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“Mhmmmmmmm…” the woman moaned, shivering as she drew her cloak around herself tighter. The mage blinked, wondering when her clothes had gotten so warm. Had she enchanted them with a heating spell and just forgotten about it?
Unless… ah, that was right wasn’t it? She had something a little better than several layers of cloak, actually. Ferox was bitterly cold, but even that had its benefits.
Prying herself from the Grandmaster’s grip, Tharja snorted at Robin’s loud snoring. The silver-haired woman was doing her best impression of one of Plegia’s wyverns, and looked utterly at peace.
“Oh, someone’s tired,” Tharja said, debating if she should even rouse Robin at all. After all, she made such an adorable sight. “Maybe I’ll let you have your beauty sleep. Now that the war’s over, you’ve got a lot of that to catch up on.”
Still, she thought with a sigh, even if Ylisse wasn’t currently at war that didn’t mean a Grandmaster’s work was never done. Even in the colder part of the continent, there were always bandits to worry about.
Not exactly a story to be sung in the hall of heroes, but Tharja had a sneaking suspicion that Khan Flavia just wanted an excuse to talk to her beloved. She tried to suppress the jealousy, Robin was hers damnit! Nor did she intend on ever sharing!
She remembered that bumbling confession from the Khan, even if she’d laughed it off at the time as just seeing Robin as a sister. Yeah, just a sister. Right… Only that.
“I want the strawberry ice cream…” Robin mumbled in her sleep, grasping at her with gloved hands and trying to pull her back to bed.
Oh, how Tharja wished she could ‘object’ to that. But there was being fashionably late and just plain late. And when a Khan called for you, well you answered.
Tharja chuckled “Spawn of the Fell Dragon, and lover of ice cream. I’m quivering in my boots here…”
She shivered a bit, walking to the fireplace. Outside, the wind whistled through the pine trees, icy branches collecting snow.
Tossing an extra log into the fire, she grabbed some heavier woolen robes and pulled them on. The sun had decided to hide away, the steppes blasted with cold winds. Beneath the hearth in the center of the room, embers crackled matching the warm oranges and reds of the room. It was far too ‘sunny’ for Tharja’s personal tastes, the inside of the yurt more to Feroxian stylings.
“Ah, the lovely long dark…” the mage mused. “Is it after dusk, or near dawn? Who can say, heeee…?”
Still, better than the burning desert sun of her homeland. Meant she didn’t have to wear that skimpy outfit either! She was well aware that her dear Robin, and everyone else found her attractive. It was a disturbing revelation, to say the least.
“Absolutely frigid, and it requires me to bundle up,” Tharja said to herself. “Yes, Robin doesn’t get a free show and worship me like she always should but… oh well! Sacrifices, sacrifices.”
She felt her slightly swollen belly, and gave a soft little smile. For a moment, she remembered her daughter, standing tall and proud against the Valmese army. Then, she remembered her shivering in terror every time she approached.
“Not this time,” she promised, rubbing her belly. “Your mother, in that future, was a very bad girl.”
Her sanity was, well okay, it’d always been in question. Losing her com… no, her friends one by one? Well, Tharja could understand how she might have snapped.
“Can’t believe I have friends,” she said. “Ugh, how’d that even happen?”
“Simple,” Robin said as she stirred. “They grow on you.”
“Yeah, like mold,” Tharja replied in deadpan. “It’s infuriating.”
Slowly rising from the covers, the woman shivered. Robin wrapped her arms around her wife, burying her head in Tharja’s shoulder. Her voice slightly muffled, she said: “I hate the cold, you’re free to hex Chrom the moment you get a chance for volunteering us for this.”
“I thought you discouraged my tendencies? Called them bad habits I had to break?” Tharja said, with a chuckle.
“Yeah, told you to reserve them for the enemy,” Robin said, gripping her a little bit tighter. “Right now, Chrom’s the enemy.”
“Oh, trouble in paradise?” Tharja snarked back. “I thought the Exalt’s other half would never leave his side.”
“I always hate that title, it makes me sound like I’m married to the man,” Robin said, her head raising in alarm and her nose wrinkling at the possibility.
“Oh well, rumor says…”
“Don’t get me started on those rumors, Lucina was convinced Chrom was cheating on his wife with me!” her wife replied. “With me, when my love of the fairer sex is well known!”
“Yes, they are silly rumors aren’t they, heeeee…” Tharja said with another dark little chuckle. “It’s like they all forget just
who
you’re actually married to.”
“I’m brave, not stupid,” Robin said. “I actually want to live to old age. And cheating on you, would never be a sound strategy.”
“You’d be begging for death,” Tharja said, with a grin before kissing her wife. “Dearest Robin, if you ever completely take leave of your senses…”
“I know, I know, no force on this earth would ever be able to save me from you,” Robin said, returning the kiss. “Good thing you’ll never have to worry about that.”
“Even with Flavia?” Tharja said, jokingly. “I understand women like her are considered attractive by anyone with eyes.”
“Is she?” Robin said, acting confused. “I must be blind.”
“Because I won’t let you see anyone else but me,” Tharja said, walking around her like a lioness circling her prey. “Embrace the dark, call it home, because you’ll
never
escape…”
“Oh, how terrible,” Robin said, leaning her head back onto the other mage’s shoulder. “I feel like I’m suffering the ‘worst’ fate imaginable.”
“Yes, you’re so doomed,” Tharja said, holding her wife close as the fire crackled and the snow gently fell outside. “Better write your epitaph, and your will in advance.”
“Well, I already know I’m going to leave everything to you, even my spellbooks.”
“You know me so well, my little Plegian bookworm,” Tharja said. “It’s almost like I’ve cast a spell on you, with how in tune you are to my desires.”
Robin just snorted, burying her head back into her wife’s shoulder.
“Naga above, you’re pathetic…” said wife muttered, albeit only half-heartedly.
Robin then started kissing her beloveds’ shoulder, circling back around as she made her way down her neck. Lavishing a little extra attention to her breasts, she made her way down to Tharja’s stomach. Which, of course, much to her delight, Robin gave a little extra attention to. “Hello little ones, this is your mom talking. I just wanted to pop in, to say how much I love you.”
Tharja tried to fight it, before mentally swearing to curse herself if she did it. A few seconds later, she gave up trying to hold it back, letting out a cute giggle. Not one of her usual creepy ones, but an adorable giggle. She wasn’t cute! She certainly wasn’t adorable!
Robin laughed as she raised herself back up to wrap her arms around her neck. Flicking a stand of Tharja’s black hair aside, she smirked before saying: “So much for being the mistress of the dark arts. I think we should get you a nice cute pink robe, and trade in your spell books for some healing staves. Start calling you the giggling healer.”
Tharja groaned, flicking Robin away with a finger to the forehead. “That's it, I'm hexing you for that and getting a divorce. In fact just to be safe, I’ll hex this entire nation so nobody ever has to hear that.”
Robin just laughed more -the hyena- then shivered a bit again as she sat down closer to the fire. “Why don't you make us some hot coco and then we can curl up by the fire?”
“You’re greedy tonight, you snuggled me to sleep all night,” Tharja said. “You wanting to test your luck tonight, or something?”
“I consider myself the luckiest woman in the world, love,” Robin said, with that serene sort of smile that made Tharja fall in love with her all over again. “And you can take that statement to the bank!”
“Mhmmm, I’ll hold you to that,” Tharja said, turning on her heel towards the small yurt’s kitchen on the eastern side of the structure. The hostess’ side, traditionally. She’d never considered herself a traditionally feminine woman, not like the high princess did. Modern-day fashion choices and ‘seasons’ escaped her no matter how much Maribelle tried to explain it to her.
“Don’t you ever dare go back on it.”
“I would never!” Robin called after her.
Tharja smiled and then returned a few moments later, coming out with a pan, some milk and ground up chocolate that Anna had sold her. The Secret Seller was nothing if not honest, despite being a little money hungry. She’d said the instructions were simple enough to follow, that even that dolt Valke could follow them!
“Okay, some hot coco moo coming right up,” Tharja said, pouring milk into the pan, before holding it over the fire.
“Hot coco moo…” Robin said, giggling.
“Oh, yuck it up. That’s what Anna had called it,” Tharja said. “Had a little girl with her, actually.”
“I didn’t know she was married,” Robin said.
“I don’t think that was her daughter…” Tharja replied. “...then again, with how weird that family is, maybe it was. Was an adorable little girl though, insisted on being treated as an adult. Had an axe with her, and was selling firewood by the wagon. A true future businesswoman in the making.”
“You, calling someone adorable?” Robin said. “Well, she must have been cute then, if even you’re willing to comment on it.”
“Coco moo is the right name for it though.”
“You sure Anna wasn’t just pulling your leg?”
“I’m sure, that’s what mom called it…” Tharja said, pausing to look back up at her. A sad little expression crossed her face, before she got rid of it. What use was there in being sad about it? Everyone died eventually, just some people sooner than others.
“You never talk about…”
“Yes, well, it’s hard to talk about a woman who barely pretended you existed half of the time. Yet another thing the Grimleal took from me,” Tharja said, not particularly caring to dwell on it. “I’ve made sure they’ve paid for it, a thousandfold.”
Robin smiled, getting up to kiss her cheek. “It’s cute, I like it.”
“I’m warning you,” Tharja said, again only half-heartedly, her usually pale face aflame with scarlet hues. “I will hex you! Don’t push your luck!”
“You can’t deny it, love. You can be pretty cute at times,” Robin insisted.
“Oh shut up,” Tharja said. “Before I sew your mouth shut for you.”
“Mhmmm, kinky,” Robin teased. “I’d be down for it. By the way, I think the milk is hot enough.”
Tharja looked and saw it was starting to boil. She pulled it back then dumped the packets of chocolate in, stirring them.
She stopped, and groaned. “I forgot the cups…”
“I’ll get them.” Robin said. “Consider it a payment for laughing at you earlier.”
“Oh trust me, you’ve only just started paying…” Tharja drawled, her voice promising further reclamations.
So she hadn’t quite been expecting to marry Grima’s spawn. Actually, if she was being perfectly honest, she hadn’t expected to see her twenties. Yet, here she was, having lived through several wars and for bonus irony points, wedded to Grima’s re-incarnation.
Not just wedded to, having two children with if the future was any indication. She hadn’t seen any sign of Morgan yet, though if she had her way… well, she was sure to come too!
Nobody had been more surprised than Robin when she’d insisted on having children. Maybe she owed it to Noire for saving her life several times on the battlefield. That… or she wanted a second chance with her daughter.
Daughter… She tested the word on her tongue, liking the way it sounded. Having seen what Noire could become if she wasn’t careful, Tharja wanted to make sure history didn’t repeat itself.
She hadn’t seen Noire since the war ended, not that Tharja could exactly blame the teenager for staying far away from whatever continent she was on.
“I’m sorry…” she said, stroking her belly again. “I made a terrible parent for you, the first time around. You deserve reparations, the both of you. I broke you, so it’s only right I make sure you both are happy this time. No child should ever be afraid of their parent. And I terrified the two of you.”
She looked at herself in the window, wondering what kind of monster her future self had become. The rare few conversations she’d shared with Noire made her in no real hurry to meet her.
“Simply inexcusable behavior,” Tharja said to herself before looking down at her belly. “Which I will care not to repeat with you.”
She promised her that. And Tharja actually intended on keeping her promises. …must have been her wife, Naga above she was actually starting to become a good person!
“Horrifying,” she said, to a daughter she knew couldn’t hear her. “Isn’t it?”
------
“Wonderful,” Tharja said, taking a sip of the concoction. “As much as I hate to admit it, this is a good recipe. That’s good coco moo.”
“Anna always sells you exactly what you need,” Robin said, taking a sip of her own. “Even if she’s only out to make a quick buck doing it.”
“Well, an honest saleswoman keeps her customers coming back,” Tharja said. “It’s just good business. She threw in the recipe for free, after I bought several pairs of long underwear from her. Not sure I wanna know how she knew my size.”
“She knows mine as well,” Robin said. “She knows everyone’s in the army. It’s just good business, as you said.”
“You’re not concerned?”
“I try not to think about it,” Robin admitted. “But, on the other hand… You look wonderful in anything you wear, very comfy actually.”
“You’re just buttering me up,” Tharja said. “Look at me, I feel like I’m wearing a sock over my whole body.”
“If you want, I can slide it off you and we can cuddle skin-to-skin. I’m sure that’ll be super warm,” Robin said, taking another sip as her eyes raked up and down Tharja’s body.
“Pervert,” her wife replied. “You’re shameless.”
“Mhmmm, well I just think of enjoying a good thing while I have it.”
“You make it sound so temporary,” Tharja said, with another dark little laugh. “Face it love, you’re stuck with me no matter where you go. In this world, and the next.”
“I didn’t know you were such a sap,” Robin said, with a warm gentle smile. “You’re actually pretty smooth.”
“Actually, I was just making you a promise,” Tharja returned. “You can run, but you can’t hide from me forever. No matter who you become.”
“Ooooh, you’re making me quiver,” Robin said. “C’mere, let’s warm up.”
Tharja settled into her natural place at the other woman’s side, bundled up under the blankets. Leaning over, resting her head on the tactician’s shoulder, she felt weirdly at peace. Somehow, that conqueror had managed to do the one thing she’d always thought impossible. Conquer her heart.
She really was a master tactician, if she’d pulled even that off. Oh well, nothing she could do about it now. Especially since she was now with child, thanks to Robin’s machinations. Lovely, she thought.
“It’s not so cold, is it?” Tharja said, straddling the other woman. “Must be your dragon blood.”
“Actually, I think the cold’s scared of you,” Robin teased, kissing her forehead and then moving down to her lips. Midway through the conversation, they’d switched to their original Plegian mother tongue.
If she didn’t know better, she would never have guessed her wife’s ethnicity. She didn’t even have an accent when speaking the language, no clear giveaway that she was Plegian by birth.
It came to her, as easily everything else did, apparently. Of course, there was a reason why Robin was so naturally gifted…
“Scared of moi?” Tharja asked, hand over her blackened, shriveled heart. “You sure old Jack Frost isn’t scared of you, dragonspawn? You can melt him with a single Arcfire!”
“You want me to launch a war on him too?”
“Well, since you suggested it…” Tharja drawled, the two sharing a laugh.
“Mhmmm, I’ll keep it in mind,” Robin said, letting Tharja adjust so she was sitting in her lap. Once again, Tharja’s head found its natural place on Robin’s shoulder.
“Ooooh, you are warm…” the dark mage said, with a cackle of fiendish delight. “Your blood’s running hot tonight. I wonder, do I have anything to do with that?”
“You might.”
“I’m envious,” Tharja said. “You must never grow cold. Aha! I think I’ve worked out your genius plan. You faked being cold, so you could lure me to your side! Ingenious, and equally diabolical.”
“Oh, I wish!” Robin said with another snort. “Thanks for giving me the idea though.”
“Oh, my poor Robin…” Tharja hummed. “You can fight off entire armies, yet you can’t fight the chill. Your father must be proud.”
“I bet,” Robin said. “Since I killed him.”
“In a weird way, he probably approved of that. Given you showed you were the one person in the whole world who was stronger than him,” Tharja said, playing with one of Robin’s pigtails.
“Well, he can keep his approval. I wasn’t looking for it,” Robin said. “Bet it’d be hard for him to give me a hug, being he was a huge dragon and all.”
“I’m not sure Grima even knew what a hug was,” Tharja said. “Pretty sure he’d have a heart attack the moment he tried.”
“Damn, we should have asked him to hug me if that was all it would have taken,” Robin laughed. “Who knew it’d be so easy to lay low the Fell Dragon with just fatherly affection!”
“I’m happy… You know,” Tharja said, her arms around her, tightening her grip possessively. “That you came back to me.”
“Well, you said it yourself. I’m stuck with you,” Robin said. “In this world, and the next. You’d probably pull me out of hell if you had to.”
“That, or join you and we could conquer it together,” Tharja joked. “Make everyone slaves to our every whim!”
“Oh, you definitely could pull that off.”
“Of course I could,” Tharja replied, with an adoring look. “I’ve got the kingdom’s best tactician!”
Robin smiled then gently pulled Tharja towards the bed and down into the sheets. The woman purred, as ever the conquering hero could have whatever she wanted with just the right amount of diplomacy. With another giggle, Tharja worked her wicked magic on the buttons of her wife’s tunic, snapping them off one by one. Seal fat had been slathered all over any exposed skin areas, to help protect against the cold. With a pop, one flew free of the fabric just as there was a knock from outside.
She groaned, and not the kind of groan she’d been hoping to be making in a few minutes.
“Leave them, whoever it is can just freeze!” Tharja said, irritably.
“You know we can’t do that,” Robin said, with her wife deciding what was the best jinx to use on this interloper.
“Fine… You’re way too nice for your own good, I really hate that about you sometimes,” Tharja said, going towards the door.
“Sure you do,” Robin teased, with the other woman simply giving her a rude gesture in response.
Whatever she had to say next, Tharja found the words dying in her throat as she opened the tent flap. Behind it, Noire, already showing signs of developing frostbite.
“Oh…” the dark mage said, leading her daughter inside towards the crackling fire. “Oh, this won’t do. Inside, so I can kill you first!”
“I… I need to find… I gotta get warm, then find my moms…” Noire said, clearly not even aware of where she was.
“Robin, quickly, find the hot water,” Tharja said, pulling her daughter closer, letting her wayward future child soak in her body heat. To Noire, she said: “You’re way too far from home, daughter of mine. You should be back in Ylisse, where you’re safe. Miles from me.”
Tharja, still cursing the bane of her existence, dragged her daughter next to the hearth. Quickly taking off her soaked clothes, the mage threw a spare blanket over her daughter. Hanging the woolen, furred robes near the hearth, Tharja tenderly brushed a stray strand of hair out of Noire’s face with a gloved hand.
Robin, having not even asked why their daughter was here, returned with a pot of water.
“Arcfire,” she said, casting the fire spell and quickly bringing the water to a boil.
“Here, help me get her into the chair,” Tharja said, pulling her daughter up into the chair. Glaring slightly at the girl, she got a good look at her face and not for the first time she noted how much Noire looked like Robin. It was… distressing to say the least.
Oh, to think her future self had dared hurt this girl. Her future self had a lot to answer for, and Tharja hoped she’d help pull those answers out of her. Just thinking of her future self, seeing her wife’s face every day in her daughter… Tharja growled, it made things even worse. Her future self, every morning, had the last living link to her love and chose to hurt her.
“Vile,” Tharja said. “Irrefutably vile.”
Noire flinched, and Tharja was quick to reassure her.
“Not you,” she said, without even a second thought. “Never you.”
“You… Mom?” Noire said, hesitantly. “You… I thought you didn’t…”
“Care?” Tharja said, looking utterly revolted. “I’m only providing aid to a fellow member of the Shepherds, nothing more and nothing less. Don’t read anything further into it.”
Robin arched an eyebrow behind her.
“Ignore her, she thinks she’s going to turn me into a good person. What I was going to say…” Tharja said, sucking in a breath. “Would you like some coco moo?”
Tharja mentally slapped herself, that was not what she’d meant to say it all! She was supposed to be lecturing her idiot daughter for going out in a blizzard!
Noire blinked, tearing up. “You… you’ve never asked me that before, mama. At least, not since… You… What’s the catch?”
Tharja saw the tears, quickly wiping them away from her daughter’s face. “Please, don’t cry, because then I’ll cry and I don’t have enough tissues to go around. No catch, I’m not plotting anything. Going once, going twice…”
“No!” Noire said, and it was Noire, not her alter. “It’s just that… well, coco moo’s one of the few happy memories I have with you before… everything changed.
Tharja smiled what she hoped was a reassuring one, pouring some milk in the pan and heating it up. The two sat quietly for a bit before the mage decided to get to the matter. “So…”
“Yeah, uh, yeah, I messed up mama…”
“Messed up? Messing up is breaking a plate,” Tharja said. “Messing up is turning a rat into a worm with an improperly cast hex. This was you nearly killing yourself, you stupid little girl!”
She lowered her voice, reminding herself she was dealing with a very traumatized teenager.
“You survived Grima, and I’m not letting the elements take you away from me,” Tharja said, softly, but sternly. “So do you want to enlighten me on what you were thinking or do I have to puzzle it out for myself?”
Noire smiled sadly, as she said: “I… I was visiting the Longfort and had wanted t-to m-maybe make peace with you. Th-Then I heard you were with child and knew what that meant. That I’d…”
Tharja nodded. “I suppose this is… difficult for you. I imagine you’re hoping to seize yourself from my arms the moment you’re born. So what then? Raising a child isn’t something you just jump into.”
“No, I’m… I wasn’t planning on doing that,” Noire shook her head. “Yes, it’s difficult for me, knowing what I went through. But… It made me realize something. I-It made me r-realize I had to make peace with you now. Or I never would.”
Tharja blinked, before reminding herself that Lucina didn’t just vanish after her birth. As strange as it was, there were two of the future Lord of Ylisse in the world now. Two of her sister, Cynthia as well as of last week.
“You should kill me, it’ll probably save you a world of grief,” Tharja said. “Can’t screw up twice, can I? I’m not suicidal, just coldly logical.”
“I COULD NEVER!” Noire shouted. “Please… J-Just listen!”
Tharja, falling silent, realized it was Noire speaking. Not her alter. It was the original personality that was speaking, instead of the one she’d created to feel safe, protected. She couldn't stop herself, smiling in pride. Look at how she was growing up.
Noire took a deep breath and steeled herself. “I won't lie, I do hate you on some level. So does my other self, but… we don’t hate you. Just the monster you turned into. You’re not her, you’re a Shepherd, a hero.”
Tharja tries to speak, to sputter out a denial about being a hero but Noire just kept going.
“And I had been planning this for a while, all of us from the future have. We need to form our own lives here in this time but we are all about to be born or have been born. Our parents have to take care of those from this time period,” Noire said, starting to cry. “I just… I just came to say that I want you to raise the me you're about to have with the love I know you wish you could have in my timeline.”
Tharja trembled, and oh… was she crying too? Leaning forward, she gently embraced Noire.
“I'll try,” she said. “I can't promise I'll succeed, but I’ll try.”
Robin who had been silently watching up till now, walked over and hugged them both. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. If Grima himself couldn’t kill me, then what will?”
Noire let out a giggle, and actually smiled. It was probably the second most beautiful thing that Tharja had ever seen.
“So… care to explain how you wound up here, then?” Tharja said before she sighed. “No, wait, don’t tell me. If you’re anything like me, you’re narrow-minded and single-focused on your goals. Respectable, but I see you inherited your mothers recklessness as well.”
“Hey!”
“Well, what else would you call walking up to Grima’s avatar and plunging a sword into his gut?” Tharja jabbed at her.
Noire laughed again, and despite the bitterly cold Feroxian winter outside… All was well.
Tharja was the last to retire to bed that night, and she smiled as she gently tucked Noire in. The girl was wrapped tightly around her other mother. Sure, this meant Tharja would have to give up her favorite spot but… she just didn’t have the heart to move her.
“Home…” she said to herself. “I never knew what it meant, until now…”
Leaning in, she kissed Noire and Robin’s heads, her lips lingering a little longer on her wife’s forehead.
“Can’t say I mind…”
fin