"Something's wrong." Owain murmured just outside her doorframe, lacking any trace of his usual bravado. The echoes of Lucina's lingering drowsiness gained by her attempts to 'unwind', as Robin said, during her stay amongst the Order of Heroes immediately faded.
It was an innate sense for something all the future children shared - that tension in the air, the chill before an oncoming storm. It had kept them alive, in their dire future. With a brief nod, Owain continued down through their wing of the Askrian castle, seeking the others who had arrived in Zenith - Gerome, Inigo, Noire, Severa. None of them were from the same worlds, but Lucina took comfort in the fact that their bonds transcended space and time alike.
Her own mission came to a close as she pushed open the doors of the mess hall, pacing towards the sparsely-populated set of tables the heroes of Ylisse normally commandeered. Thankfully, the two she was seeking had both already arrived.
Robin noticed it first. She could see it in the way his eyes narrowed, taking in the stiffness of her shoulders, the thin line of her mouth, her brisk pace - steady and collected, yet too swift to be leisurely. She briefly wondered if these were things the Grandmaster noticed in everyone, or if he was simply so in-tune to the Shepherds mannerisms at this point. He raised an eyebrow, and Lucina did her best to meet his gaze with a faint smile. Her friend nodded, seemingly content not to press the issue just yet.
Of course, her father was not far behind. "Lucina?" he questioned, resting a hand on her shoulder as she sat down next to the pair. "Everything alright?"
Lucina shook her head slightly, though a small part of her wished to sweep away his concern and uncover what that mouth-watering aroma was coming from. "Something's wrong." she echoed.
The trio exchanged a look. They had all seen enough together to know not to dismiss instinct. The last time that had happened... Lucina had allowed Basilio to march to his death. Knowing them they'd never even briefly consider her responsible, but no matter how much time passed in Askr, the wound still felt fresh.
Father had called it "some sort of miracle" that they had all ended up summoned here, all from the same world. They hadn't arrived at the same time - her father had come shortly after her, and Robin not until months later - but they were from the same time, which meant time was not passing in Ylisse while they were gone. Robin, of course, was not so quick to dismiss it as chance, and had spent many months more trailing Kiran, seeking to learn as much about their summoning arts as he could. Best as the two could surmise, the strongest bonds, the strongest ties between people had a certain magnetism to them - they could not stay separated for long, even across the Outrealms themselves. It wasn't the only conclusion they had come to, but it was "the most comforting", as Kiran had put it. Lucina held to the hope that it meant her mother and sister weren't far behind.
Glancing towards Robin, she could clearly see the cogs turning in his head, swishing a spoonful of porridge as he stared down one of the hall's tapestries.
"Isn't there a summoning scheduled for today?"
Kiran worked off a steady schedule for their summoning - three times a week, once in the morning and once in the evening. The Order's orb coffers consistently supported the rituals, and while Kiran aimed to avoid making a spectacle out of them ("Some heroes have a bad enough time adjusting, I don't want to overwhelm anyone"), they nonetheless encouraged heroes interested in seeing the process from the other side to sit in. It had become common for heroes awaiting the arrival of allies or loved ones to attend, and the sympathetic summoner tended to hold additional sessions when possible, much to Commander Anna's chagrin.
Regardless, Prince Alfonse ensured that at least one armed hero was always present. The initial contract prevented summoned heroes from directly harming fellow members of the Order, though Lucina respected his caution. She may have been one of the senior members of the order, but in truth she couldn't help but feel some measure of guilt at her lack of responsibility compared to the Askrian heroes. She had gone from princess, to Exalt, to swordsman, to Shepherd, to soldier. All the same, it felt as though a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders, and indeed she supposed it had. Having her father and Robin here made it all the easier.
Yes, fighting aside, Lucina was beginning to enjoy her time in the Order.
She nodded briskly, realizing Robin had been awaiting a response. "Yes, it should be within a matter of minutes. Perhaps we could..."
Her father stood up, reaching to grasp an orange from the table. "It might set us at ease, if nothing else. Who knows, maybe there's another realm-traveling family member we haven't met back home yet?"
Robin chuckled, and Lucina prayed it masked the way her face paled.
"Hey guys!" Kiran greeted as the group approached the summoning altar. "Gonna be a short one, feel free to take a seat."
The altar was situated on the outskirts of the castle grounds, overlooking a vast drop into deep ravines and towering mountains. Cool water slipped between the stonework, flowing beneath the summoning stone and off the edge into the gorge below. Ahead, the sun had only barely climbed above the horizon, and the three of them seemed to be the only heroes in attendance.
Robin, evidently, had also picked up on her last observation. "Isn't Corrin usually here for the summonings?"
Kiran waved a hand dismissively. "Ah, she took a scouting team along the Emblian boarder. I'm not sure they'll attack again so soon, but better safe than sorry y'know? They're due back later this afternoon."
Turning back towards the altar, the Summoner hefted Breidablik and palmed a pale grey orb from a small pile at their feet. "Come on O Divine Askr, don't let me down today..."
With a flash, the altar erupted with light. Lucina knew by now to shield her eyes, and only had to spend a moment blinking back spots as the portal to whatever realm the ritual had accessed today faded.
Standing before them was Robin. Or rather, a Robin. Her Robin had spent a day wandering the halls in shock after his female counterpart was summoned, though once the two reached speaking terms they grew mysteriously immune to the pranking skirmishes that often engulfed the castle. This one was female too, her long white hair tied back in twintails, dressed in the same black Plegian robes. According to Kiran, the ritual refused to summon counterparts of heroes that were too similar, something about avoiding paradoxes. Lucina had struggled with similar concepts when first arriving in Ylisse's past, and felt fortunate that she wouldn't have to worry about striking up a conversation with the wrong version of her father in Askr. Granted, they would be her father regardless, but what if he didn't yet know he was to have a child? The possibilities were dangerous to say the least.
"Huh." Kiran muttered, taking in the strange arrival. "Well, that's new. Welcome to Askr, R-"
And then the sky shattered.
This time, Lucina hadn't been prepared, and the world turned white as the summoning stone erupted with light once more. When she could see one more it had yet to fade, violet bolts of energy arcing across its surface.
She heard a scream, and Robin fell to his knees to her left, clutching his hand.
When had it gotten so dark?
The sun had barely begun to touch the clouds.
These were the thoughts and sights that flooded Lucina's senses in the instant it took her to look skyward. She forgot them all.
She forgot to breath.
No. No no no. Not here. Naga please, not here, not now, not here.
A strangled cry struggled to escape her throat, and she was a little girl, clutching a bloodied blade that did not belong to her, and YOUR MOTHER AND FATHER ARE DEAD, TINY ONE.
Firm hands clasped her sides, and her father's face flooded her vision. He's here, he's alive, they're all alive, it's not over.
"Lucina, you're alright, you're alright, stay with me here." His best friend had just collapsed, the fell dragon he knew only through tales and legend had just arrived in Askr, and he had never seen her like this. Her indomitable father was scared.
She gasped, cool air flooding her lungs once more.
"Father." she breathed. "Father, that's it, it's-"
"Grima." whispered the Summoner, gazing on in equal parts awe and terror.
'Robin' had yet to move, standing almost deathly still, even as Chrom helped her counterpart to his feet. The fell dragon did not rain death upon the castle, nor did the roar that haunted her nightmares pierce the sky. The gargantuan form circled the summoning ruins twice, winds beating down upon the small party gathered below. It glared over the land as a wolf looks upon a sheep, before turning back and perching itself atop the nearest mountain summit, like an overgrown messenger crow.
The unfamiliar tactician opened her eyes. They were crimson, the color of a dying sun.
"Where am I." the not-Robin hissed.
Kiran jumped forward, far more nerves than enthusiasm.
"I uh, I summoned, well you're, I mean, this is Askr." the Summoner began, fumbling through their traditional greeting. "Everyone here is uh, everyone here is a Hero, from different worlds, and Breidablik, my g-, er, divine weapon, calls them, ah, you all. Everyone's an equal here and the contract stops you from hurting anyone else so maybe we can go to a briefing room and I can explain things in more detail ifthatsuitsyou?"
The fell dragon smirked as Kiran hurriedly took in breath, making some effort to stand straighter.
"Yes... your terms seem adequa-" the creature began, her sickening speech cut off by the sound of steel against steel as Falchion abandoned its sheath.
"I won't let you. I won't." Lucina growled, raising her blade forward in a battle stance. Not-Robin did not meet her gaze, instead eying the dragon-slaying fang.
"It's you, isn't it?" she continued, anger seeping through her mask. "That's what the mark means. You're the Heart of Grima. You did it all. You brought Ylisse to ruin.
You murdered my father.
"Not another world. Not one more."
The fell vessel wordlessly glided down the steps of the altar. Lucina roared, and rushed to meet her.
Her first strike swung true, and the avatar made no effort to avoid it. She merely held out a hand, and in one fluid motion wrenched the sword from her grasp. Falchion's bloodied blade clattered to the ground.
The monster continued her approach, stopping just before her, at last meeting her gaze. Lucina couldn't look away, couldn't speak, couldn't breath.
"I am the Fell Dragon, Grima." she hissed. The avatar paused for a moment, then continued. "Pay me the respect I am due, and I will consider..."
She stopped, violet flames seeming to seethe around her tattered cloak. Not far beyond, a dragon roared. A second Falchion rose high, glinting in the sunlight.
Then, just like that, it was over. Grima pushed past her and stalked into the shadows. Her father looked between her and the Summoner, questioning, uncertain.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'll try to make this work, she won't hurt anyone." Kiran met Lucina's gaze. "I'm sorry."
With that, the Summoner turned back towards Grima, and hurried after her into the castle.
Lucina shot a glance towards her closest friend, the kind tactician she trusted perhaps more than anyone, face sweaty and paled as he stared at the retreating demon and he was going to kill her father.
Robin grasped his branded hand in hers, and the princess began to sob.
Everything was wrong.
The fell dragon stalked down the faintly-lit halls of the Order, mind ablaze. Apparently, her larger form was capable of sleep, nestled within some distant gully as twilight gave way to dusk. The Summoner, as they were called, had left her to her own devices some time ago, seemingly assured that no more conflict would arise today. The heroes certainly seemed to be making it easy on her, hallways emptying with miraculous speed as their shadows grew long. She had not caught so much as a whisper of another native of Ylisse, not that she minded. She was unsure of just how many things she remembered, but she knew for a fact she preferred solitude in times like these. The sentiment was irrelevant nonetheless - this was a land of strangers.
Not my husband she repeated to herself once more.
Her husband had a scar across his right eye, and he had bled on the steps of the Dragon's Table by her own hand.
Not my daughter she repeated to herself once more.
Her daughter had her nose and her chuckle, and she had bled on the black sands of Ylisstol by her blade.
Not my name she repeated to herself once more.
Her name was Robin.
It's dead she repeated to herself once more. Grima is dead.
Lucina had seen to that. Beautiful, strong, brave Lucina had done it.
Not without its price she thought ruefully once more, as violet flames crept up frayed cloths. It was a chilling burn, an altogether alien sensation. Her body felt more like Grima's than it ever would her own.
I shouldn't be here she thought, not for the first time and not for the last. Penance, perhaps. She could only hope Naga was in some way alike her counterpart - took some joy in anguish.
Ah, there she went again. Thinking too much. With luck, she'd eventually collapse from exhaustion.
Not my-
"Master Grima?"
Her world stopped.
Freezing rain battered down the small Risen host surrounding the Outrealm Gate as the red-haired traveler breathed her last.
The portal wouldn't open again for many months more. She couldn't put it past Naga to try something while she yet drew breath.
It would make for a wonderful trap. Oh, how she loved the allure of hope.
Her servant stared into the luminous eye, lost in thought.
Grima's vision blurred. No. Her claim was forfeit. She was dead. No, no, no, no, NO-
Robin opened her eyes.
"Be better." she whispered, grasping the boy by the shoulder, all the while shoving him forward into the fading light.
"Be better than me. I love you."
Her son screamed, but there was only the rain, and the cold.
"Morgan." she breathed.
The boy stared at her, tousled blue hair peeking out from beneath his hood, mouth hanging open.
"...Mother?"
Robin stared, and all at once the cold, creeping pain faded. "Morgan. My sweet baby."
A tome clattered to the ground.
"MOTHER!"
The two rushed into each other's embrace, Robin falling to the ground and pulling her son close as he collapsed into the crook of her shoulder.
"You've grown into such... such a strapping young lad." she chuckled, blinking away tears.
"The others knew something was wrong about me, and I couldn't throw away grandfather's book because it was one of the only things I had left of you, and they weren't all bad but I was just so lonely." Morgan babbled, clutching tighter to her robes like she'd vanish at any moment.
"It's over now. It's over."
"If.. if you say so." He cried, he grinned, and she realized she couldn't remember the last time he had looked at her without subservience or fear. "I'd like to start over, here."
"We can. We'll try." Robin smiled.
"We'll build a better life."
this fic is a massive lie, still haven't been able to summon og Lucina
I've been trying to sit down and write a Corrin/Azura one-shot for months, but never mind, hope you enjoyed some more Awakening! Expect a final installment to this sorta-series down the road.