[Changing Perspective to:] Dysren


No.

I didn't wonder why Morgan hadn't used a sword. It was already so brain-dead obvious, for crying out loud.

But why a grimoire? Why not a small stone or a tree branch? Why she risk hurting her own mother?

Lucina landed in the grass, her hair trailing her in her fall. Her Falchion was already on the ground, on my right. Looking down at it, I saw a narrow laceration in my coat, just an inch off from piercing my torso.

Out of nowhere, Morgan came running to where I stood. She had the green tome clutched tight in her hand. Before she turned to face her mother, I caught a glimpse of her face. Her usual cheer was gone; instead, fear and sorrow took its place.

She got between me and Lucina, arms wide. "Mother, don't do this!" she cried.

No, I thought. Don't…

Lucina struggled to her feet, looked up at the young woman standing before her.

"Morgan, what…" she breathed, winded. Luckily, Morgan held back enough on her magic to only send Lucina flying a few feet—no serious injuries. "Why are you here…?"

"Because I won't let you!"

No, dammit…

"But Morgan," Lucina said as she stood up, "if Dysren lives, Chrom will die. And if he dies—"

"I know, Mother!" Morgan yelled, and for the first time since finding her crying in Lucina's arms, I could hear crying in her voice. "But killing Father… Killing Father won't solve anyof that!"

Morgan, don't… Don't do this…

"How can you say that?" Lucina demanded. Maybe she could be harsher if Inigo or Kjelle or Laurent had intervened. But this was her—well, our—future daughter standing in the way. This was different. "How can you know that for sure?!"

"I do know!" Morgan cried, caring only about the now. "The bonds we forge bind us together. Our bonds—with Father, with Chrom, with each other and everybody—they're stronger than any destiny. That's why I know: Father won't let anything make him kill Chrom. No one will!"

For a second, hearing Morgan paraphrase my own words… I felt…I dunno. Embarrassed? Maybe. Proud? Definately.

Proud that she was standing up to protect me. Proud of her for trying.

I smiled a little. I knew better to wish that she could, especially at a time like this.

The sunset was still glowing over the horizon, making me squint slightly.

Lucina didn't see me step forward. "Morgan, believe me: I—I truly wish that I need not do this. But if…if you don't step aside—"

I placed my hand on Morgan's shoulder. "No, Lucina," I said, calmy yet firmly. "You promised. If you're gonna cut anyone down, it will be me."

Lucina stepped back, caught off guard. "Dysren…"

Morgan looked up at me, shocked. "But, Father—!"

Turning to her, I got down on one knee to get to Morgan's eye level. "Morgan," I said gently, "I'm grateful that you're trying to protect me and everything. But please, stand aside.I chose to leave my fate in your mother's hands. This is between her and me. There is no need for you to suffer with me, Morgan. Okay?"

"Father…" A tear streaked down her cheek. Then she ran into . "…Okay. But please, no matter what…don't die."

I hugged her, fighting the urge to cry. "Don't you die, either."

Letting go, I let Morgan step away from me. Calmer than I could've been, at her age.

…well, maybe. I still don't remember. But that hardly matters.

She'll make a wonderful tactician, I thought.

Getting up, I walked back to where the parrallel Falchion lay on the grass. With one hand, I picked the sword up by the blade. Breathing out, I walked back to Lucina and held it out to her, handle out.

"Here," I said simply.

Mildly stunned, she nonetheless took the sword.

I spread my arms out—defenseless.

Lucina took a deep breath before drawing back, preparing to run me through.

Back to square one.

I gazed at Lucina. "Go ahead," I said, gently as possible. "Do it."

She nodded. "Farewell…Dysren…" I heard her say.

I saw Morgan quickly shield her eyes before I closed mine.

A loud "HAA!"—and the full force of a charging swordsperson knocked the wind out off me.

…Nothing.

Only silence followed, enveloping the field.

I dared not make a sound.

Then I felt a tear roll down my face. I still don't know why it took me half of a second to realize that it was *my* tear.

Then Lucina shuddered—she was leaning against me, both arms thrust under my own upper left.

For the longest time, we stood there, stock still—like statues against the setting sun.

Lucina was still silent.

Then, feeling her knees buckle, I fell on my knees to keep her upright.

And there we stayed, for what felt like eternity.

I'm not sure when I first realized that she'd started to sob uncontrollably.

"Gods damn me…!" she wept. "I…I can't… I can't do it…! I love you too much, and I…!"

Oh gods, I thought. What is wrong with me?

I wrapped my arms around her. She didn't stop me. "Dys…" she sobbed. "I'm so sorry, Dys. I…"

"Shhhh," I soothed, still stunned myself. "It's okay, Lucina. It's all okay…"

But even as I said that, a voice in the back of my mind groaned: No, it's not.

That voice was right.

What had I done…?


[Changing Perspective to:] 017 "Bluefield"


We were already walking toward them when Trey turned to ask me: "What did he do to her?"

Still annoyed by what had just happened, I resisted the urge to stare back at him and sayYou're kidding, right?

Instead, I sighed and simply looked over to him. "Best guess? The bastard somehow—without realizing it or meaning to—gave Lucina a dose of emotional torture."

Three yards out from the tree line. Still a ways to go.

"Wow…" Trey looked a little stunned. "And how did he…?"

"Losing a loved one can be unthinkable for most people," I said. "But it's even worse if the reason they lost that loved one is because they pulled the trigger."

Like Yuna losing Tidus, I thought. Or Zephie losing Juto. Or Shulk losing Fiora.

We were halfway across the grass—halfway away from them now.

Morgan had slowly unshielded her eyes. She only peeled them away from her parents when she heard us—the rustling of shoes on dirt and grass behind her.

"Trey… Mister Blu…" she said weakly, getting over the surprise (not us, actually). "Mother, she…"

Trey walked over to the young tactician-in-training. "Don't worry, Morgan," he said. (His hesitance has gone pretty far down, I thought.) "Your mom and dad are all right."

When Lucina had attacked Dys the first time, the blade would undoubtably have pierced that fool in the chest. Morgan had done well, holding back with her Wind tome—she'd diverted her mother's charge away from her father, with little more that a minor cut on the jacket left behind.

But the second time… As Lucina charged, she changed something. She'd lowered her sword point to her right—below Dys's left arm.

It's disturbingly easy to kill a bunch of nobodies. But killing someone you love, even if it was for the greater good? Sometimes, love defies logic.

Good thing that doesn't matter, I thought as I approached the two fools.

When Lucina burst her Falchion forward, below his left arm (off-course, at this point), Dys—instinctively—raised said arm to catch her. Her arms had remained outstretched until she realized what she'd almost done. Now, her sword lay on the grass, dropped, as if it didn't matter right now.

Dys had pulled her into an embrace. Lucina didn't stop him; in fact, she needed it. He let her cry on his shoulder.

And there I stood, two yards away. I didn't matter to this. And somehow—despite how annoyed I was with him—I still didn't mind that fact.

Either way, they had the right to know.

How close they were, to bringing this world to ruin.

I let them cry for about a minute.

I glanced at Trey, who was standing beside Morgan. He looked pained, watching this.

Sighing, I walked over to the parallel Falchion and picked it up.

Passing it to my right, I drove the sword into the ground.

Then, stepping forward, I reached over with my left hand and tapped Dys twice on the shoulder.

Looking up at me, he seemed somewhat unfazed about my standing there. A tear had left a wet line down his cheek, along his nose. "Blu…?" he muttered ("said" would be too strong a word to describe how he'd said it).

Hearing him, Lucina looked up and pulled away from him—she looked a bit more surprised. "You again…" she managed.

I sighed. "Way to waste time, you two," I said, mostly to Dys.

The tactician stood up. "Listen," he said, "I didn't—"

TH'N.

He didn't finish that sentence.

Kinda hard to do when you get punched in the cheek.


[Changing Perspective to:] 013-R "Trey"


Author's Note: …well. That was a nasty surprise. 8-0

Did you expect an OC to punch the male Avatar in the face? Go ahead. Let me know how you felt about that in your reviews for this chapter—but! Remember this, at least: Blu wouldn't do something that rash if he didn't have to. And yes, he most certainly did.

Thanks for reading this far into the story! The conclusion will be coming very soon. See you then! :D