"That's Plegia," Lucina pointed out, kicking her feet in the grass as she and her tutor lay in front of a map book.

"Yes, it is."

"And that's..." Lucina's face scrunched up in concentration, as she studied the next page, "... Regna Firaxis."

"Regna Ferox. The cradle of northern civilisation," her tutor smiled, the irony in her voice lost on her charge.

"I knew that!" Lucina pouted in frustration, before her disappointment disappeared, and her face lit up in realisation. "That's where Uncle Basilio and Aunt Flavia come from, right?"

Her tutor smiled back. "That's right! Well done for remembering. I'm sure you'll visit there one day, and I suspect sooner rather than later. I heard Father is planning a visit there for next year. Wouldn't that be exciting?"

Lucina looked at the floor, biting her lip, thinking whether she would like it or not. "I guess."

"You'll like it, I promise. I've been there, and I liked it; why shouldn't you? It snows in some parts."

"But it's sunny here. I don't want to go somewhere snowy."

"It'll be snowing here in Ylisse when the time comes around, next year," the older woman sighed. "Just- forget about it for now."

Lucina was only too happy to comply, going back to the map book. "Oh! I know that one! That's Chon'sin!"

At the end of the courtyard, a dozen metres away, a wooden door squeaked open, interrupting the geography session.

"Lucina!"

Both girls turned their heads toward their intruder. An apologetic Robin raised his hands and started making his way over. "Sorry if I'm interrupting, girls," he called.

The two looked happily over to the approaching apologist, not bothered by his intrusion in the least. Lucina's face lit up; the hardworking tactician was one of her favourite visitors. Robin strode forwards and stood behind the two, sizing up the grass between the flowers and the learners as a good place to sit. "I finished my work, so I thought I'd come see my favourite girls on such a nice day."

"That's perfectly alright, darling," Lucina said, blushing slightly, before leaning up to give him a chaste kiss. "Lucy and I are just doing some practice, aren't we Lucy?"

The younger girl nodded enthusiastically at their new arrival. "Yeah! Aunt Lucina is really good with this stuff!"

The older Lucina smiled and wondered, not for the first time, if compliments really counted, coming from your younger self to your older self. Chrom's oldest was beginning to have difficulty guessing the decisions her younger self made. The girls were diverging by the day, and young Lucy was growing up in a household where the worst source of conflict came from Sumia's shouting at Gregor, as he once again came in at an ungodly hour waking the entire castle.

Robin sighed once again at the dichotomy presented by Ylissean proper nouns. The younger princess had adopted 'Lucy' as a moniker - quite of her own free will, mind - which had saved the castle some stress in deciphering the heretofore shouts of 'Lucina!' The fact that the two girls were kind-of-the-same-person hadn't been made evident to little Lucy just yet - nobody really thought it apt to bring it up.

Not that such an outlandish story could really be believed even by a child...

"Aunt Lucina is good at a great many things," Robin replied, his face impassive, trying to conceal a wry grin. "I am gladdened to hear geography is one of them. Did I tell you the story of the time we went to the Outrealms-"

Lucina's face coloured as she quickly shook her head, her blue hair blowing in the warm wind. "Don't repeat that one, please..." she muttered.

"and we ended up in - oh, alright," the tactician conceded, sighing theatrically. He diplomatically changed tack. "What else have you girls got lined up for the day?"

Lucy was quick to chime in. "After geography, Father says I have to go to Sir Kellam for weapons practice!" The young girl hesitated. "But.. he didn't really say where he would be, and I never seem to be able to find him in time for the lesson..."

Robin and Lucina looked at each other, then let out simultaneous peals of amusement.

"You can follow me back through the castle, both of you," Robin said. "I saw him just now. He was helping Sir Frederick with a face wound." To Lucina, he whispered, "... the poor sap walked right into him. And you know what that armour plating is like."

Lucina felt bad laughing again.

Lucy jumped up, snapping the book on the ground shut. "Oh, let's go! Aunt Lissa says I make a great healer!"

Before Robin or Lucina could interject, the princess strode imperiously towards the doorway, shouting to nobody in particular other than to assert her handle on the situation. "Someone in danger? Lucy to the rescue!"

As the young girl in the white dress strode off, Lucina raised an eyebrow, and spoke lowly to her husband; "I can't believe I was ever that impetuous in my youth..."

Ylisstol's prime redoubt was a huge and sprawling affair, much too big to be considered sensible by even the laxest definition of the word. Chrom, coming into his new family, had taken up as much of the space as he possibly could, but there were still a plethora of rooms available, which the Exalt had gladly parted out after the Shepherds had returned from their quest to vanquish Grima and the Fell Dragon.

Robin had found, much to his apparent happiness, that marrying your Exalt's daughter tended to place you fairly favourably in the running. Their family had been afforded a suite of rooms, situated on entirely the other side of the castle to Chrom's own; not only did the distance afford a novel excuse to track each other down on slow days, it also afforded a sense of separation that Chrom had had the good grace to ensure lasted. After the first unfortunate incident of accidentally disturbing Robin and his wife at 'leisure hours', it wasn't an experience he wished to repeat, for the sake of all parties involved.

As the day came to a close, and the sun descended in the rapidly-reddening sky above Ylisstol, Robin found himself having dinner with his family on one of the castle's balconies. The warm summer wind blew, the light was warm and joyous; Robin was feeling rather good about life in general.

Though, it wasn't all smooth sailing. Much like Chrom, Robin had found his family arrangements a great deal stranger than the average, but he was mostly getting used to it.

"How was your day, Morgan?" Lucina asked her daughter.

"Mmmhod do mad," Morgan muffled, a mouthful of bread stifling the brunt of her half-formed words. Robin sighed. Morgan might be his disconnected daughter from the future, but as much as she took after the tactician, she had not inherited table manners from Robin or even Lucina.

Morgan made an effort to swallow, then tried again. "Not too bad, thank you Mother," she smiled radiantly. "Cynthia says we may go ride soon; apparently there are more bandits in the hills than usual, so we're planning to gallop out and have a bit of a show of force, to discourage them." Morgan ate a spoonful of soup, ruminating. "I'm not sure how effective it'll be; sounds to me like some local wannabe warlord is stirring things. Still, we'll see how things go if and when we do decide to sally out." She licked her spoon.

"Bandits shouldn't prove any trouble for you and the New Shepherds," her father said.

"Hopefully not!" Morgan replied. "Sadly, there is a distinct lack of Risen these days. It's almost boring."

"Are you really that keen on fighting Risen again?" Lucina said, rather plainly. "I might speak only for myself, but I could go the rest of my life without seeing another one."

"Yeah, that's true," Morgan considered, swirling her food in the bowl idly. "That's true; but whilst going out with Cynthia and the others is fun and important, I can't help but feel my tactical brilliance could be more urgently employed!" The girl slumped in her chair. "Bandits are not very clever."

Robin frowned. "Don't be so sure - I seem to remember we took down a very tricky one when we first met Cynthia; out of everyone, I would think she might have some capacity to understand how conniving the basest people in society can be."

"Needle in a haystack," Morgan quickly replied. "Think, Father - all my greatest achievements are in the past!"

"It's not about glory, Morgan; it's about carrying out the job and keeping everyone safe," Robin said, a slight firmness to his voice. "You know that."

"Yeah, I do," Morgan returned, evenly. "I'd never put anyone at risk, Father. I know how to do my job; after all, I've been trained by one of the best! But that's not incompatible with wanting to find something a bit more challenging and exciting than sheep rustlers. Heck, most of the time Cynthia can just outspeed those on her Pegasus."

"I wouldn't rest on your laurels just yet, dear," Lucina interjected. "I've heard some rumours lately, and I wouldn't be surprised if something more substantial than bandits came up, soon."

Morgan's face lit up, and she leaned over to her mother, tugging gently at the sleeve on her shoulder, with the eager look Lucina found endearing and totally comical at the same time. "Oh! Oh! Tell me, please!" the short-haired girl chirruped.

Lucina let go of the spoon resting in her bowl, glad that she hadn't attempted to bring it up for eating. "Well, I've only heard things around the court, you know... Chrom has yet to say anything official to us..."

"But." Robin prompted.

"Well, Ricken passed me earlier on - he was on the way from the missives room, like he always is, and apparently a report from the Ylissean ambassador came in. The Ylissean ambassador to Plegia, mind you. And you know how often he bothers to report back to us."

"Right," Morgan said. "So what's the news?"

"Well," Lucina carried on, "Ricken only told me a couple of things about what the report said, but I quote: 'the Plegians have deemed it sufficient time passed since their last uprising that they might start their customary next one, hopefully with lots of blood'."

Robin snorted. "Henry's words rather than Ricken's, I should guess."

"Well, he might use colourful words, but I doubt he's telling us lies," Lucina frowned. "The situation in Perezia, the capital, is apparently quite turbulent, with the elected government attempting to quell protests in the street," she finished.

"Interesting," Robin mused. "But the Plegian citizenry seem to revolt every Tuesday. A week doesn't pass without someone upsetting a cart full of durians out there. Who's rioting this time? The public?"

Lucina shrugged. She didn't know.

"More importantly - what's inciting it, or rather, who?" Robin continued. "Morgan. Ideas?"

"Grima Cult restorationists?" Morgan suggested. "Merchant cadre looking for 'opportunity'? Some other foreign power?"

Lucina shook her head, looking to Morgan. "I don't think it'd be the Dragon Cult. Not after our actions."

"You're right," Robin said. "Besides, the vestiges of that cult left presumably couldn't summon up much, unless this is a last ditch effort. No, I can't immediately think what the cause might be, which worries me even more than knowing it."

"If Chrom's worried about it at all, he's not letting on," Lucina said. "Perhaps he'll tell us when he knows more? Has he not said anything to you?"

"Maybe." Robin seemed unconvinced. "I don't get that much input into his decisions, these days - he's proved quite a capable ruler by himself. Decisive." The tactician chewed on the word. "Chrom's nothing if not decisive. I don't think he'd come to me at something like this, unless it turns more serious. I know us Shepherds have a habit of jumping at the first news from Plegia, but as always, I expect we'll have to see how things pan out." Robin smiled. "Still, our ever-keen daughter would presumably like another small foreign war. We were always more suited that way, weren't we?"

Morgan winked back at her father. "Sure are!"

"And doesn't Father know it," Lucina laughed. "Remind me how long it was after we came back from Plegia five years ago, that he made you commander and administrator of the entire Ylissean army? Was it a full hour? I seem to recall it was barely fifty minutes..."

"Not that I really had much choice in the matter," Robin grimaced, swallowing the last of his food. "Still, a man has to keep busy. And it's not like you can talk, miss Captain-of-the-Guard."

"In my defence," Lucina deferred, "Father asked me a matter of days later. Days, I tell you!"

Robin and Morgan looked at each other and laughed; Lucina joined in with them.

"Well, I presume your duties are far too lax if you have time to disturb me teaching Lucy," Lucina retorted. "I know you snared me young, Robin, but really, there is no excuse for that-"

Robin's face turned immediately crimson as he looked conspicuously into the tablecloth. Stitched flowers danced merrily on the hem; Sumia's work, probably. "I don't think Lucy can hold my attention in quite as many ways as you can, my darling," Robin muttered, regaining his composure enough to lean over and give his wife a kiss on the temple. "You're much better at that whole seduction-wife-y thing. Honest."

Lucina raised an eyebrow and said, "I don't even need a complicated strategy half of the time."

"Of course you don't," Robin fired back, "you've got two tactical geniuses in your family to do it for you..."

"Don't you find it weird, Mother?" Morgan started. "Having lessons with your - well, what is essentially you, but in the past. Your slightly-different younger self. Isn't that crazy?"

"Yes," Lucina admitted, "but then this whole situation is crazy. If you had told me that I would have travelled form one of the worst wars in existence to this realm, fallen in love with one of the first men I met, and would have encountered a future daughter who didn't even recognise me to start with just months later - I don't think I would have believed you."

"It's certainly ... unique," Morgan admitted. "I wonder how Grandfather copes sometimes."

"Don't call him that," Robin scolded. "You know he hates being called that. And, do you know who gets it in the neck every time you do? That's right, me!" Robin affected his most solemn Exalt impression. "'Oh Robin, please ask your daughter not to refer to me as Grandfather. It makes me feel about as old as Falchion. Thanks, Chrom.'"

Lucina and Morgan were laughing hard, Robin's ability to impersonate Chrom worthy of a street-performer.

"But seriously," Lucina continued, getting back to the original point, "it's not overly strange; after all, we've had the time to get used to it, now. I kind of like seeing Lucy grow up. I want her to have a good and happy life, something I could only experience for a brief time. I want her to be happy in the castle and with her family. I want to see how she grows up without the ... interesting ... hand of cards that fate dealt to me. And if I can do something to make that happen, I will. Because," Lucina said, "as much as we might share the same name on our nameday certificates, I think that in a few years time she'll be very different compared to how I was at that age."

"Makes sense," Morgan agreed. She stretched her arms back over the chair, trying to settle. "I think you could say it's like our relationship, Mother - I might be almost as old as you are, but it's not strange at all."

Lucina nodded, knowing what she meant. "It was strange at first, but I think we're all doing well now we've settled in."

"Speaking of young'uns," Morgan began tenaciously, "when's the baby me coming along?"

Robin and Lucina's faces heated up, as blood rose to their cheeks. "I'm- well, I couldn't say, Morgan," Robin began.

"Not for a lack of trying though, is it?" Morgan had cocked her head, a knowing grin on her face, a damnable trait she had picked up from spending too much time with Inigo.

Lucina looked puzzled, before replying, "No, it's not for lack of trying." Robin spit his juice back into the cup he had tried to find refuge in. He looked up, pleadingly, at Lucina's desperately impassive face, and touched his wife on the shoulder. "She's trying to make us squirm, Luce," he said.

Lucina shot Robin a half-smile that only he could see. "Oh, I know. But it wouldn't be fun to acquiesce to our daughter's every wish now, would it?" The blue-haired woman pushed back her chair. "In fact," she declared roundly at her daughter, "I'm sure we'll spare you the details, dear, but it'll be one of these days." The older woman's lips curled upward into a smile, as she moved around the table to sit in Robin's sparsely juice-covered lap, throwing her arms around his shoulder and settling to get comfortable. "And there's nothing wrong with liking my handsome," she rolled demurely, drawing out the syllable as she kissed Robin on the cheek, "handsome, commanding husband."

Robin, who by this point was very red, smiled at Morgan. Morgan was a mirror image. "You've become much harder to tease, Mother."

"Well, I've got two tactical geniuses in my family, and one of them sometimes works directly against the other," Lucina winked.

Robin looked at Morgan. "You'll come when you'll c-come," he said, coughing as he realised what he had said. The hand Lucina had behind his shoulder gave him a squeeze.

Morgan shook her head slowly, to make a point as if to wonder just what perverts her parents really were.

"I only ask," Morgan started, stressing the phrase appropriately, "because like you take your approach to Lucy, Mother, I want to have the same level of involvement. I want to make young Morgan one of the best mages in the country, and I can't do that if I don't have a direct input into her education, lifestyle and training regimen! I can't train Ricken any more, after all; he's got a real post, now, can you believe? One that apparently feeds us interesting dinner-time conversation." Morgan tailed off. "Right! A blank canvas... how wonderful that would be!"

"A blank canvas, taught by a blank canvas, who herself was fathered by a blank canvas," Robin considered aloud. "Is Lucina the only one in this family with a history that actually exists?"

Lucina laid her head on Robin's shoulder. "Even that's debatable, if you want to get technical about timelines," she sighed.

"This won't do, this won't do at all," Robin decided. "You'd better hope that this Plegian thing unfurls, Morgan; you'll need a glorious legacy to compensate for your lack of heretofore life story..."

Chrom was not a happy taguel.

To be more accurate, the Exalt wasn't any kind of taguel, but his level of cheer on bad days was about as high as the numbers of taguel still existing in the wild. Given all that had happened to the taguel population, that was not a high number.

Which is to state, in a roundabout way: Chrom was thoroughly hacked off.

Sumia, clad in a gossamer nightgown and not much moved since she had woken up, stared at Chrom's bare shoulder blades, a delicate tracery of them made by the incident dawn light. She knew that her husband had slept restlessly, shifting throughout the night, but she had awoken to find him sitting at the dresser staring into space, deep in thought.

She cleared her throat, gently. "What's wrong, Chrom?" Sumia ventured.

"Just things on my mind."

Sumia wrinkled her face. "They must be hefty if they keep you up at night."

Chrom sighed. "I had some bad news yesterday, and I've been trying to think on it. But I'm not really having much success, Sumia."

"What is it in particular, Captain?" Sumia's honorific-turned-nickname for the Exalt always made Chrom smile, and despite his preoccupation, he did, before frowning again.

"Why can't the Plegians just behave?"

Sumia shuffled awkwardly forwards in bed, to occupy the empty space Chrom had vacated, the one that was closer to her husband. "What do you mean by that?"

Chrom surrendered to a deep and pensive sigh, his frustration clearly manifest in it. "I mean that I had a report yesterday that the Plegians are likely to do something unfortunate, again," he elaborated. "It's sketchy what's going on, but there's unrest, and Plegian unrest is like lighting the fuse to a Chon'sin fire-work; it might go off when you expect, but just as you wonder what's going on, the whole thing shoots off and goes bang." Chrom shook his head, running a hand through his sleep-tousled blue hair. "Is my rule forever to be troubled by that damn desert nation?"

Sumia thought a moment. "How bad is it? I don't think we've heard anything from Plegia since we were there. Five years, and this is the first we hear of another possible - a possible! - problem. Unless you're getting reports that they're massing troops on the border, I would take it with a bit less despair than you're showing."

Chrom span round on the chair to face his wife. "Well... Henry says that it's riots, fomented by a cause unknown, but specifically with a strong anti-Ylissean element," the Exalt said. "Nothing over a general feeling, perhaps, and some minor uprising; I shouldn't worry. Maybe Naga will intervene, and ensure the unceasingly competent 'elected' administration will be able to resolve it first." Chrom's tone made it evident he didn't believe that was a real possibility. "By the Divine Dragon, even before that bastard Gangrel took Emm from us, any word from that country has never boded well. I know now how my father felt. It is like battling a stonework wall."

"Plegian unrest is as common as anything, we both know that. Why should this time be different? What else did Henry write?"

"The very fact that Henry actually bothered to report this to us in the first place is enough for me; heaven forfend what sort of shenanigans he gets up to most of the time down there, but they don't do anything for his communicativity. I might doubt the genuine sanity of the man, but I trust him enough to deliver the truth to us. If he's reporting that there's an issue, even a nascent one, it's my duty as Exalt to take that seriously."

Sumia made an affirmatory noise. "Right."

"Forever I feel powerless against Plegia," Chrom lamented. "Just as things are quiet there, perhaps even taking an upturn, more possible bad news. What can I do but wait to see if things to get worse?"

"Well... You could always send someone to go keep an eye on things," Sumia offered.

"Planning to go yourself, are you?" the Exalt chuckled, stealing a glance at Sumia's midsection. "With our second on the way?"

"Perhaps ... not in my condition," Sumia conceded.. "By the time I got to Plegia, I'd be six months due - I'd likely break my pegasus' back on the way." That drew another smile from Chrom, and his leaden fixation lessened slightly. Sumia continued. "A peacekeeping mission led by the pregnant Exalt's consort... what a thought. At least they wouldn't attack us."

"Peacekeeping mission? Heavens, no, I can't think of any way we can march soldiers into Plegia at this word. I'd need to send someone clever, tough, independent, with a small team." Chrom's face lit up. "One that could stay low-key and find out just what is going on. Now, if only we had something like that available..."

"If only," Sumia said. "I do presume you mean our daughter." Chrom laughed. "Robin has nothing on your quick wits."

"You're darn right," Sumia stated, affirming. "Which one do you have in mind?"

It might have been summer, but the night had not proved kind to such a noble ambition; it was a wet start to the morning, and rain fell gently onto the windows along with the first ambient levels of sunlight, made white and muffled by the cloud cover.

Lucina opened her eyes instantly, certain she had heard something. She tensed up, instinctively, her reaction conditioned by the past.

The wooden door to their apartments rattled in the frame once again, as someone fervently knocked on it from the other side.

The woman fell back, exasperated. Glancing out the window, it looked to be early, and miserable to boot. She got up from the bed, hoping to get to the door before Robin had to be woken up by the noise, too. She padded quickly out, closing the bedroom door behind her as she skipped across the carpet to the troubling intrusion.

"Who is it," she called tiredly.

"Luce, it's me, Cyn," an equally-tired voice called on the other side. "Open the door."

Lucina didn't ever bother to get dressed or tame her hair for her sister. She swung open the door, just enough to see her sibling's face.

"This had better be good," Lucina said.

"Oh, but it is," Cynthia grinned impishy, already up, dressed, and geared. "Father wants us."

"Really?" Lucina sighed. "What for?"

"Beats me," Cynthia said, disinterestedly. "You think I'm up at this hour for fun? Whatever it is, looks like it could be important. Which is presumably why he's sending for the two most competent people in the kingdom, huh."

"Fine. Let me get dressed and leave a note for Robin and Morgan. Wait there."

"I'm not going anywhere, Luce," Cynthia called back, raising her voice as the door was shut in her face. "The condemned walk together, you know!"

"Just let me get dressed," came the muffled reply.

Moments later, a dressed-and-roughly-presentable Lucina appeared, hastily buckling the Parallel Falchion to her swordbelt.

"No cape today? Luce, I'm disappointed in you," Cynthia joked.

"It's summertime, Cynthia," Lucina deadpanned. "Too warm for capes, surely."

Cynthia pouted. "At least you kept the scarf."

"We can't keep Father waiting. Come on already," Lucina responded, too tired to debate fashion. She stepped out of the rooms and closed the door, wasting no time in striding off.

"Don't walk in front of me! I'm the one who came and got you!"

"Where are we going?" Lucina asked. "The war room was back that way."

"Straight to Father's chambers," Cynthia replied, not looking back, walking forward pointedly. "I think he wants to keep this meeting on the hush-hush, if you know what I mean; and I'm sure you do. Like I said, beats me what he wants us for, but I can only hope it's something decently important."

"Like what," Lucina probed, her mind working to think what the summons could be for. "As long as it's not another mission to rescue Yarne again; the last time I was summoned like this was after he had run away after encountering a too-audacious burglar in the castle courtyard. As I remember, it took you and I three days to find him, he had run so far away."

"That was fun," Cynthia smiled. "That was my last one, too.. I wouldn't like to make a habit of these early briefings."

"Remind me, aren't you the commander of Chrom's New Shepherds? Aren't you supposed to be up and willing for this kind of thing?" Lucina asked.

"Sure," Cynthia riposted, "but that doesn't mean I have to sit quietly about it, or be any less tired and griping when I have such a willing conversationalist."

"I didn't mean to imply you were a bad commander," Lucina continued. "I think Father should be consulting you for advice more often, considering you are the commander of this realm's most effective and proactive band of fighters around." She looked at Cynthia, who was resolutely staring forward. "Are you sure you don't know what this is about?" she enquired.

"No," Cynthia lamented. "If I'd have known, I'd have let you know at the first opportunity. Not only are you my sister, you're also my friend, so I'd be the first to tell you if I had a clue. As it is, we're busy marching toward the unknown."

Lucina shook her head, gently. "Dead women walking, indeed."

"You've got snarky since you married Robin," Cynthia remarked. She winked at her sister. "I hope he's not corrupting you."

"I'm terribly sorry, sister. I must have neglected to inform you that Robin still has Grima's spirit inside of him, and he's working me from the inside out. This domestic façade that I produce day-to-day is merely that. I'm actually plotting to kill all of you." She smiled sunnily. "You're first, of course."

Cynthia looked dumbfounded, before purposefully engaging her jaw once again. "Well... he certainly taught you how to make a joke."

"I'm getting there," Lucina agreed, blushing. "That one was a bit far, though."

The two girls turned the corner, into Chrom's half of the castle. They walked quickly past the portraits of Exalts past that populated this particular hallway, hundreds of years of history disregarded at a glance as they moved hastily toward their purpose.

"If only you were similarly wed," Lucina remarked, wryly. "You'd be able to make jokes about tragic events, too."

"'If only'," Cynthia muttered. "You sound like Sumia."

"She's just being broody," Lucina offered.

"Oh! You think? She's not been carrying multiple babies this last half-decade, unless there's some physiological quirk she's hiding somewhere under her flower petals."

"Hm," Lucina muttered. "I think that is a feat, quite beyond our mother."

"She's had a constant quest to marry me off for an age. Thanks for noticing, sister." Cynthia raised an eyebrow. "Next you'll be recommending it."

"It's not so bad if you have the right partner," Lucina confided. "You're the younger sister, after all; there's still time. Don't let anyone pressure you, otherwise you'll end up paired with Inigo, and I think we all know how that'd end."

"I'm sure it'll be a matter of time, though what happens between me and the rest of the world is as always up for debate with this family." Slowing, Cynthia's face fell slightly, as she admitted, "I just haven't met the right person yet, I don't think."

"The right person," Lucina continued. "Do you not fancy Yarne? I hear Ricken is free, too."

"Are you serious, Luce? Reaaally? I think I'll stick to Mother being matchmaker," Cynthia shot back.

"You have my blessings," Lucina said, blushing slightly. "I honestly wish the best for you. Just don't let your duties get in the way of these things at these dry and quiet times. I know you're a hard worker."

"No, you're right. I'll consider it on the job! Perhaps I could marry a villager. I heard Father considered doing it once, after all."

"Let us consider it a blessing he didn't actually follow through. Still, there's no need to be so sarcastic. My wish was heartfelt. I'm sure you'll find someone one day, and regardless of who it is, I'll be happy for you."

"Speaking of paradise- when are you and Robin going to-mmf!"

Cynthia stepped back, confronted by the dark-stained reality of an antique door.

Lucina shrugged. "Well, here we are," she whispered.

"Come in, girls," Chrom called from behind the wood.

They exchanged a look, then went in.