Part 1:

Their parents cooed over how adorable it was that their daughters were playmates. Severa just rolled her eyes and towed Noire away by the hand. They had made a pact to search for more feathers together.

Severa liked to look in the marketplace the most. The feathers were usually small and plain, but she didn't care. Her eyes roamed over the stalls with pretty dresses and ribbons and mirrors, and she spun castles in her head of what it would be like to live in one chockfull with the luxuries.

Noire didn't like the markets. She clung to Severa by the sleeve, hiding behind her as the bold girl cut a path through the busy streets.

Severa would pinch her when she could feel her arm starting to bruise, but otherwise kept her mouth shut. While she would never admit it, the thought that someone was counting on her made her happy. Maybe a little too much… She would stare down anyone who dared to cross their paths—even grownups—and then Noire would have to drag her away, stammering in her ear that adults were a lot bigger than them.

It took three trips to the marketplace before Severa had had enough of Noire's skittishness and asked/demanded what her problem was.

"It's s-s-so crowded…" Noire confessed. "C-c-can't we look for f-feathers s-s-somewhere else?"

Severa sighed ruefully, but they both knew who won when she put down the dress she had been inspecting. Noire's fingers curled around her sleeve. With a tug, she led her away from the dirt-trodden marketplace, past the city gates, and to the grassy paths outside. Noire told her in tiny whispers what surrounded her house.

Her family needed lots of space so Momma could do her work in privacy. Momma and Daddy made sure that they could go to the highest floor of their home and see no neighbors besides those in the wild (for not only were the birds and the bees handy for experiments, but they could also keep mum about them, too).

Daddy had shown her the way to the meadows near the house, Noire explained. In the morning before Momma woke, he would take her to the meadows so they could paint. There were plenty of subjects to choose from, from the daisies swaying in the breeze to the butterflies and bluebirds flittering overhead.

Severa wasn't holding her breath. In fact, when they reached the place, she gasped. It was even prettier than the girl's descriptions.

As soon as her house disappeared from sight, Noire let go of Severa's sleeves and entwined her fingers into Severa's. She would roll her eyes whenever Noire swung their hands, but that only elicited a giggle from the girl, and then she would have to hide her own smile. Of course, she still had to scare away any bugs or lizards they happened on, or Noire would shriek and hide behind her.

Severa had to admit, the feathers were prettier and more abundant in the meadows than in the market. They found them around flower stems, or caught in moss or bushes. Some were as long as their hands and others as small as their pinkies. Noire would smooth each one out before carefully storing them in her pouch with any wildflowers or other goodies they had found. Back home, they would lay the feathers out and split them up between them.

After their first fight (okay, so only Severa put up a fight) over whom got the longest feather… and the silkiest…and the one with brown flecks…and the one with white flecks…they decided that Severa would have first pick so long as she left two-thirds for Noire. They sealed the deal with a thumbs-promise (because pinkies were for wimps).

Their parents had taken to calling them their little wildlings. Within a week, the girls were almost unrecognizable. Their skins were fair by nature, but hours in the sun had darkened them to a shade close to that of the Feroxi. Well…Severa's, at least. Noire turned red rather than brown, and needed frequent healing sessions to soothe the burns on her porcelain skin. But not a day went by when Noire wasn't waiting on the porch for Severa to take her on another adventure.

l*l*l*l

While Momma's magic kept any dangerous beasts away, the girls were smart enough to stick together. They kept within hearing distance, and often they were close enough that their hands would collide when they reached for the same feather or flower.

But when Noire reached for a cluster of little flowers with white berries, Severa slapped her hand away.

Noire jumped back with a squeak. "I'm s-s-sorry!"

"Gawds," she snapped, "don't you know what poison ivy is?"

She shook her head. "M-m-momma only t-taught me ab-bout h-herbs."

"Of all the stupid things…" Severa grumbled, then saw how Noire was staring at her. "What?"

"N-n-nobdy calls Momma s-s-stupid," she whispered, not with venom, but with wide-eyed shock.

"I didn't call her stupid. I said it's stupid that she didn't teach you about the bad plants. Here." She shoved her bundle of wildflowers into Noire's arms. "These are safe ones. See? None of them have three leaves or white berries. That means they're good. This one is a baby-blue eye, and that's a buttercup, and these are daisies..." Severa rattled off the names just as Mommy had taught her. About halfway down the list, she glanced at the girl, and almost stumbled on the next name when she saw that Noire was listening with rapt attention, as if she were a student and Severa the master.

Master. She smirked, pleased with the title, and brainstormed more ways to reinforce it. Her gaze fell on the flowers they had gathered.

She spent the rest of the day teaching Noire how to weave flower crowns.

l*l*l*l

Severa and Noire had met their parents' old friends before on separate occasions. Most of the time the adults would chat about boring things as Severa learned that adults often did. But sometimes Severa could wheedle them into telling her stories about their time in the war.

Oftentimes the adults would bring their children. Between the two of them, Severa and Noire could name the entire group from past play dates. Some of the children were impossible to forget, like Princess Lucina and Owain and that bunny-boy whose name Severa couldn't remember.

However, there was one name unrelated to royalty, weirdos, or hybrids that Noire and Severa would never forget.

The grownups had taken the children on an outdoor picnic. Their parents had told them before to stay close—but kids don't exactly have long attention spans. Two of them, Owain and a boy whose name sounded like a color that neither girl could remember started whispering in each other's ears. Their hands were in front of their mouths so the girls couldn't see what they were saying.

But they did catch their sneaky glances. When the grownups and the tattletale Lucina weren't looking, the boys crouched away into the forest. A smirk slid across Severa's face the same time that a worried frown appeared on Noire's. Severa nudged Noire's shoulder.

"This is boring," she whispered. "Come on. Follow me."

"B-b-but Daddy told us—Severa!" Noire scurried after her friend, who was already slinking into the trees.

They didn't know where they were going, or even where the other two boys had run off to, but Severa figured they'd get there when they get there.

She was right, of course.

The forest opened to a field that rolled out into gentle hills. Near the far side of the field's perimeter was a tree. It was too short to have seen from the picnic, but up close, it was tall enough that when they craned back their heads, their necks begun to ache. Speckled between the leaves and filtered sunlight were red dots. Apples.

Severa jumped for the lowest-hanging one, but her hand grasped empty air. She scowled. With a grunt, she jumped and clawed at the tree, holding onto the bark with her bare hands.

"W-what are you doing?" Noire squeaked.

"Winning—" Severa grunted, as she dug her foot into the bark. "A—Prize." She scrambled up a few inches, then lost her grip and skidded to her bottom. Severa growled and yanked out fistfuls of grass. She launched herself at the tree. Again. And again. Finally Noire pulled her back.

"We just ate," she said. "We don't have to have any apples."

"Have to and want to are two completely different things," Severa retorted. She glared up at the tree, mocking her with its fruit. She almost tried again, but Noire took her hand and lifted it up. Severa couldn't hold back a whimper when she saw her jagged, broken fingernails. Then she became conscious of the tangled mess of her hair, and her hands started to throb, and it hurt…and she finally plopped under the tree. She buried her head in her knees—and not because she was crying.

When she was sure that the dirt in her eyes was gone and her face wasn't red and blotchy, she lifted her head…and saw Noire smiling shyly in front of her, her arms overflowing with wildflowers. She didn't say anything, but sat down beside her, placing half of the flowers in Severa's lap and half in hers.

l*l*l*l

After a while, Severa noticed how full Noire's flower crown was, with all the stems neatly tucked under the petals so only the flowers were displayed. Severa looked down at her crown, the flowers drooping and crumpled from her attempts to tuck in the stems that poked out. She was about to say something she knew she would later regret, when a shadow fell over them.

They squinted up—and Severa remembered why she had dragged Noire out here in the first place. A boy was standing in front of them. Noire squeaked and ducked her head. Severa fought back from rolling her eyes; she had told her a dozen times—cooties don't exist.

"Hello," the boy mumbled. His eyes looked at everything but theirs as his hand pushed up into his hair. "I'm Inigo."

Ohh, so that's his name.

"What do you want?" snapped Severa. Guilt twinged in her chest when the boy flinched. He snuck a glance back, where Owain was not so subtly hiding behind a bush, pumping his arm in what must have been an encouraging gesture (and if it wasn't, and meant something else, then he'd find his arm shoved up his—)

The boy dragged his eyes back to the girls. He faced Noire, and in the process, tilted his body away from Severa. She narrowed her eyes.

"Your hair looks, um…" The boy paused awkwardly "…soft."

Noire blushed. "T-t-thanks."

"Can I touch it?"

"W-what?"

The boy flinched again. "N-no! I mean—"

"Are you making fun of her?" Severa snapped. "Because if you are I'll-I'll—" Severa growled in frustration and shot up. "AARGH!"

She charged like a bull.

"Ack!" The boy stumbled back, almost tripping, as Severa charged like a bull. Owain chose that moment to leap out of the bushes. His hands cupped around his mouth, he shouted, "Abort! Abort!"

Owain shouted, the boy ran, and Noire pretended she was anywhere but there while Severa threw her flower crowns at said boy's back as she chased him 'round and 'round the posies.

Their parents were not happy when Severa and Inigo turned up covered in dirt and sweat, with the latter's clothes stained with the juices of mangled flowers.

l*l*l*l

Part 2:

The picnics ended. The "meetings" began.

More of their parents' friends from the army joined the meetings. A few the grownups had traveled from as far away as Regna Ferox or Chon'sin just to meet, and the children could listen to their stories of foreign lands for hours. The grownups would smile as they caught up with one another, but soon their faces turned serious. They would speak in hushed voices behind doors too thick for the children to make out the words. They told the children that they weren't allowed to play outside anymore (not that it stopped some of them).

Eventually it became too crowded to fit everyone in one house. Their assemblies moved to the Ylisstol palace, where their visits stretched longer and longer.

To Severa, it was paradise. The clothes, the food, the luxury. When she wasn't bossing around servants, she was flattering the noblewomen until she had them cooing around her. All she had to do was bat an eyelash, and they'd gift the "adorable little girl" any pretty trinket or bauble she fancied.

To Noire, the palace was a warzone. For a girl who regarded the gigantic place through the eyes of a panicked mouse, squeaking and scuttling into the shadows at the approach of trampling feet, anything that glittered was as worthwhile as a block of cheese. The only thing that lured her out from her hiding places was the chance to gaze at the golden clothing and filigree that sparkled like her Momma's circlet.

Noire would even stand still for hours while Severa modeled one noblewoman's gift after the other. Her one condition was that whatever outfit she tried on, it must include a golden circlet.

Unfortunately, their fun came to an end once Severa's mother found out about the gifts her daughter had acquired.

l*l*l*l

They shared a room during their stay.

At night Severa would wake up to someone poking her arm. "Sorry!" came a small voice in the dark. Hot breath tickled her ear as Noire whispered her request.

Severa would grumble, and let a clammy hand pull her to her feet. She would fight to keep her eyes open in front of the lavatory door while Noire made water. Only a few nights had passed before a prod at the elbow got Severa up without having to ask.

In exchange, Noire told no one that Severa still slept with a ragdoll tucked under her arm.

l*l*l*l

Severa was leaning over the balcony, daydreaming wicked stories about the people down below in the main hall, when she heard footsteps approach.

Her mother was striding down the hall. With her was a woman—no, a lady. She could be nothing other, with her perfectly curled ringlets as pale as corn silk, her impeccable taste in fashion, and a refined air about her that demanded respect. For a moment Severa thought that even her mother paled when compared to this beauty.

Then the lady's sparkling pink eyes narrowed at her. Severa had woven flowers into her hair and wore a new dress that looked good on Noire but better on her, and yet she felt as if she was wearing rags when the lady frowned her pouting lips. Her cheeks burned. Never had she wanted so badly to scurry into the shadows like Noire.

Severa pushed the feeling down into her stomach, and kept it there with her arms barred across her chest. Years of imitation made it easy to match the woman's expression of detached disinterest. But as always, Severa slipped up, and couldn't keep her lips from twisting into a scowl.

Mommy glanced between them. "Hello, darling. Have you met Maribelle before?"

"No."

"I hadn't the pleasure," Maribelle said, extending a dainty paw.

Severa shook it with a syrupy-sweet smile. "Pleasure's all yours."

Mommy shot her a look. "Maribelle is an old—"

"Ahem!"

"—longtime friend of mine. We fought in the war together."

Severa tried to imagine this pink lady wielding a weapon. "Fought, or cowered behind a staff?" she grumbled.

Mommy didn't even have time to scold her before Maribelle thwacked her on the shoulder with her parasol.

"Honestly, Cordelia," she sniffed, tapping the parasol on her palm as if it were a ruler, "your daughter may have your blood, but your grace has gone to waste. My, just look at that scowl! And that hair." Maribelle furrowed her nose, and flicked a strand of Severa's hair with the tip of her parasol. "Not at all as lustrous as her mother's."

"Maribelle, aren't you being a little harsh on—"

Severa grabbed the parasol and yanked it out of Maribelle's grip. "Go drown in a sack!" she snarled. She pushed past them, running down the hall before her mother could catch her. Mother never could.

l*l*l*l

Snip!

Noire jumped awake. Her heartbeat thudded as she scanned the room, expecting to find Momma clipping her locks of hair or toenails while she slept. Instead her eyes caught on a shaft of light coming from the lavatory. That's when she remembered where she was.

"Severa?" she whispered into the darkness swirling around her, thick as fog. No reply.

Noire gulped, pulling the blanket up to her nose.

"S-S-Severa?"

Snip, snip!

The hairs on her arms bolted up. She considered ducking under the covers and praying that Severa would chase off the monster before it could smell her fear. Then she heard a sound. A sniff.

Noire clenched the blanket closer to her chest and slid out of bed. She edged forward into the darkness, leaving her warm sanctuary behind. Her bare arms shivered from the cold. She hitched up the blanket and took a deep breath.

"Angel-wing begonia," she whispered.

"Angelonia." Her foot inched forward.

"Anthurium." Step. "Arisaema." Step. "Articho—" Snip!

Noire winced.

Another sniff. "Artichoke." Step.

By the time she whispered 'Dandelion' she was at the other side of the room. Her trembling hand slipped into the shaft of light and pushed open the door.

The blanket dropped from her hand.

"Severa?"

"Go AWAY!" The young girl cried. She was huddled in the corner of the room with a mirror held up on her folded legs. Around her feet were red tresses that looked like streaks of blood in the dim candlelight. Scattered amongst the mess were the daisies she had painstakingly woven into her hair that morning. The once white flowers were crumpled and brown, looking more like dead bugs than blooms.

"Severa…" Noire crept forward, as if she were approaching a scared mouse rather than the fierce friend she's always known. Severa jerked away when Noire moved to embrace her. Noire hesitated, then wrapped her arms her friend and pulled her close.

"What happened?" she whispered, breath rustling against Severa's jagged hair.

In broken words Severa told her about Maribelle's cutting criticisms. She talked about how her mother ran after her. Noire wished that her mother would have done the same, but then Severa said how she hid, and by the time she wanted to be found, the Exalt had already stole her mother away for another stupid meeting.

"It's not like I care," she said, the steel returning to her voice. "Mommy can keep her precious Chrom, and her pretty hair, and her…her perfection," her voice wobbled. "It doesn't matter."

Noire hugged her tighter. She kept her arms around the girl when she reached over and took the scissors from Severa's blood-drained grip. Only then did she let go. One hand held the scissors while the other gathered her long silky tresses and lifted them up.

Severa raised her head. "What are you—"

Snip!

A lock of hair dropped into Noire's lap. Severa gasped. "No! Don't cut—"

Snip! Snip! Snip!

Noire set down the scissors. She smiled. "Now we match."

"But your hair! It was so pretty!"

She shrugged. "Momma was going to cut it for her experiments sooner or later."

Jagged locks of hair poked out at awkward angles around her face. "Now look at what you've done." Severa's lips quirked up. She sniffled, and fought them into a frown. "You did it all wrong. Here."

She took the scissors and started to shape the girl's hair so the strands flipped into cute curls around her neck. She kept the front locks straight and a little longer than her chin so Noire could still fiddle with her hair when she was worried.

Once Severa was done, she surveyed her work, and gave a satisfied nod. "There. That's how it's done." She held up the hand mirror for Noire to look. Noire giggled and turned her head to see the different angles.

"It's beautiful, Severa! You're really good at this!"

"Just 'good'? Psh. I'm the best."

Noire nodded excitedly. She picked up the scissors and motioned for her to turn around. "Your turn."

Severa turned her back to her. "Oh, alright." She smirked. "But you have to cut it in the latest fashion, understood? And make sure to complement my cheekbones."

l*l*l*l

A knight barged into the dining hall right in the middle of Severa stealing Kjelle's dessert. He came with a warning that Risen had been spotted. The adults bolted from the chairs, their ashen faces silencing the children. The doors banged behind them as they followed the knight. To the war room, Lucina would later tell them. Her father had sent some volunteers, including Noire's father, to patrol the area.

Some of the children didn't know what Risen meant, but the looks shared between those who remembered their parents' war stories said enough.

l*l*l*l

The adults stopped smiling after that. They spoke in whispers when the children were around, and in heated voices when they thought they weren't. Within days, there weren't enough nobles for Severa to schmooze or spy on. The only visitors were either high-ranking officials from other countries or soldiers that charged past without a word. Noire found it harder to sneak around the castle. The patrols and guards tightened, and the heads of each defense department could be seen most hours training recruits. Not only were the children forbidden to go outside, but now they weren't allowed to leave the castle.

When their parents weren't in meetings, they were teaching the children. Not languages or mathematics or botany, but battle strategies and combat. To the adults' surprise, the children took to it with enthusiasm. Some of the children thought it a game; one just had to follow the weird phrases being yelled at the top of their lungs to find Cynthia, Owain, and Morgan. Others approached it with solemnness beyond their years, like Lucina and Gerome.

What surprised the adults the most was the low level of complaint from the children—the skittish Noire and Yarne were no exception. At any other time, the adults would've been relieved to find such willing students, but now they felt only dread. Even the children could sense that everything was about to change.

l*l*l*l

Noire didn't like hide and seek.

It wasn't that she was bad at hiding; she was very good, in fact. When Severa would finally find her, her muscles had already cramped and her legs had gone numb from crouching in whatever nook she had tucked herself into. But she could endure the aches. It was the waiting, the anticipation that she didn't like.

In the quiet her breathing would get too loud and she'd have to cover it with her clammy hand. Her heartbeat would get so loud whenever she heard footfalls coming, but then she'd grow disappointed when they passed her by. She worried that maybe Severa had grown bored of the game and stopped looking. Or maybe she forgot that she was supposed to be seeking.

But Severa always found her. Always.

Every pin and needle when she finally got to her feet was worth it when Severa would give that smug smirk and declare: "I told you I'd find you!"

Noire's breathing quickened when she heard footsteps padding outside the armoire. It was about time; her limbs were getting all tingly. But when she peeped out of the keyhole, Severa didn't look pleased.

Why is she biting her lip, and why are her eyes shiny, and why—

The armoire opened.

"I told you I'd find her," Severa retorted, but there was no gloating in her voice.

There was a man behind her, with dark navy hair and a kind, noble face. Chrom—Exalt Chrom.

"Y-y-y-your G-g-g-g-r-ra—" Noire stammered, but the words clung to her throat.

Exalt Chrom raised his palm gently. "Never mind that." he said. "I never liked formalities, anyway."

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm afraid I come bearing bad news."

Something clenched in Noire, like a claw clenching her heart. She wanted to shrink back into the armoire and close the doors. She glanced at Severa. The girl bore holes into the floorboards, not meeting her eyes.

"W-w-w-where's Momma?"

The smile fell away. "Robin is talking to her. She is…upset."

"Understatement of the year," Severa muttered. "She just blew up the—" She caught Noire's expression, and her sentence trailed off.

The Exalt cleared his throat. "Noire…your father…he…passed away."

Noire froze. Her heart thudded in her ears louder than it ever had before. But there was something else. A voice. She could hear the words, could almost recognize them, but they were too far away to understand, like Momma's chants. All she could hear was Daddy sneezing after he took a curse that was meant for her. She could feel his hand on hers as he guided her brush across the canvas, and could smell the fresh, soft cloth of his shirt when he'd hug her, promising he'd protect her from all the monsters in the closet.

"What does duty have to do with this?!"

Severa's voice cut through the memories in her head like a razor, and the words from before trickled in. The Exalt had awkwardly gone on about how her father had died with honor and bravery, a man defending his country, a Shepherd fulfilling his duty.

Noire didn't realize she was crying until Severa patted away the tears with her sleeve. Severa glared at the handkerchief Exalt Chrom had offered, until he sheepishly put it away. "She doesn't care about duty," she said. "She cares that her daddy isn't coming home. Honor that."

"You're right. Of course you are." Exalt Chrom bowed his head. "I'm so sorry. If you ever need anything…come to me."

Noire nodded, but couldn't muster words when they were drowning in tears. He cleared his throat and muttered something about giving them space.

Once he left, Severa pulled her into her arms. It wasn't like when her father held her close, all softness and warmth. But it was the way Severa hugged—fierce, her arms almost squeezing her, as if she could push her strength into Noire if only she held on tight enough. And Noire held on tight.