The celebration of the birth of Princess Lucina was predicted to last a week. Her birth coincided with the spring festival and so the barrels of mead had already been rolled out, the geese and pigs roasted, and the merchants ready with stalls upon stalls of commemorative souvenirs and baubles from foreign lands. Thousands poured into the city to welcome their baby princess, from pilgrims to traveling acting troupes to dignitaries.
Still, Risen did not stop for happy occasions and Haura found herself and a gaggle of Shepards traveling northward to investigate the news of Risen attacks along a major trade route. She had deliberately tried to pick those who would miss the festival the least: Cordelia, Lon'qu, Tharja, Libra, Maribelle, Miriel, Sully, Stahl, and Panne. Chrom, who normally would have leapt at a chance to escape the castle, wished them a safe journey before his eyes strayed back to his daughter in his wife's arms.
Seeing as their commander was on parental leave, Haura had insisted to Frederick she'd go to oversee the possible skirmishes herself. Hadn't he said her finesse improved and her left arm was strong enough wield a light blade at the most and a tome at the least? And because leaving his lord and lady's side right after the birth of a new charge was unthinkable, Frederick had to relent.
Haura, in turn, did not say anything about how there always seemed to be Shepards loitering on her doorstep in the evening or popping up on her way to market or the castle in full armor. One memorable morning as she puttered around her bedroom, preparing for the day, she heard hushed voices and the sound of magic from her drawing room.
Haura flattened herself against the wall, grabbed the tome by her pillow, and prepared to blast through her own office door when a very familiar voice rang out.
"Are you trying to wake her up and turn the letters to ash?"
"...Tharja?"
As the door swung open, Haura, with a half-cast Elthunder spell dissipating from her palm, saw Ricken and Tharja sitting on her carpet with Tharja's ritual tools and Haura's mail spread out between them.
"Good morning." Haura said and the ice in her voice even made Tharja flinch. "Any reason why you broke into my house while I was asleep and look like you're about to curse my mail?"
"...It was her idea!" Ricken squeaked as he dove behind Tharja.
"I suppose I should take credit for wanting to keep you safe." Tharja responded while standing up and shaking Ricken off her cloak. "But it really was Frederick's idea to screen your mail. I just provided, ah, the proper methods."
"And Libra let us in!" Ricken piped up, "So we didn't, uh, break down your door or anything."
Haura stared at them as they looked at her without any sort of remorse or regret. Then she sighed. She ran her fingers through her bedraggled hair and dug them into her forehead to calm the headache setting in.
"Just...I'm going to pretend I never saw this. I'm going to go change and you better be done by the time I get back. Then we'll go out for breakfast and you can treat me to something. Preferably alcoholic."
"Do you need any help? Bath water warmed? Hair brushed?" Tharja offered. Ricken stuck out his tongue behind her back. Haura's response was to slam the door shut and be a rude, grumpy individual for the rest of the day.
It was pushy, invasive, and so Frederick. Still, she would be lying if she said she had not slept better afterwards.
And now she was back on the road and she had no idea she missed it so badly. She had shrugged on her old coat, strapped her boots on, and practically skipped the first mile out of Ylisstol. It was childish and Haura did not care as her friends laughed at her antics and the march fell into easy conversation. They left behind the raucous bands and shouts of street vendors, turning their feet towards newly blossomed fields and rainy sky.
Not everyone shared her escapist desires though. No matter how much they denied it, Haura noticed how their conversation kept sliding towards the festivities back at home.
"I hope some of the stalls are still there when we get back. I haven't gotten Sumia a congratulatory present yet. Or maybe she's already drowning in presents? I don't want to get her something useless or poorly made… Do you have any ideas, Panne?" Cordelia said as they marched.
"All this fuss for that little child. Still, the birth of new life is worth celebrating. Perhaps something for the kit rather than the doe. You should ask the merchant Anna for suggestions."
"Clothes. Definitely clothes." Sully cut in and Haura looked at her in surprise.
"I was going to say a stuffed bear or something cool like that. Why something boring like clothes?" Haura inquired.
"...when you say stuffed bear, you mean a plush toy, right?" Stahl muttered in the back.
"See, you didn't know Captain Chrom as a kid. You know what he's wearing now? It's the exact same thing he wore ten years ago. I didn't really realize it until Maribelle mentioned it the other day. But Frederick dresses them and it's the most bizarre thing. And Sumia's going to put that girl into tiny little suits and Chrom's old clothes because, well, Sumia. Between the two of them, that kid is going to look back on her royal portraits and cringe. Or worse, she'll think that's how people are supposed to look, big blue babies in full body onesies."
The Shepards burst out laughing. Even Cordelia had to turn her head to hide her laughter and Lon'qu snorted in an abortive attempt to hide his smile. Haura felt her heart twinge at the sight of them and internally scolded herself to act natural. It had been a long time since they had a march so lighthearted and full of merriment and Haura had grown lax in policing her emotions.
Maribelle interrupted them with a sniff. "I recall no such event. I would never criticize the dressing choices of Milord. Sully, you're misrepresenting my words. I simply was commenting on the shoddy replica costumes available in the market. Seeing our armor and styles copied for cheap mass consumption by the populace was…disconcerting. Especially when many of those costumes are uniforms reserved for those that worked their way to it."
Sully grinned and shot Stahl a knowing look before facing Maribelle again. "No one was misrepresenting anything, Maribelle. I understand ya, it was weird seeing stuff marketed as 'the Regalia of the Crimson Cavalier' or 'Robe of the Demon Tactician'. I was excited as all hell to get my new togs and armor when I got promoted, but that stuff on sale was some cheap knockoff. You would think if they wanted to sell it, they'd try doing a better job."
"They are calling you the 'Demon Tactician' now? This is not right, even if it is some pointless marketing tactic." Libra whispered to Haura with a look of consternation and Haura remembered that Libra had taken the news of her altercation with the hierarch as badly as Chrom. And yet, the vehemence he had defended her with, even putting himself at odds with the more conservative clergy members during the trial, took her aback.
"I wouldn't worry about something like that. It's literally in my name, as everyone in Ylisstol knows now, so product marketing is hardly worth thinking about." Haura whispered back. Her voice was just an inkling too loud and Tharja jumped into the conversation to Haura's dismay.
"It is insulting. It is as Maribelle said, they have no idea what that name means or its value. Maybe I should lay a curse so whoever dons them becomes a real demon-"
"That would end me in the Ylissean court and you know it. We've talked about this, Tharja." Haura said stiffly and the chatter died down around them.
"...it was a joke." Tharja muttered.
"I know you like to kid about these things but please...don't in the future." Haura said and prepared to move to the front of the group to avoid having any more discussion. Tharja's biting words, however, hit her before she could move.
"Why do you insist on taking the defensive when you could easily cut these snivelling dastards down to their proper size? Or even let me do it for you. It's not like they can tell one Plegian from another or hate me any less." Tharja replied and she clutched her tome to her chest, giving her a look that Haura had seen her use to spurn many others but never Haura herself.
The tactician found herself at a loss for words.
"Tharja, Haura," Libra said softly. "I know it's been hard on you two, but let's not take it out on each other. We can only be patient and understanding among our friends when those who wish to do us harm would love nothing more than to watch us tear ourselves apart. The gods will give us all our due share in time."
"We're all frustrated-" Cordelia began but Haura shook her head to stop her. They had already aired more words on the subject than either Tharja or Haura were comfortable with.
"Sorry, Tharja, for snapping at you. I know you only meant well." Haura said.
"As if I could never not forgive you, my dear. I don't wish to hurt you." Tharja replied and even though Libra smiled at a mediation well conducted, both Haura and Tharja understood they had only put this conversation on hold in front of the others.
"Right, well, I never expected Tharja to agree with Maribelle. And sorry if you don't want to talk about this, Haura, but what, er, does it all mean? I'm just kind of curious. Aside from all the grief everyone else gave you, wasn't it exciting to find out a bit more of your past?" Stahl cut in. The redirection was just enough to shift away without being overly jarring and several Shepards leapt for the opportunity. They all fell silent, however, when Miriel grabbed the helm, readying up a speech.
"I would not presume to say this sliver of evidence constructs more than a passing illusion of history. Unfortunately, the study of etymology, especially on the subject of given names, rarely guarantees more than a passing association with the origin of the word. The nomenclature may have roots in the southern tip of Plegia and the idolatry does trace back to the multi deistic era of Plegian mythology but the data is correlative, not causative. For all the data suggests, her mother may have just been a fanatic for Old World religions." Miriel said. Haura bit back a rude chuckle.
"...Er, can somebody get a translation?" Sully piped up.
Maribelle leapt up to the challenge with great aplomb. "What she means is that a name or title means about as much as a phony star chart telling horoscopes on one's date of birth. Haura might have the name of some lower demon from Plegia-"
"Haures is a grand duke and Deadlord." Tharja dropped helpfully.
"- but well, we can all see she's not a rotting piece of Risen spewing purple smoke. It is one's actions that determine their nobility, not something as asinine as a name they never got to chose. And furthermore, we can speculate all we want, but until your actual mother or documents show up, Haura could be a secret prince from a fallen noble house of Ylisse for all we know." Maribelle announced dramatically.
"I think you've been reading too many of Sumia's trashy romance novels." Haura said. Cordelia straightened up on her pegasus and avoided all of Maribelle's accusing glares. "Those kinds of tales only happen in a writer's imagination."
"Have you thought to give the child storybooks?" Lon'qu said out of the blue. All eyes turned to him at once. "I was taught to read late by a close friend...and she made it enjoyable with a well-written tale."
Haura did not miss the feminine pronoun and judging from the way Lon'qu shrunk back as he realized his slip of the tongue, no one else had either. So it had not always been this way.
Her traitorous heart fluttered to life again before she could squash it under her boot heel. Haura reminded herself that she had not worked so long and bought so many figs to sacrifice their mutual, ungendered respect for a selfish desire. She was being unrealistic to want anything more, being no maiden, and sometimes not a woman either. And most importantly, he would never want her. Pretending her emotions rose up as an enemy swordsman, she gripped her mental blade and slew them where they stood.
The others had already begun cashing in their comments.
"I might have some recommendations for the first few years. It helps to start with picture books too. The children at the orphanage particularly like seeing the Hero-King saving the world with his rag tag army."
"Well, you can't give Lucina the Ribald Tales of the Faith War. Maybe there's some tactics for babies picture book?"
"Haura, please, only you would read that."
"Remember that infant children cannot actually learn to read until the age of five- rather the parents would engage in verbal communication-"
"Are you sure? I'm pretty certain my parents had me memorize incantations to repeat back at them when I was three."
"I have you know 'One Square, Two Square, Red Square, Blue Square' not only had cute pictures but summarized basic troop movement easily enough for toddlers!"
"Don't you think it is barbaric to teach war first to a newborn princess? The virtues and finer assets in life should come first, like civility and dignity."
"Eh, maybe. But definitely an oaken practice sword once she's walking. There's no way Chrom's kid is going to be good with books." Haura thought that was pretty unfair, considering how fast he seemed to get hooked on Sumia's literature, hiding them in between the political theory books Haura tried to get him to read.
"Well why not both? This is the new princess after all. Extravagance is part of the human custom, is it not? There are not many books on the taguel. Perhaps I should pen one for the princess so she does not forget us."
"In my family, it is custom to give some sort of artifact or idol to protect the newborn babe. So if you plan on gifting a book, it had best be a tome of some considerable power…"
"At this rate, it's not going to be a personal gift anymore." Cordelia said and sighed. Haura saw the old familiar heartache in her eyes for both lord and lady and to her frustration, Haura could do nothing. But Cordelia did not need her help, straightening up on her pegasus and banishing her own dark thoughts. "...although I know there was this one fairy tale about a lost girl and a pegasus that we grew up together on. What was it called…?"
They had set up camp early as they had seen storm clouds towards the north and wanted to pitch tents before they were caught. The clouds, however, seemed content to appear ominous without releasing any rain, letting the Shepards mull around outside in their campsite, chatting, playing games, and cooking dinner.
Haura had scheduled a spar later but currently sat in her tent looking over the maps of the area. There was not much to plan with the sketchy details of the reports but, as she had promised Frederick she would be extra careful, she ran through their preparations for the worst scenarios and triple checked her calculations. It soothed her, placing neat numbers into rows and columns, filled with soldier movements, timetables, vulnerabilities, strengths, and inventory stocks. With just a bit of careful thought, the problems and questions untangled themselves in her mind and, if she accepted the ever present degree of uncertainty instead of worrying over it, everything easily fell into place.
And the Shepards always exceeded her expectations, so she trusted them to execute her plans flawlessly as much as they trusted her for orders. It was a smooth challenge and the work was rewarding compared to the dead ends she got boxed into back at Ylisstol. Haura found herself running imaginary scenarios just for fun, muttering to herself as she bent over the tiny wooden soldiers.
"And bam, they hit them fast right there and Sully says 'I'll kill you twice!' and down they go. Oh mister Risen, I see you have left your entire left flank open to attack. You think the cliffs will give you protection but you failed to see the beautiful and talented Cordelia with Haura flying hidden in the clouds. And we leap into the fray, back to back, whoosh-" Haura flicked over one of the enemy statuettes with a grin, "Time to tip the scales! Arcfire!"
"You're adorable."
Haura squeaked and jumped upright, scattering the figurines all across the makeshift table. Tharja stood in the shadows with a smile on her lips and Haura had not noticed when she even entered.
"Tharja, how long have- Wait, no, you saw nothing." Haura declared as her face flushed and her voice cracked. She grabbed all the wooden soldiers and started to arrange them back into their deployment positions, looking anywhere other than Tharja's amused face.
"Right, if you say so, dear. It'll be a secret just between the two of us. Hmm, I like the sound of that." Tharja said and crossed the floor to sit on Haura's bed behind her back. "You can trust me to keep all your secrets, Haura. Or stop anyone else from divulging them." She laughed her soft, eerie laugh and Haura turned her head back with a crooked smile.
"Thanks, Tharja. I think? Please don't hurt anyone on my behalf unless we're on the battlefield." Haura said as she began to prod the figures across the map again.
They fell silent as Haura finished her simulation, jotted down a few notes, and found herself without something to distract herself with. Tharja had not left her place on Haura's cot and she had not said anything either, contenting herself with watching Haura. Haura did not want to banish Tharja from her tent, tense as it was between them, and escaping her own tent just felt cowardly. Finally, caught between the decision to decipher long and dry training regimens for advanced class changes and talking to Tharja, Haura gave in.
"Did you need to talk to me about something?" Haura said warily and she turned around on the crate she sat on. Tharja had pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, pulling her cape around her body like a big black beetle. And, another novelty, she glared at Haura as if Haura slighted her with just the mere question.
"Don't play dumb. It doesn't suit you. You know I'm angry at myself." Tharja muttered.
"...yourself? I thought you'd be mad at me for, y'know. What's wrong?" Haura said, surprised and a little relieved.
"Oh, don't get me wrong. I am extremely angry with you. But that's why I'm upset with myself. Who gets angry with their love, after all? So there must be something wrong with me. But no matter how much I try to rationalize it, you keep becoming the problem. And I normally deal with problems by cursing them away but-" Tharja left her sentence hanging and Haura tried not to cringe.
"Well, even Chrom and I don't agree on everything. We still try and talk about it though. Just like you don't want to hurt me, no matter how much the Ylissean nobility frustrates me, waving my sword in their face to make them comply isn't a real solution. Tharja, you know this." Haura said, trying to sound soothing.
"Of course I know this. Why do you think I haven't strangled the bastard with his own guts that dared to touch you? I can hex the lowlifes that whistle to me in the streets but even I have to bend my head to the power of the titled and monied. That was how I got drafted into a false king's army." Tharja hissed and no matter how much rage she tried into inject in her voice, Haura could hear a tremor. "It makes me sick."
Tharja's thoughts were hardly unfamiliar to Haura, who had found her mind along those lines before. But Haura had never dared to voice them, to avoid letting that agitation and unease take root in her heart and paralyze her. Where Tharja expressed herself freely and the anger and fear roiled out of her in crescendoing waves, Haura had choked down her bitterness until Frederick had cracked her open and allowed the built in pressure to seep out of her ribcage. Therein laid their biggest difference and the root of their struggles with each other.
And so Haura knew she could not be straight with Tharja, who would only augment and reflect back anything more than calm and control. She had, on some level, deceived all the Shepards before to protect their emotions and morale during the war and Haura was willing to do it again.
"...Tharja, this is about more than just me. You said you had to hex some people that were harassing you-"
"I'm capable of taking care of myself. They regretted opening their mouths." she said and lifted her chin off her knees to affix Haura with a penetrating stare. "You know that."
"I do know that, but that doesn't stop me from being worried about you. This 'watching each other's back' runs both ways, you know. Look, we both know what being Plegian in Ylisse is like. It's not easy. But I have you and the Shepards all looking out for me so I know I can survive it. And the same goes for you- we're all here for you. It's not perfect. But that is just how it's going to be, as long as I am Chrom's right hand tactician." Haura said.
Her piece said, Haura stood up and clapped Tharja on the shoulder. Tharja leaned into her hand and looked up to Haura. She did not respond.
"Come with me to dinner? Or are you still mad at me for being stubborn?" Haura said with a tired smile.
"...you said as long as you are Chrom's woman, this will not end."
Haura gave a slow nod, wary of the tone of Tharja's voice. Tharja's eyes alighted.
"Then, Haura, come with me to Plegia." She grabbed Haura's hand off her shoulder and pulled it close to her chest as Haura stared at her in shock.
"Tharja-"
"You believe yourself Plegian so let me show you what that means. Let me show you the sands that birthed you and the temples that have a thousand years of history. People will respect your power there and those that hurt you can be punished without fear of self-important relics. If we travel together, no bandit or tyrant will be able to touch us. I want to show you where I grew up, the arcane secrets in my family's libraries, and how the dusky nights in Plegia have the most brilliant stars." Tharja murmured and Haura could feel her own pulse in the grip of Tharja's dark fingers.
Her natural response got stuck in Haura's throat as she stared into Tharja's fierce eyes, filled with desire. It made Haura's stomach turn. She knew in her heart where she stood, by whom, what she had resolved the moment she had realized with sick anxiety what Tharja's insistent gazes meant (because Haura wishes she could decide who she loved, but she can't and, like the coward she is, she cannot break Tharja's heart just for her own peace of mind), but her mouth and legs would not obey her screaming mind.
And Haura could not deny how sweet the taste of escape had been, even when they had been on the road but a day. Her hands grew sweaty and Tharja started to frown as Haura's silence from the white noise in her mind grew longer.
Naga saved her when Stahl called out to camp that dinner was ready.
The moment broken, Haura ripped her hand out of Tharja's grasp, exclaimed how she was starving, and cajoled Tharja to sup with her, talking over any of Tharja's attempts to return to the subject. Once she was among the rest of the Shepards, Tharja melted away from the forefront of the attention and Haura listened to Sully and Stahl tell the story of the Bull and the Panther without hearing a word they said. Her food, despite her hunger, tasted like stale hardtack.
Haura, filled with the cacophony of her own thoughts mixed with quiet dread, did not notice nearly everyone leaving to their own business. Only when Lon'qu rapped the backs of her clenched fists with a practice sword did Haura jump up and realized only Libra and Maribelle, deep in a philosophical conversation, were still by the fire.
"We had an appointment before the sunset." Lon'qu said and he looked at her blank surprise with a small frown. "Are you not ready after insisting you were up to it?"
Haura pulled herself together and shook her head. This would be good for her, to be forced to abandon her worries and only focus on the steel in her hands. It was another brand of escapism and Haura could not help the ironic smile that curled on her lips. Tharja knew her better than Haura gave her credit for.
"I've been looking forward to this since I could hold a sword again. Let's go."
A/N:
A little more expansion on the many family/friendship dynamics. Trust doesn't mean necessarily saying everything. There are just some members that you love but can't tell everything to because you know it just will go over wrongly.
So many characters…talking. I love them all but *keels over* (And I couldn't resist the jab at Chrom's outfit. Who can?)
Making Tharja more complex than just a giggly stalker type was a lot more fun than I expected. Her and Haura's relationship is a lot less one-sided now than when it was (briefly) introduced in Philia and that gave me great joy to write.
I had to extend this to one more chapter because I got carried away writing Shepards on-the-road shenanigans. We're almost there! Let me know what you think.
