A/N: This is kinda a mix of various ideas and headcanons I've been bouncing around my head for far too long. Special thanks to TheDragonLover and Glory For Sleep for beta-ing!
Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem.
"Nice sword."
Behind her mask, Cynthia flinches. She takes a deep breath to steady her nerves and turns to face her partner for the night's watch. The lithe woman before her nudges the guardhouse door shut with a boot, careful to avoid snagging her twin crimson pigtails in the process. She seems oddly familiar, but Cynthia can't quite place it.
"What, you deaf or something?"
"No. I heard you just fine." Cynthia dips her head, thankful that her expression is mostly hidden with the mask. While Lucina's outfit and mannerisms still make her feel awkward at times, the mask is winning her over, day by day. "My apologies. And thank you."
"It's nothing." The other woman leans casually against the dark wood of the guardhouse door. "Name's Selena. I'm a mercenary for Nohr."
"You may call me Marth."
"Marth it is, then. Where'd you get that sword?"
"...beg pardon?"
"You heard me." Selena straightens, her glare fixed on the item in question, its ornate hilt visible above Cynthia's right shoulder. "Where'd you get that sword?"
"It's a family heirloom."
"I see. Tell me - would this 'family heirloom' happen to be called 'Falchion'?"
"How did you…?"
The muted rasp of cold steel silences the rest of her sentence. Cynthia's muscles tense. Her hand reaches for the hilt of her own weapon, but Selena is quite literally two steps ahead. As their bodies collide, the crimson-haired woman pushes forward, grabs her left hand by the wrist, and twists. Black stars explode across Cynthia's vision as her body slams into the stone wall behind them. Selena's armored weight follows soon after. The masked woman tries to move her hands, but to no avail - they're pinned between her back and the wall.
"I've only ever seen two people wielding Falchion." Selena presses the edge of her sword against Cynthia's exposed throat. "Ylisse's Exalted Prince, and his daughter."
Cynthia gulps. This close, she can feel each harsh breath against her skin, sharp like the words of the crimson-haired woman atop her. The sensation is not entirely uncomfortable. "How does a mercenary of Nohr know so much about Ylisse?"
"Shut up! I'm the one asking the questions here, jeez!" Selena growls. "You're not Chrom, and while you're dressed like her and trying to act like her, you're most certainly not Lucina, either." Her eyes narrow and her grip tightens. "One chance. Who are you, really?"
Cynthia doesn't immediately reply. For a moment, she sees tanned skin and long hair the color of ravens, tied back in twin pigtails she knows so well. The mental image disappears, but the odd feeling of familiarity lingers still, stronger than ever. Then it clicks together.
"...Sev?"
Selena blinks. "What the…?"
"Severa? Is that you?"
"How do you - wait, stop squirming!"
Secret identities be damned. The Tempest be damned. Cynthia jerks her hand free, then all but tears the mask off her face. She watches Selena's - no, Severa's - eyes grow wide at the sight of her face; she might not have the Brand in her left eye like Lucina, but she does have that pretty wicked looking scar…
"You recognize me, don't you?" Please say yes…
The crimson-haired woman finally lowers her sword. Her voice, much like her hands, trembles. "Cynthia…? Is it…?"
"Yes! Yes, it's me, Sev-"
"No, no, no…" Severa releases her grip and backs away, her face pale and her breathing uneven. It's almost as if she's seen a ghost. "It can't be…!"
"Sev? What's wrong?"
"I saw you die!"
