A/N: I wrote this for garmmy on tumblr, who did a pinch hit for the holiday exchange I ran, Nagamas. I haven't written much in Jugdral so I hope this is all right. It was hard to get a handle on Altena's voice especially, but I'm so fond of this family in general.

I decided to use the Awakening translations of names, mostly because "Leif" is a better name than "Leaf" by far and I wanted them to match up. Also, the height detail here is incorrect according to scans from the Treasure artbook, but I like it anyway and I'm too lazy to go back and edit the scene.

Things Passed On

It was so much easier to approach Leif on the battlefield as an enemy. That, at least, Altena had trained for. Nothing exactly could train her for this.

Something about Leif sitting alone, tending to his sword, is surreal. Altena had expected that she might start to see something familiar about him, that perhaps being around him might dredge up some more of tht long-buried knowledge she'd never known she'd had. She lingers at the threshhold of his room, watching him run a cloth over the blade of his sword.

Had her father – no, had Travant not confirmed it, she's not sure she'd believe it at all.

"Do you have a moment, Prince Leif?"

She regrets the prince immediately. It isn't like she ever called Areone prince, and Leif is more her brother than Areone, isn't he? And that thought is immediately a slap in the face, one she doesn't care to dwell on just yet.

Leif smiles when he sees her and nods. Altena forces herself not to look away, though she's still not sure what it is that smile reminds her of exactly.

"Come sit with me."

Even when she sits by his side, she's nearly a head taller than him. His ungloved hands seem almost delicate, strangely small next to her own.

"I'm glad you joined us," he says, almost shyly. "Finn told me I had a sister, but I always thought…"

"He told me he assumed me dead. Is that right?"

Leif's nod at that is less enthusiastic. "Everyone did. I wasn't old enough to remember it, but… I always heard, when my – when our parents left, they took you with them. So, then…." He looks away at her and down to the mud-streaked toes of his white boots, letting the blade rest in his lap. "I feel as if I ought to have known, somehow."

"That's nonsense. You couldn't know." Altena should have known, of course. Her words sound like a scolding, the one she means for herself.

She expects Leif to flinch. He doesn't; instead, he pushes the hilt of the sword gently into her hands and lets go.

"This was my— our— mother's. You should have it."

A fine lot of good this sword did her mother, Altena can't help but think. She's tried not to think the same of the Gae Bolg, but somehow this weapon is even sadder. The delicate gold weave lacing up its blade and the gems set in its grip seem more suited to ceremony than battle, but the color of the cloth Leif's still gripping tells her otherwise.

"I… I can't take this from you."

Leif shakes his head."No, no. You're older than me. And… and Finn says you can remember them a little, right? I'm sure she'd want you to have it." Somehow he's smiling as he says that, and somehow Altena thinks it must be her mother's smile.

She pushes the sword back to him, not even daring to hold it in her hands for a moment. "Don't say that. You can't know that, either."

He looks back down to the blade, neither picking it up nor pushing it back to her, and doesn't say a word. His silence is thick in the air – Altena can't help but try to break it.

"And I already have something of our parents'. Remember?"

Leif does flinch at that. "Of course," he mumbles, shrinking away from her.

"I didn't mean it like that – "

Leif keeps his gaze fixed down at the sword as he carefully sheathes it, treating it more like a treasure than a weapon. "It's all right. I don't remember anything about them, so… it isn't like I can really miss them, is it?"

It seems almost like an accusation, as if he means to say I can't miss them like you can. Altena has to force herself not to snap at him, to say at least you always knew who they were. She knew her parents in sneers and insults at most, dead strangers divorced from her entirely, not warm stories from someone who'd known them, really.

"You can still miss them, I think. And I don't remember much. I was small, Sir Finn said?"

"Small enough that Mother could still carry you in her arms, he told me. Small enough that you barely reached his knee." It sounds like a recital, something Leif's heard time and time again. How many times must he have asked for stories of his parents? How many times has he heard them?

"After this is all done, Prince… Brother. I could tell you all I remember. And you… could you share your stories with me?"

Leif finally looks at her, really lingering there, not darting his gaze away after a moment, and slowly smiles. "I'd like that," he says – but then, strangely serious, adds, "Don't die before then."

If anyone's in danger of dying, it's him: so small, so fragile, armed only with a plain magic sword against the force of the gods themselves. Any of their foes could crush him in a second, easily, without even a thought.

Altena doesn't say that. She's sure he knows.

"I'll stay safe for your sake, then. And you, stay safe for mine."