Chapter Four: Tragic Past
A week later, Owain overheard the beginning of the end, coming back sweat-drenched and grinning from another long day of sword-fighting. He heard Aunt Maribelle's no-nonsense voice through the cracked door and Mother's more frantic one.
"I can't bring myself to stay behind any longer. It is unbecoming of a woman of my stature to stay idle."
"Maribelle, you can't leave."
"You'll have Lon'qu to look after you, darling. You don't need me."
"It's not me I care about! Maribelle, why can't you just stay here, where it's safe? They already have healers!"
"Not enough, it seems."
"What about Brady?"
"I…" She paused, which was unlike her, and Owain saw a sliver of her fidget in her sharp pink riding breeches. "Lissa, my dear. Right now Brady is safe. All of you are safe. But if I tarry, that might change. And I haven't been able to shake the feeling that if…if I had been there, with my husband, perhaps I could have saved him."
Mother said nothing. Mother understood. And so did Owain.
"I can look after Chrom," Maribelle offered. "Gods know the lunkhead needs it."
"Look after yourself, too," Mother begged. "Please. I know I'd be useless even if I could leave, but if I were able to go with you—"
Maribelle cut her off with a kiss to her brow. "Never let me hear you say that again."
xxx
She departed the next morning. Mother and Owain were there to see her off at the gate, but they left when Brady burst into tears so that the two could have a moment alone. Owain looked back over his shoulder as Mother pulled him off by the hand. Maribelle wasn't reprimanding Brady for his tears as she usually did. She was on her knees and hugging him very, very tightly.
"We're going to be taking care of Brady until she returns, okay, Owain?" Mother put a bit of a spring into her step. "She'll be back in no time; you know nothing can stop your Aunt Maribelle. But I want you to be very sweet to Brady, because he'll be very worried. You should leave him alone today, I think, but I'm sure he'll come around for dinner and we can all eat together."
That sounded rather nice, Owain had to admit. But supper time came and went and Brady never came by, and then darkness fell.
"Definitely time to go looking for him," Mother muttered to herself from her usual perch at the window seat. At first Owain thought she meant Chrom, until he remembered their new charge.
"I'll find him," Owain promised. "We'll be right back."
Owain scoured the entire castle but couldn't find him anywhere: not in his room or Aunt Maribelle's, not in the kitchens, not even by the healer's ward where he spent his days doggedly following the priests and clerics and learning how to bandage and stitch. Heart now pounding, Owain sprinted out through the courtyard, over the drawbridge, and into the town, calling like a madman: "Brady? Brady? Brady!"
An hour later, when he was exhausted and in the low part of town where Lon'qu lived, and had narrowly dodged the contents of someone's chamber pot being poured from a window, he finally spotted him: in his white apprentice robes, hunched over something in an alleyway, shoulders shaking.
"Brady!" he cried as he approached. "We've been looking all over for you! Aren't you hungry?"
His friend flinched away, clutching the healing staff that had been cut to fit his small frame. "Leave me alone, willya!"
"Come on. You have to eat. What's this?" Owain crouched to see what Brady had huddled over and found a bedraggled black cat that had clearly lost a fight. It was licking some of its wounds, but some were newly healed. He pardoned his mental weakness when the name of his first emotion came to mind as an old cliché: a melting heart. "That's what you've been doing all night?"
"I've gotta keep my mind off things somehow," Brady sniffed.
"I'll help. You keep healing, I'll tell a story."
"I don't want to hear any stupid—"
"Once upon a time!" Owain began grandly, throwing out his arms. "There was a mighty hero named Brady! And he traveled the world with his trusty companion…" He cast his eyes about for inspiration and they landed on the black cat. "Shadowclaw, the Night Tiger!"
The longer he rambled, getting rather into his own tale, the more Brady calmed down. It was extremely late by the time the cat licked their knees in thanks and wandered off, but Owain was feeling so delighted by the plot twists he had invented that he didn't realize how angry Mother would be until they returned and saw her waiting in the window seat with her arms folded.
Owain tried a grin and gestured grandly to Brady. "Lo, I was victorious!"
"Young man! Do you have any idea what time it is?"
He opened his mouth for something clever, like Lecture Time!, but she was already going strong:
"As if I need one more thing to worry about! I thought you'd both gotten lost or hurt or worse! I was frantic! You're lucky I don't ground you both for life."
"You won't?" Owain asked, so surprised that all wit slipped back down his throat.
"No," said a deep voice from behind him. He and Brady squeaked and whirled to find Lon'qu behind the door, arms folded, looking amused. Mother laughed so hard she almost fell out of the window seat.
"Oh gods, your little faces! Lon'qu, I told you lurking back there would scare them!"
"What are you doing here?" Owain managed to ask.
"You both were in my district. I happened to spot you out so late, figured your mother was worried, and decided I should inform her that you were still alive."
"I would have felt better if you'd stayed with them," said Mother, but he only snorted.
"Oh? If you had been attacked by a mugger, Owain, what would you have done?"
He didn't even really have to think. "Throw the cat at him. It was hurt, so it would panic and scratch. While he dealt with that, I'd find a piece of wood or something and jab up into his windpipe,"—He made the motion, really into his scenario now—"momentarily winding him and shutting down his muscles, as the body responds to protect itself from neck wounds. And that would buy Hero Brady and I time to run."'
Lon'qu raised his eyebrows to Mother as if to say I told you so . She sighed. Brady gawked at him and he glared back: What, you thought I've been goofing around this entire past year?
"Well," said Mother, "I'm very glad you're both okay. But you mustn't do anything like that again."
"I promise," he said. Behind him, Lon'qu shifted.
"Well, then, if everything has been resolved..."
"Wait," said Mother. She smiled at him a little from the curtain of her hair. "It's been a really tough day. I was thinking...maybe we should all just relax tonight. Together. Stay up late and play a game or tell scary stories or something."
"All right!" Owain cheered, at the same time Brady asked,
"Like a sleepover?"
"Yes!" she said. "Like a sleepover."
"Absolutely not."
Owain turned around to find Lon'qu flushed, all of a sudden. This time, he was not ignorant. This time he understood.
"You grump," Lissa teased. But Lon'qu just looked at Owain. For a second he thought he should feel threatened or wary, but all that hit him was an odd sort of comfort. In this awkward hesitation, he and Lon'qu were no longer forces at odds: master and student, reticent and talkative, man and boy. Instead they were united in their desire to make Lissa happy, whatever that entailed. Having an ally was so reassuring.
"Master," said Owain. "A sleepover is an essential, ritual bonding between friends."
His reward was a brief, laconic smile. "So it is."
"Sleepover!" Lissa cried, throwing her hands in the air. She was quick to run into her room and Owain and Brady darted in the opposite direction, for Owain's. They dragged off his sheets and quilts, and Brady yanked them into the parlour while Owain carried all the pillows. Once it was all dumped into a soft heap on the floor, they raced each other to the kitchens to find snacks for everyone.
"Let's check on Lucina," Owain said on the way back up, their arms full of sweets. She was surely asleep at this hour, but he would have hated to leave her out, and he knew that with Uncle gone she often went to sleep lonely, even if she pretended that she was just fine. As predicted, she did not answer his knock.
"Sleep well, Exalted Cousin," he said to the door. "Next time you shall join us."
By the time he and Brady re-entered the parlour, the tea table had been moved against the wall to clear a space. Mother was snuggled up on the couch with a pillow and blanket, and Lon'qu was sitting in a nest of the rest of her blankets on the floor, looking thoroughly confused.
"You all go about this with the practice of a drill," he said. "Does this happen...often?"
"It used to," said Mother. "When the war started, we all needed to find little ways to cheer up. So Owain and I hosted a lot of sleepovers for different people. Maribelle said it was bad for her skin to stay up all night, but sometimes she came anyway and made us great tea. And Frederick was always so funny; he kept trying to straighten the wrinkles out of everyone's sheets and threw a big fit if Chrom and I stayed up too late. One time he let me put a bow in his hair, though."
"That was the best," said Owain. "And Uncle told that really scary story that night, remember?"
"Way better than Lucina's stories," said Brady,, and Owain snickered. Lucina's stories were hilarious, but only because they were so terrible. They meandered without plots or morals despite her best efforts and all her jokes fell so flat that she tried to explain them and made it all worse. But they were in tears of laughter by the end of it all, which only encouraged her to tell more stories.
"I am honoured to have been invited, then," said Lon'qu, if bemusedly.
The night was great. Mother told jokes and laughed so hard at them that she snorted, and Owain recounted The Tale of Hero Brady and Shadowclaw the Night Tiger. Lon'qu was quiet, but did retell the Chon'sin fable of the princess in the stars when Owain asked him to, while he and Brady ate so many sweets they had to lie down and groan about it.
"'M sleepy," Brady mumbled.
"You sleep then, Brady, Saviour of Cats. I shall keep watch, ever vigilant!"
"All heroes need sleep," said Mother.
"Not this one!"
That was clearly a lie, though, because he woke in the middle of the night, which meant he'd passed out immediately after trying to refute Mother. The room was pitch black, now. She and Lon'qu were still awake, just whispering.
"He's fine, Lissa. He always manages."
"I know, but that doesn't mean I can stop worrying."
"Maribelle will be with him soon."
She was silent for a long time.
"Lissa, are you asleep?"
"Almost. I was saying my prayers, first. But I can do it out loud, if you want to join in."
"You know I don't pray."
"How can you believe in nothing at a time like this? With so many dead or dying?"
"That nothingness is merciful, in death. For years my greatest consolation was knowing beyond a doubt that no matter what...she was at peace."
"Would you rather believe she's at peace or believe she's in paradise?" Mother didn't sound interrogative; merely curious.
"That is obvious. But believing something does not make it so."
"Yes it does," Mother said softly. "We all believed we could win, all those years ago, didn't we?"
"Mm."
"And Chrom always believed he was invincible, if he was fighting to protect the people around him. As long as he can keep going now, we have hope."
"True."
Mother sighed; Owain's eyes had so adjusted to the sparse moonlight that he could see her chest balloon upward under her blanket. "I'm sorry. I bottle things up in front of Owain and Lucina, and then I have nights like this where all I do is fret. You must think I'm so whiny."
"I find you very strong. We all have worries."
"You never tell me yours."
"Why would I burden you further."
"You say you came to be here for Owain and me, but that's not how friendship works. I want to be there for you, too."
At first, Lon'qu did not speak. Owain was very sleepy, but so curious that he blinked hard and willed himself to stay awake. Mother did not press. They were both rewarded when he muttered,
"Before I left Chon'sin, I swore to live as solitary a life as possible. But the older I become...the more this bothers me."
"Silly," she said through a giggle that made both Lon'qu and Owain smile. "You're here now. We won't let you be alone."
Lon'qu flipped his hand over so that it was palm-up, and Mother dangled her arm off the edge of the couch. Her fingertips brushed the center of his palm and stayed there like a dancer alighting from a graceful jump. Owain fell asleep.
He woke up once more, needing to relieve himself, and saw them in the exact same position. But when the dawn sunlight woke him for good, Mother's fingertips hung a half-inch over the carpet and Lon'qu was gone.
xxx
Another week passed, with Owain working twice as hard to make up for the lessons he'd skipped after the sleepover. But on the seventh day, he made it to the courtyard at dawn and Lucina wasn't there.
Lucina did not miss appointments or skip lessons. She did not stay in bed when she was sick. She did not let herself sleep in. She was never late.
Owain dropped his sword in the grass and ran.
No , he chanted in his head like a magic spell, no no no no. It couldn't be. But the throne room when he reached it was abuzz with courtiers in black. Mother was in the midst of them, clutching a white, bloodstained cape. He ran into her embrace. She made soothing noises like she expected him to burst into tears, but somehow he couldn't manage it. It wasn't real, was it?
Uncle was invincible. Mother had believed in him.
"Where's Lucina?" he asked.
"She ran off to take some time for herself. I want to go after her, but I have to take care of things here, first. She doesn't need anything else to worry about. A-and you shouldn't be alone." Her eyes were dry as always, but her voice was fluttering like a sick bird. "Why don't you...g-go find Lon'qu and—"
"I'm finding my cousin," he told her. It would be so easy to run to his teacher and feel safe for a while, especially while Mother was busy hashing out burials and wills, but that would be selfish. As much as he needed a hug, he should be the one bestowing them. He could do that much.
Owain sprinted to Lucina's room, but she wasn't there. Now breathless, he doubled back to Uncle's room as fast as he could. The door was shut tight. He pushed it open.
The formal receiving chamber was empty. The cozy parlour was empty. The study was empty. Cautiously, he pushed open the door to Uncle's room.
Lucina was there, curled up around Falchion on his side of the bed. Her dark hair covered her face. She was very still.
"Hey, cous," he said gently, unsure of how to break the moment with anything but humour. "Cool sword."
"It is mine now, by right." Her voice was thick. "They brought it to me just before dawn. I was in the great hall, about to get to the courtyard and wait for you. I'm sorry I wasn't there."
"Don't worry about that," he said.
Gods, the Falchion. It was so huge and heavy looking. Lucina barely had a head's height over it.
"Owain."
"Yes?"
"Owain?"
"I'm here."
"Will you tell me a story?"
He climbed up in bed beside her, intending to hug her from behind since he knew she wasn't going to let go of Falchion, but she surprised him by turning from the sword and holding him instead. She pressed his face into her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him. He sighed and let it happen. Lucina was always going to be the protector, no matter how much she was hurting. But he could still be the entertainer, even if his heart felt fit to burst with grief. He could still make her smile.
"Once upon a time," he said, "there was a princess named Lucina. She is the hero of our story. And her cousin, the Noble Owain, did deign in his noble nobleness to be her sidekick this time around."
"There," she said in that same watery voice. "That's more like it."
xxx
He told the best story he could, told and told and gave and gave until Lucina fell asleep. Then he untangled himself, stealthy as a shadow, and moved Falchion to the foot of the bed where she couldn't roll over and cut herself on it.
And then he ran.
He sprinted around the corner to his room and collided into something solid.
"Out of my way! Nothing shall keep me from comforting my Exalted Mother in her hour of need!"
Large hands grasped his shoulders to keep him in place.
"Lon'qu? Unhand me! You don't know what horrors have transpired!"
"I do," he said. Sweat trickled from his temples. "All Ylisstol knows; the castle raised a black flag. I ran here when I saw it."
"Then let's go to Mother! Now! I left her to comfort Lucina, but I know she needs us."
"She needs to be alone."
"Have you seen her?"
"No, but I know this much."
Owain started to struggle. "You don't understand! Let me go!"
"Owain—"
"Lon'qu! If I don't have anybody to be strong for, I'm going to..."
It was too late. The spell of his stories had broken. He was no hilarious sidekick hiding in adventures but a nephew in mourning, a future soldier who lost his king before he'd even earned his sword, a boy facing the apocalypse and knowing their greatest hope had fallen. He tried to finish his sentence but only a sob came out instead, and then he ducked his head to hide his tears.
"I-I have awful autumn allergies. Curse their sudden onset!"
"Owain," Lon'qu murmured. "Owain, I understand."
How could you possibly, he wanted to cry, but the Champion pulled him close and the words caught in his throat. He just wept into his stomach.
"Please let go, Lon'qu. Please. I don't want you to see me like—I promise I'm stronger than this, Master. I haven't cried since Father died. I can pull it together." Just stop being so kind; go back to the gruffness I'm used to.
"Owain," he said again. "Remember your lessons."
All that Chon'sin mumbo-jumbo about the power of spirit in an attack, how to hold self-belief in your mind and in your aim. It was so easy for Owain when he was training. But this was worse. Here he was unarmed and unable to hold a single secure thought.
"It's too hard to concentrate."
"I don't want you to concentrate. Strength is not a level that can be obtained, Owain. It is a frame of mind. And no frame of mind can be held indefinitely. That is what you need to remember. Just relax for now. It's all right."
So Owain gripped Lon'qu's coat and cried and let himself be held until the door opened and Mother pulled him away, smiling gently, looking pinched and exhausted but dry-eyed as always.
