Chapter Text
Though she often caught glances of him, spiky blond hair dancing in the sun as he struck dramatic poses and spoke a bit too loudly, the first time they truly conversed was at dinner.
Well, no, not exactly at dinner.
She was minding her own business, chatting away the thoughts of Risen with a few others, when a mighty fist slammed down on the makeshift table. The four who had previously been eating peacefully let out yelps as they turned to glare at their intruder.
Owain shrank back and cleared his throat awkwardly. “Forgive me. I did not intend to frighten the lot of you.”
“Well, you did, and that’s what matters. We’re kind of busy here, if you couldn’t tell,” Severa shot, poison dripping in her voice as she brushed a crimson ponytail over her shoulder.
“Don’t mind her, Owain. What’s the matter?” asked Morgan, cheerful as ever.
The myrmidon straightened and jerked his head in a solemn nod at his cousin. He cleared his throat, pausing as if in thought, and swept his arm out to point at the only one with whom he had next to no reason to speak. “You! If I am not mistaken, you are a dark mage.”
She blinked. “Yes…?”
“Excellent. It seems the gods have lent me their strength on the best of days. The fates have woven their threads together, and it is here and now that we must duel, my rival!”
Unsure which of the several things he just said to acknowledge first, she nearly spat out her food. “Here. In the mess hall. Where people are eating. And we’ve actually managed to properly set it up for once. Because we’re in an abandoned chapel. Which is still technically hallowed ground.”
He sighed, his whole posture drooping. “Alright, I suppose you have bested me in the consideration of others. Yet still, my sword hand twitches! We must take this battle outside!”
With that, he grabbed her by the arm and wrenched her out of the small building.
“Gods! What has gotten into you, Owain? Don’t tell me you’re going to sell me to some brigands, or I will feed you to the Risen.” Then she grimaced and grumbled, “I wish I could be fed…”
His face crinkled into a frown, and she realized that it was not a bad-looking face at all. Even when it was crinkled like that. Or maybe it was just the lighting. “Does my lady truly think so lowly of me? Perhaps she does not see me fit to be her opponent in battle?”
She waved her hands in front of her face. “Nonono, that’s not it. I’m always up for extra training. Dragging me out here, though? I barely even started my dinner!” She paused, tilting her head to the side. “Also, can I ask why you chose me? It’s not like I’m a particularly amazing dark mage.”
“How humble! Pray tell, if a tale of enchantment and hidden power is what she lacks, what is the origin of her magic?”
“A childhood with a vivid imagination and unrestricted access to a library that coincidentally contained a collection of magical instruction books.” She crossed her arms. “Now answer - why me?”
“Ah, more easily asked than answered. You see, while we were on the road to our last campsite, yours truly was struck with a persistent desire to wander off. Strong as I am, there are times when the darkness within me cannot be quelled. As I followed its siren song, I found myself beguiled by the sky. The heavens themselves parted, and -”
“The short version. I'd rather not sit out here and listen to theatrics all night.” At his hurt expression, she hastily added, “I mean, you can tell me all that later, maybe when we’re traveling tomorrow. Just not right now, okay?”
He nodded, squaring his shoulders. “I have some… opinions on Tharja, from our timeline, and Henry isn’t someone to train with if you don’t want to get tortured. On the other hand, you appear to be someone I may actually get along with, being both from my doomed future and…” He hesitated, considering his next words with great care. “This is a poor prejudice, certainly, but you appear much more sane than would be expected of a dark mage.”
“I see. No, it’s fine, I understand where you’re coming from.” She paused, pursing her lips. “But why a dark mage?”
“Firstly, the endless darkness that roils within me can only be understood by those with similar woes. And secondly? An apocryphal tale of a swordsman and a dark mage, serving justice to the world side-by-side! Does that not sound heroic, my Lady of Darkness?” Owain grinned, striking a pose with his hand over half his face.
“Er.” An awkward stretch of silence. “I mean. Incorrect usage of apocryphal aside, it’s not like we’re usually near each other in battle. Or while traveling. Or at meals. Or while training. I’m not sure we’ve even spoken all that much before this.”
He shook his head emphatically. “Yes, but all of that could easily change through our will. And the gods have shown me that Robin will be adjusting many battle plans. Some training partners have not been synchronizing as well as expected.”
She nodded slowly, taking in the information. Entirely unexpected, but… “Well, in any case, we came out here for a duel, not a discussion, am I not mistaken?” She removed a tome from her robes and flipped it open.
“Indeed. I have a dulled practice sword prepared in place of my Missiletainn, to avoid truly injuring a comrade, rival though she may be.” He unsheathed said sword and readied himself in his classic stance.
The mage drew one hand back as she opened herself to the magic source in the book, sparks tingling in her fingertips. In the dim light, it was hard to discern what was going on, but she was fairly certain of one tell in particular that only he had…
“SWOOOORD OF FLAME!”
“Thunder!”
Gods, he was fast! Though she had purposely aimed a bit away from him, he had easily dodged and was still running toward her. He slashed at her shins twice, leaving twin bruises. Wincing, she shouted, “Wind!”
She prayed that this spell would hinder him. And it did, though only briefly, his strides stuttering for a moment as he rolled on through. Now was her chance. “NOSFERATU!”
He let out a yelp and staggered as the dark tendrils whipped him across the chest and looped back around to her, healing the abrasions that otherwise would have formed painful bruises. Before she could react, he straightened, sword still poised. “You… will… not … win!”
“A-are you okay?” she asked timidly, lowering her hand.
“I…”
“Really, Owain, I used a pretty powerful spell on you. I probably shouldn’t have done that; you’re probably not all that used to getting hit so dir-”
“Gaiden!” He yelled, bringing the practice sword down and smacking her in the side. His eyes flashed triumphantly in the darkness. “Would you ask your enemy if they were okay?”
Winded, she barely managed to wheeze out a slurred sentence. She scrambled up quickly and cast Fire, this time aiming for him properly and singing his uniform. In response, he thrust the sword toward her a few times, though with noticeably less vigor and accuracy than before.
Grinning with full confidence in spite of his labored movements, he asked, “Do you really think such a small spell would affect me, mage?”
“It's not like I know your lim- Elfire!”
“Mystery of the Emblem!”
“Flux!”
“RADIANT DAWN!”
“THUNDER!”
“HEROES OF LIGHT AND SHADOW!”
“WHAT IN NAGA’S NAME ARE YOU TWO DOING?”
The two stopped, mid-shout, to face an extremely-pissed Lissa and a worried Robin.
“M-Mother?!”
“Owain! If you’re going to duel, at least tell me! And tell Robin, too!” Lissa tugged on his sleeve as she shouted. “Do you know how worried I was? Dinner is over, and we’re all cleaning up!”
Robin, meanwhile, looked somewhat amused but clearly concerned. “Listen, if the rest of the army is inside a building and you choose to go outside, even if you remain close by, it is absolutely imperative that you let someone still inside know. Additionally, both of you are on dish duty tonight, so I suggest you get to it immediately.”
“Morgan, Severa, and Noire knew…” Owain scuffed his foot against the grass awkwardly.
Robin sighed and rubbed her temples as Lissa began to rant once again. After a lecture and a few exchanges of nervous eye contact, the tactician pulled her aside and convinced her to let her son continue practice.
“After all,” she said, smiling as her eyes flickered to them briefly, “it’s good for them to get in some extra training when they can.”
Once the older Shepherds had left, the rivals turned to each other. An uncomfortable quiet hung over them, until Owain decided to break it.
“Well, even though they’ve agreed to allow us to continue training, my sword hand seems to be satisfied… for now. So I suppose it is time to wash dishes.” He sheathed the practice sword and reached his arms above his head as he stretched, beginning their walk back to the kitchens. “Would you like to duel once again tomorrow?”
She honestly hadn’t felt as good training as she had then, nor had she had as much fun in a long time. “Definitely.” Her stomach growled as she tucked her book away, and she snorted. “Definitely after dinner.”
“Ah!” He flinched. “I apologize. That was… unfair of me.”
“Or was it an intentional attempt to wear me down?” She teased, elbowing him playfully.
He rolled his eyes, stopping just outside their destination. “Allow me to offer you half of my breakfast tomorrow to make up for it.”
“Deal.”
They shook hands, then pushed open the tent flaps. Immediately, two pairs of eyes turned to them.
“Where have you two been? Morgan and I thought we would have to do all these dishes alone!” Cynthia pouted.
Morgan smiled warmly, though he cast a brief questioning glance toward the mage, who just shrugged in response. “It’s fine, honestly!”
“It’s not fine! Owain, how could you leave your brethren of the Justice Cabal all alone? You even abruptly abandoned me during dinner! Am I no longer fit for the Cabal…?” She whirled on the mage, shock crossing her face. “Are you… Are you replacing me?! Gods, that must be it!” She slapped a hand to her chest and stared dramatically at the ceiling. “The dark sorceress swoops in, taking the place of the true heroine and knocking her off of her hard-earned place on the ladder by tempting the swordsman… ‘Tis a sad tale we sing of, though soon enough the heroine -”
She set a hand on her shoulder to interrupt her and hopefully help her settle down. “Please calm down. I’m not replacing you or whatever. I don’t even know what this justice thing is.”
Unfortunately, it had no effect. Cynthia shook her head vigorously, brown pigtails slapping her face. “Oh, how the villainess denies the very knowledge of the Justice Cabal in an attempt to thwart the heroine!”
At the accusation, she wasn’t sure how to feel. Deep down, she had always wanted to get along with Cynthia, who was so enthusiastic about everything. Perhaps she was similar to Owain in this manner - both of them declared rivalry with those they chose to become friends with.
“Just play along,” Morgan mumbled to her, pushing a newly-washed ladle and a dry rag into her hands.
Ah. With that kind of confirmation, she knew exactly what she had to do to fit the role suddenly thrust upon her - smile and giggle darkly.
“D-did I say something wrong? I’m sorry, I -”
“Ah, it seems you’ve figured out my plan to bring down the Justice Cabal from the inside! But you must know, at the very least, that Morgan is in on this plan!” She whipped the ladle around and pointed it at Morgan, spilling water on both him and Owain in the process. Muttering a small “sorry”, she glanced at Cynthia, prompting her to continue.
Cynthia perked up as realization dawned on her, and she gave an exaggerated gasp of horror, fist clamped to her chest. “Who would expect that Morgan, of all people, would be the one to betray us? It seems we’ve made a terrible decision, Owain!” She turned to him, brows furrowed. “Unless… Oh! It all makes sense now! Somewhere along the way, you’ve been tainted with evil. Perhaps it was by this witch! Once you began associating, you recruited Morgan, and I trusted him, too! I may well have bade farewell to my entire future. In times like these… there is only one I may rely on!”
She ran out of the room, screaming Gerome’s name. Lucina burst in shortly thereafter, eyes wide in alarm and sword at the ready. “I heard Cynthia screaming. Are you alright?”
The three exchanged a look before bursting into laughter.
“Lu... Luci, gods, I’m so sorry! I guess it got a bit out of hand. I’m sorry,” Morgan managed between breaths, patting his sister on the arm.
Her brows furrowed. “What got out of hand? Dishwashing?”
“No, it was - we were doing a bit.”
“I… see. I’ll go warn her to quiet down, then. Please refrain from causing panic throughout camp.” She gave them a terse smile, tired eyes betraying the stress she was enduring, and departed.
The dark mage hesitated for a moment, then suggested, “We should probably actually finish up.”
“Certainly,” Owain agreed, and scooped a handful of bubbles onto Morgan’s robes.
“Hey, no fair!” He pouted and tossed some suds back. Grinning, Owain slathered more bubbles on both Morgan and the mage’s robes.
They all locked eyes. It was on.
A few minutes and several soap sud tosses later, the door to the kitchen flew open once again. This time, Cynthia marched in triumphantly with a miffed Gerome in tow.
“We are the true heroes, here to take down the corrupt members of the Justice Cabal!”
“Ugh…”
The mage and the tactician gasped theatrically, freezing in their spots.
“The only way to return everything to normal is…” Cynthia looked around frantically.
“To see the task of drying these dishes to the end!” Owain declared. “I may have lied to you, Cynthia, but I also lied to the sorceress and her tactician! You see, the real reason I gained their trust was to learn their weaknesses. The heart of a true swordsman is pure and strong despite the darkness that may lay within. It takes much more to break one down!”
And so, within thirty seconds, the dishes were all cleared.
“Ah, forgive me, members of the Justice Cabal!” The mage dropped to one knee. “I have seen your just ways of dishwashing, and I now know that you were right all along. Though this is but a meager apology for the crimes I have committed, I beg of you - allow me to join your crusades!” She pulled on Morgan’s robe and brought him to his knees. “And do not forget my partner in crime.”
“I see your heart has truly changed for the better in the presence of such great deeds! What say you, Gerome? Owain?”
“I don’t care.” The masked man attempted to twist out of Cynthia’s grasp, but she kept a vicelike grip on him.
“Come on , Gerome, you promised you’d keep playing along today!”
He huffed, but didn’t respond.
Owain cleared his throat. “Since you have asked for my opinion, I believe we should only allow them to partake in our adventure if the dark mage will be my rival!”
The mage grinned wickedly. “Of course, swordsman. Who would be better?”
As the Justice Cabal walked out, having officially gained one willing member and one somewhat-unwilling member, Morgan clapped the mage on the back. “That was excellent. Welcome to the Cabal. You did very well, and I would suggest celebrating, except we’ve already eaten.”
“Well, technically, I haven’t eaten.” She glared at Owain, who grinned sheepishly.
“I already promised half of my breakfast tomorrow! What more could one possibly want?”
“Dinner.”
“The lass requests half of my dinner as well? What about half of my lunch?”
“Mmm…” She looked at the ceiling, tapping her chin in mock thoughtfulness. “Not what I meant, but sure, sounds good.”
“Half of all my meals on the morrow, in exchange for one dinner? How cruel can one be?”
“ I think it’s a fair exchange,” chirped Morgan, holding out a fist to the mage, who bumped it in return.
Meanwhile, Gerome looked entirely miffed, grumbling, “Why am I carrying these? I wasn’t even on dish duty.”
“Because you and Owain are tall. That makes you better at carrying things than the rest of us!” Cynthia nudged him with an elbow as she skipped alongside him.
“And that makes you the real hero, Gerome!” Morgan clapped him on the back from the other side. He continued mumbling incoherently about their lack of logic, although from his posture it seemed he was more pleased than he let on.
This group... was going to be a handful.