Work Text:
First, she searched in the desert sands. Plegia’s capital had collapsed after Grima’s bones rose once again, leaving naught but ruins and the corpses of his followers, fresh for the fight. The devastated land had been his seat of power for the following apocalypse, as well as the residence of the one she searched for now.
Having seen all she had, she looked upon it not with misery and despair. These ruins were a testament to the possibility of change, of hope. Flowers grew where bodies fed the earth. Animals made their burrows in desecrated churches.
There were no humans left in this world, yet it moved on anyway.
And now, she had a home to return to. A loving family ready to welcome her with open arms, a world with life not tucked away but bursting at the seams. A hard earned peace, and long earned rest.
There were no humans left in this world, yet she searched for him anyway.
Next, she moved to Ylisse. Her Ylisse, her true homeland. Ylisse’s capital was as ruined as Plegia’s; long since had Grima’s hordes torn apart the sanctuary it provided. With the loss of their fort, the Shepherds struggled. Always moving, always running. Now, it stood still.
Inside the castle, she found no bodies. Just mounds of dust. The Risen armies had followed their master, and laid down their undead lives alongside him. Those that remained here crumbled without his power to sustain them.
Perhaps he was nothing more than the dust at her feet, yet she continued anyway.
Food was plentiful along her path. Wild fruit and vegetables thrived. Old fields spread out. She dug for potatoes and hunted in the forest. All the while, she thanked her parents for teaching her to cook, and she thanked her refined skill of surviving on next to nothing. She lacked in spices, but the wild roots gave it more than enough flavor.
She wondered, then, what Grima had lived on. Magic alone did not feed the stomach and nourish the soul. Did he break bread with who she searched for, or did neither allow themselves such a human indulgence?
Then, she decided, she would give him a meal, at least once.
After her restful stops in Ylisse’s vast fields, she headed south. A next stop would’ve been north, in Ferox, yet… he had no attachment to that place. In life, he’d visited twice, neither occasion being particularly fruitful. Her gift of foresight had been an elaborate act, yet something told her that he’d be here.
The feeling grew stronger as she approached Southtown. It had been a ghost town even before calamity struck. Skeletons of scorched homes withstood the test of time. Vines grew inbetween the cracks to support the structures. Ash was a great fertilizer.
She left the town behind her and headed into the forest. He’d be here, she told herself.
The forest parted. A round clearing of lush grass, sunlight streaming through the hole in the canopy. What a beautiful day, without a cloud in sight.
And in the middle of it all, he sat. Still as a statue, still as a corpse. Moss traced up his side to the dark crown on his head. His gaze was fixed upon the clear blue sky.
Dead wood cracked under her boots. She approached with care. Last she had seen him… he had been a storm. A face twisted in agony, a voice shaking with despair, and a sword aiming for her throat. Disarming him had been a stroke of luck – or a stroke of resistance from the forces compelling him. She’d taken the blade, and never looked back.
But nothing bound them anymore – either of them.
At last, the world was still.
And so, Lucina spoke, “I’m back, Father.”
He’d sat here, unmoving, for at least three years in the new world, and who knew how many in the old. His movement was slow and methodical, testing if he still could. His head rotated to look at her out of the corner of his eye.
He did not leap to attack. He did not scream for her to leave. His voice cracked with disuse, tinged with his usual growl, but he simply spoke, “Welcome back.”
And Lucina leapt at her father. He was so, so cold where skin met skin, and he’d never be warm again. His clawed hands carded through her hair as though she were still the child he left behind. And right there, with her father at last free, with her head buried in his shoulder, she never felt safer.
“I’m back,” she repeated. “Grima – Robin is gone. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t… apologize. You did well. I felt it. I could… think.” He pulled her closer. “I was waiting for you.”
“I’m sorry, I’m here now. We can go together. There’s a place I want to show you.”
“But… I’m…” a monster , he left unsaid. Nothing but a Risen.
She had her other father to compare him to. The one who walked without a limp. The one with healthy, rosy skin, and a strong heartbeat. He’d taken her in as his own when he had no need to, and she’d loved it, loved him. Even so, he’d never be the man who raised her. And she was glad for it. He would never suffer as her father had.
She could’ve stayed with him. He’d let her.
But he’d also proven that fate could change.
“You’re still you, don’t you see? Why else haven’t you killed me? Why else do I bear this blade?”
“You deserved better from me,” he rasped, and she laughed.
“Than one sword and a world of troubles? No matter when, you really are the same.”
He let go of her, and she stood. To think there’d be a day she towered over him like this. With him still in the grass, arms still curved in her shape. His gaze was distant, moving past her to the vast blue beyond yet again.
“As your father… please end me. I’d rather die by no other hand than yours.”
Lucina kneeled, and cupped his face in her hands, forcing his eyes to meet hers. “If you so wish… I’ll do it. If it is rest you desire, I will give it to you. But please believe me – it’s not too late. This isn’t your destiny, just as it isn’t mine.
If I may ask one last thing of you, as selfish as it may be… come with me. Let me show you what can be. It won’t be our world, it won’t be our home, but it will have a place for us. Both of us.”
Chrom guided her hands away. Now, his head tilted toward the ground. “A new world stands as the testament of my failure. Had I been strong as the other me you’ve seen, then… this world would have been theirs to begin with. I have failed Grima, I have failed my people, and I have failed you. Nothing can atone for that.”
“And had you not failed, had you not given me this sword, I never would have aided them. You let me go. Can’t you understand? They changed fate because you gave me the strength to aid them. You taught me to dream of peace. All this time… You gave me courage.”
“Oh, Lucina…”
She’d have called them tears, if they didn’t sizzle when hitting the grass. He cried, and said, “I’m so proud of you, Lucina. You’re the best daughter I could ever have.”
“Thank you, Father.” Her tone warbled on the title, thick with her own tears. In all her life, she’d never seen him cry. Not in public, not in private. Even when he lost half his army, his eyes remained dry. And she hadn’t cried, either – not since the report of his death, and the report of his resurrection.
What were they, now? A girl misplaced in time no matter where she went, and a man misplaced by the nature of his continued existence. If the universe made any lick of sense, both of them would be nothing but ash in the wind.
“Please,” she said, “this isn’t the end for us.”
The seconds ticked by painfully slow, but they had all the time in the world.
He wiped away his tears, and spoke, “Okay. I’ll come with you.”
Who would’ve thought a Risen could still smile?
And Lucina replied, “I missed you so much.”