The Safest Place on Earth

Lucina was running through the wreckage of Ylisstol Castle, her band of fighter's last stronghold had at long last been breached by the Fell Dragon. As the Risen charged into what used to be the ballroom slashing at rebel and scared civilian alike Lucina attempted to rally her remaining troops through the horde. It was no use, as the miasma of death and rot made the air so foul her eyes watered, the inevitability of doom bearing down upon her like a pack of wolves she heard something that chilled her to the core. It was a masculine voice, one that growled so loud by force alone it almost got rid of the ghastly smells and replaced them with fear.

"So ends the human race. The future is built upon the past…But your kind shall never see it!" Lucina whipped around, her father's faithful blade Falchion gripped tightly in both hands, sweat coating her face when she saw them. Three red orbs the size of cannonballs glowed ominously where the walls of the castle lay crumbled as if they were made of pie crust instead of marble and granite.

"Your mother and father…are dead tiny one. And now it is your turn."

She saw it now, Grima the Fell Dragon. It's horrible horns, scales so black they looked burned, teeth as long as Falchion, and a wingspan at least 200 feet across flapping with the kind of malevolence that ought to have conjured hurricanes with every motion.

"TO DIE!"

Grima roared and opened its big grey mouth to devour her, and by consequence humanity's hope for survival. … Lucina woke with a start, her heart beating so fast it may well have been an artillery bombardment on her ribcage. Cold sweat blanketed her body and she had to shove her fist into her mouth to prevent herself from screaming in horror. She looked around, blinking away the tears bursting from her.

There were no Risen, the room smelled of cinnamon, not rotting flesh. Instead of a dingy tent or a dilapidated house she was lying on a plush bed, with enough pillows for no fewer than four people. Her breathing was still coming out in gasps, but the realization that neither she nor any of the people she loved were in danger was settling in. It had all been so real, so terribly real again. Lucina let out a sob. She got up, feeling less frightened but still too upset but what she had seen to attempt going back to sleep. Noticing how sweaty she was and knowing that on spring nights like this the obtrusive heat of summer could jump out at any moment she decided a soak in the royal baths on the fifth floor was in order, while she got her pulse back under control.

Grabbing a yellow night gown from her wardrobe along with a pair of matching panties with little daises on them, she exited her room. It was well past midnight, and as she went up the one flight of stairs, she walked by her little sister Cynthia's room. Remembering her dream again she recalled the face of Gabriella, the woman who had wet-nursed her and Cynthia in the future as the sword of a Risen had plunged through her chest cavity. Her kind green eyes had been wide with fright as the life was snuffed out of them. She had to restrain another sob. The Gabriella of this timeline had wet-nursed the baby version of Lucina. Hopefully when this one grew up, she would not have to see such cruelty befall any innocent whether they were a wet nurse, farmer, archer, blacksmith, or cobbler.

"She will be able to sleep soundly" Lucina murmured to herself as she drew the hot water into the bath she had chosen, selecting a soap that smelled of vanilla. Before entering the bubbly tub, she used a length of black ribbon to tie up her hair. She may have been scared and upset but that was no reason to accidentally get her long navy hair wet at this hour, especially as it had already been shampooed and took an eternity to dry. Cynthia always left spare ribbon along the ivory bathroom counters next to the dental products in case she needed it. Feeling that her sister wouldn't mind it borrowed for the duration of a bath Lucina used her sword-fighting dexterity to make a crude bun.

She shucked her sweat covered night gown and her underwear into the hamper at the far end of the bathroom, folded her intended change neatly into a square where the ribbon had been, careful not to let it touch any of the toothbrushes laid out by Frederick (or the maid staff, Lucina was never quite sure). Entering the tub and hissing as the water made contact with her clammy skin Lucina let out a yelping exhale. She had been so certain the nightmare was real again. She felt silent tears begin their cascade down her cheeks. She hated crying. Cynthia was allowed to cry, Severa was allowed to cry. Brady, Kjelle, Owain, Aunt Lissa, Tiki, Uncle Lon'qu, Yarne, Vaike, Commander Cordelia, her mother, and her father. They were all allowed to cry until their eyes were redder than Sully's hair. Not her, not Princess Lucina. She had to be strong and yet here she was crying in a bathtub over some stupid nightmares!

Making it worse in the Crown Princess's estimation was that this was not just a one-night occurrence. Since the war had ended she had been crying an awful lot after everyone else was snuggled up in bed. The Fell Dragon bearing down on her was one such midnight misery, but there was also the battle where her father had taken a Thoron through the heart from her timeline. In one version the man killing her father was shrouded in violet smoke and in the other he was wearing a coat she'd come to associate with comfort, his face was sharp and elegant with cheekbones carved by Naga herself. But his eyes were not the honey colored ones that belonged with the long mane of teal hair. They glowed red as Grima's did as Chrom made his final, fatal gasps. Only once her father was dead did the red fade and the honey come back. It was when this happened that Robin, looking in horror at what an ancient malevolent magic had made him to do to his best friend took his Killing Edge, and drove it through his own heart. Lucina whimpered at the thought. She had once attempted to kill Robin herself, believing he would murder her father as he had in her time. Robin had not attempted to resist, and she had been about to bring her blade down upon his neck when Chrom had intervened on his tactician's behalf. It was the only time Lucina had ever been yelled at by her father in anger. She regretted that, more than any fallen comrade of her ruined world, more than any misstep at an official gathering, even more than failing to stop her Aunt Emmeryn's assassination. After Robin slaughtered Grima himself at great personal risk that regret at nearly murdering him in cold blood (however well intentioned, that's what it was) had festered in her soul.

Like Feroxi Desert Ant's crawling up your leg, it scratched at her, it burned her skin, stinging as salty water does an opened cut. At this moment, with the tactician no doubt burning the midnight oil, thinking about what she had told him when justifying her attempted execution brought a sizable lump to her throat…

"He was courageous, and kind, and everyone spoke fondly of him. People say he was brave right up until the very end. I always yearned to know him better. And now that I do... I can see that the world will be robbed of a very great man. ...I won't allow that to happen."

"I understand Lucina. You love him we all do."

"Robin, please forgive me. I have no choice…In my future you are my father's murderer. I have to kill you."

The look of shock and horror that Robin produced as Lucina drew Falchion on him couldn't have been replicated if he tried a million times. He did not protest, he didn't cry out. He merely locked eyes with Lucina and nodded before dropping to his knees, his neck slightly out. Lucina had raised her arms above her head when her father had shouted at her to stop the madness and drawn his own Falchion to, in the most brutal and literal sense, save his tacrtician's neck for a change. It had been horrible enough seeing her father, normally kind to everyone, apoplectic with rage as he disarmed her. The resigned look Robin had given her as though he had known she was telling the truth, scared her quite as much as anything else about the situation.

She hugged her knees to her chest in the present. How foolish she had been! Robin was arguably just as, if not more of a great man than her father. His legendary mind had saved every member of the Shepherds a dozen times over at least. Hundreds of civilians had been spared the terror of brigands, and of course he had sacrificed his own life to ensure no future generation would ever face Grima again. He had even managed to resurrect on the strength of his bonds with her father and the others of the army, the same bonds Chrom had said would ensure that this Robin did not betray and murder him.

Now, he was working around the clock to ensure that this peace he and Chrom had fought so hard for would also bring prosperity for Ylisse, its allies and foes alike balancing budget plans instead of Bolganone.

For the first time since her nightmare had scared her awake she smiled. As she dried off from her sojourn in the baths a thought occurred to her, one that didn't involve hellish dragons, attempted murder of friends, or anything else foul. Every adult Shepherd who hadn't time-traveled had told her at one point or another that Robin gave great advice. Lucina herself had confided many of the details about the ruined future in the man, both before and after trying to kill him. She wouldn't call him a friend (friends didn't attempt to execute the other based on half-baked evidence) but that was her fault not his. Drying herself off and praying to Naga that Robin wasn't asleep she put on her yellow nightdress and after draining the tub set off for Robin's office and living space on the eighth floor.