He had kept his mark bandaged, or covered by gloves, and hidden away for as long as he had been in the past. It felt like the natural thing to do, instinctual, though he knew not what it meant - he had been tempted, sometimes, to ask Lucina if she knew. But she was the only one he'd considered bringing it up to. He wasn't even comfortable doing so with Owain. Eventually, he found that was for good reason, and now in particular he realized the gravity of why it was so that he'd felt so strongly about it.

For now, facing that person who had his mother's face, his hand burned, an intense pain that he'd felt before but couldn't quite remember when. It was there, in his mind, but he didn't need to fully know it to comprehend why. This was his mother, after all. From that future - where he had come from? Or just the others? But the Fell Dragon's influence was the same either way.

It tried to take his mother from this timeline to regain its full strength, but his voice and those of the Shepherds had given her the strength to free herself from its clutches. And now they fought, both Risen and Grimleal, hoards of them summoned to the dragon's back to defend their god with all their might. It had cost many their lives, and even now he and the others were striking them down as Morgan's family launched an assault on the Fell Dragon's vessel.

His mother. His mother.

So when the enemies he and those around him were dealing with, he couldn't help his eyes wandering to the place closest the Fell Dragon's head. He could see the figures of his father and sister, wielding Falchion, the black pegasus and flashing spells of his mother from this timeline. And some part of him wanted to go to them, to fight by their side, to end this suffering that they had all fought against for so long. This was the root of their pain, wasn't it? Lucina and everybody had come back to fight it.

But he also knew… that he hadn't.

It had come on slowly, and not been realized until this very day. As soon as the Fell Dragon was restored, those voices in his head that he had sometimes heard in his dreams became far more clear. They had made it clear he was a traitor - of his friends? They hadn't been his friends. Of his sister? He had known her only as an enemy. His father was dead before he was even born. It was his mother, of the time he had come from, that he had betrayed.

The Fell Dragon.

In his hand was the tome that it had given him in her form - the first one, that is, a handy but fairly basic book of spells that he had kept in good condition and refused to part with. But also with him, always with him, was the last one she had given him. The one that contained its power, and was in a language he was never sure why he could read. Like his mark, he had kept it hidden, kept it close. He was supposed to use it, that power, to rid of any chance that the future might be changed. So now that he was aware, what was he supposed to do?

His memories had not returned completely. Bits and pieces here and there - a mission, a bit of truth about his role in the future they had come from. Some parts were still returning, slowly, surely. The longer he heard its voice, the more he realized he was conflicted. He had been happy here in this time, with his family and friends. He had become close to some of them. But all his memories from before were marked by one thing - loyalty. That which he took pride in the most towards his mother, the one who he remembered, the one who he adored. And that was because she had been the only one by his side, as he was the only one by hers. They'd only had each other.

Now he had friends. The chance at a happy ending for all of them. But what about him? What about her?

Without her, what did he have?

And yet he knew the truth of the matter was that he had family. A few friends amongst the future children who were fighting so hard to prevent the existence of the very world they came from. Their hopes, their dreams, everything they worked for, and everything he'd been fighting for since he got here, was now within reach. At the cost of the one who had loved him unconditionally, despite being a "monster."

What was he supposed to do, he wondered as he watched, distantly, the blows that worked to weaken her.

What was he supposed to do, as he watched the dragon and its vessel assault those he'd come to love, but had before seen as enemies.

What was he supposed to do, as he drew that forbidden tome, uncertain.

What was he supposed to do–