Birth and Re-Death
Chapter 52: Lucina Builds a Nest
I lie in my bed, facing the ceiling. Not moving, not saying anything. I have been like this for probably twenty minutes.
I have no idea what to do with freedom. No war. No Patriots. No trial. No Risen. No Grima, at least today. No threat. I can just… live. And I have no idea how. There's so much I could do. I could go anywhere. Do anything. And all those choices cancel each other out and leave me lying here, counting the lines in the boards on the ceiling.
Mercifully, someone knocks on my door. "It's open," I say. I learned long ago by now that anyone that wants to get into this room can do so whether I lock the door or not.
It's Chrom. "Randall, there's something you should be aware of. Marth has returned to the city with a Plegian mage by her side."
That makes me sit up at last. "She has? I'm glad she's okay. Do you know anything about this mage?" I have my suspicions about who it must be.
"The report from the south gate guards wasn't very descriptive. He has white hair, small eyes, and looked 'suspiciously smiley.' That's all we got," Chrom replies, shrugging.
Yeah, that'd be Henry. "Where are they now?" I ask as I stagger out of bed.
"They're being escorted to the palace right now. Should be there in fairly short order. I figured you would want to be there to greet them."
"You figured right. Let me find pants and I'll be there in a minute."
About fifteen minutes later, Chrom and I are waiting in front of the palace. We haven't been there long when Maribelle emerges from the palace, back in her usual clothes with her drills at full power.
She smiles when she sees us. "Good morning, Randy. You're looking well."
"I am? I just rolled out of bed," I reply.
"I can tell," she says, her smile flickering a bit. "I suppose after what you went through, you're allowed to have at least one lazy day."
I chuckle. "I appreciate your leniency, duchess."
"Has she arrived? This Marth person?" Maribelle asks. "I've never actually spoken with her myself, outside of her telling us when you were first taken by that Plegian wyvern rider. And that was hardly the time for making conversation."
"Not yet," Chrom says, "but I think that might be her right now." I look to see where he's pointing, and I see a wagon being driven up the central avenue, driven by a pair of guardsmen. In the seat behind the driver's bench, sure enough, there's Lucina and Henry.
Marth. Marth. You're in front of both of her parents right now. You have to remember to call her Marth.
The wagon pulls up to the white stone steps up to the palace. I start to head down the steps to meet them halfway.
I notice Lucina has replaced her bandages with a leather eyepatch. Over the actual patch part, someone has inlaid a metal crest of some sort.
Lucina surprises me a bit when she sprints up the stairs, taking them three at a time and meeting me much closer to the top step than the bottom. "We're not too late, are we?" she calls as she runs, her voice high and panicked. "I got here with Henry as fast as I could!"
I hold up my hands in a sort of 'slow down, girl' gesture before she bowls me over. "It's alright, Marth," I say. "The trial is finished."
"Finished?" she asks, aghast. "Did Lord Aventine..?"
"Yeah, he made it before the trial ended. He's turned himself in to the authorities," I say.
Now that she's closer, I can make out the detailing on her patch. It's a crest that features the face of a longhorn bull with a shield shape behind it, and some other ornamental inlays with it. I'll have to ask about that later.
Lucina takes a few deep breaths to catch her breath after barreling up the stairs like that. "So… Henry's testimony wasn't necessary after all?"
"Thankfully, no. Though that's probably because of the Risen attack helping show the khans that I am their ally."
"There was a Risen attack?" she asks concernedly.
"Yes. Quite a lot of them, though thankfully no one was killed."
By now Chrom and Maribelle have descended the steps to join us. "Marth," Chrom says. "It's good to see you again."
Lucina blanches on seeing her parents approach her. I think this is the first time she's seen them together. Or maybe not, based on what Maribelle said.
"G-good to see you too, sir," she stammers. Even now she still kind of does a husky voice when she's talking to him. I don't know why she's worried about that though, since there's no one to compare her voice to in the first place. I guess she's just in the habit of pretending to be a dude.
Chrom laughs. "There's no need to be nervous. Randall's already told us about where you've been and what you've been doing."
"He has?" She looks at me for some kind of explanation.
"Yeah. I told them how I sent you to try and convince the Patriots to help testify on my behalf," I say. "Though I have to admit, not only convincing Aventine to testify, but also to turn himself in, was a big step further than I expected. To say nothing of the fact that you apparently convinced them to disband the Patriots altogether."
She looks like this is the first she's heard any of this. "What? When did this happen?"
I can't help but laugh. "Duplicitous to the end. Aventine didn't tell you about his plans?"
Lucina shakes her head. "I never spoke with Lord Aventine. I was told by Vasto that I could bring Henry with me to testify on your behalf. That was all."
I can picture it now. Earnest, bright-eyed Lucina shows up on Vasto's doorstep, pleading with him to help me. Vasto wants to help, but more than that, he wants this twerp to buzz off. So he makes sure everything is in order, then sends her packing the slow, pedestrian way, keeping her out of his hair long enough for him to get in with Aventine and get out.
"Well, the important thing is that you're here, and you're okay. What about you, Henry? How're you holding up?" I ask.
He beams. "I had a great time coming up here! I've never been out on the road like that, hunting for my own food and stuff! Those woodland animals didn't see something like me coming, that's for sure! Nyahaha!"
Lucina grimaces. "I wish you hadn't used dark magic to kill so much of our quarry. After cutting out the decay, there was hardly any meat left most of the time."
"We mages don't need to eat much, you know," Henry replies. "I thought there was plenty."
"Anyway," Chrom interrupts. "So you were unable to see any evidence of the Patriots disbanding while you were there?"
"No sir," Lucina replies. "But we have been on the road for several days now."
Chrom turns to me. "We'll need to organize an envoy to head to Southtown and verify things are going as Aventine testified. And while we're at it…" He glances at Maribelle. "We'll also need to…"
Maribelle interrupts. "I know. We'll have to arrest my father and have him brought to Ylisstol. According to Lord Aventine, Father is the only other living Ylissean leader in the Patriots. The others—Captain Vasto and Octavia Issachar—have not committed any crimes against Ylisse, assuming they agree to surrender or return to Plegia."
I'd rather be up front about what happened last night. "Actually, Vasto has already been to see me." Chrom, Maribelle, and Lucina all look surprised; Henry looks like that's pretty much what he expected. "After everything died down yesterday, Robin and I were just out in the training yard when Vasto landed suddenly in front of us. He told me he wasn't about to surrender to the Ylissean government, but that I was free to pass judgment as I saw fit."
"And?" Maribelle asks.
"I broke his nose and told him to get his life together. Then I let him go."
The three of them stare at me.
Henry laughs. "I bet Kinba wasn't too happy about you breaking his nose!"
"She wasn't. But Vasto held her off from biting my head off," I reply.
"So you could say she… nose her master did wrong? Nyahaha!"
I choose to believe Henry is an acquired taste and I just have yet to acquire it.
"So what are you two going to do now?" I ask, eager to change the subject. "Are you going back to Plegia, Henry?"
He shrugs. "I dunno! I'm not a soldier anymore, but I guess I'm not a Patriot anymore either. I could go wherever I want!"
"And where's that?"
"I'll have to think about it, I guess! That was part of the nice thing about being in the military while that lasted: you never had to wonder where you were supposed to be. But now there's nobody left to tell me where to go." A crow flaps its way over and lands on his shoulder. "But I guess that's no CAWs for concern! I'll figure something out eventually."
Maribelle frowns at the dark mage. "As long as you don't stir up any trouble, I suppose you can remain in Ylisstol until you figure out where you want to go. Henry, was it?"
He salutes goofily, making the crow on his shoulder ruffle its feathers irritably. "That's me! Are you Hadrian's kid? You look a lot like him."
Her frown deepens. "Yes. Hadrian is my father. I am Maribelle Osprey."
"And my name is Chrom. I am acting-Exalt of the halidom," Chrom says.
"Oooh, so you're Chrom, huh? One of the Exalted family, right?" Henry asks.
"That's right."
"The Patriots would want me to attack you, I bet," Henry says cheerfully.
A very tense two seconds pass.
"Good thing for both of us that the Patriots don't exist anymore, huh?" Henry adds with a good-natured laugh.
I feel some of the tension leak out of the air. "Yeah, good thing," Chrom sighs, taking his hand off Falchion's hilt.
"You know Henry, I just thought of something you might be able to do," I say. "Do you remember that Feroxi captain, Regulus?"
"Sure do! That guy was intimidating, huh?"
"Aren't you able to communicate with animals, like your crow friends and stuff? They can tell you things?" I ask.
"When they have something to say, sure!"
"I think you should have a word with Khan Flavia about helping with the search for Regulus. The guy went missing shortly before my trial, and the Feroxi army has been searching all over for him. Maybe they'd have better luck if your animal friends were keeping an eye out for him too."
"Ooh, a manhunt! That sounds like fun!" Henry replies enthusiastically. "Where can I find this khan lady?"
"The men who escorted you here can bring you to the khans' headquarters in the city," Chrom says, gesturing to the wagon still sitting at the bottom of the steps. He gives me a look that plainly says something like 'and that way they can keep an eye on him until he makes himself the khans' problem'. I can sympathize.
"Okay! Seeya later, Randall!" Henry chirps, hopping down the steps back to the wagon.
When Henry is out of earshot, Chrom asks me, "Is that the typical mindset of a Patriot?"
I shake my head. "There's nothing typical about Henry."
"What about you, Marth?" Maribelle asks. "What will you do now?"
Lucina has been able to deal with Chrom before, but Maribelle seems to intimidate her more than Chrom ever did. "W-well, I don't exactly know. I came here to avert disaster for this world, but for the time being, it looks like the continent will be at peace. For now, I suppose I will make my way, keeping an eye out for the next time my intervention is needed."
"Will you stay in the city?" Maribelle asks.
"No, I don't think so," Lucina replies, looking away from her mother. "It could be… problematic if I spend too much time around the Shepherds."
"Are you going to be alright on your own?" Chrom asks. "Even without a war going on, it can be dangerous out on the high roads."
Lucina smiles. "There's no need to worry. I can take care of myself. But I appreciate your concern."
"Oh, come now," Maribelle says in a commanding tone. She steps forward and places a hand on Lucina's shoulder, making her jump a bit. "You have been on a treacherous journey until now in the name of protecting a precious friend of ours. We cannot in good conscience turn you outside of the city before we've had the chance to thank you properly!"
"R-really, Lady Maribelle, that is not necessary–"
"The decision has already been made, darling," Maribelle interrupts with a self-satisfied little laugh.
"I guess once the acting-Exalt's fiancée has made a decree like that, you can't defy it," I say with a chuckle.
Lucina gasps. "Th-the Exalt's fiancée?" She looks at her parents. "Does that mean that you two are..?"
"It was something we're trying to keep under wraps for now," Chrom says with a glare at me. "But yes. For a little over a week now. Please do try to keep it to yourself for now."
"What's the big deal?" I ask. "I thought you were waiting for the trial to be over, and it's over, right?"
"Yes, but that doesn't mean the Patriots have been dealt with," Chrom replies. "Until we have proof that they've disbanded, and until we at least have Lord Hadrian brought here, the group is still our highest priority."
"And you're going to wait until there's nothing at all on the halidom's plate before you go public? There will always be something," I reply.
Chrom seems to consider my point. "We'll look into it, I guess. But on our own terms, got it?"
"Fine, fine."
"That aside," Maribelle says, turning back to Lucina, "I insist you stay with the Shepherds for at least a few days. Forgive my crudeness, but you frankly look like a wreck, dear. I think a bath and a set of clean clothes are imperative for you right now."
Lucina looks embarrassed, reddening and sort of shrinking. "I-I apologize if I offend–"
Maribelle sighs sharply. "Come now. It's not a condemnation of you; it's an acknowledgment that you have been on the road for a while and deserve a rest. Now come with me, and let's find you some clean clothes before we get you a nice, hot bath." She walks around Lucina and ushers her up the stairs toward the palace.
"Buh-wha-eh?" Lucina stammers, waving her arms uselessly. "L-lady Maribelle! Are you sure about this?"
"Yes. Now come along, Marth." With that, Maribelle unknowingly takes her daughter to get her cleaned up.
The sight makes me laugh, especially when Lucina gives me a look of 'help me!' over her shoulder as she's whisked away. Sorry Luci, you're just going to have to accept some motherly affection for a while.
Chrom laughs with me. "I love that woman."
"Good luck to you," I say. "Your life definitely won't be dull with her."
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Chrom replies.
After leaving Chrom and the others, I end up feeling rather aimless. For a while, I do some training in the yard with Gregor and Lon'qu. Lon'qu definitely has the edge over both of us when it comes to skill with the blade, but both Gregor and I are more durable, so even though he keeps us on the defensive, we can keep up that defense for a long time. It also helps that Lon'qu isn't used to fighting a weapon quite like Longinus, a spear so dense that it can't be batted aside like a wood-shafted lance can be. When I do press on the offensive, he is forced to dodge instead of parry.
It's nice to feel like I can at least keep up with the real pros. And I'm doing it my own way, not following anyone else exactly. It feels like I've come into my own with this thing.
After we finish our sparring, Gregor asks if he can take a look at Longinus. He pops the blade out, then back in, then out again.
"This mechanism you use to get out blade… is very impressive," he says as he admires the blade end. "And the blade… that is weapons-grade silver?"
"I think so. I didn't make the blade myself," I reply.
"Who was smith?" he asks.
"A Plegian woman named Octavia. She's the wife of that Plegian general, Mustafa, that we fought when we were trying to escape Golgotha with Emmeryn. Turns out, Mustafa and his wife were both members of the Patriots. I ended up befriending her, and she outfitted my staff with this blade apparatus. You'd have liked her."
"Was this woman beautiful?" He grins mischievously.
"Yeah, almost scarily so," I admit. "Hey, speaking of beautiful women, what's the deal with you and Anna? I see you two still fight well together, and I've seen you around sometimes, but is it like, not official or something?"
Gregor shrugs. "For time being, we are business partners. Now that war is over, Anna plans to return to her life as traveling merchant. But with all the bandits and zombies roaming the world, she said she need extra security. That is me."
"So… you're her employee now?" I ask.
"Not 'employee.' Contractor," Gregor corrects me.
"But that's it? Strictly professional?"
He grins. "Maybe not strictly."
"How good is her pay?" I ask, returning his sly look.
"It is worth the while," he replies. We both laugh.
"Well, I'm glad that's working out for you, then. When does she want to get back on the road?" I ask.
"Not for some time yet. While city is rebuilding, she has much trading she wants to do here inside city walls. Lots of customers, she say. Which is fine for Gregor. Collecting pay while doing almost nothing inside safest city in country is very good deal, no?" He laughs triumphantly.
"That does sound like the best a merc could hope for," I reply.
"If you two are finished gabbing, I'd like to get back to training," Lon'qu says irritably.
"Alright, but let's make this interesting," I say. "Let's make a bet."
"What sort of bet?" Lon'qu asks.
"If you win, I'll, hmm… personally sharpen and oil every sword you own and buff out the scratches in your armor," I say.
He raises a brow. "And if you win?"
"You have to ask our fair princess Lissa on a date," I say smugly. Gregor cackles behind me.
Lon'qu's brow furrows intently. "What makes my love life any of your business?"
"The fact that it would be extremely funny to watch you have to do that," I reply. "What's the matter? Afraid you'll lose?"
His scowl shifts to a more confident smile. "Not a chance."
He was right. And taking care of all his weapons and armor takes up the rest of my morning.
Lucina is trying her best not to be overwhelmed.
To go from not seeing her mother at all for years, to only allowing herself little glimpses from a distance, to suddenly being pampered by her is almost too much. Maribelle has given her a charming white dress with blue accents to wear after she is done in the bath. At first it seemed Maribelle planned to enter the bathhouse with her, but Lucina asked if she might bathe alone. Her mother had been gracious enough not to question the request, instead granting it immediately and saying she would wait outside.
Now she sits in the water, warm and safe, but feeling so strange. Her parents are finally engaged, at least. But long before the Lucina of this time has even been conceived, Maribelle feels so much like a mother. Lucina wonders if it might be from all the years of watching over Aunt Lissa.
It's been longer than she can remember since she could last just relax in a hot bath like this. She looks herself over, counting the little white lines that mark her arms, chest, and abdomen. Maybe three dozen in all. Little reminders of all the fights against the hordes of the hellish undead over the years. Normally if a wound is closed with a staff or vulnerary fast enough, there is no scar left behind, but as the fight to stay alive wore on over the years, healing supplies became more and more scarce. After a while, the group had to concede that some wounds were too minor to waste precious healing supplies on.
Everyone held themselves to their own standard on what they considered minor enough to not need magic. For people like Severa and Yarne, they still went to Brady or Uncle Randy for every little thing like usual, but Lucina felt that as the oldest, and as the Exalt's daughter, she had a responsibility to be especially frugal. She doesn't know for sure, but she suspects she is the most scarred member of their group, especially considering she was usually out in front when they would fight off the Risen.
She isn't ashamed of the scars. She decided a long time ago to wear them proudly, as proof of how much she cares for her friends. They are evidence that she was willing to give up everything if it meant saving the world.
But here, in this warm bath, in this peaceful city, with her mother sitting outside the bathhouse, the scars feel out of place after all. She doesn't know how to feel safe. A part of her almost wishes something dangerous would happen, just so she could feel back in her element.
She shakes her head, her wet hair whipping around her face, then drooping down in dark blue clumps. She must not think like this. Peace was what she always strove for. What her parents died for. Craving violence just because it's familiar is the opposite of what her parents would want for her.
Still… outside of the Falchion, outside of battle, outside of bloodshed… she doesn't quite know who she is. Who she would like to be, given the chance to decide.
Unlike me, Robin is having no trouble keeping herself occupied now that the war is over.
She's got an office in the palace now. A major step up from the cluttered command wagon, for sure. The office is on the east side of the palace, with a large window overlooking the training grounds and, beyond them, the barracks. The better to oversee her troops, I guess.
The office is comfortable. The walls are covered in rich, dark brown wood boards. The floor, while also wooden, is mostly covered in Exalt-blue rugs, complete with the requisite gold accenting. Her desk matches the walls in color and material, and the drawers are knobbed with gold-plated metal. There are three chairs in the room: one for her, two for whoever she's meeting with. All three are wooden, covered in comfortable blue velvet cushions. Her chair is a good deal taller and more ornate; fitting, I guess, for the grandmaster general. A nice brass candlestick sits on one side of her desk, for those late night planning sessions I'm sure are coming. Two flags hang next to each other on the west wall, opposite the window: a blue and gold flag featuring the Brand of the Exalt, no doubt the flag of the halidom, and a deep burgundy flag featuring a circular, radial design around an image of the sun in the center. I'm guessing that's the flag of Ferox, or at least Flavia's half of Ferox.
Aside from that, decorations are sparse. Wooden shelves are lined up along the west and north walls, but aside from some technical manuals and historical texts, they are mostly empty. Even the weapon rack set up between the two shelves on the west wall is empty. I guess it'll be some time before Robin really makes the space her own, though I expect that will mostly be in the form of creating clutter.
"So? What do you think?" Robin asks as I examine the space.
"I think you'll make good use of it. It suits you," I reply.
"I'm having some of the palace servants help move a lot of the books and other materials from my room in the barracks to this office. It will be nice to finally have some space in that bedroom," she says.
"No kidding. For someone who's normally so organized, your own living space is kind of a wreck." I grin as she gives me a dirty look. "So did I hear right? That this office wasn't being used at all until they moved you in here?"
"Yeah. No one really said why, but I guess ever since the end of the last war, no one really came in here. Maybe after Emmeryn disbanded the military, there just wasn't use for this room?"
"Maybe, but it's just a room. You'd think they'd have…" A thought occurs to me. If this is where military matters used to be decided, it's very possible this is where Gideon was standing when Aventine…
I decide to stop thinking about it. Last thing Robin needs added to her plate is the knowledge that this office might be haunted by a genocidal ghost.
"Anyway, so you're the leader of the new official Ylissean army, huh?" I say. "What's the first step to building it back up?"
Robin sighs. "Money, sadly. We can't finance a military without money. And that means we need to start having meetings with the remaining Plegian leadership. One of the terms of the country's surrender is putting up the funds to at least get this army off the ground. But Plegia isn't going to like that at all."
"Is that going to be a problem? Do you anticipate a flare-up of violence at the border?" I ask.
"It's difficult to say. I think both countries really are tired of fighting at the moment, but at the same time, it's almost impossible for the Plegian lords to try and claim their country wasn't at fault for this war. And after Gangrel refused to return to the negotiating table and instead pushed for a final battle at the Border Pass, they really don't have a leg to stand on. So Plegia is going to have to cough up a good deal of money, both to Ylisse and to Ferox. It's going to be lean years in Plegia for a while."
"Robin, I have to advise some degree of caution on that front," I say. "To an extent, I'm not sure how much can really be done about it at this point, but in the coming years, the Grimleal are going to become a lot more powerful in Plegia. That's dangerous."
"How much more powerful?" Robin sits down in her new chair. I sit in one of the chairs opposite her.
"Like, Validar becomes king of Plegia powerful," I reply.
"The leader of the Grimleal becomes king?" she asks, almost skeptical.
"Well, Gangrel left no heirs. Without a clear successor, there's a power vacuum left behind in his wake. And the most influential group in the country right now is the state religion. Is it really so unbelievable?"
"I guess not. He is our lead suspect for being the man who attacked the negotiations, after all. It would make sense for him to have wanted to take Gangrel out of power to make way for the Grimleal. Although…" She gets a strange look on her face. "I can't shake the feeling now that there's something about him I'm forgetting…"
"Forgetting? Like what?"
"If I knew that, I wouldn't have forgotten it," she replies crossly. "Anyway, so you think if we push the Plegians too hard, it will make the Grimleal more powerful as the people get more desperate, is that it?"
"Yeah, pretty much. I don't know if there's a way to avoid it, like I said. But you should at least be aware that your actions are probably going to ultimately empower the enemy even as they help us."
Robin sighs. "Good to know. If we know that Validar is so treacherous, couldn't we just arrange to have him assassinated?"
"Maybe. But that would probably just start another war," I reply. "People aren't too fond of having their religious leaders assassinated at the best of times, and any overtly anti-Grimleal sentiment risks smacking of severe shades of Gideon. Not to mention, if Grima has come back to the past like I think he has, getting rid of Validar might not ultimately help anything. He'd just prop up another puppet. I think for now we just have to play nice with the cultist lunatics and gather our strength."
"Ugh." Robin slumps back in her chair. "I don't wanna go to more diplomatic meetings. Can't Chrom just handle this himself?"
"Actually, that reminds me of something I wanted to ask you," I say.
Robin sits up again. "What is it?"
"If you hadn't been given this job. If you were just sort of, I guess, cut loose. What would you do?"
She laughs wearily. "I have no idea. I'd probably ask if you had any ideas, honestly. You at least had a life outside of being a soldier before all this."
"I was only ever a student," I reply. "I never really got a chance to, you know, really live in the adult world. I was going to be an attorney, though."
"Well, at least you found your way into a courtroom eventually," she says with a wry grin.
"Yeah, yeah. But the legal system in this world is sadly underdeveloped compared to what we had in America. I don't know if there's even a place for me in it."
"Have you thought about trying to institute changes that you would want to see in the system?"
"What, like a lobbyist? Gag me," I reply. "That sounds like a nightmare."
"It's not like you don't have the Exalt's ear, though," Robin reminds me.
"Sure, that's true. But I also just keep thinking about what's coming. The war with Valm, which I don't think we can do much to avoid. And then the battle with Grima. I feel like I should be doing something to prepare for it, but I can't think of how best to use this time."
"Wanna stand in for me when Chrom goes to meet with the Plegian lords?" Robin asks fake-sweetly.
"Hard pass. That one's on you," I say.
"I'll promote you to general~" She bats her eyelashes.
"I feel like there should be stricter qualifications for the rank of general than just being willing to talk money with foreign nobles. Although now that I say it out loud, that does sound pretty much correct…"
"But no, I don't think I have any meaningful advice to give, Randy. Sorry," Robin says.
"No worries. I'll just have to puzzle over it some more," I reply. I get up and start to head for the door.
"You're leaving?" Robin asks, sounding a little put out.
"For now, yeah. I'm afraid if I stick around any longer you'll use your wiles to rope me in to your Plegian diplomatic expedition."
"That was a joke! You don't have to go to the meeting with me!" She sounds downright pouty. This is adorable.
"So what are we gonna do then?" I ask, turning around and walking back toward the desk.
She gives me an innocent look. "Organize my books on the shelves when the servants get here with them?"
I groan. "I do owe you for being my lawyer, don't I?"
"I already said you don't owe me anything for that," she says.
"Well, it'll make it feel more square anyway. So fine, I'll help organize your personal library. Hey, hold up," I say, struck with sudden realization. "Where's the shipping chart?"
She raises a brow. "The shipping chart?"
"You know, the relation-shipping chart. Your matchmaking diary."
"It is not a diary," she snaps with her characteristic scowl. "And for your information, the other charts are getting brought here with the books. But that one is staying in my room in the barracks. I don't trust you or Chrom or both of you not to go snooping around in it."
"I just wonder if you've made any changes to it since I got surprise adopted by the Patriots, is all. Like if you'll admit Chrom does have romantic prospects after all. Or if you've figured out yet that Ricken and Tharja is just not going to happen. Or if you've added a row for–"
"Enough!" she shouts, her face reddening by the second. "I keep it updated just fine. I'll happily take whatever insights you might have about the others, since you told me you're a lot more experienced with… shipping, than you first appeared. But the chart is off-limits. For my eyes only."
"Alright, fine," I reply, enjoying the rise I got out of her. I take a seat in one of the blue-cushioned chairs opposite her desk. "So, what do you think is the ETA on the princess and her bodyguard?"
Instantly, she perks up. "Ugh, don't get me started on those two…"
I can't quite put my finger on why it is, but I find this young lady utterly fascinating. Completely polite, supremely pleasant, but she seems skittish as a fawn around me.
Marth sips her tea delicately and places the cup softly, almost soundlessly, on its saucer. Whoever taught her etiquette clearly did a fine job. I only wish she would stop glancing around the room so nervously, as if searching for the exit.
"Is something the matter, Marth?" I can't help but ask. "You seem anxious."
She shakes her head, refocusing her attention on me. "It's nothing, Lady Maribelle," she says in an exaggeratedly low voice.
"Oh, come now, I already know you're a woman. There's no need to continue that mannish affectation," I sigh.
"A-ah, right. My apologies," she says, her voice returning to its normal—and lovely—pitch. "But no, nothing is wrong. I just get like this when I've been on the road for too long. I become restless, I'm afraid."
"I see. Well you're safe here, dear. There's no need to worry," I assure her. "No one would dare interrupt me when I'm having my afternoon tea, after all," I add with a modest chuckle.
She doesn't seem to understand that I was joking. "What do you do when someone interrupts you?" she asks, completely seriously.
"Why, I eject them right out the door with a slap on the rear, of course," I reply brightly, hoping if I take the joke to a ridiculous extent she might catch on.
Instead, she looks downright intimidated. "I-I see."
I see that my joking technique still needs work. I will need to consult some of the more lighthearted Shepherds about improving my delivery.
"That was a joke, dear," I say.
"Ah, aha, of course," Marth says, averting her eyes. "I have… never been good at, you know, getting jokes. My apologies."
"If anything, it's a relief. I have also never really had a talent for humor, admittedly," I reply. "It seems we have a lot in common, Marth."
Well now it seems I've said something funny, because she's laughing.
I try not to sound as indignant as I feel. "What's so amusing about that?" I ask.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh at you," she says, quickly dropping her smile. "It's just that I didn't expect to have something like that in common with you."
"I hope you meant that as a compliment," I reply.
"Y-yes, of course!" she exclaims.
"Goodness, I understand I am a noble, but you needn't feel so nervous around me," I say exasperatedly. "I know we haven't had much chance to get well acquainted, but I hope it's not presumptuous to say I consider you a friend. You went to great effort to help a dear friend of mine, and you have been fighting alongside us, if in a bit unorthodox manner, from the very start of the war. I would like us to be friends."
Finally, I manage to draw an earnest smile out of her. "I would like that, Lady Maribelle."
Cordelia steels her nerves. For once in her life, she is going to finally make herself be heard. This time without alcohol ruining everything.
She raps the door of Chrom's study.
"Come in," Chrom calls from inside.
Cordelia swallows. She has made it as far as his door. Just a little further now. She will be strong. She opens the door.
"Ah, Cordelia. What can I do for you?" Chrom asks with a smile as Cordelia shuts the door behind her gingerly. "You're a welcome change of pace from all this correspondence from the lords of Plegia. I'm not looking forward to having to meet them, as I'm sure you can guess," he goes on with a guilty chuckle.
"Milord, I wanted to discuss something with you," Cordelia says, red and nervous. "It's… about what happened after Gangrel's trial. When I…"
Chrom's smile falters. "Ah. Yes, I suppose we should, uh, sort that out. Why don't you have a seat?"
Cordelia sits obediently in the chair across his desk. "Milord, I–"
"Please, Cordelia, we're old friends. 'Chrom' is perfectly fine," Chrom interrupts.
"R-right. Chrom, I just wanted to finally… clear the air between us."
Chrom nods. "That would make me happy too. I guess I should start with asking this, then: did you mean what you said?"
She swallows, clenches her fists in her lap, and steels her nerves. "Of course I did. I've been crazy about you for nearly as long as I've known you. Ever since we were young." She can't bring herself to meet his eye, instead staring at the letters spread on his desk, but at least she's finally telling him the truth.
"I'm sorry I never realized," Chrom says quietly. "I've been so insensitive. And here, all this time, I thought the reason you avoided my company was because you found me crude."
"No! I could never think that!" Cordelia protests. "Your brash manner was what attracted me to you in the first place! The way you met every problem head-on, without once hesitating… You were—are—like a hero. Like the Hero-King."
"I wouldn't even begin to give myself that much credit," Chrom replies. "But all the same, I'm sorry I didn't see. I wish there was some way to make it up to you, all those years of discomfort."
Cordelia laughs weakly. "Well, considering your engagement, I think there might be nothing for it. But I would like to know one thing, Chrom. It might put my mind at ease."
"Of course, ask anything."
She forces herself to look in his eyes. His face is full of guilt, concern, empathy. He's perfect. "Did I ever even have a chance? Was there anything I could have done or said, from the moment we met, that might have led to us being together?"
His brow arches in sympathy. He shakes his head slightly. "I was in love with Maribelle from the night I met her. I don't think anything could have changed that."
Cordelia's shoulders slump slightly. The answer she expected. "I was even the one who delivered you to Themis. I was dooming myself from the very beginning."
"Even if you hadn't taken me to Themis, and even if I hadn't met her that night, I would have met her someday. I would have fallen for her. I don't think anyone else could have captured my heart like that. I truly think the gods have called me to her."
"What would you have done, then, if she had chosen someone else? If she had stayed with Randall, perhaps?" Cordelia asks.
Chrom hesitates. "I'm not sure. When they were together, brief though it was, it was hard not to be embittered about it. It felt like Randall had dropped in out of nowhere and, in almost no time at all, swept up the woman I had spent most of my life pining for. Of course, that wasn't how it happened at all, but I didn't know what I was going to do. I would have had to do some serious soul searching to come up with a solution for that. In my case, Randall and Maribelle didn't last long enough that I really had to get serious about moving on."
"I… see." Cordelia's voice is tight, restrained.
"I realize I'm not being helpful. I'm sorry," Chrom says.
"I think… there's probably nothing you can do right now," Cordelia says. "This is something I have to work out myself." She stands abruptly and starts to head for the door.
"O-oh, okay. Well, do let me know if there's anything I can do," Chrom stammers awkwardly, unsure if he should stand or just remain where he is.
"I will," she says, then hastily ducks out the door.
She at least manages to close the door before the first sob forces its way out. She hoped closure would feel like more of a relief than this.
As the sun falls, I go upstairs to get my jacket before the evening chill sets in. I grab the leather jacket (I've started to silently refer to it as the Cordelia jacket) and am about to reach for my door handle when, to my surprise, someone knocks on the door.
Lucina looks startled when I open the door just a second after she started knocking. She's wearing a white dress, no doubt courtesy of her mom. The sleeveless dress is trimmed in blue around the bottom, the neckline, and the shoulders. Her usual long boots have been replaced with tan sandals. She looks like the very picture of springtime. Well, except for the eyepatch. I'll have to ask about that when I get a chance.
"Ah, Luci. What's up?" I ask, gesturing for her to come inside. As I close the door behind her, I add, "It's rare for you to knock, or to enter through the door for that matter."
She looks down bashfully. "Well, it's not like I have to sneak around right now," she says, a touch of defensiveness in her tone.
"Oh yeah, you're here on Maribelle's orders. How was your day with the duchess?" I ask.
"It was… wonderful. And a little scary."
"She's not that intimidating, is she?"
She shakes her head. "Not that. It's more like, after spending so long fighting to survive every day, both in the future and in the past, I just… It's like I… couldn't relax, I suppose." She fidgets as she goes on, "Like when Mother took me to have a bath. I felt vulnerable, even though Falchion was only ten feet away. I kept waiting for a Risen to come bursting through the door, or for my mother to scream just outside. I almost thought I would prefer it if something like that happened, because then at least I would know. It was the same with teatime, and with everything else we did."
I'm not a psychologist. I took like one class in college. But if these aren't indicators of post-traumatic stress, I don't know what would be.
"I… don't really know what to say. I don't know where to even begin. To say I'm sorry you went through that doesn't feel…" I know there's nothing I could have done about this. She was living that life in the future before I even showed up here. Still, I can't shake this feeling of guilt. "I'm sorry that my future self and the other Shepherds weren't able to protect you from that life," I say.
She shakes her head. "I've never doubted that you, or rather the future you, did everything you could to keep all of us safe. I remember as a little girl, you once told me that you wanted me and the others to be children for as long as possible. You didn't want us to have to grow up too quickly. You fought harder than anyone for so long. I could never blame you even a little for this."
"Guess that didn't work out so well, huh?" I reply with a sad smile. "Letting you stay a kid, I mean. You spent years fighting through the apocalyptic horde, only to come back to the past just in time to experience an entire war, start to finish. And we both know it's not over yet. Eventually Walhart will make his move, and after that, the Grimleal." As soon as I've said that, I wish I could reel the words back in and stuff them down my throat. The last thing she needs to be thinking about is the next war to come. "Sorry. You shouldn't think about that right now."
"Don't worry, Uncle Randy. I already was before you said anything. At least I know I'm not worrying about it alone." She shifts around. "Do you think… would it be alright if I asked for a hug? In the future, they always made me feel better."
"You don't even have to ask," I say, holding my arms open, thankful I can at least do this. She steps into the embrace and holds tightly onto me. She's a skinny girl, but her arms are strong, and she holds on as if someone is going to try to pull me away any moment. One of my arms wraps around her shoulders, while the other hand rests on the back of her head.
We're quiet for a little while. If this is making her feel safe, I can do this all day.
"I told Mother and Father that I wouldn't stay in the city for long, but… I don't want to be on my own. It's hard. It's really hard," she says quietly, her voice as tight as her embrace.
"You're welcome to stay as long as you need," I reply. "I get that you don't want to risk your parents finding out who you are, but you gotta take care of yourself too. As long as we're careful about them seeing your eye, there shouldn't be any problem, right? Well, maybe we should also be a little less obvious about the Parallel Falchion, too."
"I don't like being apart from the Falchion," she says. "I always have it with me."
"It's a wonder no one has really asked about it already, honestly. Not a lot of swords have a design like that." I think for a second. "Have you considered covering the hilt with something? Maybe there's nothing to be done about the blade, but at least you can disguise the most recognizable part."
"That might not be a terrible idea," she says, then finally releases me. "I'm sorry. I know you have a lot going on. I don't want to add to it."
I can't help but laugh. "Don't worry about it. If anything, I've been having trouble trying to come up with ways to fill my time today. The war was awful, but it at least kept me busy. I need to figure out what I'm going to do with myself soon, or I'm afraid I'll get pulled into helping build the army."
"Do you have any ideas?" she asks.
"I dunno. I had an idea before, but that's not going to happen anymore I think. I might do some asking around, see if any of the Shepherds have any ideas. I don't want to get too terribly far from Robin though."
"Why not?"
I said that carelessly. I don't want to tell her it's because I can never know when we might need a respawn. "Because she's my best friend. Even if she's going to be busy with being the grandmaster general and all," I waggle my fingers dramatically, "I still want to keep an eye on her."
She smiles. "I see. I don't know much about where the Shepherds went between the Plegian and Valmese Wars, but I hope you find something that works for you."
"Do you know what future-me ended up doing?"
"I think I remember you saying you did something with Libra," she says, rubbing her chin in thought.
Oh. I don't know whether to be pleased that my future self was also such good friends with Libra, or depressed that obviously that option is off the table for me.
"Yeah. Well, I'll find something, I'm sure," I say.
"Uh, right. I noticed you had your coat when I came in. Were you about to go somewhere?"
"Oh, yeah I was. I was gonna go find Robin and see about something." That reminds me of something I should probably get out of the way now. "By the way. Robin knows who you are. Like, that you're from the future, and you're Chrom and Maribelle's daughter, and stuff."
"She does? How? Did you tell her?" Lucina looks scandalized. It's kinda funny; she sounds a little like her mother right now.
"I didn't intend to. But she's just that smart. She put it together," I reply. "I was angry. I think I was arguing with Robin about the Patriots or something. Your name came out. Later she asked about you, and I decided it was safe to tell her the truth. I don't think she'll tell anyone else, and she's definitely smart enough not to tell your parents about it."
Lucina sighs disappointedly. "Uncle Randy, come on. I understand you trust Robin, and I agree she can be trusted, but that doesn't mean it's alright to divulge my secret."
"It was an accident! And anyway, I guess you should know, according to the shreds of script that are still left in this timeline, you should have your identity exposed pretty much right after the Lucina of this time is born. So your anonymity isn't long-lived regardless."
She frowns thoughtfully. "I guess I knew it wouldn't last forever. And I guess, deep down, I don't really want it to. But I'm worried about accidentally setting events into motion that change things for the worse. If my presence in the Shepherds for some reason were to make Kellam and Miriel not get married, for example, I would have prevented the Laurent of this time from being born. I want to be completely sure to avoid such things."
I shrug. "There are some things that can't be avoided. Even by saving Emmeryn, like you always intended, there might have been changes created that would throw some of the good things about the future out of whack as well. That's the price of changing fate."
"You have a point. Well, as you say, Robin is trustworthy. I suppose it's not terrible that she knows the truth," Lucina says.
"Speaking of which, I had asked her to meet me, so I'm going to go. I guess you can come with if you want, but it won't really be a lighthearted trip." I pick up my coat again.
"Why? Where are you going?" she asks.
It's hard to say out loud, even now that I'm resolved to do it. "I'm going to see a friend," I say.
"Well, in that case, I think I'll stay with you, if that's okay. It feels like you and I only really get to talk when there's a disaster going on," Lucina says.
I laugh bitterly. "When isn't there a disaster going on? But yeah, you can come if you like. Here," I say, then hand her the Cordelia jacket. "That dress won't help much when the wind comes in tonight.
She puts it on and frankly looks like a little kid wearing her dad's coat. The coat hangs off her shoulders and the sleeves are much too long. It's silly, and utterly endearing. She sort of flaps her arms, then rolls up the sleeves as much as she can. It doesn't help much. She doesn't look too displeased about it though.
For myself, I get the Osprey coat out and put it on. I'll have to see who knows about taking the crest off it, but for now it remains intact. It is a damn comfortable coat.
The pair of us go downstairs, where Robin is waiting in the common area. She stands from her chair when she sees us.
"Ah, Marth. I didn't know you were joining us… Is that Randy's coat?" Robin asks, smirking at the poor girl.
"Er, yes. He said it was going to be quite chilly tonight, and these clothes Lady Maribelle gave me are not exactly cold-ready," Lucina replies, reddening slightly.
"Very generous of you, Randy," Robin says with a laugh.
"I'm a giver," I say with a dismissive wave.
She gets more serious. "You ready?"
I sigh. "No. But let's go anyway."
Robin smiles sympathetically. "Alright. Let's go."
The walk to the palace cemetery is silent for the most part, aside from Robin helping point me in the right direction. Lucina follows just behind us.
We enter through the cemetery gate. Most of the headstones are large and decorative, but there are a few simple stones dotting the plots between the more major ones. A few rows in, Robin stops in front of one of the smaller stones. I read the epitaph:
LIBRA
A MAN OF MORE LOVE
THAN THE WORLD COULD HOLD
My gut feels cold, like I accidentally swallowed a large ice cube. Here he is. In a wooden box underneath the soil, his supposedly smiling face is returning to the earth as we speak.
"What…?" I hear behind me. I turn and see Lucina staring blankly at the stone, her eyes flicking back and forth as she reads and rereads the epitaph. "What is this?"
Oh God. She didn't know.
"It must have happened while you were gone," I say. My chest feels hollow as I speak. "I guess no one would have told you. During the siege to retake the city, Libra was killed trying to liberate a group of civilian hostages the Plegians were using to try to leverage the Shepherds."
"No… that can't be right…" Lucina says, her face slowly dropping and curling with grief. "Even after everything we did… to try and avert disaster…"
"This is not your fault. It's not any one person's. But you don't have even a portion of the blame for this," I say firmly.
She shakes her head, tears starting to spill down her face. "It's not that… it's just… Noire…"
Oh. Oh fuck. I didn't even think about that. I hadn't considered that the Libra in the future had lived, and had been married.
Libra was Noire's father.
"Libra and Tharja…" I say. A few cold raindrops impact the top of my head.
Lucina nods. "Th-they supposedly bonded after they spent so much time teaching you," she says, her voice shaky. "I'd heard Tharja helped him deal with events from his past that had upset him."
"Fucking hell," I mutter. I should have seen this.
"What? What's happening?" Robin asks. The rain is starting to pick up now.
Lucina has started crying. Quiet, short sobs, like someone who's used to crying so others won't hear. I turn to Robin and explain, "It seems Libra was intended to be the father of one of the children that came from the future. Tharja's daughter, a girl named Noire."
Robin clearly understands, her expression darkening. "But we got Libra killed before he could have the chance to get together with Tharja, let alone have a child."
"I-is Noire going to be okay?" Lucina asks between hiccupy sobs.
"As far as I know, yes. Noire already exists. That won't change," I reply. "I don't know everything about how Naga's time travel works, but all the evidence I've seen suggests she should be alright."
"...Okay," she says at last.
"Shit," Robin says under her breath behind me. I understand the feeling.
We failed Lucina and the others. We certainly failed Noire. We've prevented her even being born in this timeline. I'm sure Robin is doing the same tracing back of events that I am, and coming to the same conclusion: if we hadn't saved Emmeryn at Golgotha, the war would have ended early. The siege would never have happened. Libra would be alive.
We share a look and silently agree not to say any of this to Lucina. The last thing she needs is to feel like her decision to save Emmeryn has killed Noire's father.
By now the three of us are pretty well soaked. "Do you want us to give you some time to… process this?" I ask Lucina.
"No. I want to go," she says, her voice raw. "I want to be away from here."
"Alright. Let's get out of this rain." I place an arm around her shoulders and start leading her toward the gate.
The three of us can't seem to find it in ourselves to talk about anything. We've all been sitting in my room more or less in silence for probably half an hour or so, listening to the rain pound my window and the roof above us. Lucina quietly sniffles sitting on the floor while Robin paces around, visibly grappling with the knowledge that our actions inadvertently killed someone's father before they could be born.
For my part, I feel like my attempt at getting closure has backfired completely. Instead of cleaning out the wound and letting it heal, this news has torn it open afresh. I feel almost nauseous. I open a window and let the cold night air flow past my face. It doesn't help, and water starts getting into the room.
I thought I was done receiving bad news for a while. I thought I could finally just have some peace. Some time to recoup before diving back into the fire in less than two years. Instead, I learn that the horrible shit that happened in the war is actually even worse than I thought.
How am I going to look Noire in the face after this? "Hi, nice to meet you. Your father's dead, by the way. Your birth will never happen in this world." Even if Noire was a perfectly stable person, this is just… too much to drop on a person. And if the Noire of this world is anything like the Noire I remember from the game, she's already an emotionally unstable girl at the best of times. This could destroy her.
A hand on my shoulder. It's Robin. She looks like she wants to say something, but there's nothing to say. We all know what's happened. What we've allowed to happen. There's nothing more to consider. Talking about it would just make it worse.
After what feels like an eternity, Lucina finally breaks the silence. "So you know who I am."
Robin turns to look down at her. "Yeah. Don't worry. I won't tell anyone."
"I know. I trust you." With a sigh, Lucina slowly allows herself to fall onto her back. "Maybe it was naive to think I could just change the past without any negative consequences," she says to the ceiling. "That's not how the world works. I guess I was still thinking like a child after all."
"It's still okay to be let down when things don't go the way you hoped," I reply. "Even if you know tragedy is coming, or at least possible, it doesn't make it easier to stomach it. All we can do is try."
Lucina takes a second to consider what I said. Then she says, "I did try. I have been doing my best since the moment I arrived in the past. Longer than that. Ever since we left Ylisstol for the last time, years ago, I've always been doing my best. I'm so tired."
"You deserve rest, Luci," I say. "I think Maribelle was right. You shouldn't leave the city just to go live alone in the woods again. You should stay with us."
Her eyes turn to me. "Do you think that would be okay? What if my parents find out the truth?"
"They won't. You've been careful so far, and frankly your dad is clueless. Just be careful around your mom. But even if they do, then they do. It won't make them any less in love. And it won't stop them from wanting to have you. I fully expect the others to meet their parents before their parallel selves are born in this timeline. If you were the same way, it wouldn't be the end of the world."
Lucina's relieved giggle sounds like a miracle right now. "If you say so, Uncle Randy."
Robin smirks at me. "Uncle Randy, huh?"
I give her a sheepish look. "I guess I was good with the kids."
"So it doesn't mean you and Lissa ended up together?" Robin asks.
"Well, as a matter of fact, I have forbidden Lucina to tell me who ends up with whom, so I won't be tempted to meddle. So I guess it's also possible I did end up with Lissa after all and she's just been really good about keeping the secret."
"Gods, you and Aunt Lissa together…" Lucina shivers on the floor.
"What? You don't think we could make it work?" I ask, mock-hurt.
"The amount of trouble the two of you would get into together… I can scarcely imagine," she replies.
"Well maybe I like trouble!"
"Uncle Randy, I hereby forbid you to marry my aunt. It would be too strange," Lucina says firmly.
"Fine then." I sit on my bed with a harumph.
"Hey," Lucina says, more timidly now. "Do you think it would be okay if I… stayed the night in here? The room my mother had arranged for me is nice, but… I don't want to deal with tonight by myself."
It takes no time at all to decide. "Of course. Whatever you need."
We take some time assembling spare pillows and blankets from a closet down the hall, and we arrange them into a sort of nest on the floor next to the bed. Lucina insists I sleep in my own bed rather than let her have it, but I have to admit, the nest looks pretty cozy.
I get into the version of my sleepwear that I'm comfortable wearing around Lucina (i.e. I have pants on), and we otherwise prepare to try to get some sleep.
"You gonna stick around, Robin? Make it an official slumber party?" I ask.
She scowls, reddening in the candlelight. "No thanks. Sleeping in that heap on the floor doesn't sound great compared to an actual bed."
"Could always join me up here~" I tease.
Her scowl and her shade of red both deepen. "Good night, Randy and Lucina." With that, she hastens out the door and closes it behind her.
"Touchy," I say. Lucina laughs softly.
"Thank you for this, Randall," Lucina says. "I know it's a little awkward, but I think this helps." She slips off her sandals and sort of falls into the nest, then finds a particularly soft pillow to curl up around.
"It's no problem at all, Luci," I reply. I step carefully over her and the nest to get into bed.
I notice her taking off her eyepatch, and it reminds me of what I was going to ask before everything… happened.
"What's up with the eyepatch, by the way?" I ask.
"Oh, here." She hands the patch up to me. "It was made by the son of Octavia Issachar, Mikkel. He was very kind to me while I was in Southtown. I told him that I cover my eye to contain the secret powers that come from it, and he insisted on making a patch to replace my dingy bandages."
How very chuuni of her. "And the bull?"
"He said it's his family's crest. He wanted to work on his smithing in addition to his leatherworking. I gather he's following in his mother's footsteps," she replies.
"Huh. Good to hear he's doing well, then. And he did good work." I admire the craftsmanship of the metal emblem on the leather. I hope Mikkel and his mom are going to be okay as the Patriots fall apart. At least he's got something to put his time and effort into. I remember how disappointed he was when I had to tell him healing magic was not for him.
I pass the patch back down to her. "Well, make sure to hang onto this. It's badass."
"Will do," she says, then yawns. "Good night, Uncle Randy."
"Good night, Luci."
The sound of rain on the roof lulls us both mercifully to sleep after a long, painful evening.
The little manakete Nowi has an idea.
She's at breakfast, gnawing on a piece of bread and watching her friends eat around the room. Across the room, she sees one of her favorite people, Randy, sitting with another of her favorite people, Robin, and that one girl in blue that always disappears before Nowi can ask what games she likes best.
She doesn't usually let this on to others, because she prefers her role as the youthful, energetic soul that reminds everyone to have fun, but she is in fact quite old relative to these people. She's seen a lot in her time, some pleasant and some awful.
Still, despite all these years of living, one thing she doesn't have much experience with at all is romance. She's never really had a 'boyfriend' before or thought about getting married or anything like that. And she's not the best at reading other people. Heck, when she found out the other day that Chrom and Maribelle are getting married, she was floored. She didn't even know they were friends!
In spite of all this inexperience, though, she is extremely sure of one thing: Robin must be in love with Randy. It's obvious. The way Robin was so down in the dumps the whole time Randy was gone? The way she ran and leapt into his arms when he finally came back? The way she's done nothing for weeks but help him get ready for going to trial? The way she's both looking at him and trying not to look at him right now? Not to mention Nowi happened to glimpse Randy carrying Robin to bed the other week. She looked really happy then.
Which makes it all the more confusing that she hasn't told him! Why the heck not? It's not like Randy's a scary guy! Well, okay, sometimes he is, but never to his friends! Only bad guys. Around his friends he's basically the nicest guy Nowi knows, and in this group that's saying something, since the Shepherds are pretty much the nicest people ever. And besides, Randy and Robin are best friends. They're together all the time, it seems like.
This was what is running through her head as she tries to get her pitifully small human teeth around the thick roll in her hands. She shouldn't have tried to save it from yesterday. Bread is never as good if you wait too long. She briefly considers transforming so her dragon mouth can eat the whole thing in one go, but then decides that it would probably make everyone mad.
Oh right. Her idea.
It occurs to her that maybe what Robin needs is a little… motivation. Or perhaps, a little competition? Maybe if Robin thought she had a rival for Randy's affections, it could inspire her to be bold and make a move already. Not that Nowi actually wants to steal him away from Robin. But Robin doesn't need to know that part, at least not right now.
As her teeth finally find a purchase in the stale-ish exterior and she finally busts into the soft, fluffy bread inside, Nowi starts to hatch her master plan to help two of her best friends finally get together.
A/N: A mostly Lucina-centered chapter has felt kind of overdue for a while in my opinion. It's good to get a chance to check in on her... just in time to traumatize her afresh. Whoops. Anyway, hope you enjoyed! This is officially the first foray into the proper timeskip. Things are generally off to a slow start, which is deliberate, because it can't stay this nice forever.
As always, my boi Mixed Valence needs his credit for the help with this chapter. Those Who Can't Teach recently updated, so go check out the new stuff if you haven't already! And here is your Mixed Valence out-of-context quote of the week: "The real ones snort cocaine off the gas station counter then lick it."
Point of clarity: the person Diana is calling Grima is the same person that Randall and Robin would call the Traveler. Whether Diana is correct about her assumption that this is Grima remains to be seen, but I do plan to have a moment in the future that will hopefully alleviate some of the apparent confusion about who's who in the villains club.
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As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!