The Shadows of the Past
Prologue
Marge stared out the window, seeing the first streaks of dawn peering over the mountains, bringing with it the promise of a beautiful new day. She sat quietly on her old chair, the one she had grown to love over the years. It had been so long since loving hands had built its solid structure, carved it with slow care, and made it so elegant in every detail. It had been built specifically for her, its every carving meant to remind her of all she thought was beautiful. It remained one of her most prized worldly possessions to this day. But Marge was a woman of calm, levelheaded resolve, and she was not usually so sentimental. However, this was different.
She had never told Crono about how she had gotten it. Every time he began to ask, she deftly changed the subject, averting her eyes so that he could not see the pain in them. She honestly didn't know how she had kept it from him for so long. He wasn't a slow child—he never had been. Maybe that's why he never asked. Maybe he had guessed the truth, but thought it would be too painful for her to relate it. He might have been right.
Marge wasn't sure. Her son had changed much since his journey through time (which she had a little experience with herself) but she knew that despite all that had changed, he still remained very much who he was. The quiet, smiling, morning-hating, food-scarfing, competitive person he had always been. And now he had grown up. It hardly seemed two years since Crono first took off on his adventure, but the time had passed, and it seemed all too quickly for Marge. For by the end of the week, he was going to marry a Princess of Guardia.
Though Marge thought 18 was still a little young, he had made his decision, and with the king's approval already given, there was no point in trying to sway him. And besides, she had married little later than that age herself, and she could not see a better match for her son than Nadia. With her courage, strong will, and happy personality, Marge would gladly have the princess for a daughter-in-law. Her son becoming Prince Regent wasn't half bad either.
But it was these thoughts that had led her to go and sit in the old chair, to think on what should be done. Still she wondered; should she tell him? Should he learn what she had been trying to hide from him almost ever since he was born? She cleared her thoughts. Marge knew she had to tell Crono; she'd known it for a long time. And the time was right. It must be now.
She looked down again at the old chair, fashioned by the love of her life, her husband. Marge never ceased to be amazed at how much her son resembled his father. The spiky red hair, the solid arched eyebrows, the mischievous grin that told her he was in trouble again. How, when matters became serious, both father and son would take command, and fight for what they thought was right, no matter the personal risk.
That was it. Marge had decided. Before the sun set on the day before his wedding, she would tell all. She would tell the sad story of her lost love, of how he never got to raise the son that bore his face. She only hoped he would forgive her for having waited for so long. She could only hope she could be reconciled with the shadows of the past.