Birth and Re-Death
Chapter 56: Headaches
My mouth is dry. Holy shit it's dry. My tongue is a piece of leather. Everything is too hot.
Why am I this sore? I'm not in my bed. I don't want to open my eyes. I know it's going to be too bright.
I crack one eye open. Instantly my head is awash in splitting pain. Mistake, mistake. It takes a long few seconds for my eye to even process what it's seeing through the ache.
What the fuck? Where am I? I open my eyes fully. I'm in… a barn? What happened? Sunlight streams through the thin gaps between the boards of the roof, illuminating the floating dust around me.
I sit up, too fast. Oh boy, it's coming. I scramble over to the edge of the hayloft just in time to puke over the edge onto the ground below. A horse below snorts in disgust as my vomit lands just in front of it.
Wait, not a horse. Those are wings. I'm in the pegasus stable.
Hold on.
I turn around. That's… No. No, this didn't happen. Did it? Cordelia sleeps on the hay pile, using my jacket as a blanket for her legs. She's still wearing her dress. I look down. I don't have a shirt anymore, but my pants are on. That's… a good sign, I guess.
What the fuck did we do? I start combing my mind for memories from the night before. The last thing I remember, we were dancing at the reception. Then she kissed me. Then she was leading me somewhere. I guess she brought me here. I don't recall anything clearly after that. It's all a sort of unsorted haze of feelings and sensations. I take an unsteady step toward her, then realize if I move at all I'm liable to hurl again.
She shifts. Oh fuck. I didn't have enough time to think about this. I'm helpless to do anything but watch as she slowly opens her eyes.
She squints, her face pale. She looks around a bit, then her eyes fall on me. She blinks a few times, looking closer, then her eyes widen.
"Oh gods. We… what did I…?" she asks, her face as terrified as I've ever seen her. She tries to sit up, then gags and holds her stomach. I just watch, unwilling to take the risk of moving as she leans over and gags into the hay pile.
"Do you… remember much?" I ask. I have no idea how to even talk about this. Let alone how I feel about it.
She finishes getting sick into the hay, then just stares at the floor. "I think so," she says quietly.
"There's no comfortable way to ask this, but… do you know how far we went?"
She looks at her own dress. "I think… this didn't ever come off. I feel like I would definitely remember that. It was hard enough to get the thing on sober. I think we wouldn't have had a prayer getting it back on, as drunk as we were. I don't think your, um, pants came off either."
I can't help but laugh in relief. I do not want to accidentally make Severa several years early.
Cordelia looks at me, her expression an incomprehensible mix of competing emotions. "Things… got out of hand," she says uneasily.
"That's an understatement," I reply, still laughing.
"Why are you laughing?" she asks, an edge of hurt in her tone.
"Because it's a damn good thing we didn't go further than we did. I'm relieved."
"...I suppose you're right. Things definitely went further than I meant them to."
"What were you intending?" I ask.
"I…" She looks away. "I'm not sure, exactly. Comfort, maybe. Affection. I've noticed the way you would look at me, act around me. I knew you were attracted. With Chrom married, I knew I had to move on. And you… I don't know how to put it, exactly."
"I mean, what we were doing at the reception, drinking and dancing and all, that was fun. Really fun," I say. "I was confused when you kissed me. I wasn't sure if I was happy, or scared, or what. It wasn't… bad exactly, but it was definitely confusing. And I kind of… didn't have time to think anything through after that. It all felt like it was moving faster than I could keep up."
"I felt the same way, after we left the reception. I wasn't in control either," she says, an ashamed half-whisper.
We both lose the will to speak for a while. I swallow my nausea and go to sit cross-legged on a part of the hay pile that's far from where Cordelia just made a mess of it.
"So… what happens now?" Cordelia asks. "Are we…?" She falls silent, but I understand the question. The question I've been turning over for a few minutes now as we've been talking.
And I have my answer. "No, no we're not. For one thing, this is really not how a relationship is supposed to start. Not like this. For another thing, can you honestly say you're over Chrom?" I ask.
She looks down solemnly, then quietly shakes her head. "No. I'm not. I want to be. That was what I hoped would happen. But…" She looks up at me. "Maybe it still could? Isn't that what I need? For someone to show me what love is really supposed to be like? Isn't that how I'll move on?"
It's my turn to shake my head. "Cordelia, I know you'll get past your Chrom fixation someday. You'll realize that you don't need him to be happy. But I'm not going to be second fiddle to another guy in the meantime. If I'm going to give my heart to someone, I want to be damn sure that I'm not competing with somebody else for my lover's heart in return. If that isn't something you can promise, then it just won't work. I'm sorry," I say. I feel a pit in my stomach.
"I see. That makes sense," Cordelia says, her voice tight. "I'm sorry." Her voice shakes until it breaks, and she starts to sob.
I want to get away from this. From this conversation. From this stable. From her. "We both drank way too much," I say. "We made fools of ourselves. Maybe we should just… let it go for now?"
"Let it go?" she asks tearfully.
"Yeah. We just agree last night was a mistake, one we'd both like to leave behind. And we just, you know, move on." The pit in my stomach churns.
"Move on…" she says quietly. "That's what I was trying to do."
"I think that maybe… you were trying to take a shortcut through the moving on. You can't do that," I reply. I find my shirt thrown in the corner of the hayloft and put it on. "I'm not a replacement for Chrom, and I wouldn't want to be. And you don't need a replacement for Chrom anyway. You need to not need him anymore."
"How do I do that?" she asks, a desperate tinge in her voice.
I take my jacket off her legs and put it on. "I don't know, Cordy. In my experience, the only surefire cure for a broken heart is time."
"That's it? Just wait the pain out?"
I remember to get my cravat off the floor. "That's it. It helps to find something productive to occupy that time."
"Where are you going?" she asks as I start heading for the ladder down from the loft.
"I'm going to bed. You should probably do the same," I reply.
"All that talk about finding a good husband, starting a family… you didn't mean yourself, then?" Cordelia's eyes are full of confusion.
"I didn't… not mean me. I don't know who that guy is for you. Maybe it could have been me. If things had turned out differently," I reply carefully. I start descending the ladder. I have to get away.
She makes a noise as if to continue speaking, but she stops herself.
I reach the ground and start immediately walking for the door.
"I'm sorry, Randall," she says, barely loud enough for me to hear across the stable.
I look over my shoulder. "I am too."
I open the stable door and am briefly blinded by the midmorning light. I stagger outside, find a nearby bush, and vomit onto it. The taste of acid burns angrily in my parched throat.
The walk from the stable to the barracks has never looked this long before.
I feel a bit numb as I sit. It feels like everyone is trying not to look at me while not seeming like they're not looking at me. Or maybe I'm just projecting my embarrassment onto them.
I was a crying, self-pitying mess last night. I had too much wine. I'll have to remember to thank Litica for helping me get cleaned up before going to bed. Or maybe 'apologize for making her help' is a more fitting description.
No one knows where the pair of them went last night. It didn't take long for word to spread that they had kissed and then left the reception. I'm sure rumors about me crying my eyes out about it started spreading not long after.
I don't have the will to go into the office today. Planning troop training exercises sounds like a nightmare right now. I don't want to do anything. I've just been sitting in a chair in the barracks common area for a while, my thoughts an angry black cloud swirling around in my head.
"Hey Bubbles."
I sigh. "I can't right now, Gaius."
"Can't what?"
"Whatever it is you're going to say, I just… can't today, okay?" My voice is tight and raspy.
He steps around in front of me. It's rare to see his expression this serious. "I just wanted to say… I'm sorry."
"You don't have anything to apologize for," I reply exasperatedly. "You didn't do anything."
He frowns. "I dunno, I think I kind of see my handiwork in this whole mess. I may have… unintentionally spurred this on. I was the one who told Randall to just let loose and enjoy the attention that he's been getting from the girls recently. And I was the one who told Cordelia to stop fixating on Chrom and move on already. I guess both of them just took my advice… a little further than I intended. So I'm sorry for that."
I sigh again and get to my feet at last. "I appreciate that, Gaius. But you don't have to feel guilty about anything. You didn't really do anything." I stretch a bit. "I think I want to go outside for a bit. Maybe some fresh air is what I need right now."
He hastily gets out of my way. "Ah, right. Of course. I'll see you later, Bubbles."
I cross to the door and step outside. The last thing I'm expecting to see when I leave the barracks is Randy. Walking, no, more like dragging himself really, toward the barracks. Alone, I note. He looks overall quite… ragged.
I consider just leaving while he's looking down at the ground as he walks. Maybe he doesn't want to see me. But something doesn't feel right. Why is he alone? Why does he look… like that? I could understand tired, even hungover, but his expression says more than just that.
Me just leaving things alone is what made this situation come about in the first place. I won't do it anymore. I walk toward him.
"Randy, I'm glad you're alright," I say as I approach. "We weren't sure where you'd gone."
He looks up, his eyes almost hollow. "Oh, hey Robin. Sorry I bailed on you last night. It, uh, wasn't my intention."
"It wasn't?" I ask.
"No. I just wanted to have some drinks, some nice food, do some dancing. But it… got out of hand. I don't know if you saw, but I'm sure the rumors are spreading like wildfire, knowing this crowd."
I hesitate to tell him, but I figure the truth is the best thing in this situation. "Yeah. I saw."
He laughs humorlessly. "Great. Perfect."
"How drunk were you?" I ask.
"Fuck if I know," he sighs. "I pretty much drank nonstop. And I didn't once stop for food or water. Massive mistake on my part."
"Come on, let's sit you down somewhere," I say. I place a hand on his shoulder and lead him to a bench outside the barracks to let him take a load off. He looks about ready to collapse.
"I had gone to get the three of us some food," I say. "Cordelia said she'd stay put, but when I came back, you were already on the dance floor. I ended up sharing the duck with Litica instead."
His eyes widen slightly. "There was duck? Fuck me, that would have been awesome. Was it awesome?"
"I'm not worried about the duck, Randy. I'm worried about you," I say sternly. I've learned to recognize when he's trying to be funny to avoid something serious. "What happened after you left? Where did you go?"
He takes a deep breath, then a long sigh. "We went to the pegasus stables. We spent the night in the hayloft. We… ugh. I think I don't want to get into the details, if that's alright."
My heart feels like it's going to twist out of its place in my chest. "Of course. But if all that happened, why are you here alone? Where is she?"
"I left her in the hayloft. I just needed to get away from the whole situation." His eyes are fixed on the ground.
Hold on. That doesn't sound like the talk of someone who just spent a romantic night with someone he loves.
"Are you two… you know, together?" I ask cautiously.
"Together? Like dating? Hah, no. She's not over Chrom at all. She confirmed as much to me after we sobered up. I'm not going to be anyone's consolation prize boyfriend," he says bitterly. "Cordelia was just hoping that it might be as easy as moving on to someone else. She mentioned wanting someone to comfort her after Chrom was married. And with some of the things we've talked about lately, I think I may have given her the wrong idea. Or, well, a potentially wrong idea. I don't know. Everything's still so confusing."
"So… she just used you?" I ask, feeling the incredulous fury start to boil in my stomach.
"It doesn't feel right to say it like that. I don't want to think of it like that. I don't want to think of it at all, actually," he says. "I just want to sleep and hope it all goes away when I wake up."
I tamp my anger down. Randy doesn't need my anger right now. "Come with me. Let's get you in bed. Maybe a nice cup of water first. And a big fucking vulnerary."
He laughs. "I forgot vulneraries are hangover cures in magic-land. That's one thing we Americans never really did find a good solution for."
I take his hand and help him up, then lead him inside. A few of the Shepherds—Gaius, Sumia, Ricken, and Miriel—are hanging around in the common area as I lead him toward the stairs. I shoot them all a glare as we pass, a 'don't you dare say a word to or about him right now' admonition. I help him stagger up the stairs, then shamble to his room down the hall.
"You get out of those clothes and into your sleepwear, and I'll be back with a vulnerary and water," I say firmly.
"Okay," he replies with a compliant thumbs-up. I shut the door behind me and leave to quickly get what he needs.
When I get to the common area, Ricken asks with concern, "Is he alright?"
"He'll be fine. He just had too much to drink and needs to sleep it off. I'm getting him some vulnerary and water." I feel everyone's eyes on me as I get water from the kitchen and a vial of the healing solution from the storage closet.
"What happened to Cordelia?" Ricken asks.
"She's elsewhere. I'll see to her after I've taken care of Randall," I reply.
When I return to Randy's room, he's sitting on his bed, in a loose shirt that's long enough to cover the fact that he's probably only wearing underwear on his lower body. He's retrieved a small bin, I assume just in case, and set it next to the bed.
"Here. Drink this, wait for it to work, then drink the water," I say, handing over the vial.
"Thanks." He unscrews it, drains the vial in a single gulp, and I take it back from him. In a matter of seconds, some color is already returning to his face. "Oh, holy shit, that really does work. That's amazing. Thank you, Robin."
"Thank the alchemist that brewed it," I reply. "I don't know a thing about potions."
"Me neither," he says, then drains the cup of water in a matter of seconds and hands it back to me. "Thank you potion seller," he says with a grateful clasp of his hands.
"Alright, now get some sleep. You'll feel better when you wake up," I say. He obediently lies down and lets me pull the blanket over him. If the situation were different, this moment would have my stomach turning somersaults, but with everything that's happened, I can only take some small comfort in being able to do this much for him.
"Thanks," he says again as I head for the door.
"Any time, Randy," I reply quietly. I leave and close the door carefully behind me.
When I'm in the hallway, I take a deep breath. I just learned a lot in a short span of time, and I don't know what to make of all of it.
So even after what happened, they're not together? And it was Randy who turned Cordelia down? I can't deny that the thought gives me more than a bit of satisfaction. All those jealous feelings finally given their revenge. And I might not be as hopeless as I feared.
But that small bit of joy is overshadowed by the mounting anger in my heart. The more I think about this whole situation, both what I saw last night and what I heard today, the more I see last night for what it was: Cordelia manipulating Randall to get some distraction from the pain of watching Chrom get married. Like a toy. An object. My fist clenches at my side.
I go downstairs. Gaius is waiting at the bottom of the stairs with an expectant, concerned look.
"How's he doing?" he asks.
"He'll be fine. He told me where to find Cordelia. I'm going to bring her a vulnerary as well," I reply, then go to the supply closet to get out another vial. She's going to need it after I'm done throttling her.
"Are you sure you don't want someone else to bring it to her? Might ease off some of the awkwardness," Gaius says.
I shake my head. "I'd rather just get the awkwardness over with. I can't avoid it forever, and I have to be able to be her tactician the same as everyone else."
Gaius hesitates a moment, then shrugs. "I guess that makes sense to me." I can tell he wants to say more, but he knows he doesn't have to.
"I'll be back shortly," I say, then leave the barracks to head for the stables.
When I reach the pegasus stable, I find the door already partially open. I peer inside quietly.
Cordelia is climbing down the ladder to the hayloft, her shoes held in one hand as she slowly descends. I step inside and wait for her to reach the bottom. She turns around when she reaches the ground and yelps in surprise when she spots me, clutching her stomach.
"Robin, I didn't see you come in," she says, her voice tired and strained.
I cross the room over to her, noting the puddle of acrid something on the ground nearby. I press the vulnerary into her hand.
"Here. For the hangover," I say quickly.
"O-oh. Thank you, Robin." She sets her shoes on the ground, uncaps the vial, and drinks the vulnerary in careful, slow swallows. I watch over the following seconds as color and vitality return to her face. "That's much better. I appreciate it."
Now that she's had her vulnerary, I don't feel any guilt at all about taking her to task for what happened. "I think you and I should talk about what happened last night."
Her formerly smiling face darkens instantly. "I think I'd rather not."
I lean in closer. "And I think you've rather lost the right to just dismiss this after what happened."
"I think it's between me and Randall, and it is none of your business," she replies, her words biting but not loud.
"Randall is my best friend. It is my business when he gets hurt. And while he's too kind to make you admit you did anything wrong, I'm not." I stand up straight again. "Did you think I didn't notice? You kept feeding him drink after drink, always making sure he had a glass in his hand. You wanted him wasted, didn't you?"
She bristles. "It's more complicated than that."
"Is it? Enlighten me." I've pretty much given up keeping the aggression out of my tone.
"You could never understand. The pain of being in love with someone for most of your life, over ten years, only to watch as he chooses another woman. How helpless that feels. On top of everything else. Hyperion being slain by Gangrel. Commander Phila's assassination. The compromise of the integrity of the entire royal guard. When I learned that Chrom was going to marry Maribelle, I just… I needed something. I was so lost. I am lost."
"And to alleviate those feelings, you thought you would, what, get your friend blind drunk and screw him on a haypile?" I ask.
"I never intended things to go that far. I didn't intend us to have… you know…" she drops her voice to a whisper for such a scandalous word, "sex, or anything. And for that matter, we're quite sure we didn't even go that far. We were both, er, mostly clothed when we awoke. But no, that wasn't my intention."
"Then what was your plan, Cordelia? It very clearly seems to have gotten away from you, whatever it was originally."
She turns away from me, walking over to one of the pegasi standing in one of the stalls. She gently strokes its face as she speaks. "When you were gone, off to see the Plegian lords, there was a night when Randall and I spoke in private. We were both having trouble sleeping, and we kept each other company. I told him about the worries plaguing my heart, and he assured me that it was all going to make me stronger in the end. That I would find a husband and start a family, and they would give me more happiness than I could imagine. Enough to make all this pain worth it. He told me it was a certainty that this was coming for me."
So he drew on his knowledge of the future timeline to give her some comfort. I guess she must have misinterpreted (or correctly interpreted, for all I know) that as flirting.
"When he told me that, I latched onto the idea. I wanted it to be true so badly. That I could leave behind my feelings for Chrom and find a man who would make all those years of longing, and all these tragedies I have faced in the last year, worth it." She leaves the pegasus, who snorts happily after the attention she gave it. "Who wouldn't want to cling to such a promise?"
"So you took that to mean that you could just brute force your way through your own feelings and somehow come out the other side all fixed up?" I ask skeptically. "That a single night of drunken romance with a friend would undo years of unrequited love?"
"I felt like I didn't have a choice! Being told that Chrom was going to be married is one thing, but having to actually watch it was another matter entirely," she says, almost a pleading with me. "You saw how perfect he looked up there before that altar. And how beautiful she was. I wanted so badly for that to be me up there. I couldn't stand it. I needed relief, Robin. Relief from my own heart."
"That all sounds nice, but you're not the only person who was hurt by your actions," I say. "You hurt Randall too."
She looks away from me again. "I didn't want to hurt anyone."
"Intent is beside the point! Your carelessness hurt him, Cordelia. If you saw him this morning, you can't deny it. You got him too drunk to realize it at the time, but as soon as he sobered up, he recognized that you were just using him. You just wanted a distraction from watching a man who was never yours to claim get married to the woman he loves. You don't love Randall. You don't think of him as any more than a friend you can stand to kiss when you're drunk."
She winces, as if my words are cutting into her. Good.
"You think I didn't want to move on?" she cries. "I want so desperately to be over Chrom! More than ever now that he's married! I hate that I still feel this way about him! But I don't know how to get over him!"
"You don't get to make that Randall's problem!" I shout back at her. "If you've got relationship woes, fine! We all do! But to take all that pain and dump it on your supposed friend after you get him so drunk he doesn't know where he is? That's cruel, Cordelia. It's cruel."
Her toes dig anxiously into the soft earth that is the floor of the stable. "What are you gaining by throwing this in my face, Robin? You think I don't know that I did wrong?"
"No, I don't think you quite get it yet," I practically spit.
"You act as if he was just a witless victim in this whole exchange," she snaps back. "He wasn't. I never poured anything by force down his throat. I drank with him. We drank together. I didn't want just him drunk. I wanted us both free to let loose our inhibitions. To say and do what we really felt. One night of drinking and the right words to nudge me in the right direction led to me confessing the love for Chrom I had held onto for over a decade. It may have ended disastrously, but in that moment, I had never felt so free. Free of the burden of years of keeping it contained every time I saw him."
"Was this before or after you vomited your brains out in front of the man you were so fixated on?" I ask.
She glares at me. "Don't act as if you don't understand. Have you really never enjoyed a moment of drunken freedom that your sober, calculating mind would never have allowed?"
The memory of Randy carrying a drunk, giggling me to bed flashes unbidden through my mind.
"You're avoiding the point," I say stubbornly. "Just because someone drinks what you put in front of them, it doesn't mean you have free rein to manipulate them into being your replacement Chrom for the night. Even if you drink just as much as them. It was your idea from the start."
"I noticed you had also brought him wine before I even showed up," she says. "Was this also a manipulation?"
"Don't act stupid, Cordelia. You know full well that there's a difference between sharing a glass of wine with someone and spending an entire evening pouring liquor down their throat like you'd pour out old bathwater. I wanted Randall to have a good time. Just relax, unwind, and have a nice night with his friends. You have no idea the kind of pain he's been going through."
"Really? Because I think I'm perhaps the only person who could hope to understand. Or did you miss that it was his ex-lover getting married to the Exalt?"
The superior edge in her tone makes me want to strike her. "I know you really don't want to be the only one who's suffering from unrequited love, but when Randall says he's over Maribelle, I actually believe him," I say. "He's had more experience with relationships than either of us. He's been through more heartbreak. And anyway, why wouldn't you want to believe that he could get over someone? Isn't that what you want to do yourself?"
She clenches her jaw, searching for something to fire back.
I speak again before she gets the chance. "Look, this is getting petty. You know you did something awful. Maybe it's true that Randall 'let this happen' to some extent. But you can't deny that you used him in an effort to find an emotional replacement for Chrom. Can you?"
She just stares, unwilling to respond. She has a wideness to her eyes, like a cornered beast.
"Don't let me catch you even thinking about a repeat performance, Cordelia," I snarl. She still has nothing to say.
I'm done here. If I stay any longer, I'm afraid this will get much uglier. I turn to leave. As I pass through the door, I say without turning, "Hope the vulnerary helped."
I step outside and see Sumia approaching the stables. "Oh, hello Robin," she says, awkwardly refusing to meet my eye. "I'm just here to feed the pegasi. Are you feeling well today?"
"I think it's starting to improve, yeah," I reply.
"What are you doing here? And…" she makes a face. "Why does it smell like throw-up out here?"
I jerk a thumb in the door's direction. "Your friend just had a long night and a rough morning. I brought her some vulnerary."
"Ooh, I see. Thank you for that," Sumia says brightly, then passes me to enter the stable.
"No problem," I reply. I start to make my way back to the barracks. I can't deny that there's a part of me that really enjoyed that. Taking the perfect, beautiful genius Cordelia, whom Randy had admired so much, down a peg made me feel… powerful.
All the better that it was done in the name of protecting him.
I wake up feeling much better than I have any right to. Vulnerary really does work magic on the body.
If only my mind were as easy to heal. I'm dreading having to see anybody now, least of all Robin or Cordelia. I just want to get away from this whole thing.
I have an idea where I can go. The last time I tried to visit him, things got complicated. Maybe this time I can just go and see him and think.
I get out of bed and pull on some clothes, then head downstairs. There are a few Shepherds loitering in the common area, but I don't even want to look at anyone right now. No one says anything to me as I go straight out the door.
I don't see anybody else on the way to the cemetery. A mercifully solitary midafternoon walk. The air smells like it might rain later on.
I walk between the stones, searching for the little marker for Libra. Eventually I find it. I sit on the ground in front of the headstone. The earth is cool and pleasant.
"Hey buddy," I say. I think about the last time I spoke with a dead friend like this. Just before the final battle with Gangrel, when I knelt before Mindy's grave. Back when I dared to hope that I had already felt my share of pain. "How are you doing? If you've been watching, you know I've been better. I want to say some things I've been thinking, but I don't want to tell anybody."
Even saying these things to an unresponsive grave is difficult. "I feel… lost. I've felt lost for… I don't even know how long. It feels like the world I've helped create is so much worse than it would have been if I just… weren't here. Everyone I get close to gets hurt. Mindy and Isadora were killed, and I didn't do anything to save them. I let Aventine escape Breakneck, and that coupled with pretty much everything else I did in the war ensured that the Patriots would come to power in the south. It led to my own capture. And that meant I wasn't there to save you. It feels like everything was just one disaster after another."
I shake my head. "I know it's like a broken record at this point, me and Robin trying to take the blame for every bad thing that happens. But the fact is, I've seen the version of this world that doesn't have me in it. In that world, things just turned out better. You survive. Maribelle doesn't have her heart broken by an insensitive jackass like me. Aventine, Vasto, and Mustafa all die, and the Patriots never become an influential force on the continent. Phila still dies, but she dies a hero, not a traitor who was pointlessly assassinated just so some lunatic could get his jollies. It was so much simpler, so much easier. My being here has changed so many things, and it's hard to feel like the good has outweighed the bad."
I sit silently for a moment. The word LIBRA stares at me, so much colder and more unfeeling than the man's smiling face. Sumia says he died smiling, and his body smiles even now beneath me, but it couldn't bring the same joy it did that day. The day we promised to start an orphanage together.
I laugh bitterly. "What a stupid dream that was. Start an orphanage? I don't know dick about taking care of kids. Even when I told you I would do this with you, I was basically lying to you. Did you know that? I knew there's another war coming, in less than two years now. We never had time to start an orphanage. I was just saying that to make you feel better. And now you're dead. You're the one who was supposed to know what he was doing. I was only ever going to just follow your lead. And now there's no one."
I think about the stories that Lucina told me on the road, and more that she's mentioned in the last year. How great a leader the me from the future was. How he was like a father to everyone. How even though I'm pretty plainly just an idiot with no clue what he's doing, Lucina can't help but call me Uncle. Just because I resemble the guy.
"How the hell did he do it? The fact that we were ever the same person just… I don't even know if I believe it. What changed between when he was like me and when he became the person those kids all looked up to? Was it all just an act? Was he just an expert at faking it until he got them all safely to the past? That guy was the sort of person who could have helped you run an orphanage, I know that much. If he made the same promise to your future self as I did to you, I bet he wasn't lying. Like I was."
I realize that I'm almost yelling at a gravestone. The grave of a guy that never even knew I was from another world, or that I knew the future of this world. Who, if he were here now, would be confused as hell at everything I've been saying.
I sit back and take a breath. All this beating up on yourself isn't helping. Obviously the future Randall had a lot more time to grow than you've had. Maybe that's just what happens when you have kids. You're forced to grow up all at once. Or maybe the apocalypse falling on everyone's head forced responsibility onto his shoulders, and he managed to handle it. Of course, maybe he was just faking it as much as I have been. That's also a possibility.
"I wonder what you'd tell me to do if you were here, Libra," I say quietly. "Would you have some kickass advice that cuts right through the bullshit, or would you be just as lost as I am? It's probably not fair to think you'd magically know how to handle all this." I sit up again. "You know who probably would know what to do? Future-me. He'd have something in mind."
A memory comes back to me. One of the conversations I had with Lucina after we left Southtown.
"I just thought of something," Lucina says.
"What?"
"When he said he was coming for us. I think he meant you."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, like I said, he knew I was going to drop in the right time and place to meet you. And he knew that you would understand who I was. Maybe when he said he was going to come get us, he meant the version of himself in the past would know to do it. It doesn't exactly make a lot of sense to me, but doesn't that seem like what he must have intended?"
The pieces fall into place. I know what I have to do now.
I get to my feet. I can't stay sitting down. "It's so obvious. The one thing that I can do for these kids that no one else can do. The thing I can do to actually make a positive impact for once." I look down at the headstone. "Libra, it's not an orphanage like you envisioned. But there's a group of kids who have lost their parents who desperately need our help. My help." I start to head for the barracks again.
"I need to find Lucina."
Lucina has been pacing nervously for what feels like hours. What can she even do? She can't go to Randall. He's forbidden her from giving him any 'spoilers' about who is supposed to end up together. She could maybe go to Robin. At least Robin knows that she's from the future. And it's Robin's love life that's at risk right now. But if she tells Robin what was supposed to happen, that could just make everything worse. It could make Robin do something rash.
But isn't rash action called for? There are too many relationships getting messed up right now! In addition to Noire, there are now four more of her friends whose very existence in this timeline is in jeopardy! Just kissing at a wedding party might not seem like a big deal, but she's been around long enough to learn that even seemingly small changes to the past can have massive effects on the future.
She used to just be afraid that her presence in the past wouldn't change enough, that destiny would prove inexorable and she would be unable to fix things. Now she's also afraid that her being here has changed too much and made everything even worse. She feels helpless.
Someone knocks on her door, an urgent drumbeat. Lucina squeaks in surprise, scrambling to get her eyepatch to put on.
"It's me," Randall's voice calls from the other side of the door.
"Oh." She takes a deep, calming breath, and gives up her search for the patch. "Come in."
Randall enters, his eyes full of energy. He quickly shuts the door behind him, too loudly. "Luci, I know what we have to do."
"Uncle Randy? What are you talking about?" Lucina asks, taken aback by this sudden rush of high intensity.
"This whole time, I've been struggling, searching for what I can actually do to make things better. What my role in all this is aside from fucking things up and making things worse," he says. Lucina opens her mouth to reply, but he goes on before she gets the chance. "And then I remembered what we talked about. It feels like ages ago now. But it was what you said. That future-me probably intended for present-me," he gestures at himself, "you know, me, to be the one to find all the others that came back with you. That maybe that's my place in this whole mess. I'm the only one who knows where the others are. Or, you know, most of them. I actually have no idea where my daughter might have dropped. And we don't know the precise timing of most of them anyway."
He grabs her shoulders, almost shaking them with excitement. "But here's the thing. I know for a borderline fact that at least one of your friends has dropped already. He's waiting for us to find him, right now. He's been waiting for years. And we have to go get him."
"Uncle Randy, slow down. Who are you even talking about?" Lucina asks, breathless in the face of this unusually energetic display.
"Laurent. I'm talking about Laurent. If I'm right, and I'm pretty fucking sure I am, he's been wandering the desert for like three years already. According to the script, we're not supposed to find him for at least two more years. But fuck that. We can stop him from having to be alone in the middle of nowhere for two more years. Hell, I should have thought of this weeks ago. And he's not the only one. I think a lot of your friends either have already dropped or will be dropping soon. And we can make sure that they're all gathered here, safe and sound, before the first of Walhart's ships even sets out from Valm."
Lucina remembers what future-Randall told Laurent. That he was going to have a particularly hard time of things, and he needed to be both strong and patient. It had confused everyone at the time, but now she understands. It was part of the script all along.
She takes another deep breath to slow the conversation down. "I understand. Where are we going?"
Randall grins. "We're going east, Luci. To what was once a land of pirates and ancient dragons. To Pyrathi."
I've been mostly trying to avoid other people today, aside from Lucina I guess. I don't want to explain last night, talk about how it makes me feel, apologize for getting that belligerently drunk, or anything else, and I'm positive that's what almost everyone wants to talk about.
To that end, I've taken refuge in the bathhouse, hoping I won't run into anyone, and that the hot steam might clear my head. Even so, I can't help but remember when I was here before, when Robin and Chrom were still gone, and I thought I was about to collapse from the stress. When Gaius told me to just loosen up and enjoy the attention I was getting from the women in the Shepherds. Thinking about that almost makes me nauseous.
I can't help it. Images of dancing, of that red dress, of how close she was, the feeling of her lips, the bittersweetness of the wine. I can't get them out of my head. A mix of shame, guilt, and anger at myself. And just the barest, most confusing hint of fondness. How could I be so irresponsible? How could I let it go so far? Even after having my little epiphany moment about what I should do now, I can't stop thinking about how stupid I was last night. I sink down into the hot water, as if to bury myself and all my shame.
The door to the bathhouse opens. Great.
"Hey-ho, it is Randall!" Gregor shouts, the words echoing through the room. "Gregor has not been seeing you since last night. You party like a Feroxi!" He laughs good-naturedly.
"That's a flattering way of putting it," I grumble.
"What is matter? You wake up with headache?" he asks as he unceremoniously disrobes, dumps a bucket of water over his head, and begins working himself over with a bar of soap.
"As a matter of fact, yes. But a vulnerary took care of that."
"Then what is problem? Morning after with red-haired pegasus knight not go as well as you hope?"
I almost laugh. "You could say that, yeah. Or rather, everything up to that point was the mistake."
"Why is that? You are not spoken for, no?" He cocks his head curiously.
"It's not about that. She doesn't actually like me that way. I was just sort of, I dunno, a stand-in for Chrom that night."
Gregor 'hmm's thoughtfully for a moment. "Gregor see where that is not good feeling. No man wants to feel he is in second place in his woman's heart." He rinses the soap off himself, then steps carefully into the bath. "Is a pity too. As big fan of red-haired lasses himself, Gregor understand well. We could have been like brothers."
That actually gets a laugh out of me. "I take it things are going well with Anna then?"
He grins. "Oh yes. That contract is paying out very nice."
A thought occurs to me. "Say, didn't you mention the other week that you and Anna are planning on making a few trips along the roads now that Chrom's wedding is over with?"
"Yes. Why you ask?"
"Do you know where she's planning to go first?" I ask.
He shrugs. "Gregor have no idea. He leave those details to Anna."
"Does she plan to head east?"
"It would not be surprise. She say she wants to make it to Farfort at some point over the summer. She show it to me on a map. Far to southeast." He narrows his eyes. "Are you looking for job?"
"Not exactly. I think I'll wait to hash out the details with Anna. This is a matter probably best discussed when all parties involved are, you know, clothed," I reply.
"Hah! Does not sound like very exciting conversation then," Gregor retorts with a guffaw.
"Well, we'll just see what my favorite capitalist thinks of the idea," I say. Finally, I start to feel some of the tension leave my shoulders.
A chance to do something good. A chance to get away.
Dinner is… weird. Robin sits next to me, which isn't unusual, but it feels like everyone immediately surrounding us is trying to say as little to either of us as possible. Everyone else in the mess hall is taking care to not engage with any of us when it can be avoided. If I'm honest, I don't blame them.
Chrom and Maribelle are gone, unsurprisingly, off on a honeymoon trip to a small property owned by the Exalted family along the northwest shore of the massive Lake Lefcandith. Even though Ylisstol is also quite close to the lake, it's a large enough lake that they still feel far away. Which is I guess the point.
Cordelia is also missing, which is no great surprise either. For all I know, she's still sleeping off last night.
But, as soon as that thought crosses my mind, the door to the mess hall opens, and Cordelia enters. She looks a bit rough around the edges—uncombed hair, untidy clothes, just a general sense that she's been holed up most of the day. As she walks into the room, a sort of half-hush falls over the group. People don't cartoonishly stop everything they're doing to look, but it becomes clear that everyone has one eye and one ear extended in her direction.
For her part, all she does is get a plate, load it with some meat and vegetables, and start to silently retreat for the door. As she goes, she makes eye contact with Robin next to me. Her expression shifts from a neutral, emotionless gaze to… something else. I can't tell if it's anger, guilt, outrage, what. But she walks quickly to the door again and leaves with her plate in hand, apparently unwilling to be around us.
I glance at Robin next to me, who is, to my surprise, almost smiling. "What was that about?" I ask.
"Oh, nothing. We just had a little discussion earlier, that's all," Robin replies dismissively.
"Hold on. About what?" I lower my voice. "About what happened before?"
"Yes. Why, what's wrong with that?" she asks.
"You…" I sigh. "Let's talk about this somewhere else."
She gives me a confused look. "Uh, alright."
She follows me out of the mess hall. I feel the eyes on the back of my head as the others watch us go. We go upstairs to my room. I close the door behind us as we enter.
"So you talked with Cordelia today? While I was asleep, I assume?" I ask.
"Yeah."
"What happened?" I try to keep the incredulity out of my tone.
"I told her off, obviously. What she did was majorly messed up. She used you, Randy," Robin says defensively, sensing that I am not pleased right now.
"You told her off, huh? I've seen how angry you can get, Robin. Are you sure it wasn't more like ripping a total strip off her ass?"
"You know what? Yeah! I stopped just short of backhanding her into next week!" She steps closer. "I don't know if you've put it together yet, Randy, but she got you drunk on purpose to make a move on you!"
"Yes, I gathered that, Robin," I reply. "I'm still trying to find the part of all this where you decided it was your place to get angry on my behalf."
"I'm not angry 'on your behalf,' Randy. I'm angry for myself! My best friend was manipulated into doing something extremely intimate that, after the fact, it became pretty clear he didn't want to do! I'm allowed to be angry about that!"
"I never said you're not allowed to be angry about anything!" We're basically shouting at this point. This got out of hand quickly. "I'm saying that even if you're rightfully angry, that doesn't mean you get to go all righteous fury on the person you hold responsible!"
"Ugh!" Robin throws her hands up exasperatedly. "This is just Vasto all over again! You can't just let everything go, Randy!"
"Yes I can, Robin! You don't get to tell me who I can or can't forgive, or when I'm allowed to do it."
"Fine! You want to forgive Cordelia for using you as a Chrom stand-in meat puppet, only hours after she did it? Great. But I don't have to forgive her just because you have. If you get to forgive on your terms, I get to forgive, or not forgive, on mine!"
"But what you don't get to do is use me as a weapon to bludgeon Cordelia with!" I become aware of just how much I tower over Robin. She's glaring up at me. I take a step back. "I want things to be better. I want to forgive. I want to be friends again."
"That's great, Randy, but I'm not ready to be all buddy-buddy yet! I'm still angry! I'm angry at Vasto, and I'm angry at Cordelia, and I'm angry that you won't just let me be angry at them!"
"Robin, I said before that you're allowed to be ang–"
"Yeah, I heard what you said!" she interrupts. "But don't you get that if I do what you say, and I just never show how angry I am about what happened, both with Vasto and with Cordelia, then I just have to stuff that down? I have no idea how you can just let things go like that. When Vasto came to you, after the trial, he acknowledged his part in Libra's death. You said that if it hadn't been for Vasto, Libra would still be alive. And it's true! If it had just been you and Gangrel, he would have probably killed you, then we'd have respawned, then we'd have had time to make sure we were prepared and you weren't caught outside. You would have been with me to face down the siege. We could have tried anything! It wouldn't even matter if we got tired, because the siege could hold indefinitely. It would have been a battle we couldn't lose. And the only reason it wasn't like that was because you weren't there. Because of Vasto." She pinches the bridge of her nose. "And all you did was punch him twice and send him on his way! Don't you get that that's not justice?"
She takes a few deep breaths after that tirade. That gives me some time to think about how I want to reply. "There are some things that are more important than justice, Robin," I say.
"Like what? Aren't you a scholar of the law? Isn't the law all about protecting justice?" she asks incredulously.
"It is. And justice is important. But so is mercy. Sometimes people get what they deserve. That's justice. But sometimes, I think, people should get better than they deserve. When people show that they're willing to take responsibility, to make a change. That's when they need mercy. They need a chance to show that they're sincere in their desire to change."
"And what willingness to change has Cordelia shown then, huh? When I spoke with her before, all she did was make excuses! That her heart was broken because Chrom was getting married, that she needed someone to help her move on, that you didn't stop her from getting you drunker than shit. When I asked her to acknowledge that she did something awful, she didn't reply. She's not sorry for what she did to you! She's just sorry that it didn't 'fix' her!" She throws her hands up in frustration.
"She may not have apologized to you, but she did to me," I say firmly. "More than once this morning. Maybe she got combative when you came at her firing on all cylinders, and she wasn't willing to back down with you. But when I left the stable this morning, it was with the mutual understanding that we just want to leave this behind us and go back to being friends."
"How can you already be saying something like that? When she… even if the two of you didn't… she still used you, Randy!" Robin's tone shifts from anger to something more like… I guess I'd call it desperation.
"She made a mistake. She knew right away that it was a mistake. As soon as we were awake, we knew we had both messed up," I say.
"What do you mean, both of you? She was trying to get you drunk all night! She wore that outfit specifically to seduce you! You didn't do anything wrong!"
"Yes, I did." I sit on the edge of my bed. "I should have seen. I should have been smarter. Hell, if I'd just been more careful about how much I was drinking, none of this would have happened. Just because she was putting drinks in my hand doesn't mean I was forced to drink them. I should have stopped. There were so many points where I could have done something different. But to tell the truth, I was just… having fun. I liked dancing with her. I liked that I could tell she wanted my attention. I was so focused on my own enjoyment that I didn't see the signs that something bigger was going on."
"Randy…" Robin says uncertainly.
"I guess that's my issue with what you did. You should be angry with me too. I messed up too. Instead, you tuck me into bed with a vulnerary and everything short of a kiss goodnight, then you turn around and read her the riot act. I was at fault too. Maybe not as much, if you like, but all the same I played my part. I don't want anyone, not even you, to feel like there's a need to take sides in this. We both messed up. And that's that."
I'm just glad we're done shouting.
Robin sits down next to me. We're quiet for a moment.
"Even if you were partially responsible for what happened… last night hurt you. I can tell," she says softly.
I nod. "Mmhmm."
She takes my hand and holds it between her small, cold fingers. "When you came back to me, when you finally were free of the Patriots… when I had to tell you what happened to Libra… you were in such pain. It was as though I had torn your heart out. I felt that pain in my own heart. That night, I swore I would never again let anyone or anything hurt you. Not like that." She rubs my palm softly with her thumbs. "You're my best friend, Randy."
"You're mine too, Robin," I reply quietly. She squeezes my hand a little tighter.
"I know that Cordelia is our friend… but I couldn't let that go like you can. You're still hurting from it. I know that you don't want to take that out on her. But taking all that hurt on yourself… it's too much," she says.
I nod. "I know it is. Having to see Cordelia is going to be painful for a bit. Because she used me, and I used her, and healing takes time." I take a deep breath. "That's part of why I'm leaving Ylisstol."
A cold second passes between us.
"You're leaving? What do you mean?" Robin asks. She lets go of my hand.
"I mean that Lucina and I are going out east. Kellam and Miriel's son, Laurent, is almost certainly in the desert, in the land that was once called Pyrathi. If I'm right, and I see no reason I couldn't be, he's been out there for three years or so. He's all alone out there. We're going to bring him back to the Shepherds," I say.
She takes a few seconds to process what I've said. "Pyrathi… that's by the ocean. That's a long trip."
"Yeah. And after we've gotten him, I plan to take a round trip of the continent and get the other children that have dropped in the past. By my count, there are either eight or nine children that either have dropped or will drop on this continent. One of them is Lucina, so that leaves either seven or eight still to find." I stare at the opposite wall as I explain my plan. I don't want to see her expression right now.
"But… if they're spread across the continent… that's a massive undertaking, Randy," Robin says slowly. "That's at least a year, certainly."
I nod. "Yeah, it is. That's why I need to get started soon. We have less than two years before the Valmese fleet arrives, bringing another war with it."
Robin shakes her head. "You're bringing this up so suddenly. There's so much we need to account for. Are you seriously just taking yourself and Lucina on this journey?"
"Well, for most of it. I plan to ask Anna if I can tag along with her and Gregor when they head off on a trade expedition. Gregor says they plan to hit up the Farfort. I'm hoping that means I can go with them as long as they're going east, before they break south."
"What about these other children? Where are they? And why do you not know how many there are? Is one not always in the same place?" she asks, concern rising in her tone.
"Well, two are in the southwest. That's Severa and Yarne. Two are in the northeast, Noire and Nah."
"Noire is… Tharja and Libra's daughter, correct?" Robin interrupts.
"Yeah. Then in the northwest, there's Kjelle and–" I hesitate for a moment to name Robin's kid, but decide it's better to just say it, "Morgan."
She doesn't seem to react to the mention of his (her? I guess I never really did confirm for certain that Morgan is a guy in this world, did I?) name. "Counting Laurent in the far east, that's seven. Who is this eighth person you don't know how to account for?"
"That'd be my daughter. Everyone else existed in the version of the story I was familiar with back in America. I've long since memorized where their general locations are. But with my own kid, obviously she wasn't in the game. I have no idea when or where she might drop. She could drop on my head while I'm in the outhouse tomorrow for all I know."
"What is her name?" Robin asks.
I shrug. "I told Lucina no spoilers were allowed. That means she's not supposed to say anything I don't already know. Including her name."
"Why don't you want to know?"
"Hah, are you kidding me? I'm dying to know! But there's a chance that just being told her name will give away something about, say, who I'm supposed to end up with. If that happens, I'm liable to fuck up the timeline by doing something I wouldn't ordinarily have done. That could mess everything up. Even more than it already is, anyway."
"Anyway, this is all off track regardless," Robin sighs. "If you're having to go all the way around the continent, then I… I can't be there. I have a job to do here, as the Grandmaster General. And we couldn't both leave the capital and the other Shepherds unattended for that long in any case. Not while the army is in such an incomplete state."
"I know that," I say.
"But a trip of this length… Randy, even being apart and unsure of each other's wellbeing for a few weeks nearly killed us! I realize that being able to magically communicate with visions is probably a longshot at best. But we at least have to have a way of knowing when the other is in danger!" Robin exclaims.
"I agree. I've been giving that some thought as well." I finally bring myself to look Robin in the eye. Her gaze is full of worry, her grey eyes overcast. "I think that's something we can consult Tharja about."
"Tharja? You mean you've thought of a way we can use hexes to do it?" she asks.
"I think so. I'll have to make sure it will actually work. We need to speak with her when we get the chance," I reply.
Robin sighs, long and low. "Alright. I can't stop you from doing this. I don't like it, but I'm not about to confine you here. And if you think there isn't going to be a better chance later, I suppose I have to at least consider it. But can we wait to talk to Tharja until tomorrow? I've already had a full enough day today."
I laugh. "You and me both."
"So you're finally ready to take your training as a dark mage seriously, then?" Tharja asks, a smirk on her face and in her tone.
"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves. I just want you to explain how hexes work. I want to be sure I understand them well before I make a request of you," I reply.
Robin and I didn't have too much trouble finding Tharja once we started looking. Unsurprisingly, she wasn't far from Robin when we started calling for her. Now the three of us have moved this conversation to Robin's office, where we won't be disturbed.
It's still a bit… weird to be around Tharja. Weirder than it always was, I mean. She's never seemed particularly torn up about Libra's death. Whatever bond they were supposed to create with each other must have still been in its infancy. She doesn't have any idea what she's been denied, long before she would ever think to ask for it. I expect when I bring Noire back here, that conversation will have to happen eventually, but for now, it's a bit painful to be around her. I don't want to pity her, because it wouldn't help. But I kind of do. Libra could have done a lot of good for her. And I suspect, in her way, she would have been good for him too.
Tharja closes her eyes and nods her head approvingly. "Eventually everyone who walks the path of dark magic finds themselves curious about the hexing arts. You don't need to be ashamed."
"Alright, can you just tell me how they work?" I ask exasperatedly.
"Of course. The first thing to understand is that hexes are not like other magic. Not even like other dark magic. They are perhaps the most deeply personal form of magic that exists. Not just for the caster, but the target as well. They are also one of the most ancient forms of magic that exist. They predate tomes and enchanted weapons."
She gestures to the air around her. "You know that there is ambient magic in the world around us. Spellbinders gather this magic and bind it to the pages of magic tomes with enchanted runes, or concentrate them in the orbs used in healing staves. Particularly skilled warriors can use their weapons to tap into the ambient magic that surrounds their targets, their auras, powering skills like the powerful Sol ability. But what few realize is that the magic of the world is more intelligent than most give it credit for. Many, like your friend with the glasses…"
"Miriel?" I half-ask.
"That's her. Mages like her treat the ambient magic of the world as just energy. But it isn't. It has a will of its own. And if you are skilled enough, you can communicate with it. And you can make deals with it."
"Is that what a hex is? A deal with the ambient magic in the world?" I ask.
"If you wouldn't interrupt me, that's what I was about to say. Robin, you recall that when I placed that sleeping hex on you, I burned certain ingredients to make it happen, yes?" Robin nods. "That was the price of the deal I made with the ambient magic surrounding you. And once that price was paid, it exacted its end of the deal as promised. That's the beauty of a hex. Any other form of using magic tends to limit itself to the form of expression of its containing vessel. A Fire tome has limited the use of its power to making fire, as that is what the runes bound to the page will allow. But a hex does not have this limitation."
"If that's true, then why are hexes only negative?" Robin asks. "You told me that hexes are only used to harm, not help."
Tharja smiles. "I was, perhaps, a bit misleading. In truth, the reason hexes are more harmful than helpful is that very little is known about the kinds of deals one could make with ambient magic to produce positive results. Of all the experiments of countless generations of dark mages over the centuries, there have been many, many combinations of ingredients found that can create a negative result. But I have never heard anything that suggests a positive hex has been found. That's not to say they can't exist. They just haven't been found, if they do exist. At least as far as I know, anyway. The closest that has been found are mood alteration hexes, such as the happiness contagion hex, which sounds nice enough, until you realize it's normally used to make targets distracted and vulnerable. And it doesn't feel very nice when it wears off."
"Huh. I suppose that makes sense. It's much easier to destroy than it is to create. Maybe that's how the ambient magic sees it," I say. "The price for a good outcome would be much higher."
Tharja frowns again. "In any case, that's only a piece of what you must understand. The next is how the hex actually functions. You see, like any wise dealer, a dark mage creates a contract of sorts with the ambient magic when the hex is created. I prefer to call it the hex's source. That source, while it does not have a physical form, does have a location. Most of the time, a dark mage places the source inside their own body. This way, the mage can dispel the hex at will if she chooses.
"However, that is not the only way to source a hex. If, at the time of casting the hex, the mage instead focuses her energies on a specific, concrete object in her presence, she can source the hex in that object instead. That object is from then on called the hex's phylactery. From that point forward, the hex can only be undone if the integrity of the phylactery is disrupted. For example, if a hex's phylactery was a glass ornament, then smashing the ornament would undo the hex."
Robin asks, "So what's stopping a mage from just using something unbreakable as a phylactery? Like a diamond? Or just making the phylactery a grain of sand, then casting it to the ocean floor when on board a ship in the middle of the sea?"
Tharja grins deviously. "Your mind went straight to the most devilish places, Robin. I knew you'd be a natural dark mage. But there are more ways to break a hex than just undoing it. A mage with enough skill can intervene for the target and rectify whatever changes have been made in their ambient magic. It's difficult, though. For that matter, creating a phylactery is already much more difficult than just sourcing the hex in the caster."
"Can another person be made a phylactery?" I ask.
Tharja shakes her head. "Not exactly. It's been tried. Many a dark mage has had the 'brilliant' idea of using one of the target's loved ones as the phylactery to essentially force them to choose between suffering the hex's effects or killing their loved one. But ultimately, if you use another human's body as a phylactery, all you have to do is lightly cut that person, and the hex is undone. As far as the ambient magic is concerned, that's enough to disrupt the integrity of the phylactery."
"So most mages, if they're going to bother at all, use an object instead," I say.
"Yes. And to your point, Robin, the more significant an object is to a mage, the easier it is to make it a phylactery. I mentioned before how personal hexes are. This is one of the reasons. It is much easier to, say, source a hex in your prized dish handed down from your grandmother than it is to source it in some wooden plate you take from the mess hall. Sourcing a hex in a grain of sand would take near inhuman levels of talent. And even then, it wouldn't make the hex itself any more difficult to break on the target's end. A talented mage would be putting her skills to better use if she focused on weaving a more devious hex for the target to contend with and just sourced the hex in herself.
"No, mages who bother with phylacteries usually do so for one of two reasons. One, the mage wants the hex to endure even after she has died. Thus, sourcing the hex in her own body is no good. Or two, the mage wants to ensure that someone else can undo the hex at any time even if the mage is for one reason or other unable to know when the proper time to undo a hex is. For example, if a mage is holding a lord's life for ransom with a hex, she might send an underling with a phylactery to collect the payment. On receiving the payment, the underling could smash the phylactery and release the lord from his hex without the mage ever having to put herself in harm's way."
"Wow. That's a lot," I say. I glance at Robin, and the look on her face tells me she agrees. This shit is more complicated than we thought. "So you mentioned that phylacteries are 'one of the reasons' hexes are so personal. What's the other reason? Or reasons?"
"Well, that's simpler. The closer the caster is to her target, emotionally, the easier it is to hex them. The more intimately familiar one is with another's aura, the more finely one can manipulate it. Furthermore, while everyone has some degree of resistance to hexes, that resistance is naturally lower against those you know closely. Your aura becomes accustomed to them. The ambient magic that makes up your aura is not just random. It has chosen you to cling to. Auras become familiar with each other." She narrows her eyes seductively at Robin. "For example, my aura is intimately familiar with yours, Robin. I could hex you beyond your wildest dreams, if you like."
"Er, that's alright, Tharja," Robin says nervously, glancing at me for help.
"And actually, I mean that literally. If the target is willing to be hexed, that makes the hexing process much, much easier, which should come as no surprise," Tharja says. "You render your aura more receptive to external changes, like from a hex."
"Can a hex have more than one target?" I ask.
"It would definitely make a hex much more expensive and much harder to cast," Tharja replies. "It's far from impossible, though. There have been times where I have hexed entire groups of enemies. But it becomes considerably more difficult the more targets you add. It's much easier to just cast a series of one-target hexes. Otherwise casting just the one hex can become a complicated affair."
"But if you wanted a hex to interact between two targets, you would need to cast it as one multi-target hex," I say.
"I would think so. I'd need more details than that," she replies.
"So, to sum up and make sure I understand," I say. "Hexes are deals, trading the ingredients used to cast them for the effects they render on the aura of another person. Hexes can be sourced in the caster or in a phylactery. It's easier to source the hex in the caster, and the more important the phylactery is to the caster, the easier it is to use as a phylactery. It is easier to hex someone you know, and the closer you are, the easier it is. If the target is receptive to the hex, that's basically hexing on easy mode. But trying to hex more than one person at once makes it like exponentially harder with each additional target. Do I have all that right?"
Tharja nods. "You seem to understand. So, I imagine there's a reason you two wanted to ask me about this all of a sudden. What is it?"
"Well, considering everything I just learned, I'm more confident than ever that this will work," I say. "Tharja, there's a hex I want you to place on me and Robin."
Tharja grins pointily. "Now that wasn't what I expected you to say. Let's hear this idea of yours."
A/N: Well, the previous chapter certainly got quite a response. Some of it positive, some negative, which is pretty much what I anticipated. Diving into uncomfortable topics like the overlap between sex and sex-adjacent activity and drinking is always sure to be contentious. Also, a lot of reviews expressed concern that this was going to lead to a big melodramatic love triangle dynamic. I hope this chapter has at least allayed that particular concern. There's drama, to be sure, but I hope to avoid utterly needless drama that doesn't advance the story meaningfully. We'll see if you decide that I've accomplished that here, I guess. In any case, I felt compelled to get out the new chapter fairly quickly, as I think leaving the last chapter at the cliffhanger I did was, in retrospect, probably not the best choice. I hope you guys enjoyed in the end!
As always, Mixed Valance gets my thanks, and this time I also want to thank UDtimburrhog for being the third pair of eyes on this chapter. Both provided meaningful feedback that helped make sure this chapter stayed on task and did what I wanted it to do. And here is your Mixed Valance out-of-context quote of the week: "Let's go shopping in the underground ghetto."
For the review responses, I feel like it's necessary to sort of have an initial blanket response. To all those who just generally suffered with the last chapter, I hope this chapter helped ease your pain. Or at least replaced it with a different, more manageable pain. You're the judge of whether I succeeded in taking this mess in a positive direction. If I don't respond to your review directly, it's because this response is what I would have said to you.
UDtimburrhog: Well, obviously you saw this chapter in advance, but I hope I succeeded in convincing you that melodrama was neither my intent nor my destination with these events. In either case, hopefully you're at least relieved that any hopes of the Cordelia ship were short-lived indeed.
Clandestine 0-8: Oh ye of little faith. That said, I actually love Cordelia a lot, so I won't be killing her off. Not yet, in any event. But she has to walk a long, difficult road to become the person who will earn her happy ending.
Crowbars357: Fun fact: The LDS renounced the practice of polygamy in the 1890s.
maridus: We did have some folks in the Discord server anticipating a reaction from Robin of Grima-level proportions. Her giving Cordelia a vicious tongue lashing seems rather tame by comparison, but I couldn't resist letting Robin have some righteous fury.
FlamelessRider: Your vote of confidence was most appreciated, friend.
V01dSw0rd: Trust me, raininess is a word. The state or condition of being rainy. Anyway, the question of "who am I?" is a layered one. The philosophical layer, the question of personal identity, is a fluid one as you suggest. But there's also a literal level to the question. Who are my parents? Who, physically, am I? These are objective questions that are not dependent on nurture. As for Ricken, being 16/17 does not mean that you are necessarily done growing. Most people continue to physically mature into their 20s. On the subject of technology, 1) this story is not a tech uplift story, and it never will be, and 2) you'd be amazed how much high school science you forget, and how quickly it leaves you, unless you go into STEM.
jordanlink7856: I'm really glad that came through as intended! There's a kind of causal chain in my head of the events that happened differently in the present timeline that have led to this change in outcome. I'm pleased that this chain is evident to you guys as well.
Guest: I think Robin would rather like your characterization of Cordelia's actions as being a sort of predator/prey dynamic, haha.
Hello I am Username: Well, I hope you liked it. It's painful to see the chapter boiled down to essentially soap opera drama, especially when you indicate that it's actually a logical conclusion of the changes to the timeline that have taken place. I guess you're the judge of whether I played all this just for shock now that you've seen at least a continuation of these events.
IHev9Sun: When you're sending the kids back in time to fix the past, the last thing you want to do is make them so afraid of changing the past that they don't actually fix anything. As you saw in this chapter, there are equal things to be afraid of: doing something and doing nothing. Do nothing, and nothing changes. But do the wrong thing, and disaster might still fall. That's a hard lesson for a bunch of teenagers.
Mcmayhem57: I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter, despite the painful development. I'm glad that you seem to have pretty much had what I guess I could call the 'intended experience' with it. Hopefully you're pleased with where I've taken these events so far!
patattack: You're the only one to even mention Gregor and Anna in the reviews lol. Seems they got rather overshadowed by the... more pressing developments. But yeah! Poor Lucina, everything is falling apart around her.
Grammy: I'd hardly call it fluff, but hopefully you at least enjoyed where I took this whole mess!
iwantmyburd: One more wrench for the road? I'm half-kidding, but hopefully you got some catharsis out of the way this particular conflict was resolved. If not, I can only ask for just a smidge more patience.
Call Brig On Over: I'm pleased you don't think I did this just for the sake of it. The problem with serialized fiction is that sometimes the author makes a choice with a view to where he plans to go with things, but the readers can't know them at the time. I appreciate your indulgence in letting things go crazy for a bit before I make my ultimate goals known with where I'm going with this.
Steelrain66: The problem is that even if they had respawned at the reception, it wouldn't have actually undone the actions of that night for two of the three people those actions affected most. This is the sort of pain that not even supernatural time travel powers can fix, unfortunately. They just have to fight it out like us regular mortals.
knightoblivion: I like you too~
Banru: Damn, that's a lot of benefit of the doubt you're giving the guy. More than he even gives himself, as you saw in this chapter. It does bring up a lot of questions (which I think you won't be surprised to learn aren't done being worked over yet), like whether one has an obligation to be with the person your future self was with. Obviously if you make that choice without the knowledge of your future, that's fine, but does, for example, Gerome, have a legitimate claim that his parents sort of "owe" him his own existence in this timeline? There will be a lot of exploration of these topics down the line, rest assured.
SomeRandomChicken: Damn, this guy is playing 5D chess over here. Legit outwitted.
Remvis: Surely if you've gotten this far you know I always have a plan for where these things are going. I'm just a firm believer in the idea that heroes must work and struggle for their happy endings.
Join the Discord: discord. gg/ 3mdunvc
As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!