Second
"There is no time to waste, my child."
Grima led Lucina up to the dais of the Dragon's Table. The Table stood on a raised platform, and in the center of the setting sat a giant, ornate silver goblet; from below, all that could be seen of its contents were tall, purple-and-white flames. Aside from the flutter of the air, there was no sound to indicate that it fed on something for fuel. Nevertheless, Lucina—in the depths of her shattered sanity—thought she heard something akin to a silent scream.
"Come."
Lucina blinked, realizing her mother had ascended a set of stairs leading up and onto the Dragon's Table. The girl hurried to follow. Grima put her hands on the princess's shoulders, turning her toward the flaming goblet.
Underneath the magical fire, the contents of the goblet churned like the oceans of Valm. The liquid—a mostly clear color, although it was tinged with a red-brown hue—seemed almost gaseous.
"You are of…imperfect blood," Grima said, gesturing toward the liquid. "You will not be able to ingest it all, but what you will be able to have shall make you much, much stronger than you could possibly imagine. I shall have the rest, though it will not do much for me. None of this amount could do much, thanks to those meddlesome humans your father led…."
Lucina's eyes lit up. "This power—will it help us bring Father back?"
Grima paused, stroking her daughter's hair. "Given enough time and effort, you shall see him again."
Lucina let out a small giggle of happiness, then hurried to kneel at the cushion placed before the immense goblet. She felt no heat from the nearby flames; only a chill that suddenly brought up the images of glazed eyes—many, many pairs of—
"Drink, my child."
Grima knelt beside her and handed her the silver ladle that had sat beside the goblet. Lucina took it in her unsteady fingers, but she gripped it hard and leaned over the edge to dip the utensil into the gaseous liquid.
She brought the substance to her lips, and her body started to seize.
Before she could drop the ladle, a hand reached out to grab it and her mouth, another going to tip her head back to force the concoction down her throat. Lucina sputtered and gagged on the much-too-hot, much-too-cold liquid; when the hands let go, she grabbed onto the edge of the goblet and coughed, hoping to vomit.
"You must drink more," Grima said, though Lucina couldn't even recognize her own mother's voice.
Grima leaned out as well and filled the ladle with another serving. She moved it toward Lucina's lips, but the girl jerked her face away.
"You must drink more," Grima hissed, grabbing Lucina again and pulling her close.
"I don't—!" Lucina began, but Grima took the opportunity to slip the liquid into her mouth. She tried to spit it out, but Grima forced her mouth closed. Lucina had no choice but to swallow the rancid mixture.
"Mother," she sputtered as Grima gathered up more. "Make—make it—!"
"Be a good girl, Lucina," Grima said, then started the process anew.
Lucina lost track of most everything—how many times Grima forced her to drink, how many times she pleaded, how many times she felt hot tears spill from her eyes. She wanted to vomit, to expel the searing, freezing contents from her stomach, but the gaseous liquid remained stubbornly in her gut.
Finally, all at once, the sensation stopped.
Lucina's vision flickered out, and she was only vaguely aware of hands rolling her body over and touching her face. She heard her mother's voice but couldn't make out the words; they seemed ancient, foreign. With each passing second, she felt heavier, as if she were sinking deeper and deeper into the fathoms of the Valmese Sea, far away from any other human being.
Something else enveloped her soul in rough, cold hands.
When Lucina opened her eyes again, her left iris was dim, and her right shone with the Mark of Grima around her pupil.
"You awaken," Grima incarnate said, rising to her feet.
Lucina—no longer the Ylissean princess, but a different being altogether—blinked slowly to adjust to the haze of light coming from the flames above the goblet. Her body felt heavy, but energized, like lightning bolts were dancing through her veins. Had she not finished her feast of Plegian souls, her limbs would have felt electrocuted by such energy, burning her until she died.
"My child, we cannot waste time," Grima said, holding out her Marked hand.
Lucina blinked once more, and then took her mother's hand—her mother, her lord, almost her other self, as they were both vessels bent to Grima's will, if only the once-Robin at a greater height of power and control over her.
"Follow me, child." Once Lucina was standing, Grima turned and walked down the steps of the Dragon's Table, then moved toward a door in the back of the cathedral's hall. Lucina followed close behind.
They passed through a series of cramped, damp hallways, almost like a maze. Finally, they emerged into a private study, adorned with gold and silver and gems in the bookcases, the desk, and even the floor itself. Grima walked toward the western wall and placed her hand upon it.
"You know of my bones? The ones that make up this capital city," she began as parts of the wall began to move, responding to the dark magic in her body. "In the skull, you will find a tooth missing. Eons ago, the hero of Naga used one of her own fangs to fashion the sword her successor uses. I did the same, to rival her with my own hero. He did not live."
Lucina listened quietly, only watching as her mother produced a long, obsidian box from the magic-crumbled wall. Grima placed the box on the desk and opened it.
"An exaltation would need to be done to outmatch the power of Falchion, yet I am not strong enough. Though, I imagine Falchion's power has faded from its exalted status now that its owner is dead." Grima pulled a dark gold sheathe, housing a sword, into her hands. She turned to her daughter and presented it to her. "Use Erebus, my child."
Lucina stared at the weapon, then took it into her own grip and studied its weight. She held the sheathe in her left hand, the handle in her right, and then unsheathed Erebus. The hilt's handle was wrapped with dark red and gold; its blade shone black, with golden trails etched into it. The tip of the sword flared slightly, producing a dagger-like point on the end.
"This shall help me?" Lucina asked, her voice quiet.
"Erebus shall be your guide, yes," Grima answered. She came forward and put her hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Erebus is chaos, darkness, destruction. Follow it, and we shall create this world anew."
"…Father will come back, correct?"
Grima studied the young woman. Her eyes stared only at the sword. Her grip was tight on the weapon and its sheathe. Her gaze was blank, but her pupil blazed with the Mark of Grima.
"He shall, yes."
Lucina sheathed Erebus and placed the sword in her belt. Then, she knelt onto the floor before her mother and master, her head lowered. "What must I do?"
"Pursue the remaining Shepherds," Grima said without hesitation. "They may petition Naga for help once again, perhaps travel to another world and time. You must stop them with whatever means necessary. You must kill them. If they manage to escape you…do not disappoint me."
She put her hand on Lucina's head. "Your face is ashen, my child. Soon the power will fully settle within you. When you draw your power, no one shall mistake you for anything but Grimleal, anything but my daughter. Do not fail me. You have the means necessary to do whatever you set your sights to."
"And you, Master?"
"I shall remain here and gather more of my strength. Should you slay them all, return here, and all that will be needed will be a plan to bring more souls into my being; otherwise, I cannot conjure my dragon form." Grima contemplates for a moment. "Should Naga once again put her followers into the past, you must go after them and wait for me there with the Grimleal. I shall follow soon after. Going to the past will take some of my energy, but I trust you to be able to gather more souls for my consumption and to prepare the way for this world's purge."
Lucina nodded. "Understood."
"Rise to your feet."
Lucina followed the order, and Grima put her hand on the girl's cheek. She smiled.
"I'm trusting in you," she said, her voice so much like Robin's once was, when Lucina was a little girl running to her parents from the terror of a nightmare.
()()()
Lucina stands amidst the sands and scraggy weeds of the Plegian desert. Despite half her bloodline originating from this arid place, the weather doesn't suit her body; sweat beads off her pale skin, staining her clothing in some parts. She brushes some hair out of her face and shields her eyes from the sun.
"There," Henry says, pointing. In the haze of the desert, something shows up on the horizon, but the visage shimmers almost as if it isn't truly there. "That's the capital. We should reach there by the time the moon starts to rise on up into the sky," he finishes in a sing-song manner.
"Good," is all Lucina comments on the matter. She retrieves her water skin and allots herself just a bit of the precious liquid. She won't die from dehydration, of that she's sure, but putting too much strain on her body would be a cause for the quick depletion of the souls running through her veins. Such action would be childish and wasteful.
Henry takes a swig of his own water skin, but by the time he finishes, Lucina is already on her way through the sand once more. He jogs a little through the shifting dunes, experience keeping him from falling onto the scorching ground. He's cast a hex to keep them safe from burns, be they from the sun or the earth, but instinct keeps him standing.
"So," Henry says after a few minutes of silence. He holds his hands behind his back. "What're you going to make the hierophant do, Miss Grima?"
"Do not refer to me as 'Grima.'"
"Ah, sorry. Then…?"
"You may call me 'milady.' My name is Lucina."
"'Milady'…? That's not a very fun-sounding title, though…. What about 'Luci'?"
Lucina scoffs and levels a glare at him. Were he anyone else, she would have leveled Erebus at him instead. "Do not call me 'Luci' either."
"Aw, but 'Luci' sounds cute!"
"Do you have a death wish?" she spits.
"Hmm, maybe~!"
She turns her head away. He had not—will not—in the future, she remembers.
()()()
They arrive at the capital under the cover of nightfall. The walls of the city are made up of the outer rim of buildings, interspersed with the towering bones of Grima's dragon body long past. Some deep emotion spread through Lucina's limbs at the sight of the moonlit skeleton; her body feels more powerful, more alert, something she thought not possible after receiving her new power and self.
"The cathedral is on the cliff overlooking everything," Henry says, pointing off toward the right of the front gates. A path, marked on the edges by bones, follows the outer edge of the city, up a set of stairs that grow considerably steep. "Well, the main cathedral. There's another one inside the gates, but—Hey, where are you going?"
Lucina ignores him after hearing his directions and goes off toward the path. While she's been to this city before of course, she has never approached the head cathedral from lower ground. She follows the pathway, heedless of Henry trailing after her and cautioning her about the Plegian guards.
She's the daughter of a god incarnate, for Grima's sake. What reason has she to worry about the affairs of her lord's fodder?
After ascending the staircase, she finds herself atop the plateau overlooking the city. Were it not for the capital's strong force of warriors and mages, she would scoff at the city's poor overhead defenses—not that she wouldn't bring it up to whoever the general in charge is. But instead of mulling over the issue, she walks across the dirt-brick path toward the entrance of the church.
The building is expansive and wide; most of the area is flat and one-floored above the surface. However, in the center of the citadel, the building rises up considerably, mounding high to accommodate for the main area inside leading to the Dragon's Table. A crude-looking cross of bone and dirt rises into the sky, a symbol for Grima's annihilation of the world and the coming resurrection of it.
Outside the main doors stand two guards, dressed in the robes of high-ranking mages. As Lucina approaches, they withdraw dark tomes and each lift a hand toward her.
"Who are you?" the taller asks, his voice high and reedy. "State your purpose."
Instead of giving a verbal answer, Lucina draws Erebus from its sheathe. Power surges from the blade into her hand; her face heats as her tattoos appear on her skin, and she can nearly see the red light flashing from her right eye.
Immediately, the mages shrink back from the Mark of Grima. Words of shock and awe pass their lips, but Lucina pays no heed to them. Without bothering to sheathe Erebus, she motions for Henry to follow her and pushes the main doors open herself.
"M-Master," one of the mages stammers, scurrying to her side but keeping bowed. "You do not need to sully your hands doing things your—"
"Bring the hierophant to me," Lucina says as she starts walking along the center aisle of the main hall, her heels clacking against the marble. She steps past the place where at one time—in one time, more than one time—her father's body lay dead. "Do not keep me waiting."
"Of course!" The mage hurries off.
The other man comes up to her side. "Is there anything I can get for you, Master?"
"Resting quarters, and…"
Lucina slows to a stop, then turns to look back at Henry. For the first time, he is truly quiet. He is frowning, he seems small… Her mind conjures up the image of his son.
"…quarters for my guide as well," she adds before turning around and continuing toward the unlit, unprepared Dragon's Table. Her hand tightly grips Erebus's handle.
She is about to ascend the stairs to the Table when the doors at the back of the hall open. Validar stands in the doorway, stock still with his mouth hanging open.
"You are not my daughter," the hierophant sputters when he finally regains his voice. He takes shaky steps toward her. "Yet you…"
"I am not truly Grima, nor your daughter." Lucina smiles, but the gesture is far from warm. She sheathes Erebus, causing the tattoos to fade from her face for the moment and her Mark of Grima to dim slightly. "You do not remember me, but it is good to see you, Grandfather."
note: for reference, Lucina's body currently works similarly to Greedling's in Fullmetal Alchemist
