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Gray.
Everything was gray. Inigo couldn’t wait to get his colors, to see the world in more than shades of black and white. Only five years old, the young prince was already dreaming about the day that he would meet his soulmate and the world would burst into vibrant color.
Until that day occurred, Inigo had to content himself with listening to how other people described colors to him.
“Father?” asked Inigo. “What color is your hair?” Chrom turned around with a warm smile. He knelt down on one knee next to his son and ran a hand through his young son’s hair.
“Blue,” Chrom replied. “Just like yours and Lucina’s.” Inigo didn’t need to ask his next question; he and his father were both very familiar with this song and dance. “Your mother’s hair is pink. It was the first color I ever saw. The Shepherds and I were preparing to face Gangrel in battle when your mother came to the battlefield. As soon as I laid eyes on her, I saw her hair was this soft, beautiful color. I didn’t know what color it was, but I knew that your mother was radiant. I was devastated by Emmeryn’s death. I thought that I’d never survive the heartache of losing my sister, but the color that your mother brought into my life gave me the strength to keep moving forward. I didn’t have the time to revel in all the colors because the battle was approaching fast. Your mother stayed at my side throughout the entire battle, her dances renewing my spirit and my sword protecting her.” Attention rapt, Inigo looked up at his father with a shy smile. He couldn’t wait for the day that he found his soulmate; he was going to have a love story just like his parents, with the perfect happily ever after.
The dream died along with his parents when the Risen overtook Ylisstol.
Inigo wasn’t sure what he had expected when the Shepherds found him; in all honesty, he had given up on finding his friends from the future after months of searching to no avail. Yet standing in front of him were his sister and his cousin. Inigo’s jaw trembled as he lay eyes on his family for the first time in what felt like years.
“Lucina!” cried Inigo. “Owain!” He rushed forward to hug his sister, accidentally pinning her arms to her sides in his excitement. To her credit, Lucina only looked mildly distressed when Owain joined in and made the embrace into a group hug. Inigo pressed his face against Lucina’s armor to hide the tears that he knew were inevitable.
“A convivial reunion amongst comrades!” exclaimed Owain. “We feared that you and the others were lost in a sea of misfortune, but never fear! The legendary Owain has brought you salvation!” Inigo struggled to stifle his eye-rolling. Same old Owain, but at least his antics extinguished the urge to cry.
“Wait…” Inigo looked around, seeing barely familiar faces. He knew that they must be the Shepherds – he had seen a few portraits hanging in the castle corridors of his father’s friends – but it had been years since he saw any of those faces. Some of them were completely unfamiliar, dead before Inigo was able to remember. Inigo’s chest tightened when he failed to find any of the other time travelers. He didn’t want to think about the possibilities of his friends’ fates, especially…
No. Inigo refused to think about him, refused to think about what might have become of him. Inigo was the one who convinced him to return to the past. If anything had happened to him, it would be his fault. Guilt roiled in Inigo's stomach at the thought.
“Where is everyone else?” asked Inigo. Owain’s face fell, and Lucina looked down in shame and sorrow. Her hands briefly clenched into fists before she looked up, her expression showing no trace of her emotions.
“I…” Lucina started. “We met with Owain a fortnight ago, but you and he are the only people we have found. I swear to you, Inigo, I will find everyone and bring us together again.” Lucina clasped her hands around Inigo’s and nodded, her eyes set in a grim, yet determined, stare. Her eyes, though determined in the moment, showed her weariness, and the dark shadows beneath her eyes told Inigo that she was blaming herself for not finding the other time-travelers fast enough. Inigo had realized in that moment how much longer Lucina had been in the past – and how much longer she had been away from everyone else.
“You need to worry less, Lucina,” said Inigo. “We’ll find everyone, right? So why not enjoy the present moment! I think I’ll spend my moments in the presence of a lovely lady.” Inigo winked and grinned brazenly, but he could feel the mask tugging at the corners of his soul as he smiled. He knew the role that he needed to play, and he could play it very well. Lucina would be aggravated with him, she’d scold him, and she’d lecture him about taking life more seriously – but she’d forget about what was troubling her at the moment.
Lucina sighed and started on her lecture about the duties of being from the house of the Exalt, and Inigo knew that he had accomplished what he set out to do. If making people less worried was the outcome, then he would play the fool for her; he would play the fool for all of them.
Time passed, and days turned into weeks without finding anyone else. Inigo could feel the anxiety growing within their trio. Lucina became more withdrawn, Owain more theatrical, and Inigo more flirtatious. It was far easier going to the nearest taverns to get mind-numbingly drunk and try his luck with local women than to deal with the emotions roiling inside him.
Nearly a month had passed since Inigo had joined the Shepherds when they finally found two more time travelers: Brady and Kjelle. He knew that he should be grateful that they found two more members of their group – five was greater than three – but Inigo was never a patient man.
“Quite the bustling little town,” commented Robin. The Shepherds had just reached a small village on their westward journey.
“The harvest must’ve just come in,” Chrom replied. “I wager there’s some good eating to be had.” Inigo couldn’t agree more. After all, where there’s a tavern, there’s a woman to be wooed. He spotted a beautiful maiden behind the bar of a tavern, and he reached into his satchel to pull out one of his carefully preserved flowers.
Unfortunately, the woman screamed in fright upon Chrom’s entry to the tavern. Robin ushered everyone outside to speak to the woman alone. When he returned, he came bearing the news that an imposter had been terrorizing the entire village in Chrom’s name. Inigo set aside his desire for dinner and a date in exchange for his armor. Anger burned inside him at the thought of someone using his father's good name to terrorize villagers.
Upon reaching the outskirts of the village where the imposter’s men were said to be, Inigo heard a gasp from Owain. Inigo turned to his cousin, but Owain’s eyes were focused on a single target: a girl riding a Pegasus.
“She looks as radiant as the sun,” Owain sighed. “She shines brighter than the moon and stars on a cloudless night. What foul creature has foisted Cynthia into his army of thieves and liars? He shall pay for his misdeeds!” Inigo’s and Lucina’s heads jerked to look at the girl in the enemy’s army. Despite the distance, Inigo could make out the signature ponytails Cynthia always wore. The three time travelers shared a smile before heading toward Robin to discuss strategy.
“We must rescue Cynthia from this dastard’s clutches!” exclaimed Owain. Chrom looked to Robin and nodded. Robin began to draw on a piece of parchment while the rest of the army waited anxiously.
“Our first priority is to secure Sumia’s daughter,” Robin explained. “Owain, you’ll be tasked with finding her and convincing her that this man is an imposter. She’ll believe you. Inigo and Lucina, you’ll provide backup for Owain. Our second priority is to bring the leader of this army to justice.” As Robin went over the logistics of the plan, Inigo rested a hand on Owain’s shoulder. Owain nodded tersely, but his attention was still fixed on Cynthia.
As Chrom and Robin led the army into battle, Lucina led Owain and Inigo away from the fray and toward the Pegasus knight. Cynthia was close enough that they would not need to dispatch too many enemies to reach her.
“Cynthia!” Owain screamed. Inigo could hear Lucina's groan of displeasure; Robin had stressed to the three teenagers that their approach needed to be subtle. "Cynthia!" The girl whipped around, and her eyes widened in surprise. Owain took off running, leaving Inigo and Lucina behind. The siblings cast an exasperated look at each other before following Owain to defend him from the enemies he hadn’t noticed in his haste. Cynthia jumped down from the back of her Pegasus as Owain approached.
“Owain? What are you—” Cynthia’s question was cut short by Owain pressing his lips against hers. Lucina and Inigo stared at the couple and then each other in shock. The siblings shared a wordless exchange, asking each other if they had known about a relationship between Cynthia and Owain. Cynthia’s arms wrapped around Owain’s neck as Owain pulled her closer by the waist. Inigo looked around, praying for a distraction, but their army had already taken the imposter.
“Owain, that was so heroic!” Cynthia giggled. “The way you came rushing toward me, like a knight from a fairy tale!” Cynthia’s smile dropped and her brow furrowed as she asked why Owain was attacking Chrom’s army. Although Lucina was sympathetic to Cynthia’s plight, Inigo had to hide his mirth as Owain explained that Cynthia had been tricked; she had always been the most gullible of the Shepherd’s children. Cynthia moaned in embarrassment and dropped her head, mumbling about how she’d stomp the imposter with her Pegasus if she ever saw him again.
“More importantly, when did you two become—” Inigo gestured aimlessly with his hands, “—together?” Lucina shot Inigo a look at his lack of tact, and Inigo shrugged in reply. Cynthia and Owain began talking in unison, their words blending together and completely incomprehensible. Cynthia paused in her speech, allowing Owain to begin his monologue.
“Cynthia and I have not been romantically attached prior to this moment,” Owain began. “We have not laid eyes upon each other for many months, but my heart longed for her during our time apart. Today, in this battle, I gazed upon Cynthia, and the world before my eyes exploded in color. Her hair matched the color of the setting sun.” Owain took the moment to run his fingers through one of Cynthia’s ponytails, the gentle action causing her to flush. Inigo stared, slack-jawed, at Owain. Although Owain was constantly spouting nonsense, Inigo expected him to sound so poetic. Even more bewildering was that Owain of all people found his soulmate before him.
Before either Inigo or Lucina could say something, Cynthia had her arms thrown around Owain’s neck again and was leaning in for a kiss. Inigo took the hint and slipped away to rejoin the rest of the army.
When Cynthia left to find her parents – Gaius was going to be in for quite a shock – Inigo took Owain out to walk into the village with him. After all that had happened, Inigo definitely needed a drink at a tavern – specifically that tavern with the attractive maiden he had met earlier. Although Owain had explained why he kissed Cynthia in the middle of a battlefield, Inigo couldn’t understand how that moment caused Owain to see in color.
“I just don’t get it,” said Inigo. “Every time I hear about someone talk about being able to see in color, they said it happened as soon as they met their soulmate. You’ve known Cynthia your entire life. What changed?” Inigo might have been exaggerating when he said “every time.” Truthfully, he had only heard the story of how his parents fell in love – the whirlwind romance of Ylisse.
“I do not understand it myself,” Owain replied. He took a swig of ale and smiled; whether Owain’s elated mood was from Cynthia or the ale, Inigo couldn’t tell. “Mayhap a change occurred in our hearts during our time apart. After all, the adage does say ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder.’ My heart has always pined for Cynthia, but I never dared to think she would return my feelings.” Inigo furrowed his brow in concentration. Love and soulmates were more complicated than he thought. Perhaps colors did not appear upon meeting your soulmate, but upon falling in love with him.
Inigo was going to need a lot more ale to process this revelation.
Severa was the next to join their group, and Inigo found her much more temperamental than he remembered. Any and all attempts at flirting with her were shot down with hostility; Inigo was actually starting to prefer Kjelle's beatings to Severa’s vitriol.
“You're an idiot,” snarled Severa. “You think anything with a skirt looks good. Your compliments have lost all meaning.” Inigo smiled obliviously, despite Severa’s harsh words; however, Severa continued to rant about Inigo’s over-the-top flirting. Inigo’s smile only dropped when he heard the announcement that they were headed toward Wyvern Valley.
Of all places in the world, Inigo couldn’t think of anywhere more likely to find him.
Shaking the traitorously hopeful thoughts out of his head, Inigo took his position in formation. The tall peaks of the mountains that surrounded Wyvern Valley loomed over them. As the men riding stolen wyverns approached, thoughts were still ricocheting around Inigo’s head about finding him here. His attention only half-present, Inigo didn’t notice the axe-wielding ruffian approaching him until it was too late to block. Inigo braced himself for impact, but the attack never came.
“Pay attention,” growled a gruff voice. Inigo looked up to see Gerome riding upon Minerva’s back, and that’s when the world burst like a supernova. Inigo’s sword nearly slipped out of his hands as his eyes – and mind – adjusted. He must have looked as stunned as he felt because Lucina broke away from her position to run over to her little brother. Inigo didn’t even protest as he usually would at her overprotective actions; he could barely concentrate on breathing.
The rest of the battle was a blur to Inigo. In what felt like the blink of an eye, the battle was over, and the wyverns had returned safely to their lair. He watched from a distance as Gerome spoke with his parents. They shared the same hair color, Gerome and his father. Inigo didn’t know what to call it, but it was the deep color of tree bark. His hands twitched with the urge to run his fingers through those dark strands.
Inigo’s heart skipped a beat as Gerome walked in his direction. He tried to recall any of the lines he used on the local maidens – not that any of those lines worked – but his mind was completely blank. As Gerome stood before Inigo, Inigo’s mouth ran before his mind could catch up.
“What color is my hair?” Inigo blurted out. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Inigo could feel warmth creeping up his face; he cursed his cheeks for betraying him. Gerome raised one thin eyebrow and stared at Inigo as if he had asked Gerome if the fell dragon Grima was actually a cuddly bunny.
“Blue,” Gerome answered crisply. “Honestly, Inigo, you are the prince of Ylisse. It is a well-known fact that you and your sister share the same color hair as Chrom. Even if I am unable to see color, I am not lacking in common knowledge.” Inigo’s blood turned to ice, the cold permeating its way down to his fingertips. His bones felt hollow, as if he would collapse if he tried to take even a single step.
“Ah yes,” Inigo said with a smile. His eyes burned with unshed tears, but they were gone as quickly as they had come; his mask was perfectly in place. “Of course.” A smile is a dance. Inigo repeated the words in his head over and over as he waded through the throngs of celebrating soldiers. He needed to get to his tent. He needed to get away from Gerome.
Inigo collapsed onto his bedroll and buried his face in the pillow in an attempt to stifle the sound of his sobbing. If anyone overheard and asked, he could always claim that he was rejected by yet another woman; everyone in the army had seen Inigo’s pathetic attempts to woo a woman and his even more pathetic reactions to rejection. If he respun any of his previous rejections into a new tale, no one would be the wiser.
“Look, I’m not here because I like you,” snapped a voice. Inigo dared to look up from his pillow and saw Severa standing inside his tent with a tray for tea. “I wouldn’t even say I feel sorry for you, but you’ve been in your tent all day, no doubt crying over some woman. Lucina is worried and asked me to talk to you. Gawds know why she’d ask me, but here I am, at your service. You'd better be grateful for the sacrifice of my precious time to deal with your self-pity and moping.” Severa set down the tray with a scowl before crossing her arms and demanding a thank you.
“Th-thanks, Severa…” Inigo hiccupped. His face was blotchy from crying. He cupped his hands around the cup of tea that Severa had brought, but he had no move to drink it. Severa glowered at Inigo briefly before sitting down across from him and staring.
“What’s wrong with you? I’m being nice to you, and you haven’t even noticed. This morning, you were begging practically on your knees for me to smile at you.” Severa took the second cup of tea and sipped it gracefully. She cocked her head to the side, waiting for an answer.
“Ah, it’s nothing, my darling!” said Inigo, his tone hardly convincing. “I promise you that you have my full and undivided attention, my precious flower.” Severa’s expression quickly turned into a glower. She set down the cup of tea and made a move to leave the tent when Inigo sobbed into his tea.
“Seriously, what’s wrong with you? No rejection has ever had you this pathetic.” Severa picked her tea back up and crossed her legs, settling in. “I’m not leaving until you answer me. Lucina would never forgive me if I left you alone in this state.” She waited and drank her tea as Inigo’s sobs slowly began to subside. His hands shook as he set down the teacup, the tea nearly spilling out.
“Lucina was right,” Inigo whispered. “I should have never believed that fate could be kind. I thought when you met your soulmate, everything would fall into place. You would have the sort of romance that belonged in fairy tales, and bards would sing about your love…and then you find out that he’s your soulmate, but you’re not his. Lucina was right to condemn this horrible system that fate had created.” Inigo looked over at Severa and expected an expression of mockery or scorn; he wasn’t expecting to see understanding in her eyes.
“Who…?” Severa paused, as if fitting the pieces together in her head. “…Gerome. It’s Gerome, isn’t it? You were your typical obnoxious self this morning, but you’ve been a wreck ever since he showed up.” Inigo bit back a sob at the mention of Gerome’s name. Severa sighed and looked around the tent; she grabbed a stray handkerchief and tossed it at Inigo. A tense silence filled the tent, broken only by Inigo’s sniffling.
“I thought that if I found my soulmate, if I could see color, then the world would make sense. I’ve held onto that hope for my entire life. It's all I ever wanted. Now every time my eyes are open, I’m reminded that I was wrong. Love doesn’t come for everyone. Everything is so bright and overwhelming, and all of it reminds me that I’m alone, and the worst part is that I can't escape it.” Inigo breathed in and out shakily, trying to keep himself from crying again.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell you to make you feel better,” said Severa, “because I haven’t figured out how to make myself feel better about being in love with someone I can never have.” Inigo’s head snapped up to look at Severa in shock. Severa’s eyes were staring pointedly at the wall at her side, avoiding Inigo’s eyes. Fierce, stormy Severa had a soulmate who belonged with someone else?
Suddenly all the pieces clicked into place. Why would Severa go to check on Inigo when she could hardly stand a conversation with him? Lucina had asked for her help. Severa hadn't left his tent, despite Inigo's pitiful attempts to flirt with her, because she knew Lucina would have been upset.
“Have long have you been in love with Lucina?” asked Inigo softly. The glare that Severa shot him could have frozen Demon’s Ingle. Inigo put up his hands in defensive, murmuring an apology to avoid her wrath. Severa crossed her arms tightly and sighed heavily.
“I don’t know,” confessed Severa. “It’s been so many years, before we left for the past, before she left…” Severa swiped the unused handkerchief from Inigo’s lap and clutched it tightly in her hands. “I thought it was just some sick joke fate was playing on my family. A mother and a daughter falling for soulmates that will love someone else? What could be more twisted!” Severa laughed sardonically, causing Inigo to wince at the bitterness in her voice.
“Severa, your mother loves Robin…” said Inigo.
“Only because Chrom was already married,” Severa snorted. “She would have married Chrom in a heartbeat. My father has always been her second choice.” Inigo’s chest was tight with guilt. He knew that they played no part in their parents’ affairs, but it was still painful to hear about how much heartache Cordelia suffered for Chrom’s sake.
“But how do you know that’s the truth?”
“Everyone can see it,” Severa muttered. “I can’t ask her; I don’t want her to confirm that my father isn’t her soulmate. I don’t want to know that I’m the product of a last ditch chance for a relationship.” Severa bowed her head, raising her hands to her face. “Turns out we were both meant to fall in love with royals we could never have. Just my luck that the only thing I get from my mother is her lack of luck in love.” Inigo moved across the tent to wrap an arm around Severa’s shoulders, allowing her to cry against him. Severa halfheartedly threatened bodily harm to Inigo if he mentioned anything, especially to Lucina, and Inigo asked her to not to tell Lucina the reason for his distress.
“We could start a club, you know,” commented Inigo, “like how you tried to make the Snark and Bark Society with Brady, except it’ll be for wallowing in the sorrow of our broken hearts.” Although Severa punched Inigo’s arm at the suggestion, he knew that she’d end up taking him up on the offer. They couldn’t be certain about trusting anyone else with their secrets, and some situations were too painful to bear completely alone.
Inigo became a master at avoiding Gerome, not that it was a terribly hard task; Gerome was hardly the most social person. Severa was even more caustic to Gerome than anyone else – Inigo suspected she was doing it for his sake – which made spending time with Severa the perfect way to avoid Gerome.
Until the addition of Morgan, Yarne, Laurent, Noire, and Nah.
With five more recruits in the Shepherds, Robin announced that supplies were tight, and all tents must be occupied by two tenants. The parental generation was easy; married couples were placed into tents together, which took care of most of them.
“Listen up for your tent assignments,” announced Robin. The thirteen time travelers stood before Robin, the tactician holding a list in front of him. “The pairs for sharing tents are as follows: Cynthia and Owain.” Cynthia placed a kiss on Owain’s cheek, earning a groan from most of the other time travelers. Robin rolled his eyes good-naturedly before continuing. “Yarne and Laurent, Morgan and Nah, Severa and Lucina, Kjelle and Noire, Gerome and Inigo, and Brady will be on his own because his tent will double as a medical tent if needed.” Inigo looked over in Severa’s direction with barely concealed panic, but the redhead had already fled the scene, no doubt chasing after her father to demand a single tent.
Heavy with dread, Inigo shuffled back to his tent to begin moving his belongings to make room for Gerome. His safe haven had been ripped out of his hands; his only consolation was that no one had discovered the lake where Inigo went to practice his dancing. That spot quickly became his only refuge. Nearly every night, Inigo escaped to the lake on the edge of the forest to practice. He always hoped to return late enough to slip into the tent while Gerome was sleeping, but Gerome was rarely in the tent when he returned. On the rare occasion that Gerome was in their tent, he was still wearing his mask and made no move to acknowledge that Inigo had returned.
Inigo dropped to the ground and dug through his bag for the shoes that his mother had given him. He pulled off his clunky boots and slipped his feet into the soft dancing shoes. The dancer extended his legs and pressed his forehead to his leg to stretch the muscles. When he felt sufficiently stretched, he propped himself up onto one knee to begin the dance.
He rose gracefully, fingers stretching toward the night sky. His leg extended up, his toes pressed lightly against his knee as he spun around. Inigo channeled his emotions into the dance; all of his heartache over the situation with Gerome poured out into his movements.
His hand stretched outward, as if to caress someone’s face, before clenching his hand into a fist and pulling his hand back to his heart. Inigo turned sharply – too sharply, he made a note to work on that – before throwing his hand out toward the ground. He took a few steps to gain momentum before spinning in the air. His feet barely ghosted the ground in-between jumps. Upon landing his last jump, Inigo placed his weight onto his front leg, just barely bent, while his other leg slid back into a smooth, straight line. He reached one hand up toward the sky, as if trying to grab one of the stars, to finish the dance.
Out of breath, Inigo smiled to himself. He went to grab a skin of water from his bag when he heard the sharp sound of a twig snapping. Inigo grabbed his sword, previously propped up against a tree. He held the sword carefully, ready to strike if a Risen or bandits were lurking in the forest.
“Forgive the intrusion,” grumbled Gerome. “Minerva has long been captivated by your dances. We did not mean to disturb you.” Inigo’s face drained of all color. Not only had his dancing spot been discovered by the very person he was trying to avoid, but Gerome had been watching him dance for Naga knows how long. He couldn’t help but wish that it was a rogue Risen or bandit that had found him instead.
“Oh gods, you saw that,” moaned Inigo. “I looked absolutely dreadful, and you saw that. Please tell me you weren’t there the entire time.” Inigo cast a look at the lake behind him, tempted to jump in rather than face the humiliation of knowing that Gerome was watching him dance.
“Why do you belittle your talents?” Inigo looked at Gerome incredulously. That was the closest to a compliment he’d ever been given by the wyvern rider.
“Because the dance isn’t even close to done, my turns are too sharp,” Inigo rambled, “my jumps aren’t high enough, and I can barely land the—” Inigo fell silent when Gerome stepped closer to him. The dancer could feel his own heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. He looked up at Gerome, wondering if Gerome was looking at him from behind the mask.
“I…enjoy your dancing…” Gerome mumbled. Inigo swore his eyes were playing a trick on him; there was a hint of red on Gerome’s cheeks where the mask wasn’t covering his skin. “As does Minerva, of course,” he added hastily.
“O-oh…” Inigo whispered. “Well, please let Minerva know that she is always welcome to watch me practice, even if I look like a frightened chicken.” Inigo winced as he heard Minerva shriek indignantly, and he shot a pleading look at Gerome for a translation.
“She does not like that you insult your talents when she is so fond of your dancing,” Gerome explained. Inigo smiled and blushed, murmuring a shy thank you. The two boys stood awkwardly, Gerome tense and Inigo fidgeting. Inigo found his gaze drawn in by Gerome's mouth. Before he could stop himself, Inigo was rising onto his toes to press a kiss against Gerome's unmoving lips.
Inigo drew back in horror. He stumbled over an apology before rushing past Gerome and sprinting back to the camp. As the tents came into view, Inigo’s vision blurred with unshed tears. He couldn’t go back to his own tent. He couldn’t talk to Severa without telling his sister what was going on. His legs were ready to collapse when Inigo felt a hand touch his shoulder.
“Gods, Inigo, what’s wrong with ya?” Inigo turned around to see Brady staring at him with a concerned look on his face. Inigo opened his mouth to speak, but a sob racked his body instead. Brady’s concerned look quickly turned into one of distress; he mumbled that he was going to get one of their parents or Lucina when Inigo gripped onto his wrist tightly and shook his head.
“P-please, don’t tell anyone,” whispered Inigo. “Just l-let me stay with you for the night. I-I can’t…I can’t face him.” Brady’s brow furrowed in confusion, but he nodded nonetheless and led Inigo towards his own tent.
“Best thing ‘bout being better with a stave than a sword is that I got my own tent.” Brady’s idle chatter helped to distract Inigo from his own frenzied thoughts. Inigo’s breaths were slowly starting to even out. “’Course I gotta take people in when they’re hurt, but it ain’t so bad. S’not like I got a soulmate I should be bunkin’ with like Cynthia and Owain.” At the mention of the word soulmate, Inigo began shaking. Brady’s eyes widened in panic, and he quickly ushered Inigo inside his tent.
Inigo and Brady climbed into the tent without exchanging words, and Brady guided Inigo over to the spare cot set up in case of medical emergencies. Drawing his knees to his chest, Inigo stared blankly at the tent wall opposite him until a cup of tea was set in front of him.
“Drink up,” Brady ordered, “it’ll make ya feel better.” Inigo wrapped his hands around the cup and inhaled deeply. Gentle notes of lavender filled his senses. Brady stared impatiently at Inigo until the blue-haired boy finally took a sip of the tea.
An uncomfortable silence filled the tent. Inigo’s hands were still shaking, but Brady wasn’t pressing him for information. Instead, the priest made himself a cup of tea and sat down on his own cot.
“I kissed Gerome,” Inigo blurted out. Brady spit out the mouthful of tea he was drinking. Inigo threw a rag from his cot at Brady before diving into the story of finding out that Gerome was his soulmate - and then finding out he wasn’t Gerome’s. Throughout the tale, Brady’s expression remained sympathetic but not surprised.
Taking the empty cup from Inigo’s hands, Brady told the other boy to settle in for the night. He wasn’t so heartless that he would force Inigo back to the tent that he shared with Gerome. Inigo nodded gratefully before pulling the blankets around himself and curling up into a tight ball.
Inigo didn’t sleep at all that night.
After reluctantly telling Robin the story of everything that had happened, Inigo was granted permission to move into Brady’s tent. Severa retrieved Inigo’s belongings and offered no words about Gerome when she brought everything to Brady’s tent.
Although Severa, Brady, and now Robin knew about the drastic change in Inigo’s behavior, the rest of the camp did not. After a night of drinking himself into a stupor and trying his luck at bringing home a date, Inigo found himself cornered by his father with a promise to talk about his behavior in the morning.
“Get up,” Chrom ordered as he stood in Brady and Inigo’s tent. Brady, not being hungover, had been up and out of the tent for hours, which meant Inigo had no buffer. Inigo sat up in his cot and began picking at a thread-worn blanket while Chrom sat down at the edge of the cot.
“I understand why you’re here,” Inigo began, “and I must say that your dedication to my goal of becoming popular with all the girls in the era is commendable, Father. Alas, I was unfortunate last night, but I assure you that I will be successful tonight!” The words rang hollow to Inigo, but his goal was accomplished in getting his father distracted from the real issue at hand.
“Gods, enough, Inigo!” interrupted Chrom. “Be serious for once. Look at your sister; she’s so serious and driven. It wouldn’t hurt to be more like her.” Inigo flinched at the comparison. As Chrom continued to lecture Inigo about being more serious and being more like Lucina, Inigo couldn’t hold his tongue anymore.
“You don’t know a damned thing, Father,” Inigo growled. “Not a gods-damned thing. Do you think it was easy living in a world where you and Mother were gone? Do you think it was easy watching her die in front of me?!” Inigo was shaking now - from anger or from sorrow, he didn’t know - but he pressed on. “I was the one who buried her.” He could still feel the dirt underneath his fingernails and the weight of the rock that he used to mark her grave.
“Inigo, I…” Chrom trailed off.
“You can think that I’m some inane fool, but you don’t know anything about me. I’ve spent a lifetime learning how to convince everyone that I’m fine, that I’m not hurting. You’re right; I’m not Lucina. Lucina is the one who had to carry all our burdens. I wasn’t going to add to the weight on her shoulders then, and I’m not going to now.” Inigo’s anger slowly gave way to resignation. With Chrom between him and the opening of the tent, there was no way for him to leave the conversation.
“I had no idea…” said Chrom. He sighed deeply. “I’m sorry, Inigo. You don’t deserve the lecture that I gave you, and you don’t deserve to be compared to your sister. You’re different people, and you can’t be treated as if you’re the same.” Tears pricked at Inigo’s eyes, but he refused to cry in front of his father.
“No, I’m sorry too,” Inigo replied. He took a breath to steady himself. “I know how my behavior reflects on your army. I can’t expect that the role I played in the future would work the same here.” Inigo didn’t want to think past that statement. He had grown comfortable wearing his smile as a mask, and he wasn’t sure who he would be without it.
“I didn’t come here to scold you.” Chrom sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I came because I was- no, because I am worried about you. It’s not just about going to taverns and trying to find girls; you’ve become more reckless in battle. It’s like you don’t care about getting injured.” Inigo froze. He hadn’t expected anyone to notice.
Ever since the night he kissed Gerome, Inigo had thrown himself into every skirmish with reckless abandon. He had racked up more minor injuries in the brief amount of time since that night than he had during his time as a mercenary. In the very back of his mind, Inigo knew he was supposed to care, but he couldn’t bring himself to be able to care about himself.
With an insincere promise on his lips to take better care of himself, Inigo painted on a smile and left after his father to face the day.
The sound of metal crashing and clanging filled Valm Harbor. With Chrom leading the charge to aid the woman from Chon’sin, Inigo had been given the task of visiting the villagers and checking on their wellbeing. Although Inigo knew that ensuring that the villagers were safe was an important priority, he couldn’t help but bristle at the command. His father had never pulled him from battle before, but with the timing of their last conversation, Inigo knew that Chrom was trying to keep him away from combat.
After receiving a gold bullion from a villager with instructions to sell it for funds for the army, Inigo turned his sights on a Valmese knight. With his sword at the ready, he lunged toward the mounted soldier and hooked his sword into the curved heel of the axe. The axe was pulled from the knight’s grip, and the knight was quickly dispatched. Turning on his heel, Inigo was suddenly face-to-face with a general.
Before Inigo could raise his sword again, his vision blurred. He reached a hand down to his stomach and felt the lance protruding from his side. His sword clattered to the ground as his grip weakened. He could faintly hear the sounds of the battle raging around him, but he couldn’t make out any of the voices or what they were saying.
Inigo screamed as the lance was pulled out of his side, and his hands clutched weakly at the gaping wound. Collapsing to his knees, he closed his eyes and braced himself for what he knew would be the general’s final blow - but the hit never came. With bleary eyes, Inigo looked up at his savior: a scowling figure atop a wyvern.
“Heh,” Inigo coughed. “Saving me is becoming a habit of yours.” He attempted to reach out toward Gerome, but his limbs felt too heavy to move. Although Gerome’s lips were moving, Inigo heard nothing as his vision faded into complete darkness.
Inigo’s eyes opened to the familiar sight of Brady’s tent. He groped clumsily at his side and felt bandages wrapping around his abdomen. He had begun to sit up when Brady rushed over to his side and placed steady hands on his shoulders to guide him up.
“Hey, ya can’t be moving around just yet,” chided Brady. “No matter how good my ma is as a healer, ya still got too much damage to be running around.” Inigo was about to reply when he realized that he and Brady weren’t alone in their tent; Gerome stood in the corner with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.
Inigo shot a panicked look at Brady, who gestured helplessly and muttered under his breath about how stubborn Gerome was. Brady was caught in the middle of their pointed silence; Inigo had developed a sudden, intense interest in the blanket lying across his lap, and Gerome was unreadable beneath his mask as usual.
“Look, ya two gotta talk,” Brady declared with surprising force. “I’ll give ya some privacy for that, but don’t go gettin’ all riled up and hurtin’ yourself. And, Gerome, don’t get him all upset now neither.” With a parting remark that he would be spending the afternoon with Yarne, Brady exited the tent and left the two boys alone.
Seconds ticked by in a maddening silence. With nowhere to go and Gerome making no movement to leave, Inigo felt trapped. He chanced a glance up at Gerome, but he quickly looked away upon seeing the other boy’s scowl.
“Gerome, than-”
“Don’t.” Gerome interrupted Inigo harshly. “Don’t you dare try to thank me after you nearly got yourself killed. You can’t smooth talk your way out of this. For weeks, you have neglected the most basic precautions toward your own safety, and I will not always be around to save you from an enemy you should’ve been able to take down on your own.”
“I get it, Gerome,” Inigo yelled in reply. “I get that you hate me and that you hate being responsible for me, but I never asked for you to save me. I can handle myself fine on my own.” If he were physically able to, Inigo would have turned away from Gerome, but with his injuries, he had to settle for simply glaring at the other boy instead.
“You almost died, Inigo.” Gerome’s voice cracked. “I can accept you kissing me out of pity, I can accept you avoiding me because you regretted it, but I cannot accept you dying.” Inigo’s eyes widened, and he instinctively reached for Gerome before flinching in pain. As Gerome drew closer to inspect if the blue-haired boy had hurt himself, Inigo latched onto Gerome’s hand.
“What do you mean, ‘I kissed you out of pity’?” asked Inigo urgently. Gerome looked pained.
“I…” Gerome hesitated. “You avoided me after kissing me by the lake. I knew that you must have realized that you are my soulmate, but I am not yours. You kissed me out of pity, but then you regretted it.” Inigo’s grip tightened on Gerome’s fingers, but he dared not interrupt. “I do not need your pity. I have accepted that soul bonds are not written in the stars, and that my destiny is not intertwined with yours.”
Inigo swallowed hard. All the words that he wanted to say were caught in his throat. Heart hammering, he pulled Gerome closer to him and wrapped his free hand around the back of Gerome’s neck. He drew Gerome into a soft kiss before resting his forehead against the cool metal of Gerome’s mask.
“This has nothing to do with pity,” Inigo whispered against Gerome’s lips, “and everything to do with the fact that my world became brighter the day we were reunited.” Inigo briefly saw the subtle change in Gerome’s expression before the taller boy captured his lips in another kiss. Ignoring the flash of pain from drawing himself closer to Gerome, Inigo held tightly to Gerome as the kiss deepened.
When they broke apart for air, Inigo reached around to pull the strings holding Gerome’s mask in place. He laid the mask down gingerly before running his fingers over Gerome’s face reverently.
“Your eyes are brown,” murmured Inigo as he pushed a straw lock of hair out of Gerome’s face, “just like your hair.” Gerome threaded his fingers through Inigo’s and held tightly to his hand.
“I’m sorry.” Gerome apologized. “I made assumptions about your intentions. And worse, I made these assumptions about you after lying to you. I have known you were my soulmate for years, but I lied to you when we were reunited to keep you at a distance and protect myself.”
“We’ve both made a lot of mistakes,” Inigo admitted, “but that conversation is for another day. I might be a foolish, frivolous man, but I need someone like you. I have never once said this while meaning it, but you are the only one for me.” Inigo laid back down gingerly, but he kept his hand still holding Gerome’s.
“Knowing that my feelings are requited is…new to me, but I want you to know that I’ll be by your side now and always.” As Inigo began to drift off to sleep, he didn’t need to ask Gerome to stay; he knew that Gerome would still be there when he woke up.
Inigo didn’t need the stars to tell him that Gerome was his destiny; the steady beating of his heart was the only proof that he needed.