Altean Lies

Although the polished marble walls and rooftops of Terra shone with a glamour unheard off this far from the capital and the center of the Pheraen wealth, Lucina could not shake the gloom of her thoughts. On her journey through the southern plains, she had repeated and re-repeated her conversation with the rebels in her head, but she still felt as far away from a conclusion as when she had stood amidst the battle-torn market place of Gran. She was missing a vital piece to the puzzle. Even considering the few stories about her father Roy had known and shared with her, the details never aligned with the claims made by the rebels.

Which left the more than likely scenario that Lucina was walking into a trap.

Everyone with a little semblance of sense would tell her to forget the incident and return to Roy's side. He had offered to talk more, hadn't he? Perhaps the salt-laden breeze and the golden sunsets of Terra would ease his mind enough to share some of his memories from the war. When the burden of his responsibility would weigh him down once more, Lucina could chase away the ashen clouds with a laugh the way she used to.

This image brought her comfort until her mind circled back to the conundrum at hand like a starved wyvern. And every time her inward argumentation swayed her in favor of taking the risk and searching for this Abel, more doubts arose.

With a sigh, Lucina pulled the reins of her horse. She already crept through the bustling alley at a snail's pace, but the archway of the fifth terrace, behind which the garrison and Roy awaited her, approached too quickly. A towering monument from where there was no return. If she did not change course before the archway's shadow swallowed her, she would have squandered the chance to find answers.

The closer she came to Roy, the larger grew the cracks in her determination to turn away.

Klein abandoned his position as rear guard and spurred his horse to catch up to Lucina. A few civilians had to dive for cover to avoid getting trampled over, but Klein paid them no heed.

"Will we search for your lead first or do you prefer to have a long chat with His Highness in my favor beforehand?" he asked.

Lucina let her instincts decide for her. "I believe it would be better to delay our report for a little while. Although… perhaps you and your men could ride on ahead to the garrison. The informant the rebels mentioned will no doubt be on guard if he has avoided capture for this long. Too many men will only draw unwanted attention."

Klein buried his heels into his horse's flank with unnecessary force. The animal wailed but did gallop forward to block Lucina's path.

"Oh no, young lady, that's not how we play the game. If you manage to find some valuable information on the rebel movements, I will be the first one to hear it. I'm tagging along. If nothing else, I can make sure you don't lose your pretty head."

Lucina tried to outmaneuver Klein with little success. His persistence bordered on an act of disobedience. "Don't you trust Frederick's ability to look after me?"

"No, I don't. Your stiff friend might have mastered the ability to bark yes every time you open your mouth, but his dull-witted loyalty is going to get him killed sooner rather than later."

"I will not hear such insults!" Lucina pierced Klein with a glare that allowed no discussion. He flinched and for a moment looked like he wanted to fall back in line like a recruit ought to. "If you have useful information that could help us track down the rebel, you may escort Frederick and me. Otherwise, your company is better enjoyed at the garrison."

Klein narrowed his eyes. Not for the first time, he seemed to reevaluate his opinion of her. If he had hoped that Lucina would easily be tricked into arranging his permanent getaway from the Black Wall, he now came face to face with a grave disappointment.

Lucina tightened her grip around the reins. Perhaps she had worn out his favors. She was playing a dangerous game, and if she hammered home her dominance over such a free-spirited man as Klein too often, she would lose his support for good. And this outcome would further hurt her chances of strengthening her position as a knight. No matter what stories she might hear from this Abel today, his words would pale in comparison to the devastating hit Lucina's efforts would take if Klein decided to turn against her.

But he accepted her harsh orders once again. With a nod, he cleared the way and directed his horse so that it pranced parallel to Lucina's.

"It might surprise you, but I do have an idea in which stinking corner of Terra you might find the rebel," he said. "Before my unjust banishment to the Black Wall, I came here a few times to smash the obligatory uprisings after Pherae seized the city. They fought like wild animals, unorganized beyond belief. But no matter on which terrace they were hiding, they never failed to return to one spot: the glass statue of their deity. If your informant has remained loyal to the Altean fantasies, you will find him there."

Klein's tip would prove invaluable. After he ordered his men to ride on ahead to the garrison, Klein guided Lucina and Frederick to the glass statue of Naga, where her loyalists gathered in prayer.

Located at the edge of the third terrace, the figure sat in the center of a round plaza, surrounded by slim archways which spiraled twenty feet into the air and leaned inward to meet one another in the middle. From this open pavilion, five concentric circles spread outward, each representative of one of the five credos. Low steps separated the sections, which gave the plaza the appearance of an amphitheater. But instead of a masqueraded tragedy, the people came to watch the grace of their goddess. Her glass face had fractured a million times, and each piece caught the light to direct rainbows across the downcast faces of Naga's devotees.

With each step Lucina took, the pattern shifted, the hues danced in a different formation; almost as though the statue breathed in and out and would come to life the next moment. In this sanctuary, it was impossible to doubt Naga's existence or her might. The goddess stretched out her hands, and for a fleeting moment, Lucina felt her gentle touch on her shoulders.

But when she blinked, only the wind combed through her hair.

"Have you ever seen something this beautiful?" Lucina whispered. Against the murmured prayers of the assembled civilians, every other sound seemed like an affront, an intrusion to break a spell unspoken.

Frederick nodded. "My hometown used to have similar shrines. Glass shards were embedded into every wall. And when the sun met the horizon, and the river burned orange, the entire fortress gleamed like a diamond."

"I would love to go there."

Frederick averted his gaze, and his hulking form shrank two inches under the weight of a lost past. "The fortress was destroyed near the end of the war. You would find nothing but ruins."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to lose so much." Lucina placed a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe Roy can rebuild the town once stability has returned to the Empire. I'm sure he would have an open ear if you or I addressed the topic to him. He promised to do his utmost to bring prosperity to all corners of the land."

"Perhaps you shouldn't weigh each of his words in gold."

Lucina pulled back her hand. The touch burned on her fingertips. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. I spoke ill without reason, I apologize."

"You can always be honest with me. You know that, don't you?"

Frederick threw his head from left to right in a war with himself. Despite his yearlong training, the pained expression would not flee from his face. When he spoke, he still refused to look at Lucina. "Yes, I know, and I am grateful. But it was nothing."

With that, Frederick marched forward, taking three steps with each stride. Lucina, unable to pinpoint the part of her conversation where she had offended him, remained behind. Frederick was not one to smolder with a hidden discontent, much less grievance towards others. At least he had never harbored such feelings towards Lucina.

She sucked in a breath. Unless…

Lucina craned her neck to risk a look over her shoulder. At the edge of the plaza, Klein leaned against a wall with his arms crossed. When he noticed her eyes on him, he offered Lucina a smug raise of an eyebrow and a smile dripping with sick satisfaction. Although he had protested against Lucina's suggestion to remain behind while she and Frederick searched for Abel, the decision had nevertheless granted him a front-row seat to watch Lucina's and Frederick's dispute.

Lucina hated to apply the word 'dispute' to such a miniscule issue. And the thought that Klein was responsible for this issue, this she hated even more.

Frederick had shown time and time again how little he thought of the other knight. Yet Lucina had all too often found herself in Klein's company, sometimes on purpose to manipulate or appease him, sometimes against her conscious doings. To think that his influence had no effect on her was idiotic, worse yet, it was naïve. In her attempts to win his favors, she had stepped too close.

And if she stepped closer still, she might lose Frederick in the process.

And this thought she could not bear. This sacrifice she refused to make.

If she lost the key to a shining career in service of Roy's Empire before this key even fell into her hands, so be it. Once the questions surrounding Abel and her father were dealt with, Lucina would force Frederick into a long conversation, and she would tear down his walls of discontent and secrecy until things returned to how they used to be between them.

This thought gave her strength as she descended down the wide stairs, past the people engrossed in their evening prayer. Most of them had gathered at the first or second outer circle, which left the inner rows noticeably empty. Only the most devoted of Naga's followers were allowed to pray at her feet, and few people ever reached the stage of the fifth credo in their lifetime. To have faith in Naga and live in harmony with the surrounding world, those were goals the commoner could achieve. Anything beyond that exceeded their capabilities.

Lucina kept an eye on Frederick and used the rest of her focus to scan the crowd. Few of the faces present matched the battle-hardened features she expected from a former Altean knight and rebel. Since Abel had known her father before his death eighteen years ago, Lucina could eliminate the younger demographic, but this still left over three dozen men huddled in front of Naga's shrine.

A handful of them looked up when she passed, and in a few cases, Lucina thought to recognize this strange look of awe on their faces. Almost the same as with the rebels in Gran.

Something tugged at her sleeve and interrupted her contemplations.

A malnourished boy around the age of ten looked at her through large eyes. In his arms he carried a purse as spotty and worn-out as his shirt. "You don't come here often, do you?"

Lucina fastened her cape to conceal her Pheraen tunic. "What makes you think that?"

"I come here every day for sundown!" The boy scratched his head. Chalk dust flaked off his thin hair. "I'm sure I would have seen you. Do you want a bracelet?"

He reached into the bag and pulled out a simple woven band from which five emerald stones dangled. By the sounds of it, the boy had countless more bracelets to sell. And he undoubtedly relieved gullible customers of their coins without a trade license.

"Five jewels to remember the five credos." The boy threw Lucina a sheepish look. "Those aren't real jade stones, of course. If we could afford those, we wouldn't live on the first terrace."

"And how much would that cost?"

Lucina had no real interest in the bracelet. Although pretty, it remained pretty junk. But if a transaction appeased the boy, she could return to her search for Abel all the sooner.

"They aren't for sale!" The boy hugged his purse tighter, visibly offended. "It's a gift! To those who haven't found their way to Naga yet. My mother says that we can all use a reminder of Naga's shining presence in these difficult times."

A new light seemed to envelop the boy as he beamed at Lucina, the precious token of his faith in hand. He believed with innocence, with an imagination that summoned treasures and cloud castles and heroes of old who saved the day. Not a trace of the harmful fanaticism Roy talked about resided in these wide, youthful eyes.

Lucina kneeled to meet him at eyelevel. "I'm sorry, I wronged you. Would you… still be interested to treat me with one of your bracelets?"

The boy's smile widened, and he wasted no time in knotting the band around Lucina's outstretched wrist. "I want to fulfill all the five credos one day," he said, "and when Naga sees my faith, she will make it so my siblings never again go to bed hungry, and we all live on the fourth terrace in one of the big mansions. Have you seen the big mansions? My mother says Naga always rewards faithful people, even if we can't see her. That's why I give people bracelets – to spread her word. It's my way to honor the third credo, but when I'm grown up, I will travel all across the land and share Naga's teachings with…"

The boy would have rambled on for another hour, and Lucina struggled to free herself from his overjoyed blabber. Because, no matter how delightful his enthusiasm, Lucina had other problems on her mind. A particular one had the undefined, wafty shape of her father.

"Maybe we can meet again tomorrow," the boy said for a goodbye. "I'm here every evening."

Lucina returned his smile before she resumed her search, all the while spinning the bracelet around her wrist.

Frederick had meanwhile stopped in front of a man in the third circle. With the subtlety and finesse expected from a falling meteorite, even less than he usually displayed, Frederick addressed the man he had singled out in the crowd. "Sir Abel?"

Lucina bit into her cheek to stop herself from a panicked yelp. She needed to radiate calm, otherwise Abel, if he hid among the chalk-dusty faces, might deem the presence of both her and Frederick too suspicious. He might escape before she had posed a single question. With all the composure she could muster, Lucina readjusted her cape to hide the gleam of her sword hilt and marched to Frederick's side. But to her surprise, the man with the grey temples and the battered tunic did not lash out at Frederick.

"Have we met before?" he asked. A hoarse cough sat plastered all across his voice, as though the man had narrowly avoided death through fume poisoning earlier in his life. But despite his aged appearance, he met Frederick and Lucina with a careful and intelligent look.

Frederik bowed his head. "I'm not surprised you don't remember me, Sir. I was only thirteen when the Glass Fortress fell."

The man, who may or may not be Abel, searched in Frederick's face for a hint of familiarity. After a moment of silence, his eyes lit up. "Ah, Frederick. You've grown since then. While I have merely gotten older. Without the benefit of wisdom, I'm afraid. Then I understand you became a knight like you always wanted?"

"Yes, Sir."

Lucina felt obligated to settle a few things before the two men could get too familiar. Even without the need of a raised blade or an outspoken threat, Frederick shrunk under the intensity of her glare.

"You knew who Abel was from the beginning." Lucina didn't bother to conceal her anger. "And you didn't once feel the urge to mention this to me? What game are you playing?"

"I apologize, it—"

"Quit apologizing!" Lucina pushed Frederick. Although the jab lacked force, he stumbled. "If you are conspiring with the rebels, then now would be an excellent time to relate some of the details to me. You might not have the time when you stand trial for treason."

Frederick trembled like a child in expectation of a beating. "I could never betray you."

Lucina denied the spectators the satisfaction of hearing her scream, but her voice climbed an octave to vent her anger. "Then explain yourself."

"I told you that my mother and I used to live in a town in Altea that fell victim to the war," Frederick said. "The Glass Fortress overlooked this town, where my mother used to work as a maid for the royal family. This man, Abel, was a knight there. I haven't talked to him or anyone else who vowed to destroy the Empire and His Highness since the Glass Fortress was destroyed. On my word. Please, Lucina, you have to—"

"Lucina?!"

Abel had jumped to his feet. Now it was his turn to tremble before Lucina. His eyes darted across her face, soaked in the details, and dug for the defining features and the secrets below, drunk with greedy hope. When he thought to have found what he was looking for, tears ran down his cheeks. He stumbled over his feet in his haste to take her hand, and the fissures and scars across his palm hugged her skin.

"So it is true," Abel whispered. "You survived. And Naga blessed me with the chance to see you before the end. Truly, her generosity knows no equal. Your father… oh, how proud he would be."

Lucina refrained from pulling her hand away, even though her fingertips twitched in Abel's grip. If she played nice, maybe someone would finally offer her answers instead of more questions.

"My father is the reason I wanted to speak with you," she said. "A few days ago, I had a talk with two Altean rebels. One of them claimed to have known my father, and he referred me to you. It is said you know the truth I am looking for."

"Yes, of course, everything you want to know." Abel threw a hectic look over Lucina's shoulder. "But we can't talk here. The Empire tightened the patrol schedules. Enemy ears everywhere, you see? Please, follow me."

Abel had the decency to let go of Lucina's hand as he abandoned the shrine. At every other step, he motioned Lucina to follow him, but she could not help the caution infused into every twitch of her muscles. The truth waved its alluring banners in front of her, so close that she only needed to stretch out her hand and hold tight. Her father. After all this time. But what she planned to do bordered on treason, the line she walked might give away under her at any moment and trip her towards an allegiance with the rebels. Against Roy.

Nevertheless, she pushed forward. Frederick followed Abel without a shred of doubt, he downright pranced in an imitation of the thirteen-year-old boy who had watched the knights in their polished armor with an unparalleled gleam in his eyes. Soon the two of them disappeared into the shadow of a narrow alleyway, overhung by bridges spanning the gorge between the rows of houses.

At the edge of the plaza, Lucina hesitated and threw a look back. Klein still waited where she had stationed him. With clipped military gestures, he asked for her permission to follow at a safe distance.

Lucina debated. Then she nodded.

Most likely, she wouldn't need his support. But deception had already reared its ugly head once today. And no matter how much she wanted, needed to trust Frederick, her faith in him did not extent towards Abel. For that, he would first have to present her with a convincing story.

The alleyway wound through the assortment of houses, sometimes fenced by a garden wall behind which a sycamore or white jasmine shrubs peeked. The rendering peeled off the stone in more places the further they went. Always downward, on broken and treacherous stairs until the third and second terrace lay far behind them. The splendor of Naga's shrine had disappeared. Here, the groves between the cobblestone reeked of stale water and far less pleasant liquids.

Not once did the sound of Klein's boots disturb the silence behind her, but Lucina trusted in his ability to conceal his stride. And in his desire to rip all information regarding the rebels from Abel's wrinkled hands.

The descending alleyway lead into a rotunda of around twenty feet length. A withering dogrose in a cracked jug battled the cold of the surrounding walls with little success. In a metal basket, a handful of tar-covered coals smoldered away to offer a little light amidst the gloom. The place didn't offer the ideal conditions for an ambush, but the doors of a washed-out blue color could hide an unknown number of reinforcements.

Abel marched to one of these doors, and only hesitated long enough to throw a probing look left and right before he entered. Two simplistic keys were etched into the blue wood, although someone had tried to conceal the symbol under a splash of paint.

Lucina counted to five before she followed Frederick into the room beyond.

Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dimness of the room; during their walk here, the sun had descended with them, and only the most defiant dusk rays seeped through the single milky window.

Abel gestured towards the assortment of mismatched stools around the table in the center of the room, one as unsound and crude as the other. "Please, make yourself comfortable. As much as you can in this rotting hole, that is. I can't offer you tea or even water I would dare to drink. The rent of a former knight of Altea, you see, leaves a lot to be desired."

Lucina snatched a gold coin from her pockets and placed it on the table. The eagle on the front besieged the run-down room with a rather discontent glare.

Abel sneered. "Put this disgrace away, or I will have to ask you to leave. The last thing I'll do is accept payment from you."

Not even once had the fire of greed sparked in Abel's eyes. Strange. With this single coin, Abel could have afforded not only a new made-to-measure tunic but also a dwelling on the second terrace. Lucina would have to overthink her strategy when dealing with this man. An attempt to bribe would run off him like water.

She let the coin slip out of sight and sat down on the offered chair. Frederick, as so often, preferred to stand, but he still avoided Lucina's eyes. His behavior manifested into a metaphorical shard of glass buried in her gut that twisted with every moment he gazed out of the window beside her head without seeing any of the flowerpots there.

Abel slumped into the chair opposite of Lucina. "Where to begin…"

"Wherever you deem fit," Lucina suggested.

Abel nodded, and his fingers clutched around a chapped mug, only to realize it lacked the calming promise of alcohol. With a frown, he pushed the pitiless thing away, ran his tongue, once, twice over his lips, and drew nervous circles onto the tabletop with his fingernail.

Then, he startled Lucina with a question. "Do you know what happened to Queen Ninian? The king's mother?"

"The case is well-documented," Lucina said. "Marth, the former king of Altea ordered her assassination, most likely as an act to provoke war with Pherae after the yearlong distrust that brewed between the nations. A rather foolish plan. Marth should have realized that the forces of Pherae outnumbered him three to one at the time. Perhaps he placed a little too much faith in the guiding hand of his goddess."

Abel put a hold to the circles he was drawing. "A good story to ensure the legitimacy of King Eliwood's invasion of Altea. Doesn't mean it is true. Marth had nothing to gain from a war, you see, and he had proven his tactical genius in other skirmishes in Tellius and Ostia. Now tell me, why should Marth orchestrate the death of his rival's wife with an arrow that could be traced back to him so easily?"

"Delusions about the strength of his troops? A surplus of faith? Madness? Who can tell what motivates a man to murder his former allies?"

"I can tell you what motivated Marth. I served under him for almost fifteen years, even before he inherited the throne of Altea. And he would have never fallen back on such dishonorable tactics as the assassination of innocents."

Lucina raised a brow. "He didn't hesitate to shoot King Eliwood when his last stronghold lay under siege."

"You don't know how deeply he grieved!"

"No, I do not. And neither do I know what any of this has to do with my request. I was told you could tell me about my father, but all you do is churn up records I can find in any library and then defend a traitorous man."

Abel slumped in his chair, his task of drawing circles forgotten. Now, with the sunlight all but depleted and the room cast in shadows heavy with the weight of the past, he showed his age. A war-torn man who had walked on this war-torn earth for too long, long enough to see his birth realm, belief, and brothers die. Despite her aggravation, Lucina had little more than pity to spare for this husk of a knight. In Altea during its golden days, he must have encompassed the glory of a hero, a living embodiment of the warriors eternalized in marble statues. But here, Abel was a broken man.

"I told you I would relate everything to you." Abel swallowed a weak cough. "And I will stay true to this vow as I have stayed true to the vow I made to your father. You will understand. It was the death of Ninian that opened the gates to war."

The death of Ninian opened the gates to war.

The fields of wheat and canola, teeming with a gold no treasure chest can contain, have yet to quiver under the weight of foreboding in the air as Marth rides through the rich harvest of his people. But the clouds over the northern horizon leave no room for doubt; a storm is coming. Black, rain-laden mountains forged in Grima's grim hells to herald the end. No matter how often Marth spurs his horse, he cannot outrun what is brewing behind him. Pollen spray high and obscure his view, but he never falters, drives his mount to the edge of its limits.

Yesterday, the goal he and Caeda have dreamed of seemed so close. The precious casket rests secured in the depths of Marth's saddlebag and whispers its promises, so alluring, but he cannot spare a moment to listen.

Today, Eliwood's threat rings in his ears.

You will pay for this, Marth! After you betrayed Hector and left him to die, I should have known that when it comes to you, nothing is sacred anymore. But this time, you will pay. You will feel the pain I feel, and if it's the last thing I'll do. I will relish the moment when your forsaken hole of a heart cracks!

If Marth could wish Ninian back to life, he would. Pain clouds Eliwood's judgement and the fire he has nurtured since his youth, when he, Hector, and Lyn had laughed and wasted the days without a care in the world; this fire will spread until it swallows everything. Friend and foe alike, but Marth in particular.

The death of Ninian opened the gates to war.

That is why Marth races towards the beacon of the Glass Fortress beyond the rich fields. He has long abandoned his escort and all concerns towards the state of his horse, which won't support this desperate sprint for much longer. Its hind legs tremble, and rivers of sweat run down the white fur, sweat that mingles with the wetness on Marth's palm as he grips the reins tighter.

Eliwood's threat and a rolling mountain of dark clouds chase him forward. Through the fields and soon the alleys of the town sprawled at the foot of the Glass Fortress until he reaches the inner courtyard.

Marth jumps out of the saddle, and his boots hit the cobblestone with a thud loud enough to alert every knight and stableboy in sight. He pays their worried expressions no mind, nor does he stop to notice the lowered flags and the faint sobs of a child. Only Eliwood's voice reaches him through the haze as his former ally calls for war. The bells of the clock tower ring the sonata of tragedy.

Marth ribs the precious casket from the back of his ailing horse, slaved beyond saving, and heads to the tall double doors and the hall beyond.

The casket pressed against his chest offers the faintest amount of comfort, a promise on the cusp of breaking that might yet find fulfillment. He hasn't lost yet. Even with Eliwood tricked into doing his bidding, Grima might still fail to plunge this world into an endless age of chaos.

Yesterday, the paradise Marth and Caeda have envisioned took shape for one fleeting moment. All Marth needs to do is to hold onto this moment and act before Eliwood razes his life accomplishments to the ground.

But Caeda doesn't greet him when he steps into the grand hall.

Her arms never reach out to secure him in an embrace.

Where she should have waited, Cain and Abel stand in the sunlight, filtered and broken by the stained-glass windows. They both look up at the sound of Marth's urgent steps. Tears stain Abel's face. Cain refuses to release his curled-up fists, even though he is strangling his forefingers from blood supply. Neither has the energy to stand to attention.

Falchion pulls Marth down with a force stronger than gravity as the sword at his side weighs heavier and heavier with each fearful scream that erupts in his head. The casket slips out of his numb fingers and crashes against the marble tiles with the bang to signal his undoing. The closing mechanism snaps open, and out rolls the emerald stone for which Marth has searched for so long.

Today, he cannot bear to look at the glowing facets.

"Where is she?" Marth's voice splits the silence, but he can barely force the name of his wife onto his lips. Dread claws at his throat, an otherworldly force that takes the face of Eliwood. "Caeda?"

Abel flinches as though the name has manifested into a physical punch. "We failed in our duty. I will accept every punishment you deem appropriate."

Marth can hardly hear him through the cacophony of screams in his head, punctuated by Eliwood's words. You will feel the pain I feel.

"Where is she?" Marth asks again.

Abel's face falls; he cannot bring himself to open his mouth. In his place, Cain steps forward. Without a word, he drops an arrow into Marth's hand. His weak fingers struggle to hold on as he runs them across the black shaft. The projectile is a thing of perfection, ideally balanced and equipped with stiff, black feathers that allow for precise shots from a great distance. The head will split the air with the same ease as the edges will cut into Marth's palm. Fresh blood stains the flawless obsidian metal.

Marth's breath runs short, his world spins and tilts and collapses over his head like the waves when they crash against Talys' southern cliffs. A frigid cold seeps through his boots and then infests every last inch of his body, and for the first time in years, the warmth of Naga's presence has no more warmth to give.

I will relish the moment when your forsaken hole of a heart cracks!

He wants to scream, curse Eliwood and Grima, besiege them and everyone who will listen with obscenities until they are awash in an ocean of his hatred and his voice gives in.

But Marth's next question lacks any trace of emotion. "And my daughter?"

"She is with her nurse," Abel says, and a flood of unspoken apologies makes his voice tremble. "She doesn't understand that… what happened."

Marth addresses Naga with a silent prayer of gratefulness. At least his daughter is safe. At least this ray of sunshine has outlasted the mountains of dark clouds as they roll closer. Maybe Marth can still hope.

But when he stands face to face with the cold remains of his love in the room next door, he breaks. And nothing will mend his forsaken hole of a heart, no spell work and no elixir, no prayer, not even the thought of Eliwood's face twisted in horror as he dies a grisly, blood-soaked death.

They have laid out Caeda's body on a marble rostrum. Shards of glass are embedded into the stone, and they reflect the light to paint blue ornaments across the hall with a ceiling too high and a silence too heavy. The long, white feathers of her Pegasus serve as her pillow, a softness she does not feel. As is tradition among the riders of Talys, the animal meets its end on the same day as its master. Without exception. Caeda has loved her Pegasus almost like a child. How often did she tell Marth how she had raised the foal that the herd had cast out, and how she had knitted a bond with the Pegasus until they commanded the sky in perfect unity?

Marth bites back a sob.

Even in death, Caeda possesses a beauty unmatched by earthly creatures. Her blue hair falls around her slender shoulders like a waterfall. Someone must have tended her wounds; Marth finds no blood or torn flesh to disgrace her immaculate skin, only paleness. The fingers that used to comb through his hair emit no warmth when he takes them. The lips that used to gift him with words of affection and encouragement are devoid of breath. The eyes in which Marth used to see the reflection of his goal twice as brightly remain closed while he pleads.

He pleads for her awakening, for a last word of goodbye, for a sign, and for death to strike him down this instance so that the aching in his chest may stop.

Only silence answers him.

When the lake of tears has dried up, a valley of sorrow remains to keep Marth company. Like this he waits for the end, for Eliwood's army to knock at his doors and for Grima's clouds to blanket the Glass Fortress under a darkness that knows no remorse. The black arrow rests in the pocket of Marth's belt.

Only three purposes keep him together while he waits. To ensure that Falchion remains hidden out of reach of the enemy until someone will step forward and finish what Marth started. To take revenge on Eliwood for Caeda's sake. And to guarantee his daughter's survival. No matter what enemies Marth will have to make or what sacrifices he will have to offer.

The death of Ninian opened the gates to war.

A war that robs Marth of the woman he loves, that costs two kingdoms their rulers, and that ends with the Glass Fortress in ruins and Altea beaten and subjugated under the boot of a man too young to wear the crown of responsibility.

And out of the ashes of Marth's and Caeda's goal crawls the Pheraen Empire, destined to strangle the voice of Naga for eighteen long years.

"And for eighteen long years, the Empire has spread lies about Marth. They called him a traitor even though he never raised his voice or his hand against Ninian. All of this to ensure that Altea remained under Pherae's control. That's the lie you've been told," Abel finished.

Lucina leaned back in her chair. Throughout Abel's lengthy portrayal of King Marth, his good intentions and his loss, as well as the leadup to the war, she had struggled to fend against the emotional reactions the story stirred up in her. Abel spoke of Marth with such admiration, such genuine awe; it was impossible not to get swept up by his words.

How much factual truth his story contained remained up for debate.

But one thing was for sure: Abel believed one hundred percent in what he had laid out.

Lucina took in a deep breath and fixated him with her eyes. "Why did you tell me all of this?"

"Because I believe that the memories of the old Altea need to be preserved," Abel said. "I have stayed quiet for a long time. But I realized that a select few still risk everything for a forgotten era in which this country prospered and the people could hold their heads high and proclaim their belief without fear. Some of these rebels, as you call them, weren't even born by the time the Glass Fortress fell. Yet they still fight. The least I can do is share my knowledge."

"But what does this have to do with me? Even if what you say is true, it doesn't excuse Marth's failures."

Abel drew in a sharp breath. His hands trembled. "Don't you understand? He never ordered Ninian's murder, he didn't even send troops to hold off Eliwood and prolong the war. Marth was innocent!"

"Maybe. But he left his kingdom and his people at the mercy of the enemy. Even with the grief over the death of his wife in mind, he had a responsibility towards all of Altea. The child of his you mentioned? Marth didn't raise a finger to protect it from the Pheraen forces. I reckon they both died for his weakness?"

"You still don't understand, do you?"

"No, I do not!" Lucina jumped to her feet and turned towards the door. "If you shared this story with the sole intention to trick me into fighting for the sovereignty of Altea, I'm sorry to say that you have wasted your time."

"You are Marth's daughter."

Lucina froze before her hand could reach the doorhandle. No. Her vision shrunk to a tunnel until the individual wooden boards made up the entirety of her world, a sad blueish world with clefts and ravines where the wood had splintered. Small holes from hungry woodworms covered the surface like bottomless craters. And Lucina was falling through one of these holes, dizzy, disoriented, and with a persistent ringing in her ears. No, never – lies, all of it. Her mind refused to catch up to her.

"What?" Her voice sounded detached from her body. While she was falling through one of the holes in the door, someone else had to have taken possession of her vocal cords.

"You wanted to know more about your father." Abel closed his hand around his chipped mug. "I told you what kind of man he was and why he had to die."

"My father was a minor Pherean lord." Lucina recited Roy's words without thinking. And how could she be thinking when a noise penetrated her ears with the roars of a vicious thunderstorm, when her muscles threatened to quit on her, and she was still falling?

"King Marth of Altea was your father. You are his heir. What you do with his legacy is now up to you. But keep in mind that the people of Altea don't have the luxury of choice you do."

Lucina spun around and shook her head as though that motion could protect her from Abel's words. "No, this is a mistake. If I were Marth's daughter, it would mean Roy… he…"

Abel nodded. "He killed your father."

"I don't believe you! It doesn't make any sense. Why would he take me in when I'm the daughter of his enemy?"

"As a final act of vengeance. Roy managed to turn even his own daughter against Marth."

"Quiet! Roy has always been kind to me. He would never…"

"Lucina," Frederick interrupted. He had remained silent throughout the entirety of the exchange, a stone statue in the corner of the room, but now, he looked at Lucina. And the compassion in his eyes tripped her over the edge. "What Abel says is true."

Lucina closed her eyes and bit her lips to stop them from quivering. "You knew. You knew about all of this the entire time. And you never once told me, not even a hint."

"I only found out recently," Frederick pleaded. He stretched out his hands as if to embrace her but thought better of himself. "I never imagined you to be the same child my mother used to nurse back at the Glass Fortress. She told me everything on her deathbed."

"Then why didn't you tell me?" Lucina shouted.

"She made me swear an oath, by the name of Naga. I couldn't break my word."

"Then does this Naga mean so much more to you than I do? Did you ever think about how it was for me to live with a lie above my head all these years? What am I to you?" Lucina needed all her willpower to prevent the tears from streaming down her face.

Oh, how weak she had made herself to Frederick. He had walked beside her all these years, had taught her the basics of swordsmanship, and had offered her a hand every time she had stumbled. Never would she have dared to think he would betray her trust like this. To go behind her back and whet his knife for the ideal moment to strike. Now that the truth had ripped a hole into her side, he had plunged the blade into the open flesh where it hurt the most.

He had known. Roy had known if this part of their story held true. The rebels of Gran with their awestruck expressions, even they had known her identity as the daughter of the dead enemy of the Empire.

Only Lucina had walked in the dark.

Frederick looked from Lucina to his boots and back. "I apologize. Truly."

She didn't know what to do, what to say.

Her father… all these years she had searched for answers to her heritage. When she had finally let go of her childish desires, this glistering dream that her father would somehow return to Lycia and assure how proud he was of her, the truth had found its way to her in the form of a horrific nightmare. She was the enemy that Roy sought to destroy, the remains of the old Altean elite that threatened peace across the land.

The enemy lurks all around us.

If only Roy had cared to mention how thoroughly the enemy had encircled her.

A crash sounded from beyond the door, and Lucina silenced the raging war in her head to focus on the present. In a move second nature to her, she placed a hand on the pommel of her sword. The noise of clattering metal called for immediate alertness. Most likely, the perpetrator would reveal itself as a simple stray cat. But the following heartbeats of silence tensed like a rope around her neck.

Klein.

She had forgotten all about him. How much had he heard? And what would he do with his newfound knowledge? Lucina cursed herself.

She marched towards the entrance and past Frederick, who had taken a defensive position beside the wooden frame. The talk she had planned to have with him had become more urgent than ever, but once again, the discussion would have to wait. Klein was the bigger of her worries.

With her sword raised, ready to repel an arrow volley or sprint after whoever had eavesdropped on them, Lucina pressed her free hand against the wood. Then, she pushed the door open and for a precious second found herself blinded by the light outside.

Her heart dropped. And her sword almost followed suit.

Klein indeed awaited her in the middle of the cobblestone rotunda, accompanied by four of his men. One of them had to have knocked over the metal basket because the coals had rolled across the plaza, leaving a trail of tar in their wake. All men had their weapons in hand.

And in front of the line of attackers stood Roy.

Notes: Is it a little odd that I wrote the flashback sections with Marth in present tense when the rest of the story uses simple past? Yeah, probably. I can't even give you a solid explanation as to why. When I wrote the prologue almost a year ago (yes, it's been that long), I thought the immediacy of the situation warranted present tense. Plus it just felt right for Marth. But I didn't want to write the whole thing in present tense, so here we are now. Hopefully the switches in this chapters weren't too jarring for you.

If this chapter or any subsequent updates this month arrive later, you can blame NaNoWriMo. I wanted to try it this year, and with the pace I'm at now, I'm pretty sure I'm not going to reach 50k words by the end of November. 30k would already be a dream. Wish me luck...