Synopsis: Sometimes marriage can hit a plateau. And that causes conflict. Maybe all they need is a vacation to ease all of those tensions away.


Chapter Three: Anna's Trip for Two (Part 1)

While it was true that Grima had been destroyed forever—no longer threatening to taint the pages of history—he left one final thorn on the side of the Shepherds and the known world: the undead Risen. While Valmese, Plegian and Ylissean scholars attributed it to be the remnants of the Past-Future's Risen that followed Lucina and the other children, the Shepherds' Miriel and Tharja concluded it to be due to Grima's immense dark magic that still lingered over the entire known world, reanimating the fallen and bolstering their numbers.

Although they became more rare than brigands after the war, these monsters still remained a dangerous threat to the recovering nations. Some raided villages alone. Others arrived in significant numbers. Frederick once said that they became something of a "storm in a sunny day" when small rural villages were swamped with the undead. Thankfully, rarely did they ever dare to cross swords with larger cities and their soldiers.

Frankly, she didn't care about the science and magic that involved the wretched creatures. All she cared about was that her daughter and husband were endangering their lives again. And despite her adamant pleas to come and threats to ruin his prized book collection, Mark refused to let Lissa come along.

After all, the Risen he had to fight were the fallen Royal Pegasus Knights led by the previous Knight Commander, Phila. For the princess, that raised enough concern. Until the day that he had to leave for battle, she kept asking to join but Mark stood his ground.

"You're kidding me, right?" She put down her hairbrush and stood up to face Mark. He was already ready to leave, donning the Masenshi armor that Einherjar Alm, passed to him.

"I'm saying this again: you're not going to come along to this raid." Mark calmly yet sternly replied as he packed his smallclothes into the bag. "Gaius' information is solid and they're already a few days ride to Melein. Not only do we have to rush out and get your gear ready, prepare your steed and recalculate the food and weapon rations, no one's going to stay to keep an eye on Owain or Lucy and my battle plans can't accommodate a fire sage or another healer."

The other reason why Mark told her not to join was because he had and somehow it "didn't" involve having more than two healers in the entire routing brigade and his plans were strictly for the "survival of the Shepherds and proper extermination of the Risen". Though his reasons were well thought out and tactically sound, Lissa was skeptical and rebutted.

"So what? You're basically forcing me to stay in the palace to watch our son?" She said adamantly. Thinking about it, it's not like she had to fight at all. She could heal after the battle. Why was he so adamant about her joining? "That's why? I think after several months of doing that alone, the least I can have is a bit of adventure."

"I've been telling you for days that's not the reason you're not coming." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "And how on earth is 'smashing Risen butt' adventure? It's not a game."

"We've been routing them for how long? I think I'm well experienced enough to say that they're like punching bags!"

"Dangerous punching bags—Lissa, you're going to run out of reasons to get your way into the fight."

"That's not the point I'm getting at."

"You could always do hobbies like painting."

"What? No, that's not what I mean! And painting's too boring."

"Sewing?"

"We're not going over this again!" She snapped and that rang alarm bells in Mark's head. He tightened the straps of his bag and set it down by the door. "You know I hate this."

"Hate what? Want to talk about it? What's the matter?" He asked, genuinely concerned. He placed his hands on her shoulders but she vehemently shrugged them away.

"Think. You damn hell know what's the matter." She suddenly snapped, her arms crossed.

"What? What did I do?" Mark was absolutely clueless. Lissa took note of it and her face went sour. "Don't tell me it's just because I won't let you fight—"

"Gods, Mark! You are dense!" She stomped. "I've been playing mommy-daddy for a year after you just went and died without even telling me beforehand and now you're jumping into a battle two months after returning? Against dangerous, undead pegasus knights! Ever thought of the family before you jump into these things?!"

"Honey, that's not—" Mark tried to keep their voices as low as acceptable voice levels but Lissa would not have any of that.

"Oh, don't you 'honey' me. I am tired of you putting work before us! Valm and Grima were different so I can let those slide but the first thing you do after you come back isn't even 'hey, let's all spend time together as a family'—no—t's 'what's the state of the nation'! I am soo tired of that!"

"Lissa," And he took a deep breath. "I'm not gonna allow any chance for our newborn son and children to lose their parents if those Risen aren't taken out!"

But she became even more frustrated. "Oh, come on Mark! Be creative for once. That's the exact same excuse you gave last time." She snarled.

"Excuse?! Gods! What do you want me to say?" Mark's attempt to lower his voice resulted in a shout instead. "'You have to stay with the kids'? 'You're a terrible fighter'? That's never the case, Lissa—you're an amazing thunder sage and healer. We're just so undermanned and undersupplied on everything. As much as I would love to stay and not fight, catch up with the children, and spend time with you, I still have responsibilities to this country. If someone else could do that job for me, that'll be fan-freaking-tastic!"

"Then do something about it!" And an embittered pause grew between them. Admittedly, Mark knew Lissa was right in her own way. Yet so was he. His brain was absolutely fried over this outburst from her. And while it was true that he did pick work over his family once more, he had to do something. He impulsively went to her and took her in his arms yet she pushed him away. "Stop. That's not gonna cut it."

Mark was stumped again. What was he to do? Lying and excuses were completely out of the question. All he could to was be honest. Honesty. That sparked an idea—it was crude and he was already treading on thin ice without even knowing about it.

"Lissa, look at me." He finally said, but she resisted. With a quick grip on her shoulders and a firm shake, he nudged her to look. "C'mon, look."

And she still refused to turn.

"Alright, fine. But just listen." He began, keeping a firm grip on her shoulders. "You know I can't say sorry enough times to make it up. But you know I love you, Owain and Morgan the most. Even more than I love Ylisse. Maybe I'm a bit too reckless jumping into these again, but bear with me for one more time. And after that, I'll ask Chrom for a big favor."

And she turned around. Not because of the things he said or the tone of his voice, but rather it was the familiarity of his firm grip. She tried to remember, but she could not figure out where she felt that grip before.

Looking at his face, she suddenly felt very secure. His firmly pursed brow, the droplets of sweat forming on his forehead. It was a mix of the rubbery thing and a look of absolute determination. Something about that face just told her: "Just let him get away with it. For now."

"…Fine." She gave in. And Mark let of a soft smile. With their gazes locked between them, they knew they were both right and wrong. "Gods, this is why I hate you some times."

"Just endure on for one more time and I'll make it up to you. Phila and the others were renowned for their air dominance." He sighed. "And we need a significant amount of wind magic and archers, which is something Sumia and Morgan can do."

"I know that! But you need all the hands you can get. The more people you got, the faster it's over." She was ready to let him go, but she was not that easy to convince just yet.

"That's why we have our daughter. Mire spells are incredible against fliers. With her in the back, we don't need a lot of archers, thus cutting our healer needs and supplies." Mark gave her an assuring embrace, his armor gently pressing against her cotton dress. At first Lissa hesitated in accepting his affection and was ready for another debate with him but relented after seeing his eyes, brimming with confidence. "Plus, Chrom's skill with a bow isn't something to laugh at, too. Don't forget, some of our old companions and the elite of the Royal Guard will tag along. Sumia and Cordelia will take the skies while I scatter them with Mjölnir—"

"Okay Mr. Grandmaster, I got it." Lissa pulled away. As much as she loved him, she can't stand him droning about battle tactics. "But, isn't using a healing staff conflicting with Morgan's Elder magic training?"

"Tharja said it was safe, so I'll assume it wouldn't do any harm." Lissa stared at him intensely at the mention of "assume". Mark nervously let out a soft laugh and said, "I promise, Lissa. Morgan's safe. We'll be safe. I'll make sure nothing happens to anyone in this."

"…Alright." And she returned a tight squeeze and let go. "But if you go and kick the bucket or lose our daughter—I don't care if you enter another one of those 'Oblivion Constructs' or whatever—I'll find you, never forgive you, kick your sorry Plegian-cloaked butt and pray to the Naga that she'd plague you with cold, slimy frogs for all eternity. You got that?"

From afar, the foghorn beckoned throughout the entire castle. "Alright. I got it, honey."

"...Just stay safe."

"We will. I'll see you in a couple of days. I love you."

"I love you, too." After sharing a short kiss, Lissa watched her husband pick up his satchel and leave to battle once more. With that, she sighed a deep breath and clasped her hands close to her chest, praying to Naga that she would keep her husband and daughter safe.

Meanwhile, after the clanking of Mark's armor softly faded away, Sumia, Chrom and Morgan exited the adjacent room and all exhaled in relief after eavesdropping through the entire conversation. Even so, Morgan burst through her mother's room and sent her goodbyes, pretending as if she didn't hear a thing.

"Stay safe, dear." Lissa kissed her daughter in the cheek.

"I will, Mom." And Morgan returned the favor.

On their way to the castle gate, Chrom kept his voice low and turned to his niece and wife.

"Okay," He began. "Let's pretend we didn't hear anything." He scratched the back of his head. His beloved queen just gave him a disapproving headshake.

"Oh, Chrom."

"I know, dear." He sighed.

"Somehow," Morgan added. "I feel pretty bad that I'm worrying Mother like this. Maybe I really should stay behind…"

"I think it would be best if you do come, Morgan." Sumia gave Morgan an assuring embrace. "At least ease your father's worry. Staying beside him would definitely ease his mind after this."

"I agree with your Aunt." Chrom said. "And I think I have a pretty good idea of what your father's going to ask me."


A strike from Phila's spear and a kick from a pegasus was not to be underestimated. Unfortunately for him, he did just that. Shirtless and surrounded with freshly bloodied sheets and bandages, Morgan was by his side, picking her healing staves. Next to his bed was Chrom's, and it's occupant was bandaged up as well. The Exalt lay on the bed, just having finished with his healing session with Cynthia.

It seemed that after a fierce battle with the Risen fliers, the only casualties were just him and Mark.

"AAAAAAAGH." The latter cried, digging his nails on the edges of his bed. Mark did his absolute best to avoid ripping the mattress in two. His shoulders and sternum were on fire—feeling as if each tendon and bone, one by one, was breaking apart and being pulled back together.

"Father, h-hold still!" Morgan's hand shook as she pointed her Recover staff at Mark's left shoulder once more. Unlike the gentle glow of a typical healing staff handled by clerics, Morgan's Elder magic training gave her staff a Flux-like hue.

"YEEAAAAAUGH." As the purple light began to blink and fade, Mark felt the sharp pain of his shoulder and torso slowly fade as well. He sat back up as if he had no injures to begin with, and pulled his daughter's head close his and gave her an assuring kiss to her forehead. "You know, I'll never get used to that. At least it looks like Tharja's training is paying off."

"Sheesh, don't be too reckless, dad!" She pouted, ignoring her father's jest. "You know what'll happen if Mom figures out that you went and took a spear to the shoulder! On purpose for that matter! Even you gave me a heart attack."

Mark avoided imagining Lissa's reaction with a nervous laugh. After all, his friends were valuable people and even with Lissa's threat, he was still willing to risk life and limb for them. Even if it was Gaius.

"Don't worry, Morgan. I'm not gonna—" Suddenly, he felt another sharp pain from his shoulder. "Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow."

Morgan sat next to him with staff in hand, concerned. "Dad? What's wrong?"

"S-shoulder. Shoulder."

"Here, lemme check on ya." As quickly as she spoke, Cynthia walked over and ran her staff over Mark's arm. She, at first, was impressed with her cousin's healing handiwork. With Morgan using Elder magic with healing staves, the overall process sped up—unlike the long treatments that regular clerics performed—at the price that the injured would feel everything being mended together.

"Ooh, not bad. Good fracture mending, wound sealed up nicely—wait…" Then a grimace appeared on her face and looked at Morgan sternly. "I…think you messed up popping your dad's shoulder back in." And Morgan groaned, lowering her head. "Just remember, don't be hasty. Dark magic already makes the process faster." But Cynthia placed an assuring hand to her head. Mark nodded and lay back down on the bed as the warm, yet seemingly ominous glow of his daugter's Restore staff tended to the mistake.

"I'm sorry, Dad." Morgan lowered her head as she pointed the staff at his shoulder.

"Don't worry, Morgan. People make—" Mark winced once Morgan began. "—mistakes." Once finished, the sharp pain quickly subsided. "Much better." He stretched out his arm and did exercises with it. "Now you two go take a break. I'll have something to talk to Chrom with privately."

At first, Cynthia was befuddled but a shooing motion from her father cued her in. With that, the two cousins left and the room was silent.

"So, milord, how does it feel to be just like Lord Hector?" He smirked.

"My back was on fire." He muttered from his pillow. "Let's see you handle one fully armored Queen and her Pegasus on your lower back." Mark smirked, still remembering the time when Florina fell on Hector. He was still astonished that those two were wed, considering that they were polar opposites. Then again, so were Chrom and Sumia.

"No thanks. I have your sister's wrath to worry about when we come home." He sat up and spun his arm around, his way of admiring his daughter's healing work. "At least now I know why Phila earned the title 'Pike of Ylisstol'."

"Yeah, ask Frederick and Stahl for their experience with the Pike." Chrom snickered. The two friends shared a few more jokes and some asides. Eventually, Chrom returned to the original matter at hand. "Now what's that you wanted to talk to me about?"

Mark was hesitant at first. What was Ylisse to do without him? He was vital to the Shepherds and the overall military. But he knew it had to be done for his wife and family. Ylisse needed brain behind its brawn, but his family needed a father more than anything.

"Chrom," He paused and swallowed his hesitation. "I quit."

"…"

"…"

"Okay." The Exalt said flatly.

"Now, I know that Ylisse's military needs direction and tactics to survive but my family—wait did you just say 'Okay'?" Mark blinked. Chrom was completely fine with it?

And a nod confirmed it. "I'm completely fine with you quitting. The Shepherds are a voluntary force, you know. I think we can handle ourselves without you for a while."

"Wait, how—"

"You blew yourself up with a dragon from the end-times." Chrom said matter-of-factly. "I think you deserve more than a family vacation."

"Chrom. Thank you." At first, Mark was completely grateful for his friend. That was until he realized the words Chrom used were strikingly familiar to the words that Lissa yelled at him several days ago.

"Don't worry about it. You'll make it up to her." And then it clicked.

"You eavesdropped on our fight! You dastard!"

And Chrom shrugged. "When Lissa began shouting, it was kind of hard to not eavesdrop."


"Pssst." Morgan and Cynthia looked around the rickety halls in the inn. They turned around and they saw a shadowy figure from an unlit side of the hall. Morgan was rather suspicious while Cynthia raised a brow. "Psst, hey."

"Is that you, Sir Gaius?" Unfortunately for the thief, Cynthia's quick callout caused him to almost choke on one of his lollipops. After clearing his throat, he stepped out from the shadows, hands in pocket.

"Sheesh, kid." He sighed, still chewing on the lollipop stick. "Can't a man try and look cool from the shadows? And it's just Gaius. None of that 'sir-mister' crud."

"Sorry." Cynthia giggled. "It's not like it doesn't suit you or anything. It's just that you do the whole 'psst' thing a lot."

Morgan nodded in agreement.

"Anyway," He looked at Morgan. "Sparkles, mind giving these to your dad for me?" He fondled his pockets and handed over what seemed to be two light-blue runes.

Sparkles? Morgan thought. How on earth did she get the name Sparkles? Nevertheless, she was suspicious after her father told about Gaius' tricks.

"What are these?" She asked, suspiciously eyeing the runes. "Will these hurt father in any way?"

He raised his hands and shrugged, "Nah, one of Anna's sisters came over and said: 'Take these to the Outrealm and look for my cousin's sister's sister'. It's like some trip-travel thing or whatever. Ain't candy so I'm not talking it."

"Well, I guess father would like these things. He loves to travel." Morgan bowed her head as a way of saying thanks. Gaius couldn't help but ruffle her hair, despite knowing that Morgan hated it.

"Hey, your pops saved my skin today. Just tell him I said thanks." Meanwhile, a muffled yell from an angry Cordelia sent shivers down his spine. With that, Sticky Fingers Gaius disappeared from the shadows while Cynthia and Morgan stood there, puzzled.

"Well, let's get back to the room. Maybe they're done having their talk." Making their way back, Morgan felt the tops of the runes. It felt strangely familiar...


Although she had Owain keeping her company for the past several days, she was mostly alone within Ylisstol Palace's walls. With the others gone, she had some of quality time to herself—something she had way too much of before Mark returned from his disappearance.

And to be honest, she was bored with palace life. Painting, sewing, and even doing exercises with the Yllisean army was too boring for her. With the rest of the Shepherds moving on to other endeavors—whether to seek glory or family—only the most dutiful only remained. And she thought they were kind of a "Stick in Plegian Sands" kind of people. Especially Frederick.

Walking to her window, she looked at the horizon—past the trees and over the plains surrounding the castle. A fire in her heart stirred. She really wanted to go to battle. Given an axe, a spell or her trusty staff, she was still ready to open up a fresh can of "Lissa-Fu" and knock the mist out of any Risen opponent that comes near her or her companions.

But she knew that with the Alm passing the ways of the Valentian Masenshi to Mark and Morgan's uncanny ability with Elder magic, the father-daughter duet would be unstoppable in the battlefield and she might just hold them back. With the Shepherds and his friends, they would definitely finish the job and come home safely.

Even so, she also knew that anything can happen in the battlefield and worrying about it was just as natural as breathing. She lay on her belly and ran her fingers on Owain's short hair as he played with the toy. After all, positive activities helped positive attitudes.

"I hope your father and sister come back safe…" She groaned impatiently and sat back down on their carpeted floor. Owain, on the other hand, stopped and looked at her with hazel eyes. He cooed and abandoned his stuffed toy to crawl towards his mother and attempt to pull on her uniquely styled pigtails.

"Oh no you're not, you cutie-patootie!" She lifted him up and let him lay on her chest. She nuzzled the infant's nose and he squealed in joy. "Who's mama's big boy? That's right, it's you Wainy!"

When the foghorns roaring and the gears of the castle gate grinding reached her ears, Lissa sat up and carried her son towards the main hall to greet her husband and daughter, unaware that a pleasant surprise awaited her.


A/N: #PrincessPlusBubblesEqualsSparkles

I love promotions. Now I have a wee bit more free time. Sweet victory. AND MY CHILD SPOKE HER FIRST SENTENCE. I AM SO HAPPY.

Moving on.

Tidbits of the Day:

I think Masenshi sounds cooler than Demon Slayer/Dread Fighter. Literally, it means "Magic Soldier", depending on how you look at the characters for it. The other reason is that Valm is a crude representation Asia. Kind of.

Melein is a district in Switzerland. It was either that or Lucerne. Or Bern. I wish they had a MORE detailed map of Ylisse and everything else—like the cantons, regions, etc. so I'll have a legitimate excuse to not make up more towns. Themis was the only detailed name. That's the only place that's not Southtown or generically named "Mountain Village" or "Northern Border Town".

Morgan? Staffs? Elder magic? What the Flux? Hey, let's look at it this way with game mechanics aside. If you started out as an axe-clobbering, staff-bludgeoning nun and you decided to study dark magic, it's not like you'll forget staff training. It's up for debate for you readers: How can studying elder magic be detrimental to using healing staffs?

Someone PM'd me about Mark's looks and voice. If we recall from FE7, he had one picture. Brown hair, kind of in a cloak. So I went with 1-4-5-5, ENVoice 1 or JPVoice2.

Mire doesn't do well against pegasi or ANYTHING for that matter. They don't even have poison chance! That's just the lamest siege spell ever. So game mechanics aside, let's make them into flying mount killers. Thing explodes with green goop, it's like a flak gun. Works, yeah? Yeah.

I hope I didn't stray too far from the in-game universe and hopefully I melded game mechanics and reality into both. Do you guys like that? Pop a review and tell me if I have more things to improve.

Thanks for reading and reviewing, so stay tuned for part two!