Chapter Text

NOTE - The following work contains a coupling between confirmed blood relations. If that doesn't interest you, Please be respectful and don't leave flaming comments disparaging those that want to read it. Thank you.


"Hoy there, Marth!"

The masked warrior flinched at a boisterous call of her false name. Though their contact had been limited, she knew all too well who was hailing her. Still, she had a certain 'facade' to keep in place. "My apologies, and you are?"

The mage laughed, "Have we not had the pleasure? Then allow me!" he declared. Marth watched in dread as the eccentric retainer started his routine. "Mysterious masked warrior, you stand before the traveler of realms! An enigma of infinite possibilities!"

Each platitude was marked with a pose of some form, the meaning of which were beyond her desire to humor. 'Thank Naga for the slits in this mask,' she declared, grateful for an excuse to look away from the painful sight.

"The twilight Scion of Legend, Odin Dark!"

His last declaration snapped her back. While the rest of his ramblings had been a nuisance, it was the last one that made her balk. It was so boastful and annoying… So much like him .

Marth hissed in air between her teeth, trying to claim her composure lest she wind up breaking her cover. "Do you need something?" she asked, using a deeper tone of her 'boyish' voice than usual. The fact Odin had the gall to laugh at her inquiry made her long for the comforting grip of her silver sword.

"Not at all. Since destiny has entwined us, I thought it only apt that I share a meal with my comrade-in-arms!" he declared. Marth watched in a stupor as the eccentric mage reached out his hand, clearly putting more effort into the gesture than necessary. "So join me, masked warrior, on the field of feasting!"

"...No."

Odin blinked at her curt refusal and departure. "Wha-? Hey wait!" he called, scrambling after his soon-to-be partner. To her credit, Marth had the grace to turn around, albeit with a clearly annoyed expression hidden by her mask. 'Same as always I suppose' he mused before shaking his head clear. "Look, we both have a mission later today. It might be more useful to compare notes and plan how to work together."

"Why didn't you just say that to begin with?" Marth huffed. She walked past him this time, intent for the door to the nearby feast hall. Odin slumped over, a sour look clouding his usually boisterous face.

"So much for no more holding back…" he mused to himself. Somehow, Marth had been able to hear him even with the now-sizeable distance between the two.

"Did you say something?"

"No, nothing…"


The feast hall of the Order of Heroes was a grand one, festooned with great columns and roaring braziers. The middle of the chamber was dominated by a great fire-pit, one that had been sequestered off into a trio of smaller blazes for the lighter midday meals. The two rows of long tables were sparsely populated, just some Heroes and other members of the order catching a quick bite.

"Do you know if anyone's going to be able to boost you?" Marth asked before downing some more water. Her plate was already clean, leaving only a few bones and some crumbs behind. Next to her, Odin swallowed his mouthful of bread before responding.

"Not really sure, I'll at least be able to handle any fire mages or sword wielders," he admitted. His comrade nodded, seeing the logic in such a simple concept. "Just keep the wind mages and axes off my back and I'll be good," Odin grinned.

His comrade didn't respond, but he had come to expect that. The dark mage allowed his gaze to linger on the girl. Marth, the warrior that posed as a boy and took the name of the Hero-King. The warrior from a mysterious world that hid behind a slitted mask. 'Gods, it hurts to see her this way again,' Odin lamented.

Beyond her cold demeanor and mask, Odin picked up her idiosyncrasies and tells. The way she carried herself, ready to strike at a moments' notice. Even amongst allies, her hand cradled the pommel of her sword, fingers ready to grab its handle and pull her blade free. She was just like the day he'd left her behind.

Marth stood up, clearly keen to leave. "I am ready to depart if you are," she prompted. Her tone carried a certain edge, one that spoke unwell if Odin attempted to partake in the last morsel on his plate.

"Very well," he relented. He pushed his chair back, giving him room to stand and join her. The duo walked back to the entrance, their gaits a perfect reflection of their contrasting manners and attitudes.

Odin reached the door first. "Let us go and face our destiny!" he boastfully declared. Marth watched as he threw the doors open.

Bam!

"Eyyah!"

A scream broke through the foyer, directing the two over to the adjacent corner. There they saw the convulsing form of the princess of Renais, and her worried brother.

"Eirika, are you alright?!" he asked. His hand was on her back, rubbing circles as she continued to heave and retch. The prince barely acknowledged their presence as he attempted to care for her.

Eirika didn't respond, still facing away from the huddled trio. With a final labored wheeze she coughed something out. That seemed to do the trick, as her breathing returned to normal.

Ephraim backed away as she turned to face them. Her dainty gloved hand was already wiping away whatever dribbles of bile might still remain. She took a deep breath before finally responding.

"N-No, no, gods...I'm fine." she insisted. Marth and her brother didn't look convinced, causing her to huff before stressing, "I just choked on something, that's all,"

Marth was skeptical, but ultimately took the princess at her word. The same could not be said for Odin however. "My apologies, fair lady! In my exuberance to grapple with destiny, I seem to have lost sight of my fellow comrades!"

The other three were suitably confused at his antics. 'Does he really think there's a connection between what he did and what happened?' Marth mused. The thought honestly seemed pretty feasible.

"T-that's quite alright," Eirika stammered. She didn't really know what to make of Odin's...antics. All she knew was that it wasn't a pleasant sight after choking on her breakfast.

"We're very appreciative of your concern," Ephraim coolly explained. He was restrained, but clearly irate at the antics of the dark mage. "But don't you have a mission to be departing for?" he asked as he helped his sister to her feet. Marth picked up on the edge, but Odin paid it no heed.

"Hark, he speaks the truth! Let us be off to meet the rest of our comrades!" he roared before sprinting out the door. The way his cape billowed and flowed behind him looked almost heroic, a facet that would've surely boasted the man's already-grandiose manner.

Neither he nor the befuddled royal duo saw the slightest upturn of a smile on the masked girl's face. 'He acts just like him...he couldn't really be...no, that's absurd,' she dismissed. 'Absurd… but not impossible.'


Fire and death consumed them, surrounding the plaza in curtains of ruin. The village burned away under the onslaught of its invaders, making the battle as much against nature as it was against weapons. But that was before the unholy wrath found them.

Odin watched the Hoshidan princess disappear in a torrent of dark mist. There was no doubt about it, Sakura was dead, just like swordmaster Ayra. 'And I'm next…' he realized. A hack of blood distracted him from the fiery hellscape and his own melancholic realization.

It should've been so simple; a mere five enemies awaited them in this burning village. Odin had dispatched the duo of Elfire-wielding mages and had been awaiting his comrade's victory. But the last foe…

Odin was so wrapped up in the macabre circumstance he didn't even notice the ethereal wings that formed to his side. Nor did he acknowledge the sudden arrival of his sole remaining comrade.

"Odin, what's going on?! What happened to…" Marth trailed off as the grim reality of their threat manifested before them. The plaza came back into focus as the dark clouds dissipated. Odin watched as his sole remaining partner practically broke right in front of him.

The foul miasma broke away as a single specter walked forth. They both recognized him, his signature cloak, the snowy hair. But the piercing red eyes and unholy purple flames surrounding him shattered the image of the amnesiac tactician.

"Grima…." Marth said, a simple word that was clad with so much baggage and burden. Sorrow, rage, despair, resolve...and fear. Her hand clenched the blade's pommel until her knuckles turned white.

"Marth, stay focused!" Odin warned her. When his words actually had an impact, he opted to keep going rather than hang in shock. "Wait for him to attack first, he won't be able to use his counterskills."

The swordswoman mulled his counsel, finding a rare bit of sense in Odin's words. While some traits such as a weapon were obvious, there were other traits and abilities that were beyond the naked eye. Only mages or certain other heroes could discern what sort of extra powers or skills had been honed. Ultimately she relented.

"Alright…" Marth declared, not too happy by the prospect. Odin offered her a smile, a far more humble one compared to his usual grins. The sounds of boots clomping on the dirt snapped their attention back to their advancing foe. 'This is gonna hurt' he mused.

Grima strode forward, piloting the body of their former ally. With a raised hand, he summoned a great apparition of his true form. The sight of those six red pinpricks bore down on the two. The disguised hero did everything in her power to keep from breaking down at the mere sight. 'Why?! Gods, why don't I have Falchion?!' she mentally screamed.

"Odin! Stay back!" she urgently called. The dark mage complied, standing at the ready. The two watched in dread as Grima came to a stop right in front of the swordswoman. She glared at the shell of the tactician, her eyes blazing with hate.

Her knuckles whitened against her pommel.

It raised its hand.

GWOOOOOR!

Marth's world was consumed.

"Gah!"

She screamed in pain as the dark miasma ate at her. Her outfit tore under the pressure, exposing her bare flesh to the toxic fumes. Her mask cracked under the pressure, forming a jagged line between her slits. An eternity of pain overtook her.

And then she found her strength.

With a roar, she lunged at Grima's host, cleaving down on the former Shepherd. The puppet howled in pain, but unleashed a second wave upon her. Once more she was subjected to unrelenting pain. Her mask finally shattered, exposing her right eye.

Marth stumbled back, planting her silver blade into the ground for support. She coughed up blood, swiftly wiping it away with her sleeve. Her revealed eye blazed with a furor and fire that had been absent since her arrival to the Order. At long last she had a chance to slay the Fell Dragon.

Her attempt to strike would've been the last mistake she made if not for her comrade's intervention.

"Lu-ook out!"

Odin had seen the odds against her and wasn't happy by the results. If she attacked again, Marth would've been killed in Grima's retaliation. Even putting it so close to death wouldn't have helped in the end. So instead he did the only thing he could to ensure her survival.

Grima's host was buried in ethereal blue swords, creating deep cracks in the ground. The illusion above wavered, but never fully disappeared. The reason became obvious as the shell broke free of its prison of blades and retaliated in kind.

GWOOOOOR!

A single strike, but one that tore through the already-winded dark mage and sent him crashing backward. Marth reached out to her downed comrade, screaming in alarm, "Odin!"

The roar of the dragon snapped her back to attention. Marth's now-exposed eye blazed with a rage that burned hotter than the village itself. Her silver sword gleamed in the fire's light.

But then the blade started to glow, an ethereal blue light from within the weapon itself. Marth pulled her arm back and gripped it with both hands, the way her father had taught her. The masked youth snarled, a glint of light peeking from within her left slits, "This isn't your future to claim, dastard."

She took off, running full pelt at the fell dragon. The beast's tail attempted to swat her away, only for Marth to leap high into the air. As she reared closer, a beam of warm sunlight pierced the overcast dusk, shining a radiant beam upon the two. With a roar, she brought her blade overhead and aimed for the stunned reincarnation.

"I SAY WHEN IT ENDS!"

Grima howled in pain as her sword cleaved through his body. Still, the fallen avatar managed to direct another blast from its construct, obliterating her newly stolen vitality and then some. But she was still alive thanks to her trick, and had enough speed to rear down with a killing blow.

Marth fell to her knee, gasping for breath. She averted her eyes from the fatally wounded monster. 'When I see it die, it WON'T be some pathetic copy,' the swordswoman swore. The shine of a golden sky from beyond the burning village offered only the barest respite. Not when she could see the unmoving form of her partner.

"Odin!"

She dashed back to her prone comrade, discarding her sword in the process. With the battle now over, she had no need to be burdened by the silver blade. She stumbled only once before reaching the still form of Odin.

"Oh gods, please…" Marth pleaded as she collapsed to her knees. Her numb fingers groped his boy, cradling him close. Tears flowed from her exposed eye, dripping onto his naked, bruised chest. "Naga...don't...please!" she screamed over the crackling fire.

Her grief left her blind to the coming storm. Raindrops joined her in staining Odin's body. The fires died under heaven's onslaught, casting the weeping princess in dusk. She shivered under the sudden cold, but paid no further mind. Marth whimpered into his unmoving body, "N-not again…"

"A-aha...ha."

Marth was too wrapped up in grief to hear his labored gasps. Only after he struggled to raise himself did she notice and react. "Aah?!"

Odin's eyes slowly opened as a lopsided grin appeared on his face. "Ha...it'll take more than some meager newt to vanquish Odin Dark," he declared. Every word came out with a struggled breath, but otherwise he seemed in good health. Mostly.

"So we're victorious, then?" he asked. The swordswoman slowly nodded, still trying to process his survival. 'Did he get brought back by the Golden Sky?' she thought. The one that heralded the victory of Askr and the security of a Heroes' ward. Just another one of those peculiar phenomena that she'd come to expect.

Odin had rambled on past her, somehow finding conclusion with a cavalier smirk as he said, "Such an outcome was obvious, especially with you here."

Hearing such praise heaped upon her made the girl called 'Marth' avert her gaze, praying that he wasn't lucid enough to see the pink on her cheeks. "C-can you stand?" she asked.

The dark mage attempted to do so, faltering and yet making clear strides. Each movement caused his overly exposed physique to ripple and strain, a sight that was never once lost to her. Her already-riled emotions were under fire as she whispered to herself, 'Don't think of how he sounds like Him, how he talks like Him, or the way his muscles are...Stop thinking of that!'

Odin grunted as he failed once more. He was taken aback when his comrade finally reached up and grabbed his hand. She strained under his weight, but managed to pull him to his feet. Her other hand came up to his shoulder. "Thank you, Ma-umph?!"

The force of her sudden kiss nearly forced him back to the ground. She greedily attacked his lips, scraping against his mouth. The mage's thoughts were swimming now, a thousand trails that all came to one confused statement.

'What are you doing, Lucina?!'

He was used to these kind of sudden spars with her , so what made this any different? He may wear the garb of a Nohrian dark mage, but his body still bore the muscles and discipline of a Ylissian. She may think him a stranger, but in truth he knew 'Marth' better than anyone else in the Order could claim to.

He was Owain, son of two heroes and nephew of the lord-Exalt. Lucina's trusted warrior, cousin...and lover.

Realization dawned on her, and the girl called 'Marth' pulled away. Her exposed eye was wide and filled with regret at her trespass. It was a look that he'd often relished seeing on her, and one that made his quandary all the more vexing. "Gods, M-my apologies," she stammered.

'Odin' chuckled, a sound that had haunted her since that fateful day before she'd arrived in Askr. "What reason would a beautiful woman have to excuse her actions?" he inquired.

She was taken aback by his question. Her hand flew up to her face, realizing that half of her mask was in fact gone. "Y-you know?" she stuttered.

"You mean besides the broken mask?" he quipped. She was gracious enough to aim for his good shoulder, eliciting a wince of pain from the dark mage. He regained his composure before elaborating, "You're a convincing actress, Marth, but theatrics are what Odin Dark lives for!"

His soft smile proved to be the breaking point. She laughed, a broken, shrill guffaw peppered by sobs. Owain caught her in his arms and held her close. His usually boastful tone was tempered as he whispered in her ear.

"It's alright, it's alright," he promised. Her only answer was to sob louder, reaching over the storm that now cloaked them. His hands reached up to stroke her hair, finding the coils that withheld her longer tresses from sight. 'Heh, Sevara really outdid herself for you, Lucy,' he mused. His accolades for their surly mercenary friend would go unsaid...for his benefit.

He let her vent as long as she needed, content to simply hold her again. The rain came down, indiscriminate to their emotions and trials. He heard her sobs diminish to mere whimpers before he dared to speak again,

"It's alright, we're both alive, and that's what counts." he explained. She pulled away, still within his arms' hold. Her sudden peck shocked him, but no less than her response.

"Thanks to you," she praised. Her tone was still a touch hysterical, but there was something else festering beneath it. A certain purr that Owain was all too familiar with...

He stepped back, trying to dissuade her as gently as he could. "T-that's not necessary." he insisted. Still, she gave him that look. The same one that oft spoke of long, sleepless nights in whatever forest or ruin he and his Lucina were dwelling in. It was almost merciful when she closed her eye to ponder his words.

"Mmm, maybe not." she relented, giving him some space. Owain breathed a sigh of relief, leaving his disappointment bottled up. 'It wouldn't be right, she's not MY Lucina and I'm not her...it doesn't matter.' the mage was jarred from his moping as he felt her capture his lips again. She broke away before whispering, "But I want to."

'This isn't right,' Owain thought as he looked into her lidded eye. He had crossed many boundaries with his Lucina, staining battlefields and bedsheets alike in their broken world. Was this cheating? Were these false pretenses? Would he regret this?

Before he could answer that, the sight of blood streaming down her cheek caught his eye. "Hoy there, you should take care of that cut first," he warned as his hand came up to wipe the copper stain away.

'Marth' blinked before reaching up to confirm his words. She winced as her fingers brushed against the open wound on the border of her shattered mask. "I-it's nothing," she stammered. Her clandestine cousin would have none of her usual downplaying, however.

"It won't be nothing if it gets in your eye. Especially with that mask ready to shatter on your nose," he lectured. The dark mage tore off a part of his tattered cape and presented it to her. "Please, Marth. Time will permit us."

She looked down at the ruined cape before gingerly taking it "V-Very well, thank you Odin." with that final word, he turned around to give her some much-needed privacy. The sound of her broken mask clanging to the ground made his heart race.

He knew very well why she was being so secretive. The Brand of the Exalt wasn't anything to be ashamed of, but they both had their reasons for hiding it. 'Guess I should count myself lucky this tacky outfit comes with bracers,' He gave a sardonic chuckle at the thought.

Even with the cloth over her eye, she looked utterly radiant. The faint cuts of battle accentuated her beauty, adding the honed edge of a noble lady that had been reared in a dark future. She hid the brand, but nothing else was withheld from him. It was impossible to deny who she was.

'Lucina…'

When she engaged him this time, he didn't push her away. The sweet taste of her lips captivated him, just as his enthralled her. The scent of ash and blood was muted as rain washed them clean. It was so familiar- so beautifully, tragically familiar.

Their hands roamed each other's bodies, timid against familiar temples. The usually-candid reactions that would come from their partner's touch was repressed. For him it was the fear that she would turn away if he came on too strong. For her...it was denial. Denial that she could feel this way with anyone other than him .

Still, their wandering palms found purchase against toned muscles. She appraised his abs, brazenly displayed thanks to his garish outfit. His own ministrations were directed to her arm, gingerly pulling away the tattered remains of her sleeves to stroke the skin beneath.

Splash!

Lucina sputtered as a burst of water landed on her head. Not only had it undone the meticulous work that kept her hair bundled tight, but it also reminded them of how...open, their displays of affection were. 'K-Kissing in an open courtyard where anyone could see us...gods, I haven't done that since…'

'Odin' brought her back from her dark thoughts, holding out his hand and saying, "I think we need to move. Unless you want to take a shower first?" he smirked. He took her half-hearted strike in stride, especially since he knew she'd barely put any force into it.

"Hmph, smart-ass," she chided him, not able to hide the smile on her face. She accepted his hand, feeling a shiver at how he closed around her palm. 'H-He even strokes my knuckle the same way!' she gawked as his thumb rubbed against the space between her pinkie and index finger. Her hand squeezed his tighter in response.

Owain fell in line behind her as she strode over to a covered alcove. "Sit down," she ordered, directing him to a bench at the edge of the plaza. Owain followed her orders, taking shelter beneath the awning and awaiting her next words.

She pulled off the remains of her coat, letting it drop into a puddle at her feet. Her cousin watched with bated breath as she reached back to undo the wraps of her chest. Her bindings came loose, exposing her bare, petite breasts. 'Gods, she looks as beautiful as ever ,' her cousin sucked in air.

It was true, she really was as radiant as he remembered her. Her lithe figure that accentuated her femininity, seamlessly meshing a woman of war into her noble stature. He'd lost count of how many times he'd gotten lost in simply relishing her body, massaging away her numerous burdens and hells without a single attempt at her womanhood.

Lucina swallowed the knot in her throat as she reached down to undo what was left of the dark mage's pants. His lack of underwear became apparent as soon as his girth flew out and smacked her in the face. She flinched, but was mostly in awe at the meaty dick on her cheek. "I-I. It's so…"

Owain reached down and cupped her other cheek, gently massaging beneath her eyepatch. "Just take it slow," he said, his voice lacking its usual bravado. His encouraging words resonated with her, and she slowly placed both her hands around his cock. With a glint in her eye, she began to pump.

Lucina's hands squeezed his dick, experimenting with how much force should be applied. Her rhythm was slow, methodical. She was reserved, far more than the times he'd shared with his Lucina. Could it have been part of the persona, or...

"You've never done this before," he commented. It wasn't a question.

Lucina flinched before asking, "Does it show?"

"It's not like that. You just...just put a little more pressure into your strokes," he explained. His hands overlapped hers, showing her how much she'd need to offer. At her nod, he backed off and let her take the helm again. "Oh, and mind your teeth," Owain quickly added as he saw her rearing in.

Startled, she elected to focus on licking. Once she was certain that every inch was coated in drool, Lucina brought herself just over his waiting crown. Her heavy breathing riled him further, causing him to clench his hands. He braced himself for her descent.

She did not disappoint, even if her attempt was far sloppier than usual. The princess coughed as she struggled to take him up to his glans. Owain took pity on his cousin's plight and gently guided her, preventing her from acting too quickly.

Lucina bobbed her head, reaching a few inches down before pulling back. Her heavy breathing buffeted his loins her leggings squished in the wet dirt, supporting her as she leaned forward on his cock. Her tongue left tepid jabs, never lingering long enough to apply any spit.

The dark mage groaned under her ministrations. There was a refreshing tinge to being under her inexperienced thrall once again. The partners had grown together in that broken world, coming into their own as warriors and lovers as one. What this Lucina lacked in knowledge, she made up for by being so distinct from his own.

The princess withdrew from his dick with a wet pop . She let the slobber strand linger for a moment before laying her tongue back on his girth. Her lips smacked against his shaft, leaving small wet marks that quickly mixed with the rest of her spit.

Owain brought his hand to her head, showing a remarkable degree of restraint. Rather than shake her ragged, he opted to cradle his cousin's scalp, gently guiding her up and down his dick. He could barely make out her exposed eye, the way that her blue pool shined past a cloud of shock and indignation.

Still, she forgave his trespass and resumed her ministrations. Her hands clenched his knees, bracing her to take another plunge. He did nothing to stop her, only taking the time to brush away a rogue lock of her blue tresses.

Owain grit his teeth as his cousin sucked him off. She was being more daring now, eagerly applying her tongue as she bobbed up and down. It was a familiar sensation...and one that he had gone far too long without. "G-gods, I'm-!"

"Mmph?!"

Lucina had no time to react as his cum started filling her mouth. She desperately swallowed, trying to keep pace with the ever-increasing loads of sperm between her cheeks. Her efforts bore merit, but not without losing a few strands that drooled out of her sealed lips. She was going so fast that she never got a chance to take time and sample his seed.

Pwah!

Owain let go of her head as she pulled off his now-sputtering dick. A single paltry rope managed to strike her cheek before his loins grew still. The dark mage watched as his cousin coughed out what was left, staining the grass with his unborn progeny.

"Not a fan?" he gently asked. Lucina wiped her mouth with her hand before looking up at him.

"I-I've never tasted it," she admitted, attempting to hide the blooming rose on her face. Another sign that spoke unwell of her Owain's undisclosed fate. For him she was never ravenous, but he could usually tell when Lucina wanted a quick meal in the ruins or the forest.

Owain was once more conflicted about this. He wanted it, wanted her. But this wasn't the one he knew and loved, and he didn't even know if she felt the same way. He noticed her rise and quickly offered her another out.

"If you want to stop…" he started, only to be cut off as she placed a finger on his lips.

"I don't," she insisted. When she was sure he wouldn't protest anymore, she extracted her finger. With both hands, Lucina tore her tattered pants, letting the now-useless leggings fall to the side. She was far more tender with her panties, pushing the blue smallclothes to the side and exposing her trimmed pussy.

Her boots crunched on the wet grass as she straddled him. Owain watched her flick her hair, sending water all over as she eyed him. The patter of rain was drowned out by their heavy breathing.

Owain spoke first. "Are you-?" he started, only for Lucina to cut him off.

"I'm not. Just...please be gentle," she urged him. The vulnerability in that one eye brought back so many memories, so many flickers of pain and melancholy. He knew that look only when she had need of his shoulder. An impartial place away from the eyes of those that needed her finest, where she could discard the titles of 'Marth', Exalt, or even just princess.

'Always'

The word wouldn't pass his lips, it simply wouldn't come. Instead he would offer her a resolute nod and a simple yet heartfelt proclamation. "Of course."

Owain's hands held her thighs, ready to gently guide her down. She squirmed atop his cock, trying to find the right angle to let it pass into her womanhood. At last she struck right, and accepted his blade into her wet sheath.

He helped her down, spearing his cousin on his dick. Lucina mewled and whimpered as he glided past her walls. Eventually she came to a rest just above his untamed pubes and was allowed to bask in the sensation of fullness.

"Mmmm." she cooed. Her hips squirmed, eager to begin the instinctual rhythm. Owain was more content to simply relish in her presence. For him this little sheltered bench beneath a rain-battered tree could've been the most opulent bedchamber they'd never shared.

Her craving won out, and slowly they began. He guided her, placing only enough pressure on her hips to keep her in place. Her hands were perched on his shoulders, acting as further leverage to bounce on. He left the pace and the actions to her, happily enough to suckle her neck.

'Lucina,' he inwardly moaned. She was tighter than he remembered, but that was to be expected. Owain was too focused on the simple act of caressing her to care. He had her back, and that was enough.

Lucina's knees bounced against the bench, giving her a stable hold to increase her pace. Her hands fell from his shoulders in favor of the wooden back. He groaned at her fingers' absence, even as he enjoyed the slick constriction of her gushing sex. He took out his disappointment on her perky bosom.

"Ah! M-my breasts-ssssssssss," she hissed. Owain ignored his cousin, too invested in suckling her like a newborn. Her fingers tightened against the bench as she endured his twofold assault. The wet smacking of their hips grew louder as she increased her pace.

Owain's hands slipped down from her hips, landing on her sizeable rump. What the future Exalt lacked in her chest, she compensated with her butt. The way it jiggled and bounced as she humped him was a delightful sight. He couldn't help but give it a nice hearty smack .

Lucina yelped before snapping. "H-hey! Don't just slap me like...liiiiiiiiieeeee-" her anger quickly petered out as her clandestine cousin massaged her derriere. He pushed her closer, disrupting her rhythm of rut in favor of a brief moment of pure skinship.

Her clit rubbed against his abs, stimulating her to an explosive orgasm. Owain winced as his cousin howled in euphoric pain. Her pussy crushed his dick, greedy for the incestuous seed that had graced her dimensional counterpart.

A flash of lightning illuminated their shelter, giving the two lovers the true picture of their sex. They were both dirty, disheveled. Mired in sweat and shame. But there was more, hidden in their lidded, tearstruck eyes. Relief, lust, passion...and hope.

He struggled against her vice grip, but ultimately fell victim to her sexual suffocation. Owain slammed deep into her pussy with a roar. Lucina was still convulsing in the aftermath of her climax and barely acknowledged the sperm now firing into her.

Rope after rope of her lover's seed drenched her walls, painting them white on their quest to her womb. His arms flew up to her back, desperately holding her in place. The two cousins were lost to the world as they shared a long-needed exodus to erotic Elysium…

Lucina came down first, heavily panting from the experience. She heard the falling rain, followed by the moan of the wind. From below, her pelvis dripped a slurry of cum and quim.

She tried to move, only to find that something was keeping her firmly rooted in place. Owain's dick was still firmly within her snatch, no less hard than it had been before their orgasms. Her visible eye widened in disbelief "Y-you're still?"

His laugh was a curt one, broken by many gasps and pants. Still, she felt a tingle on her spine at his guffaw. 'H-He's...it can't really be him can it?!' she pleaded.

"Hah...haah...n...never underestimate...the Scion of Dark Legend," Owain boasted. The blunder of mixing up his two epithets was lost on him as he gave her more of what she craved.

His hands closed around her, causing her to yelp. With some struggle, the dark mage clambered to his feet, carrying his cousin with him. On instinct, Lucina reached up and grabbed the rafters.

"O-Odin what are you-?!" her question was cut short as he thrust deep into her snatch. She groaned and latched onto her support for dear life. Her cousin plowed her from below, causing her to bounce between his dick and her wooden handhold.

Owain's hips smacked against her. His hands stroked her back, reaching up to her neck. Gently, he pulled her head down to meet his lips.

It wasn't deep, but it was passionate. Their tongues danced together, playfully snipping each other. Her fingers were too busy digging into the wood, but her calves tightened against him to shower her response.

"Owwwww-diiiiin!" she moaned. He missed her slip of the tongue in favor of nipping at her neck. Her legs squeezed him tighter, robbing him of the space he needed to rut her.

Owain knew he was near his limits. His body might've recovered enough to enjoy the dance of decadent delight, but he was still only human. He tried to warn her, not knowing how or even if she would respond. "I-I'm close! Where-"

"O-on me!" she screamed. Her spit landed on his face, but he showed no signs of disgust at the intrusion. When he didn't immediately pull out and obey, she shouted again. "Cum on my face!"

He heeded her request and withdrew. His cousin dropped to the muddy ground, sinking her knees into the muck. Owain's hand replaced her pussy, vigorously rubbing his length. The coating of her juices made it easier to stroke himself off.

"I'm-!"

Lucina held her mouth open as rope after rope of hot, sticky cum assaulted her face. Her uncovered eye stared at his exploding cock, admiring the great flesh spear that had churned her insides. Her eye roamed upward, a feat matched by her covered one.

Past his blond forest of crotch hair that had tickled her pelvis and soaked up her quim juices. Up his rippling muscles, now covered in sweat and dirt alongside the mainy cuts and bruises. At last she settled on his unkempt hair and fluttered blue eyes. The vision smeared as a blast of cum caused her watery eye to squeeze shut.

For just a brief second, Odin wasn't the dark mage that had so callously appropriated her dear partner's visage. For a solitary glance she could let herself feel like something more than the hero her ruined world had needed, the way only he could make her feel. For a moment she wasn't haunted by the weight of cradling his still form and fighting back the screams and wails that choked her. At long last she'd found what she wanted ever since she'd first come to this new realm.

She had him back, and that was enough for her.


From this day forth, we're partners. So no more holding back. Feel free to speak in your normal, abnormal way.


Owain looked up at the ceiling, deep in thought. He listened to the pouring rain outside, the same storm that they'd copulated in a scant few hours ago. In his arms was the girl he'd longed for ever since they parted ways. Or at least, a girl close to her.

She wasn't the one that he'd fought alongside, or had held when she needed a shoulder to take off the burden of the troubled world. The one that he'd leapt back in time with and struggled to secure a better future. The one that...that he'd left behind when he accepted that stranger's plea for aid alongside Inigo and Severa.

And now they were here, his guiding light in the dark. The one that had her image, yet he couldn't bear to hope was truly her, truly his. But although he was afraid of what she might do, what she might say...Owain was courageous at heart.

He felt her stir in his arms, lazily looking up to him. Her hair concealed her face, at least until she tiredly brushed it back. Owain swallowed the boulder in his throat and looked at her still-closed eye. "Marth... I need to tell you something. I- mph ?!"

He was cut short as she reared up and pecked his lips. She kept their kiss chaste, breaking away after only a single moment. With a tear-laden smile, she removed the bandage over her face, revealing the faded cut...and her branded eye.

"I missed you, Owain."


I wanted to do this for a while, mostly because I'm always amused whenever the angle of Incestual pining or suggestions are brought to light and how the fans react to them. I understand that this kind of stuff isn't for everyone, hence why these entries are non-canon to H-eroes developing plot.

The original plan was to release these every 5 days or so, but due to some schedule fuckery at work I'm appending that to be every Saturday this month. If I am able to, I'll try to get each entry out between Wednesday and Saturday though. I hope that those that are interested have found this enjoyable, and I'll see you guys in about a week.