take him out to play in it at some point.

“So what is it that scared you?” She asks taking a seat next to him. Aversa leans her back against the cool glass. It was a refreshing feeling compared to the heat of summer that fills the castle currently.

“There was a bug! It had sharp pointed black fangs, and when it moved it made a noise like ‘hrrah’,” he explains overusing his hands to help explain. When he tries to curl his hands into the shape of their ‘fangs’ they looked more like really dull claws. As he growls he moves them, only making the scene before her more adorable.

Aversa lifts a hand to cover her mouth. There was no point in letting him see the smile. Then he might feel she was laughing at him. When she sees his eyes staring at her, his hands slowly falling down, she quickly turns her face to the window. Forcing a grimace on it, she lowers her voice.

“How about I stay here and play with you. Incase the deadly bug comes back.” She offers her eyes staring at the clouds. “And then if it rains later we can go out and play. Bugs do hate water.” She informs him only to hear a little cheer from her side.

“Really? I love rain. I hope it always rains so they never come back!” She doesn’t have the heart to tell him about Mosquitos. “You can stay and play, but only if you promise to get rid of all the bugs. Oh, and that we’ll definitely go out and play in the water later!”

“Yes we will,” Aversa promises, poking Morgan’s little nose.

He waves his arms before jumping at her. “Thank you Auntie Aversa!” Shoving his head against her stomach he wraps his arms tightly around her.

Once more this little boy surprises her. Hesitating at first she begins to lightly rub his back. He hums, before pulling away. Aversa finds his smile contagious and lets him pull her up. He then proceeds to bring her each of his toys and introduce them by the names he had given them. Many of the toy solders had little symbols written in black ink. Each a little different, as if he always had to tell them apart. This child was the same one who accepted her with no wariness. A lack of fear she still thinks is foolish, but hopefully one day he will overcome his fear of bugs. No tactician will be feared and listened to if they are scared of something as silly as an insect the size of their fingernail.

Chapter Text

Severa remembers the pain. When her father gave her the news. She remembers it was Stahl standing in the doorway, with a letter and a lance in his hands. Severa was young, only the age of nine, and she has never forgotten the sight of the green-clad clavier. His eyes were shot red, and she remembers asking why. Her father’s face grim as he took the weapon and letter from his old friend. His fellow shepherd. Mother was a shepherd too.

“Papa, why is mother’s lance here? Where’s mother?” She remembers asking only for Stahl to look right at her. His eyes grow wide as the water up again. In that instant, she knew he wasn't seeing her. He was seeing the ghost of her mother. She knew it then just as she knows it now.

The way his face fell for just a second before he tries to smile down at her. It didn’t stick. Stahl quickly wipes away at his face before saying he had to return to the field. Leaving Gregor and Severa alone in their open door. Severa watched him go until his horse was completely gone. Only then did she turn to look at her father. Her papa who was now on his knees. The lance resting on the ground between them. Just as her mother would have been if she had come home. Only if it was her mother instead of the lance she would have felt arms wrapped around her. Strong, lithe arms, that always seemed to fit just perfectly around her shoulders. A callous, but somehow always soft hand that held her own just right.

“Papa, is mother dead?” She asks looking towards her father. Whose red hair was a paler color of her own.

Her father only nods as he holds the letter to his chest. He rocks his body back and forth as if it was the body, instead of only a piece of paper. Severa remembers his face scrunched up into an ugly shape of a mess. While giant, wallops of tears fell free from his eyes. If he kept going like that then there was no doubt they would be as red as Stahl’s had been. They would attract the monsters that came often when it was night.

Severa rested a hand on her father’s head and told him not to cry. Crying brought monsters, and mother wasn’t coming back to fight them anymore. She knew her father was more than strong enough to defeat any that came and tried to hurt them. He had even begun training her in the ways of a mercenaries sword. So she could fight them too. She still remembers her father looked up and grabbed her. Lifting her up in his arms as he stood again. His head was behind hers, his chin buried in the back of her clothes that usually set so perfectly on her shoulder. When next he spoke it wasn’t to her. “Gregor sorry he wasn’t there. Gregor should have been there.” He had been talking to the lance that neither of them knew how to use. Severa felt mad at his apologies. If he had been there, then she would be alone. Maybe even sent off to Kjelle’s or Brady’s homes to stay. She could have lost both of them, and then she would be alone. How could he apologize for that? Why was her mother more important than her?

“Don’t cry papa. We’re strong.” Severa whispers, feeling bitterness grow within her. Though she did not know it was that feeling back then. “We’ll live,” She told him, and it was then he hugged her so tight she thought she would burst open in his arms.

Even though she could not see it, she could feel the aura from her mother’s lance. In that moment she knew, it would only get heavier. A few years later and her papa and her had fled their home. Taking the food, their armor, weapons, and what coins they had with them. Only the essitential for living her papa had said, and yet he still had that lance. Red and white, it would gleam in the sunlight. When Grima began to cover the world with their dark magic Severa was almost happy she wouldn’t be constantly moving in a fight so the pureness of the lance didn’t blind her.

Sighing now Severa watches her mother and father talking a few feet away they were both alive in this timeline, in this world, but she will never forget how her father died.

They had been arguing about what to do next. Severa wanted to join up with Lucina. Gregor did not want to leave a small pocket of surviving humans defenseless, as they were the best fighters left in the area. No matter how much she raised her voice, her father spoke calmly. His attempt to keep things rational. She can still recall how dark his eyes went as his mouth fell open when she took the lance free from his back. He hadn’t even though to defend himself against her as she reached for it.

“Precious, what do you plan to do?” His words vibrated off her skin and she barely heard them before she held the lance in both hands. Staring at the colors, she remembers how red her mother’s hair had been. How pale everything was in comparison to her.

Through closed eyes and clenched teeth she had warned him then. “This will get you killed. They will get you killed! The only way we can survive in the long run is if we help Lucina!”

Gregor held out his hand, as if he was going to cup her cheek. After a moment he pulls it back, and Severa fights the urge to grab it and press his palm against her cheek. “Please papa. Don’t make me an orphan. Lissa is fighting with her son under her niece Lucina. We can do that too. You were a shepherd!” She remembers how hot the tears felt, and how they had one more fight. A risen ambush of the camp.

They were quick to react but not quick enough. The tents were burning. Smoke was filling the air, she could still feel it filling her nostrals now. Her last sight before leaving that place, with all the bodies (risen and human alike), all the blood (there was so much the ground could not absorb it all), was her father, run through in his back with a broken risen sword protruding him. The lance still on him as she had given it back. The dark bronze contrating starkly against the lance. It was so close, just a few centimeters to the side could have protected him. Even in death her mother had left them open and defenseless as she had in life.

Thinking on it now, Severa knew it wasn’t their fault. But she will never forget how much it slowed him down, or what it felt to see her worst nightmare come true. She won’t forget how he called out her name, and how all he was strong enough to do was smile as she squeezed his hand and begged him to get up. How she left him there, because if there was one risen attack their would be another.

“Severa sweetie, why don’t you come over and help us?” Her mother calls out, but Severa’s thoughts were still in the past. How long before they left her too?

“Help with what?” She asks not really looking at them.

“Well your father is writing to some of his old friends, warning them of the dangers moving throughout the world. I am going to take them to town to be delivered. Will you help him write?”

“Sure,” she gets up from her seat on the upturned crate and for the first time since coming to this place sat between her parents. “You’re not mine,” she whispers sadly, reminding herself.

“What was that precious? Gregor did not hear.” Gregor asks wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“You have a crooked line,” Severa lies, talking louder. Even if they weren’t hers, she wouldn’t let them die. Not again. Another Severa would be happier, maybe even nicer then, and she could leave them alone to live their lives in peace. For however little time that may be.

“Thank you dear,” Cordelia sounds grateful as she kisses Severa’s head.

All the younger warrior wanted to do was shout at her for it. Demand she apologises, because in the end. They weren’t hers and she wasn’t theirs. So how dare she touch her! How dare she speak so kindly and kiss her!

“Oh! Severa you are crying. Gregor need move, he can,”

“No. I’m fine. Stay,” She orders looking down at the letter. They would go away, and maybe the fools would learn to as well. Until then she would sit with them, eat with them, talk with them, and keep the peace.

“Severa so strong!” Gregor cheers besides her before laughing. “Gregor cries as well! But we must suffer through. Hah Hah!”

She rolls her eyes but smiles. “Who even laughs like that?”

“Your father,” Cordelia confirms running a hand through Gregor’s hair before taking a bag of already completed letters and walking away.

Chapter Text

Severa was focused on the pages in front of her. Glaring at them in the hopes that as long as she stares long enough it will make sense. Just like her father did. She wanted so desperately to understand them. All the lines and words scrawled across the page in an effort to show how one must move their groups of soldiers.

Cautiously Severa glances up from the book. Her eyes immediately found her father sitting just a few feet from here. Right now his own was laying open in his lap. His attention on her mother and younger sister who were practicing mounting Pegasi. Morgan has never made it farther than simply riding with her mother so to be mounting her own pegasi today. It was a big step for her precious little sister.

“I think she may actually fly today,” Her papa’s comment catches Severa off-guard. Immediately she looks back down to the book in her hands. Deciding to turn it to a different page.

“Maybe,” She mumbles pouting as the next page lacked pictures altogether. Papa promised to teach her the ways of a tactician once she turned ten. Now was her seventh lesson. Her progress was going almost as slow as Morgan’s. With hair as red as their mother’s and a positive outlook to boot, Severa thought she would be a natural flyer. Her eagerness to fly only grew as mother made her patiently wait to fly on her own. Today was that day though, and here Severa was spectating. All while pretending to understand this book her papa had given her.

“Why don’t we take a break? Maybe you can have a ride next?” Her father suggests as he stands up. Severa looks over to see him bending over backward. He sighs as his back pops.

“I’m fine with my book,” Severa lies holding it close to her.

“Well, maybe we should take a break from our books. We can go play with daddy’s map instead,” He offers walking over to his eldest child. He bends down, now eye level with her. A cold hand places itself within her hair. Lightly his begins to stroke her head, in the way that makes her feel so much safer.

“But, I was supposed to finish the book,” She argues. If she can’t finish the book how is she suppose to become a tactician?

“How far did you get?” Suddenly he was leaning over Severa and looking over the pages her fingers held open. “Oh, this is about how to navigate your armies from outside a fortified place.”

Severa looks back at the pages. The word fortress was at the top in the middle of the second sentence. She hadn’t even begun reading these two.“Uh- I was actually,”

“This is a complicated chapter. Especially since unless the fortress isn’t elevated the difficulty of moving your armies from there becomes near impossible if the formation you originally give them becomes broken.” Her father explains with a serious look on his face. She knew what he was getting at. It was complicated. Too complicated for her. Why did she think she could do this?

“I'm surprised you made it this far so quickly. Do you want to talk about it? I can answer any of your questions.” Severa had many questions but she was so scared to ask. She wanted answers but she also wanted to be able to understand this on her own.

“No,” she lies staring back down at the book.

“Well then maybe you can explain some of it to me tomorrow. I still don’t think that having someone running back and forth on a pegasus or a horse to be the most efficient way of relaying new information and changes of battle plans. But then again I prefer being on the ground fighting than to be up in a fortress.”

“Oh, uh, well,” Severa stutters not quite sure what to tell her father. His violet eyes were a warm plum color as he expresses his doubt over the books’ information, but she did not understand it enough to make a different one.

“We can talk about it tomorrow.” He interrupts, saving Severa from having to make up an opinion to share. “Your sister just came back around. If you changed your mind about having a ride now is your chance to ask,” Her father points out the two white dots heading towards them.

“Papa, tomorrow can we look at the map table instead? I like learning with the figures better,” She admits watching her sister’s ride leaning from side to side. She was flying but wasn’t the best at keeping her mount straight.

“Of course sweetie.” He leans closer to her ear. Putting a hand over his lips to hide that he was telling her a secret he whispers, “I like the pictures and statues better than the books anyway.” Severa laughs with her father. Feeling a little better.

When Morgan’s mount spins before diving down she announces, “You’re riding with Morgan,”.

He chuckles nervously. “Yippee. I’m sure your mother would prefer that too.” Morgan pulls on the reigns bringing her mount back up right before it hit the ground. Its feet hit the ground but it bounces right back up. Bouncing a few more times their speed was gradually lost the more it did so. “She’s getting better.” Robin sounds proud as Morgan lands. Cordelia brings her own Pegasus down next to her.

“Yeah she is, but you’re still flying with her,” She punches her father’s shoulder playfully before throwing the book onto the ground. Cordelia was waving at them, and Severa runs right to her mother’s mount. Throwing her arms up and jumping about.

Chapter Text

Frederick's legs felt heavy as he walks into his home. The day’s training had been difficult, and Frederick was beginning to notice how fast the new recruits were. Or perhaps he was the one losing speed. He knew even as he served Chrom that eventually there would be one who was younger, faster, and stronger to replace him. Just as he had replaced the previous Knight-Captain.

Frederick makes his way to the kitchen. He told Olivia that tonight he would cook the fish he had caught and dried the day before. A soup his lady had requested to accompany the dry meat. Pulling down a pot he takes it out back to the pump that Miriel had set up to help them fetch water. Lifting the handle he sets the pot under. When he pushes the handle back down a spray of water comes freely. Almost all of it falls into the pot. Frederick adjusts it slightly in order to catch all of the water next time.

A few more pumps and the pot was filled. He carries it back into their kitchen. Quickly he sets it over the unlit pile of kindle in their clay and stone fireplace. Picking up the pack of matches Frederick lights one and drops it in the kindle. In moments the flames are high, almost reaching the pot above. Frederick watches the flames for only a moment. Just to make sure they were well contained inside. Once he knew they were he fetches the dry fish and a sack of potatoes from the cupboard.

Almost instantly he falls into a pattern of peeling potatoes, chopping them up, and throwing them in. Switching often between the fish and the vegetables. He considers adding in some spices but decides that those should be saved for the end.

Chrom had also taken on a new bodyguard. The job Frederick had once perform dutifully. He was happy when first given the position of knight-captain. He would train the first line of defense for their country. He was the first to see the skills of those who would move on to be there for every child. The future guards, soldiers, and even perhaps future leaders.

“Frederick dear, are you home?”

Olivia’s sweet voice reached him only moments before he saw her through the open doorway from the kitchen. Her pale, pink hair falling to just below her shoulders. She had gotten it cut recently with the excuse that it was becoming too much work to take care of. Remembering he wasn’t able to brush it as often as he once had. Disappointment fills Frederick. As more thoughts fill his mind. He knew that everyone grows old. Yet he never thought his body would become so limited when he did.

Olivia crosses the kitchen with ease. Her legs were still able to move as smoothly as they had always. Although her age showed on her face. Laughing lines, wrinkles, and her hair slowly graying were all giveaways to her true age. He still thought her beautiful. As well as wished his legs did not ache from the long walk home or the training regimes. If they didn’t he could meet her. Hug her while standing. Instead he was slumped over in a chair.

“Hello my love. How was your day?”

Olivia kisses him quickly before gazing at the food.

The laugh lines around her mouth grow. “My day was good. Inigo performed today. He’s is quite exceptional now. Dinner smells lovely.”

“The taste may fall flat.” He replies glumly. His eyes glare at the stew.

“Everything you cook is delicious. Even bear meat.”

“I haven’t hunted down any bears in many years.”

She wraps her arms tenderly around his shoulders. “Oh dear,” her voice is soft against his ear. “I can go into town and buy some bear meat if you would like.” His eyes narrow at the pot. Not even bear meat could raise his mood.

“That’s not the problem.” She leans against his back. “I know. It’s all I can offer dear. No one can turn back time.”

“I do not want to go back. I want my body to stop betraying me.”

“It isn’t betraying you. Age changes all.” She kisses his cheek this time. Olivia lays her head on his shoulder. Her hair tickles the side of his neck. “I cannot ease that fact.”

A breath escapes Frederick. He hadn’t even been aware that he was holding it. He rests one of his hands over her own. “You being here helps. I was lucky to find you. That you even said yes to this old soldier.”

“I would say yes even now.” Olivia swears as she squeezes her arms around him tighter. He holds tightly onto her hand.

“You said you saw Inigo? How is he?”

“Exceptional. He was planning to visit but Lucina and Gerome pulled him away.”

“The life of a knight is never done.”

“His father is the knight. Inigo is a brilliant young man.” He could feel her smiling against his shoulder. Frederick couldn’t help but smile as well. She lets him go and checks his face. “Finally a smile. Now I can rest easy.”

“Don’t even joke about that.”

“And it leaves just as fast. I think dinner is done dear.” With the sudden change Frederick knows their moment was over. Olivia pushes the bowls into his hands. Slowly he fills them. With an easy twirl her back is too him once more. His eyes travel back down to the bowls in his hand. A muddy reflection of an unrecognizable face. The wrinkles outnumbered his eyelashes by now. Yet if he squints he could almost see the past. The young man he had once been. The soup shakes and instead of him Olivia is now reflected. Her smile taking up both bowls.

“It’s time dear.” She takes the bowls from him. Leaving his hands empty. It takes him a few moments but eventually he is able to stand. For the first time in a few days his feet barely hurt on the walk towards the meal.

Chapter Text

She remembers how this goes. When she closes her eyes her mind flies back to that moment. The split second that led to a decision she thought would leave her life forever changed. That was supposed to be it. He was supposed to be gone. Yet here he was right in front of her. Not gone. Not dead. Not like in her mind’s eye.

“N-no.” Lucina manages to whisper the plea. The smiling face before her, is replaced by an image cast from deep within her memories. He was dead. His eyes lifeless, blood spilling out from him. Yet he was there. Even his head showed no sign of a crack that she knew should be there. The crack she had put there.

“In-Inigo?”

“Hey there Lucina.” His brown eyes were so bright. They were filled with so much life. How was he alive? His smiles evaporates as her body tenses. His eyes slowly wander down. She follows them to where her hand was hovering right over the hilt of Falchion. Fear quells the light in them.

“Luci, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Of course she did. She was talking with a ghost. He pushes on with a nervous smile. His eyes are shut tightly. It was made even worse by the way he holds up his hands. The same nervous tick he always did. It made him seem more real somehow. As if the body she had seen had been nothing. Only a flicker of her imagination.

“Where are we?”

“What?” He finally opens his eyes. Light pink hair highlighting the blush in his cheeks.

“Where are we? Right now Inigo.”

“Uh, not really sure to be honest. It’s always hard to tell where we camp.”

“When was the last time we met?”

“Oh that’s easy. I saw you in camp earlier. You really took charge of that meeting. I’m sure Frederick will finally start listening to you now.” He tries to smile again. It was so strained it broke Lucina’s heart. “Come on Luci. I thought we were all done being grim.” Her heart drops. She could feel it fall all the way to the pit of her stomach.

“What was that?”

“Practice remember?” He suggests before lowering his hands. “Seriously Luci are you alright?”

“Stop calling me that!” She demands throwing her arm out behind her. Her left grips Falchion’s hilt tightly. “Don’t call me by that name. The last time you used it you were,” she tries to stop the shaking. To keep all the tears at bay. Last when he used that nickname she had cut him down. He gave her no choice. He and Owain and Severa. They were attacking her. Wearing foreign clothes she had never seen.

‘Don’t worry, worry Luci,’ his clean hands reached out for her face. The crack in his head letting blood spill out slowly. As if it was making a crown for him. For her lost love.

Yet the Inigo before her was alive. He was breathing and held no recollection of their fight. Of how she had been whisked away. How he had attacked her alongside her cousin. The Inigo before her was hers. Finally the tears break through. For the first time in years Lucina loses her resolve. Her body shakes still as she sinks to her knees. She covers her eyes and cries.

“I saw you! You were dead! I killed you with Falchion.” The words were escaping her faster then she could think. Lucina cries out as two warm arms surround her. She slowly peels open one of her eyes. Through the tears she could still see his pink hair.

“I’m not dead Lucina. You didn’t kill me. I’m right here.” He slowly starts to rub the back of her head. His other arm still holding onto her tightly. “I’m here. I swear I’m real and with you Luci.”

She folds so quickly. Letting herself be calmed by his grasp. Lucina cries freely as Inigo goes through the motions. The way he had always comforted her. In their world, and this one. Would the other Inigo know what to do? If she hadn’t killed him would he had held her this way? She finally hugs him back fiercely.

She remembers how this goes. The more she thinks of the other Inigo the more she would see him. The more he will haunt her life. It had been that way with her father, her mother, her friends that didn’t make it. Lucina knows how this goes.

So as Inigo promises to never leave her, she doesn’t hold him to his words. He knows exactly what she needs to hear. She just can’t believe it anymore. She whispers her love to him.  Her voice strained. Still she speaks. Again and again the princess confesses to her love. Again and again he tries not to laugh out of relief. Out of a misery joy. This isn’t how he would have liked to hear it. It’s the only time she can give it. Perhaps later, after the ghost leave her, she could confess properly then. He could smiling proudly and not have the moment tinged with a terrifying, overwhelming sadness.

“I love you Luci.’

Chapter Text

As they dance across the field claimed for practice, a sudden idea struck the mage off to the side. He could curse her. Henry was rather talented at curses. He just wasn’t sure if Robin wanted to be cursed. Tharja appeared to spend a rather large amount of time trying to keep the tactician from becoming cursed. Still, he could try. Maybe they would see if Tharja’s protection spells were stronger or if his curses could take the cake. It would be a very bloody cake. His ravens would want their own slices. It could be a rather large cake then.

As would be Tharja’s defeat. Then Robin would run into his arms. A simple spell and they could even fly away together. Well, it would be more like floating. Oh, he could cast a flying curse on them both! Then they would fly off and spend her birthday alone in the air together. Away from everyone else. The rest of the shepherds would look like a tiny speck of dust below them.

“Henry!”

Through his hazy white hair, she appears. Her own hair up in a tight ponytail. Keeping all the strands out of her face. Despite her wild sword dancing she still looks clean and pristine. The sudden urge to mess that up hits him again as it had a few times by then. How wonderful she would look with the blood of her enemies on her arms, a few specks across her cheeks. The embodiment of Plegian beauty. 

“Robin!” He cheers still holding onto that image in his mind.

“Would you like to practice magic with me?”

“Magic! Oh like curses?” He smacks his hands together in excitement. “Yes! Let’s practice magic.”

“No, Henry I mean like regular spells. Not curses.”

He makes sure to pout convincingly enough to get her to touch his hands. It works. As she clasps her hands around his own Henry fights the urge to smile. She makes sure to hold their hands up in between them, but he wants her to pull them closer. Of course, his body would just have to follow his arms giving him the chance to get closer to her. Perhaps she would even blush again. He loves seeing her face grow red. It wasn’t blood, but it was a cute substitute.

“You can show me some of your curses later, as long as you promise not to use them on our allies.”

“Nya ha ha! You won’t be able to see them if I cast them on people too far away.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and find some risen nearby.”

“I have the remains of some in my tent!”

She smiles nervously over her shoulder towards the others. He knows the nerves are just an act she puts on in front of the others. Whenever it’s just them and Tharja watching all those nerves are gone. As if they were a curse she casts on herself, able to dismiss them at a moment’s notice.

“Hurray! Alright let’s practice boring old spells right now. I’ll even fix the fences after!”

“Great! Let’s try not to destroy the fences, but if we do I’ll help you fix them.”

He hops over the fence and follows her into the field, never releasing her hands from his until they were ready to start. He could feel Tharja’s curses coming for him already. A few feel new and strange. Maybe there were even other members of camp cursing him now!

As they take their positions Henry prepares his strongest spells. Summoning the forces of darkness to manifest at his fingertips. Robin begins with lighting. Her go-to spell as he had come to be familiar with. He dodges it with ease as if the wind itself had picked him up and placed him just out of its reach. The darkness in his hands is pure. As pure as he hopes to one day be. It embodies all of his dreams, and himself. He releases it all at once from his hands. It spreads out like fire spells tend to, but with a wider reach. Almost instantly Robin fights back with a spell of protection Libra had taught her. It was enough to protect her but the fence behind her was utterly destroyed. He smiles to himself and mutters how he has to keep his fun in check. If she’s angry she won’t join him after.

If she’s angry he’ll never become a substance as pure as the dark forces he borrows for his strength. Only she possesses that unique trait, and only she can help him. Henry pulls back his spell as Robin spreads hers out. With two forces conflicting against the darkness it dissipates. He lets her next to spells hit him. Just his arms of course. He wants a reason for the practice to end, not to die. Well not yet.

As soon as the flames lick at his sleeves Robin stops casting. She rushes over and immediately prepares to heal him. He laughs of course and talks about how much fun that was. His tone is light but she is mired by dark thoughts. Fears of what she could have done to him. He hates when she frets over them. Henry makes a mental note to not let a fire spell hit him next time. It concerns her too much, and he wants her to be smiling always.

“I’m fine! See Robin no biggie!”

“I worry Henry.”

He starts to reach out for her, to gently clasp his good hand against her cheek. To touch her and feel more than just her magic would be a dream. TO spend time with her without having to cast curses or spells would be amazing, but neither are likely. Retracting his hand Henry resorts to just enjoying her gentle motions. The sense of bliss from her healing magic gently clashing with his own dark forces. How someone holds so much light and dark in themselves at once is a mystery he has yet to understand. What he does know is that it's the only way he'll ever reach his goal. That learning more about her, listening to her, having her be a part of his life is the only way besides a curse that he'll be happy.

Chapter Text

It was a gorgeous morning. The best Owain had seen in a long while. Every morning seemingly got better than the last, but today will be the best. Not only was he finally reunited and accepted by his parents, but now Lucina and everyone else was back as well. It felt like home. His chest must agree for it was vibrating so much he hoped wings would sprout out of it. Big, powerful, yellow and brown wings like a hawk’s! Large enough to carry him and everyone else into the sky. If they do sprout they will have to be brown and yellow of course. It wouldn’t match his outfit otherwise. 

Adjusting his pale yellow shirt that mirrored his Uncle’s shepherd uniform. He was given brown pants to go with them and his mother had repaired his yellow with white fur overdress. It wasn’t perfect but it was a deal that had been struck. He would wear the outfit that reflected his uncle’s and gets to wear his normal coat, as long as he did not close it to cover up his outfit underneath. Everything had to match today. That’s what his mother said. His parents had already gone through so much to make sure everything was right. 

After all, today was the big day and he wanted to keep both sides of his future happiness. If wearing a new outfit while keeping the key piece of his uniform was what it took then that is what he would do. The least he could do was let all of their hard work show.

“Owain?” Her voice was curious, and he didn’t hear the squeak of their bedroom door before it. He must have left it open.

Before he could finish adjusting his coat a pair of hands were already pulling it off again. The strength in those spindely fingers could rival even the gods’. Owain heart cries out as the fur that had protected him for so long rubs one last time against his skin. His fingers itch as the fabric is wrenched free from them. Sighing in defeat, a pair of blue eyes turn to meet the victor.

“Severa?”

“This makes you look ridiculous.”

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be-”

“I know where I’m supposed to be,” She folds his coat carefully in her arms. Cradling the jacket in her arms the way one might hold a precious artifact. It wasn’t an artifact though. Artifacts were old and things of the past. Artifacts were lost to time before eventually being recovered again only centuries later. The yellow brightens as he reaches for it, but Severa quickly pulls away. She hogs the coat to herself. The soft furs rub and scratch again her arms.

“But I knew you would never stop trying to wear this old rug.”

The hurt was fast to swell up. He puffs out his chest and tries to grab it again. Severa easily dances out of his reach. She spins around as if at a ball.

“It’s not a rug!”

“Are you really going to begin this next stage of your life, wearing this?” A languid gesture over his outfit tends waving over the coat still tucked in her arms. “I understand the symbolism of that, but this coat Owain, haven’t you outgrown it yet?”

Owain leaps for her arms. His fingers barely brush against it before Severa tosses it into the air. A swift kick into his gut from the mercenary was enough to give him pause. Her boots barely collide with him. The heel pinches his stomach as she lowers her foot. Glancing down a smidge of dirt stood out. Spitting into his hand Owain begins to furiously rub at it.

For a moment Severa almost looked apologetic. If she was feeling any pity at all it was quickly washed away. Tuck under the rug that was the mask of anger she always wears. She was a tough one. No one would ever question that, but Owain knows the truth. All that anger, at her parents, at her life, at the way their world had been, from having to leave it, was nearly gone now. There were moments it could seep out again. Brief flashes of the lingering thoughts, or actions so ingrained into her system she just couldn’t stop them. Those were all that was left. Severa for the most part, was happy now. He was happy with her. He could be even happier if she would just give his coat back.

“Damn I should’ve been more careful.” Owain fights back the urge to say something snappy. She would only snap back. Then they would become little more than a pair of wolves snapping and biting at each other until one finally gave in. It would be him. It was always him so he might as well relinquish the fight now.

If he had been looking up, Owain would have seen the Severa deciding to relinquish something as well. He would have noticed the small smile she had every time her eyes wash over the coat. It was a part of him everyone recognized. How strange he must look now. How bare. Owain wasn’t looking though, so he didn’t catch her expression as she mulls over giving the coat back. Perhaps that was for the best. It only would have given him false hope. Looking up all he caught was the sight of her setting it on their bed.

“Today is a new day Owain. Your taking over the shepherds marks a time for a change.” Crossing her arms over her chest Severa waits for him to give up on the smudge. “And while I don’t think to make you wear an outfit just like your uncle’s old one is smart, I know it’s important to your family.”

“My coat is too!” He falls to his knees and starts to scratch at the mark. Somehow he had managed to get some of it off. The minuscule dot could go undetected now if only he wasn’t scratching so much.

“Your coat is amazing Owain, it is practically a part of you.” She bends down to meet his eye. They were almost huddling together now. If someone came in it would look as if they were trying to stay warm in a snowstorm. They had been caught in a couple now and then when visiting Ferox. Their first kiss was during one of those storms. Her eyes were on fire then. A deep crimson fire that held enough warmth for the both of them. If he kissed her now would she push him away?

“Severa I-”

She tugs his wrists away. “You scratch anymore and there will be a hole there instead.” Quickly her lips press against his cheek. They felt oddly soft today. Usually, they were rough like her personality. Everything about Severa was tough at its core.

“You can do this.” With ease, she pulls him up with her. “Without your coat. It’ll still be here after the ceremony.”

He looks past her towards the bed. His coat was still there. Unmoving and so very much less of a comfort than usual. Was this a clutch? Was he clinging to the past by clinging to it? Probably, but that was the last gift his parents ever gave him together. The last gift he received when he was happy back in that other world. Owain grips Severa’s hand. He squeezes it and matches the force he was putting into closing his eyes.

When he opens them again it was still there, and so was her hand.

“I’m ready.”

Severa guides him out of the room. He locks the door behind them. As silence envelopes the empty room the coat moves. Just an inch. A gust of wind slips in through the window and carries it just that much closer to the door. Then as if giving it one final push, the wind tosses it from the bed. One sleeve clings to the bed. It too eventually falls. It unravels into a mess during the fall. Flailing left and right it lands unceremoniously under the bed. Making sure to slam the window shut behind it, the wind escapes outside.

Chapter Text

The ground was soaked and gave way far too easily under Morgan’s weight. He lets everything cave in under him. His fingers dig into his skin like ice crawling deep into his veins. Risking water landing in his eyes, he looks up. Dark grey clouds fill the sky as they bring the heavens down with them. The rain pelts his face. Morgan takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. So rarely did the weather match his mood. Today must be a truly grave day.

“Morgan? You’re soaked! What are you doing sitting in the mud?”

Drops of water carve all too familiar paths down his face. He imagines that it must look like he’s crying despite the fact that the only tears being shed right now are the heavens.

A body plops down beside him. Mud splashes up from her new seat, painting his face in a way it hadn’t been since his climb up a certain mountain. Nah scoots closer to him, pushing herself through a deeper layer of mud then what he had even sat in. She didn’t seem to mind the mess they were in.

“What’s wrong Morgan?”

“Oh, uh, nothing.”

“I worked with my mother to kill my father. I betrayed my sister. Honestly after all that no one could really blame her for leaving me out to our parents. She probably assumed I wouldn’t make it over.”

“You remember it, don’t you? Your original world.”

Morgan tucks his legs closer to his chest. A silent admission. Only they know now.  A secret so deep that it serves to show how close they had really become. The fact she said ‘your’ stood out. Did she realize his realm was a different one from the rest? Had he really hidden it that poorly? Panic and terror causing his body to shake as he considers what that might mean. 

Nah notices his trembling and lifts part of her cape to rest over him. She scoots closer so it could be stretched more. Morgan leans into Nah and presses a cold, clammy hand into hers. She knows it’s not the rain making him shake, but the memories. A past he spent all his timing pretending to have forgotten. He has been through so much, she finally realizes. As much as she had, if not more.

“Well, I won’t tell. Grima is enough of a torment himself. Attacking your own family and having to live with it all, well that’s the only thing I can imagine being worse.” Nah wraps an arm around Morgan’s shoulders. She remembers how often her father used to cradle her in his arms. So she tries to do the same. Instead of holding him comfortably it was a bit of a stretch for her to hold her arm there. Nah grabs Morgan’s head and pulls it down. Right onto her shoulder. The mage doesn’t even try to fight back. Instead, he melts like wax under a flame. Molding his head along her shoulder Morgan starts to take deep breaths. It wasn’t just rain coming down his cheeks now, but neither of them said a word about it.

Chapter Text

Laurent begins to kick his leg faster as he runs out of room on his paper. He was given one piece of paper. One with two almost filled sides. Just enough room to hold a concise version of his thoughts on the subject of magic. The exact length his mother wanted for an essay about the benefits and side-effects of known magic. There were plenty of examples he could take from. The lack of them wasn’t the problem. The problem was not having enough room to talk about everything. It was difficult choosing or to create a cohesive argument without including everything he thought about.

As his leg begins to vibrate the whole table Laurent felt he really stood no chance of passing his mother’s latest test. He could just imagine her look of utter disdain as she sees his sub-par work. Would she stop teaching him magic? Maybe she would have him Rosanne’s army. He couldn’t hold a lance up properly to save his life, and his archery was less than sub-par. Oh, the look on his father’s face as he gets kicked out of the army would be even more devastating than his mother’s! At this rate, he would be little more than a disappointing, un-inspiring scholar on the streets.

A well-kept hand pulls the paper out from under him. Laurent could barely force his head up to meet his mother’s eyes. Her face was as neutral as always. Neither a smile nor dip of brow offers him any hint as to her thoughts. He had become so used to reading into the minuscule that it was still daunting when no tail of a sign was seen.

“Laurent it’s important that you learn how to be concise in your arguments. You may not have all the resources or time you need one day. That is why planning and limiting your thoughts has been your recent assignment. Although I now wonder if it is more of a trial for you.”

“I know mother. I’m trying, but-”

“Laurent you’re in no trouble. Your mother is just trying to help you improve your skills.” He jumps in his seat at the sudden sound of his father’s voice from behind him. Pain erupts from his legs as they hit the belly of the table.  Quickly his father’s hands are ontop of his own. Laurent balls his little hands into fists inside Virion’s heavy palms. They were oddly cool as if he had been setting him in the cold air or on metal all day.

“Thinking critically is vital for one who will rule one day. Looking at the land it is clear it was one skill your father fell behind on in his youth.”

Virion smiles awkwardly at Miriel. “Come now. I’ve learned haven’t I?”

Miriel nods and rests a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “You have but you lost your whole kingdom before you learned enough. Laurent has begun his study to prevent any such loss as necessary in the future.”

Virion nods as he faces Laurent again. His eyes are calm and peaceful. Even his smile was able to sooth many an anxious feeling, but not all of Laurent’s. The young boy was still worried about his mother’s critical eye. He knows they are imparting golden knowledge on him, but the message was lost. He was too young and not quite ready to think about ruling or losing it all as they caution. He just wants to know his grade. To see if the page will be blessed by that thin-lined smile or set aflame by quill with it’s poisoned ink.

As the archer looks back and forth he realizes his son has not taken in their words. His tiny eyes were so focused in on his mother Virion could not tell if it was fear, or awe that capitivates him so. His own face was as neutral as his mother’s. If not for his tiny shaking palms Virion would never be able to tell.

“Miriel perhaps he needs a break.”

“Lunch is in two hours.”

Releasing one of his hands to wrap it around Laurent’s shoulders. Virion laughs as he pulls his son closer. Enlarging his eyes and smiling as wide as he could, the middle-aged ruler puts on his best face. It would not be enough to convince his dear wife on his own but perhaps with their son. He squeezes their faces together and tries. Cheek against cheek, Virion pleas.

“Please dear, our poor boy needs to go outside.”

Miriel, as always, was un-moved. It was time to fight with logic.

“If he does not run and play his mind will be his only trained muscle. Power of mind is important but it can not be one’s only strength. Wouldn’t you agree?”

This Miriel mulls over. Stream of thought was often her way, but any line of reasoning and she will consider it. That was his wife.

Laurent was sure that his mother could read his father’s intentions. Perhaps with even more clarity than when she read her tomes, or when his father reads his cards. He makes sure to copy the smile his father wore. Going outside held no positive prospects. Well, it held one. He wouldn’t have to sit there and wait. To feel the experience of every second crawling past. It’s deep claws and sharp nails pulling him along with them. At least outside made time go faster.

“Fine.” Miriel concedes and bends down to meet the two on eye level.

“Really?” Laurent and his father ask in unison. Apparently, neither had really expected that to work.

“Yes but just for an hour. One more hour of studying before lunch should be enough to meet the progress I was expecting us to make today.”

“Very sweet of you dear.”

The tone was pleasant but his father’s face was strange. His mouth hung open at a little angle. Eyes like daggers look everywhere but at Miriel’s face. Laurent silently questions why, but sarcasm was not yet clear to him. In the years to come he would not only be well aware of sarcasm but it would be his third greatest tool to protect himself. Right behind his wits, and his magic. For now, he was just a young boy running away from his problems as fast as he could. Proudly his parents watch him go. Neither sharing the fears weighing down on their hearts. He smiles as he runs out the front door of the castle. The sun hits him like the soft touch of pollen often had. Curving around his face and over his smile.

Virion tries not to think about how much longer they would have this peace. Miriel does not bother to point out it would not be long. For one more day they were able to deny that Grima was on the move. On Laurent’s last day of a peaceful life with childish fears, the three spent more time outside together then they ever had before. Or ever would again.

Chapter Text

The sun rises to a quiet morning with only the familiar sounds of shing, shing, shing ringing out. It was too early for the birds to rise and owls to set. In the empty dawn, Lon’qu works. He sharpens the metal with a measured hand. He performs this ceremony time and time again. Always at the same time of day. Always the same amount of strokes. Metal against stone. Stone scraping against the silver. The sound of the metal sharpening beneath his fingers. The call he makes every morning on the very edge of camp. Again and again, he drags the stone across the sharpened tip.

A steady hand, careful breathing, and the practice of the same movements he has performed a thousand times. Once he was done with his first ritual the second begins. Testing the weapon. He grips the handle with both hands and tests the weight. As it slices the wind into two the back half feels off. Almost as if it was light enough to be carried away in the wind.

Lon’qu shoves the tip into the ground. With precision, he rubs his fingers over the wood on the spear. Was it supposed to feel like that? The glint of a knife attacks his eyes. Before the man could even pull the spear from the ground to defend himself it was there. On the end of the spear the knife cuts. Scratching and marking it up, Cordelia smiles as she trims the spear. A few birds call out as the ends reach her lips. Befuddled the man stands still and watches.

His ears try to focus on her words. He strains and leans closer, but every word of her was just too soft. He pleas with them. Just one of her words. Just one piece of treasure that comes spilling freely from her mouth. How many jewels was she wasting freely on his failing body? With a single step, she could make the world shake. Then there was he who could barely manage to meet her eyes. Even after all this time.

“Lon’qu?”

His name rings like church bells calling his soul home through his ears. Her smile has swung lopsided like a rope cut loose on one end. Bravely she steps closer. Past experiences have done nothing to teach her caution.

“Wha-what?”

“If you make this end shorter it should work better.” She explains again tapping her knife against the few strips she had begun to carve away.

“Are you alright dear?”

“Yeah. I just...It’s just..” he throws a hand up at the spear. It falls like a rock sinking in a river. His fingers hadn’t even gotten close to pointing at it, but Cordelia smiles as if it was enough. Why was she still smiling? How could she not realize he just couldn’t focus around her?

“Thank you for trying to fix up my spear.”

“Uh-I-”

Her kiss was quicker than a snap of his fingers. A soft warm spot sticks out on his face as Lon’qu falls. Shaking his head, he quickly covers the spot up. It feels warm against the cold palm of his hand. Gently rubbing his pinky finger over the spot, he convinces himself he could feel the imprint of her lips. Lon’qu leans his face into his hand as he shoves his elbow into his crossed knees. The stance would have looked natural if not for the way she saw him fall into it. Cordelia doesn’t stick around to torment him over his embarrassment. As quickly as she came, she took her spear and left.

The birds fly free from the trees, following her as she goes.  They dive and swerve around the branches over her head. Occasionally dropping flowers or leaves across her head. How he had managed to even ask her out was beyond him. Why she still bothered leaves him confused. His thoughts run away with his mind like cats with a toy. They scamper after her like puppy begging for scraps.

Chapter Text

Robin throws her cloak off into the grass before kicking her sword further away from herself. If the day was a rarity it would not bother her as much. If it didn’t happen every single time she wouldn’t be imaging all the ways her magic could destroy this blasted field! She swears inside her own mind as her hands tighten into fists. Swearing to not let the vile thoughts escape their cage. It wasn’t rare though. Even now he danced around her in a way she has never seen another swordsman do. After months of training, he was still disarming her with little effort.

“Robin, would you like to continue another time?”

“No. I need to get this. Ready to go again Priam?”

“You are angry. I’m not so sure continuing this fight would be a good idea.” He tries to comfort her. To rest a well-intentioned hand on her shaking shoulders. Yet the tactician pulls away. Lifting her sword with the strength of the furies, it almost flies free. A dull thud sudden stillness is all that keeps the deadly weapon from making off on just the force behind it.

“Priam?” Robin drops the sword as she spins around. In her panic, she hadn’t even realized that the sword never fell.

Her heart only beats faster as she sees Priam standing there, the sword still caught in his hand. His lips are in a strained smile as she looks at him. His eyes squint to hide the pain he was clearly in. As her panic slowly subsides she notices the ruby-red blood for the first time.

“I’m sorry!” Carefully she grabs the hilt of the sword so he could let go. Once his hand was a safe distance off Robin drops the sword off to her side. She rips some cloth off from the bottom of her shirt. Before Priam could argue she had already brought his hand back down and was cleaning it as thoroughly as one could with no water. For a moment Robin stares intently at the staining shirt. She could spit on it.

“Robin, the brains to our operations, we have a bucket of water and some rags back at camp. Let’s dress the wound there.”

The tactician drops her head against his wrist. She holds his bleeding hand in towards her chest. A heavy sigh chills his arm. Flesh that was powerful as the steel it wields. Flesh that was cut to reveal just how soft the underside is.

“It’s rare form to see you so upset. I must admit it shakes me.”

“I’m sorry. There’s just,” Her voice drifts off like a moth fleeing from the sun. She presses her forehead deeper into his wrist as blood and iron mix in her nose. One would think years on battlefields moving from one place to the next would be enough to kill such a sense. Yet despite all the death and decay, and blood that has assaulted it, it still prevails. Just like they have in all the faces of adversity that the gods have thrown at them.

“Have you talked to Chrom and the others about your decision?”

“No.” For some reason she never expected her voice to sound so broken. Maybe once upon a time, she knew herself well. Knew every little detail one could know about themselves. That once upon a time was years ago though, if it ever even existed.

“I do not like this.” Fingers knot around a mess of barely tied up strands. He barely applies any pressure to the back of her skull, but it felt like he was rubbing all of the throbbings in her skull away.

“Miriel said something about stress having detrimental effects on one’s health. Maybe we should suggest your fingers as a cure.”

Priam scoffs. “Please don’t. She may take that literally and it will be I subjugated to her many tests.”

Robin laughs and finally looks back up at him. Relief swims like fish chasing the worry away in his eyes. The sadness sticks inside them. It could not leave them as the ocean couldn’t leave it’s home. Only someone carrying it away could ever be enough.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Mirabelle will be unhappy but we could always ask Lissa instead.”

Robin kisses his forehead before letting go of his hand finally. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

He cradles the arm closer to his chest. “I know, but I like the thought of pretending. At least until the moment of fate reaches us with its cruel hand and we can not any longer.”

“Always the poet.” She takes his good hand and squeezes it.

“Always my hero.” He swears before kissing her.

She may still not understand his way of fighting with a sword, and she may never, but at least he had come around to see her way of the world. Priam after much practice had learned to pull strength from those beside him. Yet when it came to her decisions he understood and accepted them. In a way none of the other shepherds ever had. His independence had its strength, and that only reinforced her decision. They may not know how long for this world she will be, but she will spend this time learning what she can as he had.

Chapter Text

Sully taps her foot faster as she scrolls through her phone. Every moment that passes drags her face into the ever sinking epitome of anger it was known for. Her long list of frustrations included but was nowhere near limited to; having to cook, girl at the gym who stare, guys at the gym who try to talk to her, having to go to their local gym, black coffee, coffee with too much sugar or cream, meals without some kind of meat, sour candy, and most of all getting dragged out to Stahl’s favorite coffee shop just to talk to him while he sips and slurps his drinks away.

Her attempts to hide her ire were always unaccompanied by the three signs. Stahl hides his smile behind his cup as the first sign bounces up and down faster by the minute. Her foot tapping must be annoying those around them, but who would dare say anything to such a woman? Chrom the foolhardy wasn’t around, and Robin the clever was out of the city. It was just Stahl and Sully along with her second sign. She avoids eye contact by looking at every other possible thing nearby. Her phone, strangers, the dirty cups getting left behind, even the tiles on the floor.

The tap of his cup against the tabletop was enough for her head to violently swerve back. She needle-eyes his half-empty mint mocha as her thumb continues to scroll absentmindedly. Sully opens her mouth only to close it quickly again. This repeats a few more times giving her the appearance of a fish gasping and thrashing on land. In more ways than one she really was a fish right now. An adorable, gasping, trying fish. With an outfit for every day of the week that matches her hair.

Finally, the third sign develops and Stahl begins to count down how much longer they have to reside in this cafe. His best guess was three minutes. As Sully starts to squeeze her cup he stands up and offers her his free hand.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Sully clutches his hand with far more strength then what was necessary. Stahl bites his lip to hold back his initial reaction to the pain. A look from the barista shows that it was quite clear how much force she was using as she stands. He could feel a few more eyes turn on them, but it didn’t matter. None of them understood Sully. How could they when they’ve never seen her fight. Never have they had the pleasure of facing her head-on in a joust. The fire in her eyes right now is mild to the amount she has when doing her passion. That fire could consume the world without an ounce of regret but knows better than to let itself.

They’ve never had the chance to lose while feeling like you’re dancing towards heaven’s front gate. The way her hair tickled his eyes as she picked him up by the front of his outfit. Even her breath somehow smelled of strawberries instead of the beer he knows she was downing earlier.

Nor would they ever know that as they sat in this crummy little coffee shop it was her suggestion. Not because she enjoys it. No, she hates everything about this place. From the way every stares longing into their laptops, plying their hopes and dreams into hours ticking by on projects some will be too scared to send out. All the way down to the bitter sub-par coffee they make.

Every inch of her hates this place, but how could he had known that on their first date? It was horrible. She barely lasted twenty minutes. In a whirlwind of sudden movements, she had everything and was out the door. Every step measured but fast, like a soldier on a mission. Her eyes were locked straight ahead, even as her head fought to turn and look back.

Her reaction isn’t so much of an outburst anymore. Sometimes she even wants to come to this place. Just like today, on their anniversary. He had picked an awful setting the first time, but Sully suffers through it. As if in some way she has to repent for all the places she drags him out to. It doesn’t matter how many times he argues against such foolish thoughts for Sully is Sully. True to herself, and always trying (if not always succeeding) to better herself.

“You did better this time. Thank you.”

“I still don’t see what you find so appealing about this place.”

Sully opens the door and pulls Stahl through. Onto the street the run headfirst into the hustle and bustle of city life. Sully immediately smiles as the sun hits her hair. The cherry-like strands grow healthier under their missing friend. His wife belonged outdoors. To the world of nature and energy. If she’s not moving she isn’t happy, and in more ways then one Stahl could understand that. He likes to entertain the thought that she could tell. That somehow as her lance struck his chest and toppled him off his horse, she knew. Just like he did.