Severa hurled herself out the door and down the stairs.
They wound and wound, Naga, there were too many steps.
At their base she found what she expected.
The guards were dead, killed for being unfortunate enough to stand by a door in the evening. She didn't pause, although she would remember them.
Instead, her sprint carried her to the noble quarters.
It was instinct that drove her, instinct told her she needed to check this room first.
The door was closed.
She smelt, smoke?
She kicked as fiercely as she could manage. The door caved inwards, the lock bursting through the frame.
Inside was carnage.
The room burnt, tapestries blazed, rugs smouldered. The smell of charred flesh filled her nostrils.
There were two bodies. One had been burnt to a crisp, smoke still puffed from it. The other…
Noire.
A dagger was lodged in her thigh, a red tome fallen at her side. She was bleeding, badly, from another wound that Severa couldn't see underneath her light shirt.
She couldn't be, please.
Her chest moved.
Severa leapt to her, focusing all the energy she had on the wound she couldn't see.
Without sight healing was hard, without a staff it was even harder, but the gash closed, just a little, enough to slow the bleeding. Naga, it had to be enough.
"SOMEONE GET A HEALER, GET BRADY!" she shouted as hard as her exhausted lungs would let her.
"I'm coming!" A faint voice down the corridor.
Severa cradled her dying sister. Please, she had to live. She had to live.
"Shit," Brady muttered as he finally entered the doorway.
"Two wounds, the dagger you can see and another you can't," she said as quickly an evenly as possible. "The unseen is healed a little but it'll kill her soon."
"Good, keep her restrained like that, don't let her move, else the dagger might nick an artery if it hasn't already."
Severa held on to her sister, supporting the archer's head in her lap. Stroking hair, praying as Brady did his vital work.
"First wound's closed," he said almost instantly. That boy was too good at this, "On my command, you're going to pull the dagger and I'll heal her. Keep her in place as best you can."
Severa nodded.
"3…2…1"
Severa pulled with one hand and pressed down with the other. Noire did her best to unseat herself, convulsing from the healing as much as from the dagger's removal.
She abruptly shuddered to a halt as the light from the healer's staff faded.
Please let her live. Please. Naga, just this one thing.
Her breathing evened.
"She's okay."
Severa kept clutching at the body.
"She's okay Sev."
Severa didn't want to let go. She didn't want to lose someone else.
"She's okay."
"You're okay," Severa whispered to her sister. She was okay.
Severa lay, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling of the tent. Lucina curled at her side, not asleep, just resting her beautiful head on the redhead's chest.
This was the plan now. Lucina never slept in the same place any one night. The Exalt needed to be kept safe from assassination attempts.
The truth of the attack was kept to a select few.
Severa and Noire had been the targets of three Risen assassins that had managed to steal into the castle. They'd both awoken in the nick of time because of restless dreams of enemies watching them. Severa had been lucky enough to have Lucina's sword to hand, Noire a tome of fire she kept under her pillow. She claimed it was how her mother had trained her, but Severa suspected it was a habit formed to protect herself from Tharja.
Morgan had been awake as the Hand had suspected. If she'd gambled incorrectly, not trusted in her knowledge of her sisters, one of them might well be dead.
Three assassins, three sisters.
The tactician's odd sleep patterns had made a simultaneous strike too difficult, so it was clear that the Risen had been watching for a while, finding out their schedules, testing, prodding.
It was enough to make Severa feel nauseous.
"What do you think it means?" she said aloud, surprised that the words had come out.
"I don't know," Lucina replied. The Exalt seemed to be able to read her Hand's mind now, not requiring prompting for what her knight was mulling over.
"We have power over Ignis, but father told Morgan that there were other practitioners in Plegia."
"Mhmm," Lucina mumbled into her girlfriend's chest. "Perhaps it's that you're all known to be our tacticians?"
It might be the answer, perhaps, "If I were the enemy and I knew that I'd probably also know of Morgan's talent. I'd prioritise her first, then me, then Noire."
Lucina's head shifted, laying a light kiss on her knight's cheek, "You'll figure it out. I know you will."
Severa couldn't help but smile, she turned and leaned, kissing her princess, arm curling around the hard but just soft enough body beside her.
"What did I do to warrant such faith?" she asked as they parted.
It was Lucina's turn to smile, "You're special Severa."
She remembered those words, from the prince rather than her princess.
She still didn't believe them.
"When I'm with you," the Exalt continued, "the weight feels lighter. Just having you to talk to, having you understand is all I need. I.." she paused, "I want to be honest with the others, but they all look to me, not just the common folk or the nobles, Inigo looks to me as an example, Cynthia and Kjelle as a superior or teacher, Gerome as a Lord. I can't let them know; it would break that image. And they need that, it's so arrogant to say, but I know they do."
Lucina gently pressed her lips against her knight's neck, "But you're so strong. You've always been that way, I know I can lean on you and it's okay to worry, or be afraid, or sad."
Severa's gaze returned to the ceiling, "I'm not strong." She felt a pit in her stomach.
"Don't be sill.."
"I'm happy," she interrupted the princess, continuing to look at the brown cloth above her.
"I don't understand," Lucina replied, confusion staining her tone, "I should hope so, you make me happy too?"
"My parents are dead. Assassins are trying to kill me. Thousands upon thousands have died and far more will in the next few months. And I'm happier than I've ever been in my life." Severa continued to look up, afraid that even moving might let the tears come in front of her princess. "So many people are suffering and I'm happy." She hid, even from Lucina, how little her parents' passing had affected her.
Her face was forcibly turned from the ceiling into the furious eyes of her princess. "Severa, listen to me. Your parents would want you to be happy." Lucina continued, "Those people suffering? They wouldn't deny anyone else a moment of joy."
The princess' grip on Severa's head slackened, as if she knew that now, her knight wouldn't look away. "The day I found out I had lost father and mother would have been the worst day of my life. But on that same day I found you. They would be delighted and I know it."
A hand stroked Severa's cheek, "If Grima is despair, then the one, true, way to let him win is to deny yourself happiness because you don't think you deserve it. We win with joy and love. Promise me that you'll never forget that."
The knight closed her eyes, letting her princess' words wash over her. She wouldn't forget.
Severa's sword tore through the Risen that had broken through the line.
Her backswing decapitated it. She wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
A gust of wind flicked the pages on her tome to the correct page, letting her focus through it.
Concentrating through her spellbook, she focused on the air above her. Lightning arced through the sky; incoming fireballs burst harmlessly above them. She was tiring, the Ylissean mages must have been exhausted to let so many get so close.
Where were the archers?
Another Risen muscled through, grabbing at her with clawed hands.
"KEEP THAT FORMATION TIGHT!" she shouted as her blade flickered, removing the offending nails and leaving the Risen to helplessly flail as she cut off a second head.
"I SAID STAY TOGETHER!" she shouted again, watching her inexperienced troops shuffle slightly even as they fended off their undead attackers.
She flicked the page and another bolt fired. This time the electricity unerringly sought out a member of the horde, then the next, then the next.
"I SWEAR IF YOU DON'T HOLD, I WILL TAKE YOUR HEADS MYSELF!" The knight was exhausted, her head ached from the magical power she'd used, her arms didn't feel much better. Where were those blasted archers!
Arrows started raining among the Risen. The back ranks began to fall as shots aimed at heads found their mark.
"NOW! NOW!" she screamed mustering all the power she had in her and forcing it through the tome.
With a crackle the fires of Ignis burnt hot from the book, igniting the bolt they followed. The front rank of Risen fell dead and her soldiers, green as they were, took the cue of their commander screaming and opponents dying to begin a push down the hill.
The Risen were in disarray and their bloodlust got the better of them. Those still standing were pushed back, falling over the bodies of their brethren, unaware that the monstrosities behind them had died.
Even as they were treated to a slaughter, they still fought on.
Shattered, the redhead used the last of her energy to fire a single bolt into the sky, illuminating the overcast battlefield for a short moment.
It was out of her hands now.
The signal was simple, but the sound of hoofbeats meant it was effective.
A man with grey hair wielding a golden tipped spear led them.
A smile on his face, Geirskögul in hand, Inigo looked like a hero from legend bringing the hammer of his charge into the Risen flank.
Bodies went flying.
The Risen hadn't even tried to set a defense, dying by the hundreds as the combined efforts of man and horse shoved them into the river at the base of the hill.
The howls of the undead began to fall silent as more were pushed into the rushing water, hordes of bodies being taken downstream. Risen casters tried to hurl fireballs, but well-placed arrows interrupted those efforts long enough for spears and lances to do the rest.
They'd done it.
They'd held on.
That had been a lot closer than she would have liked.
If Inigo and her hadn't been here on inspection, if the archers hadn't gotten free fast enough, if the mages had tired earlier, if, if, if.
But they'd held.
The result truly was all that mattered. Robin had once told her you could go insane considering what might have happened even as he sat down and reviewed their games.
"Sometimes you must toss the dice Severa. And sometimes luck is with you."
Exhausted, she sat.
A muddy hill in Western Ylisse.
People had died here, among hastily made fortifications. She'd seen a girl, not much older than herself take an axe to the side. A boy who was younger had tried to help and gotten a black fletched arrow in his eye for the trouble.
They deserved better than to die here, fighting monsters. They should have been at home, learning about the world, growing, laughing.
"That was incredibly well-handled Lady Luna," an aging man, head shaved bald, complimented as he ran a hand through his thick grey beard. Mustafa was the commander of the force stationed at this point on the River Withern. She'd met him briefly when she had thought that this would simply be an inspection.
His tan complexion marked him a Plegian.
"Plegia was dying when Gangrel led her," the man had said simply, "I just couldn't see she was sick. The Grimleal snuffed what little life she had left. I just didn't realise she was dead."
He seemed haunted, "I remember that young Exalt visiting the palace. She'd asked for peace, begged. I wish I'd listened, but instead I gave the order to…never mind."
She'd not pried, his past was his own.
"Too many died," she replied simply.
"Given the size of the attack, even with the terrain, it's a miracle that it wasn't worse," he replied. "If I might be so bold as to give the Hand of the Exalt some advice, be grateful and joyous in victory. Your soldiers need to see you smile; they need to know that they're fighting for something."
"They're your soldiers Mustafa," she countered, but her heart wasn't in it, it was too much like Lucina's own wisdom.
"But they're your people," he responded with a smile of his own, "they look to you and that man of yours."
"He's not mine," the response was instant.
"Ah my apologies my Lady. Your command of the foot and his of the cavalry was natural enough as to make me assume."
"No apology required."
The two of them were an excellent team in fairness. Inigo's understanding of leadership was as instinctive as his sister's and whilst she'd always thought of him as a natural swordsman, he was incredible on any mount. So good that when Owain had managed to fish out a legendary lance from the bowels of a long forgotten Ylisstol armoury, he'd been the natural choice. Even Moonlight liked him and for years she'd been a terror for anyone lacking red hair.
Slowly Severa got to her feet and began walking down the line, congratulating her troops on a job well done, pointing out things to watch out for, like damaged armour or a speartip pointing upwards.
Mustafa was right, this had been an incredible victory. The terrain was good, forcing the Risen to ford a river and then attack uphill into fortifications, but the advantage of height had been dulled by the wyverns and sheer weight of numbers meant that at any time a flank might have given, or a hole opened up. Gambling on a cavalry charge into arrows had been the only way to win and hold, but it had worked.
She began to relax, speaking more easily with the soldiers. Convincing them, even as she convinced herself that the battle was worth it.
Until she caught sight of a pegasus flying full speed towards them.
A rock sporting a bright red streamer fell from the sky, landing nearby as the pegasus knight continued her journey northwards.
The redhead briskly walked to its location, finding Mustafa and Inigo staring in bewilderment at the note that had come with the rock.
The prince did give her a smile and then a very obviously approving once over.
The Plegian raised his eyebrows.
Now was not the time Inigo!
"What do you think that minx of a tactician is up to?" the older man questioned as he handed the Hand the letter.
Retreat East to Farena village, archers first, await orders. Bring grain.
"It matches the cipher?" she asked, hopeful of a mistake.
"Archers paired with food," Inigo replied quickly.
They'd fought so hard to hold and now they were giving up? That didn't make sense? What was Morgan thinking?
She knew she could overrule this decision. If she simply assumed her station, they could continue to fight here. It wouldn't be pointless.
"Call the retreat," she ordered. "If the Grand Tactician's ordered it then it's for a good reason. I imagine the Risen breached the line somewhere down South."
"The soldiers won't like this," Inigo cautioned, his own exasperation clear.
"No, but after what the two of you did for them, they'll obey," Mustafa responded easily. "It's a war, there's a lot they're not going to like. But right now, they know that they're alive almost entirely because of the two of you and they won't soon forget that."
The knight nodded before giving Mustafa leave to organise the withdrawal.
"We'll stay long enough to see them off, then we're taking Moonlight back to command," she continued as the aging man walked away. "I suspect if we tried to continue with our orders, we'd find ourselves knee deep in Risen."
"Agreed," was all the prince replied with. He seemed troubled, his smile more cardboard than usual.
"And Inigo?"
"Hm?"
"How do I look?" she flashed him a grin.
His true fake smile returned.
The command tent was a more modest structure than its name implied.
True, it was large, with blue trimming around the brown cloth that made most of its structure, but it lacked any further decoration. A wooden table, with hinges for transport dominated its interior. A huge map of Ylisse lay over it, sides flopping off the edges.
As ever with any map in her presence, Morgan's notations were scrawled everywhere, with models denoting each unit across the front as well as estimated and reported enemy locations.
It didn't look good. The first line was overrun and the initial fallback positions had collapsed earlier than expected. The second line wasn't under attack yet but would be soon.
Judging by the overall pace of the retreat, it seemed to Severa that their defense had only actually broken at a single point, but it had been bad enough to prompt a retreat everywhere else to prevent an encirclement.
Morgan would explain more shortly. Stood at the far end of the tent, the feathery haired girl's composure was admirable, although her eyes betrayed her, constantly going back to the map, analysing as much as she could.
It was a very small meeting today, that sometimes happened now, the needs of the army often required that many of the councillors would have to be away. But the redhead sensed more purpose to the intimacy of the gathering. Only five people were attending, Severa and Morgan made two, Lucina, Inigo and Laurent made the remainder.
They were waiting on the Exalt now, who likely had suffered some sort of minor delay on departure. Lucina couldn't help herself, the blue haired girl had to be torn away from conversations that whilst pleasant, weren't important, or tasks that she really should have delegated away.
It was just another flaw that made her beautiful.
Of them, Laurent was the outlier. He was sat in the corner of the tent, brow furrowed as he paged through one of the small library of books he'd brought with him. The mage was senior enough to be on the council but didn't match the rank of the people that were with him.
Severa kept half an eye on him. He seemed to be reading the same paragraph repeatedly, as if trying to glean additional meaning from words he'd read hundreds of times.
Inigo was more relaxed. He was stretching near the entrance. They'd spent most of the night in the saddle so it made sense that he'd want to be a little more active than normal. He shot her a grin and a wink as she glanced over.
Incorrigible.
Severa smiled back.
Abruptly Lucina swept into the tent, long blue hair almost getting caught in the flaps as they folded back in.
A quick greeting was all she delivered before taking a seat next to the knight. The redhead made sure to bump the back of her hand against her princess'.
They were still trying to feel out how their relationship worked in public. No advertisement had been made, but it was a common rumour in the army that the Exalt and her Hand were more than just friends. That was what came of trying to spend every night possible in the same tent.
It likely wouldn't have mattered if they had kissed in front of the group here. Laurent might not know, but he was perceptive and as for the others? Morgan claimed that she knew the day after they'd first got together and Inigo confirmed that his sister had told him immediately.
Severa contemplated the feel of Lucina's hand as Morgan drew the meeting to order.
"As you've all gathered, we're falling back to the second line because our initial defense has failed," she said, pointing at the defensive positions in question. "At both the main line and the first fallback we were defending well until a single point fell, here," she pointed to the town of Centrano, a heavily fortified trade post on the road from Ylisstol to Plegia, "and here," Razor Hill, a very defensible knoll just to the East of Centrano.
The knight felt a little surprise at that. Her own force at the Withern had been a lot smaller than what they'd stationed near Centrano.
"The reports are muddled, but as far as we know, the fight at Centrano turned when a single mage appeared." There was more shock at that, a single mage turned the battle? "The claim is with their presence, the Risen started fighting harder, there are even some allegations that they became more organised. The most important is from one of our casters who survived." Morgan paused, taking a breath in, "Whoever that person was, they were stronger with magic than I am, much, much stronger."
"That's not possible," Severa couldn't help herself from speaking. "Nobody's stronger than you. Even our parents weren't."
There were nods of agreement from Lucina and Inigo. Laurent was more reserved, however.
"I didn't think it was either, but, well, Laurent might be better at explaining this part…" she trailed off.
Something big was coming, Morgan's confidence was almost unshakeable.
The red-haired man stood, placing open books on the map, with care not to upset any figures already there.
"I happened to be visiting the Grand Tactician when she found out about the loss at Centrano. The report reminded me of something one of the librarians had reported to me recently."
Alongside assisting Morgan, the mage had been assigned to pore through the archives in search for references to Grima. His team had torn through almost all of Ylisstol, finding books that might even vaguely be related to the Fel Dragon. A few people had been outraged that beloved leather-bound tomes were being 'borrowed' for the war effort, but some sacrifices had to be made and Severa knew that Laurent's team had a very thorough record so that they could return their finds after the war.
"Ebine was a writer at the time of the first Exalt," he continued. "Among other things he wrote a very detailed account of the first war with Grima, including the climax." The mage pointed to a line in the book, reading aloud, "The Holy blade clove the Fel Dragon's arm from his dread shoulders, restoring light to the land."
It was an evocative sentence, but it didn't seem that important. Laurent adjusted his glasses, "The important part is that Ebine was not prone to metaphor or flights of fancy. His writing elsewhere is exact." That was interesting but not illu..
Severa gasped.
"How does the Falchion, which is the size of Lucina's arm, cut a Dragon's arm off?" Laurent asked.
It couldn't be.
"My team and I have cross referenced to every accurate account we have of the first Exalt.
Heroditus says in his account, 'The Exalted one stood against the unholy one on the field of despair and in its eyes the Exalt saw ruination.'
Talieri in hers states, 'Their duel was fierce, their duel was long, their duel made the heavens cry.'"
Laurent seemed ready to cite more, but his point was made.
"Grima was a person," Lucina whispered, the thought that Severa dared not speak.
"I think it's more correct to say that Grima can be a person," Morgan corrected. "I contended before that Grima would need too much energy to move as a dragon and was using the Risen as a proxy. But what if he can imbue his power into a single, tremendously powerful Risen and act from there?"
Inigo continued the thought, "He'd need less energy for sure. But with magic, he might still be able to boast the same power."
An affirmative nod from Morgan. "You're all likely wondering what this means," she resumed. "We very badly need to confirm that this person is Grima. If it is I believe we can win this war."
"There's a 'but' isn't there?" the Hand said, already sensing Morgan's plan.
"We have to concede the second line," replied the Tactician bluntly.
"You can't be serious?" Inigo's bewilderment was clear.
"You said that the loss of the first would be catastrophic and you want to give up the second?" his sister's as much so.
Severa already understood, giving the Grand Tactician a glance. The knight would be the one to explain this part.
"Before the enemy unveiled a secret weapon, Morgan thought we had a slim chance of winning if we fell back to the second line. As things are now, Ylisse will fall. There's no way we can hold."
The Exalted siblings fell silent. Severa had understood the gravity of the collapse of the first front better than them from the off. If Morgan had been beaten then something major had changed the war. But braced for the revelation as she was, she shared their apprehension.
"We're hurting," the tactician resume, "badly. We lost our best and most experienced troops in Plegia and even though the people we've got left are brave, they're not enough," her tone solemn, matching the mood of the room. "But we can still win."
There was a glint in her eye, "My defense forced Grima to the field. He's a tremendously powerful weapon but he's also vulnerable. If Lucina can meet him in battle, defeat him, we can end the war here and now."
Laurent shuffled, speaking up again, "The Grand Tactician is correct. The Falchion that the Exalt holds now is known as the Exalted Falchion. It has been empowered by Naga and our records are very clear; if a person of Divine Blood strikes Grima cleanly with the blade, then Grima will be bound for another thousand years." He glanced back at his books, "And if my speculation is correct, then that is true of Grima's Avatar as well."
"Then," the Exalt ventured, "getting him to the field could be considered a victory?"
"A big one your highness," Morgan replied with a confidence that buoyed the room.
"And you're sure you can do force him to that again?" the prince asked, his smile a little less forced than a moment ago.
"It's why I need the second line," Morgan affirmed. "If I can set up here, at Talwyn Pass, we can do two things. The first is confirm that whoever that mage is, it is definitely Grima. The second is confirm that I can bait him out again. If we do those two things, then," she placed a figure on the map, a small carving with a sword and beautiful flowing hair, "we can wager everything on a single flip of the cards."
"You're sure about this?" Lucina asked.
Severa knew that hesitance. It was the Lucina that feared the pressure, that worried about failure every day.
"Lucy," the knight spoke softly. "If we must gamble the world on one person. Then I think we'd all feel better if it was you."
That earned a glance from her princess. A look of fear but bridled by love and understanding.
Lucina closed her eyes and exhaled. "Fine, make it so Morgan."
The feathery haired girl smiled, "Good, I can set the plan into motion immediately. We'll need a flier, someone we can trust to get the information about Grima to us, even in the worst case."
"Severa, Cynthia or Gerome then," Inigo stated, "the others are good fliers but I wouldn't trust anyone outside our immediate circle with this knowledge."
It was true, that person would know the second line was doomed to fall and know that Grima was on the field. If that leaked, even by accident, then it might send the entire army into chaos.
"Not Severa," Morgan intervened. "At this point I think prosecuting this plan is beyond Noire's expertise. If I fall Sev's the only one who can fill in."
"Gerome then," the Hand replied, "Cynthia's the better flier, but she'll find it harder to flee if she sees people dying. Plus, a stray arrow can take a pegasus like Lumina down. Wyverns like Minerva can take a hit better and Gerome's a lot more sanguine about his duty."
That and he was more likely to flee purely to protect his mount. Gerome was brave, but he would never risk Minerva if he could avoid it.
The tactician looked around for any objections before speaking up again, "Then we're agreed. I'll have orders out soon and I think that brings this meeting to a close."
The knight extended a hand to her princess, taking hold of Lucina's arm and squeezing briefly. The Exalt would be worried, knowing what had just been staked on her, but the redhead still had some business to attend to.
"Morgan, I need a word."
The others had shuffled out and Severa had taken a little time to make a cup of tea. For all her enthusiasm Morgan's exhaustion was evident and giving her a little bit of time before extra grilling only seemed fair.
"There's a man commanding one of the battalions in the north," Severa began as she sipped from her cup. It wasn't particularly good, anything of worth was probably hidden in some noble's coffers in Ylisse, but it was warm and fresh which was all that really mattered. "Mustafa is the name he goes by, but it could easily be an alias. Far too experienced to stay at that level. He'd be an asset in here with you."
Morgan mirrored her sister, sipping from her cup, but she peered into it instead of looking the knight in the eye. "I know, he asked not to be here." She frowned, "He was scared about being a Plegian commanding the Ylissean army, how it might undermine me. I told him that I'm half Plegian anyway, but he wasn't having any of it."
It had been an open secret in their family. Robin had never talked about his homeland but he had almost certainly been raised in the desert. It had never been an issue as they grew up, they and all their friends had been taught to respect others regardless of origin, but Severa had grown to understand the wisdom in the ambiguity.
"He's not why you're still here though," the tactician stated, still eyeing her tea.
"How do you know?" was all Severa asked.
"Know what?"
"You know very well what I'm talking about. The others might not have seen it because they're too scared and tired. But I learnt the same lessons as you." Severa leaned across the table, "How do you know that you can bait Grima out?"
Morgan's hesitance was clear. Her eyes shifted as if looking for a way out, but Severa held her gaze firm. Until finally the younger girl relented.
"Let me show you."
The tactician went to a file she had on the floor. Unlike most of the tent, it was kept neatly and well labelled.
As Severa suspected when Morgan opened it, it was the historical engagements of the campaign, with maps showing the movement of units up and down the front. Morgan had the castle scribes working around the clock to replicate the same maps repeatedly. It was so she could annotate and then compare easily, as well as for this purpose. If the snowy haired girl wanted to find out about the exact state of her army from six days ago, all she had to do was go into her archives.
"Look at the enemy positions across this time period," the tactician said, gesturing to a set of maps that indicated about a week's worth of movement, "and tell me what you see."
At first Severa didn't know what she was looking at, the lineup was as she imagined it would be. A stronger push centrally but with threats at weak points on the flanks to keep the defense spread and allow high force application elsewhere.
Yes, this seemed almost exactly how she'd plan an attack, with a thrust just off center to start and, she flipped a page, a second push far on the opposite flan….
"It's the Invasion of Ylisse."
She couldn't believe her eyes even as she said the words out loud.
The poke there, the defense, Severa scanned to the south, there.
She was a child again, looking at a map. She placed units, expectantly looking up at her father for his approval. A nod, an adjustment, a question of why, or how, kept her on her toes.
"H.." the attacks were even timed in the same way, "How?"
"I only noticed when the first strike landed on the front line. How the troop array was almost exactly the same," her sister replied, dodging the question. "I got suspicious, but over the next few days I was able to confirm."
Severa half listened, still scanning the notes, the counterattack from Ylisse was picture perfect as was the adjustment from Plegia.
"Here," she said thumbing one of the more recent maps, "here you don't follow the notes." It was Morgan's response to the Plegian adjustment.
"I never liked father's positioning." the Tactician replied with a small frown on her face. "I thought that if you set the center to be stronger, you'd be better placed to hold and counterattack," Her sister indicated points just to the North and South of Centrano, "you can weaken your forces here and still sortie out from Centrano as long as your scouts are at work properly and see here.."
Morgan's variation was significant. A series of small but logical changes that led to a front that was the same on face, but unrecognisable in the detail.
"I don't know how Grima knew to attack this way. If father hadn't taught me, then we would have collapsed far earlier," she continued, peering into her cup. "But we have an advantage."
The Hand's eyes hadn't left the maps, leafing through page after page, "He's not reacting properly."
"It's a little like playing you," Morgan confirmed.
Severa nodded, Grima knew the moves, but he had struggled against Morgan's originality. It was like he'd read, memorised, a textbook, only to not understand the meaning behind it.
Just like her.
"He must have found Robin's notes in the aftermath of that first battle," Severa concluded. "He's smart, he knows how valuable they are, but he doesn't know how to adapt them."
The redhead looked up from the maps finally. "This is how you know where Grima will attack. You know he's following Robin's plan, so when he doesn't succeed, he'll have to force it."
"I still can't be sure," the white-haired girl replied. "But at this point I think we have to chance it."
"We do. Naga forgive us but we do."
Severa looked into her tea. The warm brown liquid offered no insight. They were gambling the world on a hunch and it was the best option they had.
News came on broken wings.
The morning guard spotted her first, struggling desperately to find safe harbour.
His yell of warning and surprise had brought Severa out of a breakfast conversation with Noire. A porridge with a raisin or two had accompanied their catchup, the first time they had seen each other since the campaign's start.
But Severa knew when she saw the Wyvern flailing on the horizon that her time with her sister was to be cut short.
It was a miracle that Minerva had survived her wounds, let alone flown this far. One of her wings was near broken, holes in the membrane had almost rendered flight impossible and she'd still made it.
The poor girl would never grace the skies again.
In her heart Severa knew what the absence of Minerva's rider meant. As the others gathered, Noire, Kjelle and Morgan among them, the Hand took command as the most senior person present, Lucina back in Ylisstol, trying to drum up any dregs of remaining support.
Her hands went to the exhausted wyvern's collar and as expected, a note lay inside, held in a small compartment on the inside of her neck.
Grima confirmed, figure in a purple hooded cloak. Suspected male. Magical power consistent with archives.
Surrounded, no escape.
Ask Kjelle to look after Minerva.
It was signed simply.
Gerome.
She'd killed him.
She'd given the suggestion, no, the order to send him.
And he'd died.
By now people, too many people had died under her command. But this felt, it was different.
She'd ordered a friend to his death.
He was meant to run away.
Why hadn't he run away?
"Sev you might want to keep that letter," Morgan said quietly.
The knight looked down to the crumpled paper in her hands.
Everyone was watching.
She couldn't cry.
They needed her right now.
She needed to lead.
She turned and looked to the curious crowd in front of her. A hodgepodge of soldiers, messengers, stablehands and scribes, with mismatched armour and weapons. And all proud and stalwart in the defense of their homes.
"The battalion at Talwyn pass has fallen." An uneasy murmur arose through the crowd as people shifted their feet and speculated with their neighbours. "But in doing so they have granted us information that can win this war," she raised the note to show them.
"In Ferox there is a saying," she thought back to Basilio, so long ago. She still felt that sorrow. "Do not mourn the dead but celebrate their life." She spoke up, "These heroes gave their lives to save yours. These heroes gave their lives in proud defense of their lands as any one of us would hope to do so. These heroes gave their lives for love and life. So take pride in their sacrifice and know that their bravery will make the Fel Dragon tremble!"
She was shouting.
She almost believed it herself.
There wasn't a cheer, the way Severa might have expected. Instead silence, pierced by steely resolve, until Kjelle spoke.
"Honour for the fallen!"
"Honour for the fallen!" the crowd yelled back.
"Honour for the Hand!"
"Honour for the Hand!"
"Honour for the Exalt!"
"Honour for the Exalt!"
"Honour for Ylisse!"
"Honour for Ylisse!" that started the yelling and cheering.
"Be about your duties you dolts!" Kjelle shouted a deafening volume.
With a cheer the crowd began to disperse, leaving Severa feeling quite embarrassed.
Kjelle took a position beside her, speaking quietly, "It was a good speech Sev, but most of these already know someone who's died. Simple is better when it comes to soldiers."
"This is for you," was all she could croak out, handing the battered note to the cavalier.
The short haired girl was quiet for a moment, her eyes scanning and rescanning, "Ah shit," she whispered, "that idiot, left himself to die so his beloved wyvern could get away." She didn't look away from the note, holding on to it as she read again and again. "What kind of moron dies to protect his mount?" A drop landed on the page.
Morgan and Noire were around her like a shot, trying to hug the grief away.
"Get away from me you idiots," Kjelle protested, pushing them off, "I'm made of sterner stuff than that." Finally tearing herself away from the note, Kjelle forced a smile. It was rare to see one out of the serious girl, perhaps one of triumph after a particularly tough fight, but not one like this. "You know he was the first friend I made? Our parents visited each other a lot and all he did the first time we met was talk about this ridiculous wyvern here. I knew she'd be the death of him."
She sat down by the unconscious mount as the healers treated it. "Ah Minerva, he would have been so proud of you, though. He always was, but with how brave, how stubborn you were today, I think he'd be delighted."
As the cavalier began to reminisce, a single thought was on Severa's mind.
She'd killed Kjelle's oldest friend.
And she wasn't even going to let her mourn.
Camp broke quickly, in a matter of days the last reinforcements had been transported from Ylisse and troops had been redeployed. Morgan, with Noire as her second had planned it with ruthless efficiency. Time was of the essence.
They were playing a deadly game. The third line had to be defended well enough for Grima to be provoked, strongly enough for him to believe the defense was genuine, but with enough in reserve that they would be able to strike decisively at him.
Speed would dictate their strategy. Forces holding just long enough for nearby defenses to rally to them. Hopefully enough to bait the risen into encirclements. But it would be hard.
The Tactician's preservation of Ylissean lives had been magnificent. The withdrawals at the first two stages had been organised and timely, with minor casualties at worst, apart from where the initial breakthroughs had happened. It was what gave them a chance here, even with bolstered Risen numbers from the blight, Ylisse could hold, not indefinitely, but long enough.
Severa made ready with Moonlight. Alcruna, a river trading post built on a tributary of the Withern was to be where they made their stand. Defensively it was the best that they could ask for. Bordered by a dense forest on one side that made it hard for the Risen to mass and by the water on the other, it would be the perfect town to defend and sortie from.
It was the lynchpin of the line, if Grima left it be then any force stationed there could encircle Risen that had broken through and cut them down.
Morgan was confident he would strike there and Severa had confidence in Morgan's plan.
As she saddled and stroked her steed, she looked the dark pegasus in the eye.
"When we land you're to fly back to Ylisse," she spoke. Cordelia and Sumia had always said that Pegasi were intelligent creatures, that they fought with the Ylissean cavalry not because they had been bred or trained, but because they recognised the importance and righteousness of what they were doing.
Until she met Moonlight Severa had thought it a flight of fancy. But as her pegasus nuzzled her, she knew those statements to be true.
"You have to be safe girl. If I die, I want you to live your life free of all of this. Please be safe, just for me."
Moonlight took a step back and eyed her rider with those dark, mysterious eyes, before letting out a soft whinny.
"Thank you," Severa replied, stroking her mount's nose.
"Sometimes I think you love her more than you do me." Lucina jibed as she joined her knight.
"Well, she's prettier and not quite as bullheaded," Severa returned with a grin on her face. "You're just lucky I like the colour blue."
"Very lucky." Her princess moved in, tilting the knight's head up slightly for an oh so amazing kiss.
Their secret wasn't a secret among the soldiers anymore. Not since the night that one of the messengers had walked in on them with urgent news only to find Severa half-naked and with her legs… ugh it was too embarrassing!
"You're thinking about it again," whispered Lucy as she drew away.
"Ugh you need better staff, he should have been demoted," Severa sulked.
"I promoted him actually," the blue haired girl corrected, "despite the circumstances he gave his report calmly and concisely and his service has been exemplary besides."
"You're the worst," the redhead replied with mock outrage.
"And yet?"
"I love you Lucy." Those words were still a thrill.
"Oooooh" a teasing coo came from behind them.
"Morgan?" Severa replied in surprise as the feathery haired girl approached. "I thought you'd be part of the withdrawal." The Tactician had already assigned Noire and never liked risking even two of the three strategists if she could avoid it.
Her sister shook her head. "We're all in, it doesn't make sense to hold back any cards now. I can't save this if we lose and perhaps something will happen at a more local level that I can help with."
That and she would probably obliterate more Risen with her spells than every other soldier assigned. Bolstered by Ignis, Morgan's power was terrifying.
Severa examined her sister more closely. As Grand Tactician she'd taken to wearing loose fitting clothes, opting for comfort in her tent rather than any sort of formality. But she'd clearly spent time getting ready this morning.
Her hair was neater than normal, curls in place by design than by happenstance, with white locks sitting easily on her shoulders. Her robes were a mirror of Robin's. Purple, with gold highlights along the arms and down the back.
At her belt was a heavy tome bound in red covers. Bolganone in the hands of a capable mage was horrifying. An explosion of fire bursting from the flames to cover the land in ash. In the hands of Morgan with Ignis?
Morgan claimed to only have used it once at full power. She'd nearly destroyed a hill in Southern Ylisse.
The simple presence of the book added to the tactician's aura. Morgan was ready. And proud to be fighting for Ylisse.
"If you're here who's to take command in Ylisstol?" Lucina asked, this decision seemingly having slipped her.
"MY FATED PARTNER."
Oh no.
"Ah my fated prince, I was wondering when you'd come by," Morgan responded calmly as Owain slid to a stop next to her. Owain had spent much of the war split between the armouries of Ylisstol and checking the weapon supply and maintenance across the front. It had even been said that he'd been at work at a forge once or twice himself, hammering away on some unseen trinket. He hadn't seen much fighting but wearing a long Feroxi blade on his back and clad in light, tan fatigues, the blonde-haired boy looked the model of a Northern swordmaster now.
He'd been expecting to fight.
"What is this madness! I am to retreat while you risk life and limb on my account? For one of my vaunted bloodline; this is a task I cannot accept!" His flowery language felt at odds with the obvious outrage on his face.
"It is not a heroes' duty to seek glory. It is their duty to help others my prince." Morgan replied evenly. This outburst had clearly been anticipated.
"I am no paltry hero! I am Owain the dark. My sword hand yearns for the blood of my enemies!"
"And you shall stay that hand to help those who need it."
"I..I.." Owain's eyes closed, "this is ridiculous!"
The young prince was facing the tactician one moment.
The next his lips were pressed to hers, arms tight around the snowy haired object of his affections.
"Oooooh!"
Severa couldn't help herself.
The two broke away, panting.
"Please Morgan, let me stay." Just earnest words from a man scared for the woman he loved.
"Those people need you Owain. I'll fight better knowing you're safe." Severa winced at that. The only way to keep Lucina safe now was to be at her side. She wished she could send the princess home.
"I, but I'll worry about you," his voice almost broke.
"And if you love me, that's what I ask you to bear," Morgan's calm nearly shattered.
"You don't fight fair Morgan Luna." The reply was slow, grudging.
"It's why I'm going to live."
Alcruna, nestled away as it was, took a long time to come into view. Severa was on foot, Moonlight had flown home as soon as the knight was satisfied that they didn't need a scout anymore.
Her army marched beneath the sunless sky that had graced them for months, light struggling to break through the billowing dark clouds that threatened rain and storms at a moment's notice.
Three columns began to split apart. The battle in the town itself would be fierce, with the defenses in the North and South of the city prepared to do anything to funnel Grima into the center.
Severa stood at the split, Noire and Morgan at her side.
The Plegian girl had forgone her usual archer's jerkin and trousers and instead stood garbed in the dark, translucent silks of a Plegian dark mage. Her attire, along with her figure, drew the gaze of several of the soldiers walking past, some curious about a Plegian mage in support of the army, others curious about simpler matters.
Noire wanted to show that Plegia fought Grima. That her ancestral home was filled with good people. And to an extent she wanted to be like her mother, not as tribute to the woman, but to show that she'd grown beyond the shadow that lurked over her childhood.
"Cynthia reported the Risen a week out," Noire piped up, "She's heading North now to keep the soldiers there informed. Heathe's flying South. They should link up with the remaining scouts."
"Then everything's to plan." Severa followed up.
"Now it's up to us." Morgan concluded.
Three sisters, three battles.
Morgan and Noire were positioned with the funnel teams, using their magic to prevent a flank and to convince Grima the centre was the best way through.
The Hand would be waiting.
"Be careful, both of you," she found herself saying. "We still don't know why the Risen were after us." Even now that problem nettled her. It still felt like they were missing something. "You're both worth hundreds of soldiers."
Morgan gave her a grin. "You can say you're worried about us sis, it's okay," the white-haired girl said, half mockingly.
"Well, you did for me," Severa replied, trying to maintain at least some dignity.
"I.." the Plegian girl interrupted their repartee. "I wanted to thank you, both of you," she started softly. "I didn't really have a family, or friends, but you gave me both even after I did something so terrible to both of you. I can't thank you enough."
"You idiot," Severa growled. "You never did anything to either of us. I thought you were over that lunacy but here you go spouting it again."
"But.."
"No buts!" Morgan intervened, although anger even stained her voice. "Every day we've had you as our sister has been worth it. We would take that pain a thousand times over if it gave you to us."
"I…" Tears started streaming down Noire's face. "Thank you, thank you, thank you.." it was all she could manage.
Of course, Noire crying prompted Morgan to do the same. And Severa would have felt like an moron if she didn't join in.
They hugged, they consoled, they laughed and then they departed.
They were the only family Severa had ever known.
Severa huddled in the living room of the tiny house that had been her home for a week. She could hear the battle outside.
She felt awful, the grime of days of hiding inside the same home, unable to leave had built up. Dirt built under ragged fingernails and hair filthy with dust, she felt inhuman.
It had gotten worse when she'd donned her armour at the first signs of battle. It was Golden, scales running down her chest, design to deflect even the mightiest blows accentuated with greaves of silver to protect her legs. It flared out on her left arm, sporting plates of red and gold that could act as a shield whilst leaving her gauntleted hand free. It was a beautiful piece, allowing for mobility where it shouldn't and protection where it should. A design she remembered from years ago, worn by a Feroxi Khan she'd been told to emulate.
It was also hot. Hot enough that she'd been sweating like a pig for hours now. The stench was nearly unbearable, shared as it was between her and her three other companions.
Kjelle was in a state of her own. Examining her spear, she glumly tried to pick at one of her nails with the point. She was to be the tip of their party's attack and her armour was thick enough to match, full plate, covering her from head to toe and a shield thicker than the door they hid behind. She'd balked at wearing a helmet while they waited though, she'd don that at the last second or risk suffocating.
Of course, she also looked miserable, even used to the armour as she was. A full week without washing or being able to go outside would do that to anyone.
Well, almost anyone.
Lucina and Inigo were speaking quietly in a corner, Inigo's armour a mirror of Severa's in a light blue that the redhead had come to recognise as the prince's favourite colour, with a silver base to contrast Severa's gold. Sword at his hip, he'd chose that over the Geirskögul today, saying he preferred to use the spear from horseback if possible.
He alongside her princess simply looked good today rather than the brilliant the two usually seemed to manage.
Severa looked at her split ends and grimaced. It wasn't fair sometimes.
Lucina in her favourite blue tunic and leggings seemed less well armoured. But the tunic hid a chain shirt in its lining, a miracle of sewing that was likely enchanted with some sort of magic to keep it together. Her leggings didn't hide armour, but the fabric was magical in its own way, refusing to tear when attacked directly and protecting the user as well as the thick boots that Severa had on. Falchion and oddly, a tome of Elwind were on the floor beside her, ready to be taken up at a moment's notice.
They had been put together, partially so that the Exalt was guarded by the finest soldiers available but mostly because they would be able to last a week enclosed in a small space together.
In a perfect world she would almost certainly be with another squad, commanding where required, they all would. But ultimately men not wanting to tear their friends limb from limb was prioritised over perfect squad cohesion.
All in service to the plan.
The fighting was close now. The silhouettes of defenders running back through the streets crossed the single window facing outwards.
A man fell, he shouted in pain.
"Help!"
Lucina was to her feet immediately making for the door, only for Severa to tug her to the ground.
The Exalt struggled, "Let me go! He needs us!"
"The Tactician has given us orders, we have to wait for the signal," the knight whispered fiercely into her princess' ear.
The first silhouettes marching with the tell-tale stagger of Risen came into view.
"Naga, someone please help!"
"I am the Exalt, I command you to let go!" Lucina kept flailing, trying to wrest herself free.
"And I am your Hand and I am disobeying that command."
"Plea.." the voice faded as the Risen fell upon him with tearing claws and stabbing spears.
Lucina's resistance died.
Severa let go.
She'd killed another one. He'd died because of her.
"He died for you Lucy. He died so you have a chance." Inigo crawled next to his sister, "Ylisse needs this to work. Life itself needs this to work."
The blue haired girl blinked and rubbed tears away from her eyes. Her breathing slowed. She composed herself.
"That was the right call Sev," she said finally.
"I know." Severa hated that it was.
The Risen were outside in force now. The sound as bolts of lightning crackled through the air, of their weapons clanging against the cobblestones of the street were enough to drown out any voices nearby.
But if just one thought to investigate the seemingly empty buildings beside them.
If just one looked in through the window.
A horn sounded.
Its note was high but clear.
The four companions froze and waited.
It sounded again.
They scrambled to their feet, drawing weapons. Kjelle hurriedly took up her helmet, readied her shield and faced the door as the room slowly brightened, Falchion glowing in Lucina's hands.
One more time, the horn sounded. That clean echoing tone carrying through the city.
With a roar Kjelle charged.
The door burst outwards under the weight and splinters flew into the ranks of the Risen as they were knocked back by the sheer power of Kjelle's assault.
The Exalt, the Prince and the Hand followed after, a storm of swords cutting down the enemies displaced by Kjelle's thrust.
Across the entire street bands burst out of homes, catchpoles emerged from basements and archers appeared at balconies.
The Risen had nearly no time to react. They died by the hundreds as they turned to face blades that were already slicing through them.
The screeches of shock and outrage from the undead as they tried to fight echoed everywhere in the city.
Thousands upon thousands of Ylisse's best, hidden away for more than a week in a town just so that Risen scouts would miscount their numbers. A defensive force specifically weaker in the centre, where they should have been strongest to bait the Risen in.
It was a masterstroke.
Severa's sword worked a lightning pace as she fought outward into the masses. She only deflected the most critical attacks, allowing her armour to do the work of defense, opting to kill a Risen over deflecting a graze.
The monsters couldn't keep up, slowly the street began to fill with bodies. Some Ylisseans fell, surprised by the ferocity of a warrior they thought finished, or simply unlucky, tripping where they shouldn't have, crashing into allies that were meant to be farther away.
But they were winning.
The only problem was that the Risen refused to retreat, to admit their doom. They held, longer than any humans ever would have, continuing to fight, savagely defending their ground.
More and more Ylisseans surrounded the remainders, poking, piercing with spears, ripping tendons with halberds, trying to clear the street so that they could face a new. Bunched close, the began to form ranks as their training had told them, so that more spears could get in range. It was brutal, it..
Oh shit.
Severa felt the presence before anything happened.
"GET DOWN"
Bodily she dragged Lucina to the floor as a light came close to blinding her.
The deafening crack that came next heralded a bolt of lightning that tore down the street, jumping from soldier to soldier unfortunate enough to still be standing.
The Risen weren't spared its ire, the remainders falling dead instantly as it struck them, burning what remained of their lives to oblivion along with the brave soldiers that had fought them.
It chained along, far farther than it had any right to. They died by their hundreds until finally the bolt impacted a house, setting it ablaze.
Severa blinked her vision clear as she peeked up from her position. But she wouldn't have needed to. She could feel him like the sun on a warm day, she could have pointed to him even if she were halfway around the earth.
A small retinue of Risen as his guard of honour, the hooded figure of Grima stood, silhouetted against a flaming town.
A peal of thunder rumbled through the air as rain began to fall, first a trickle, then a downpour, the clouds that had been threatening their assault finally deciding to make their move.
Slowly Severa rose to her knees, a sense of relief washing over her as her princess did the same. Kjelle and Inigo groggily emerged from a cart they'd managed to shelter behind.
The remainders of their soldiers were in disarray. Some desperately trying to search for weapons, others weeping over the bodies of comrades that been struck dead where they stood.
Grima watched, making no move to attack again.
They moved behind a nearby wall to take cover from any followup. "Inigo, Kjelle, you need to rally whatever we've got left here, more Risen will be coming soon, we need them ready. Keep behind builds and out of Grima's line of sight." Severa's orders were quick, but the best she could come up with. "Lucy you're with me. We have to break through those Risen and get to Grima."
Lucina looked at her, eyes filled with an unspoken trust, but she still voiced her concern. "How will we deal with his guards and that magical power?"
"We fight through the Risen. And as for the magic, if we're close, I think he might struggle to unleash an attack that big and anything short of that is something I can counter," she might be able to counter, she hoped.
If Lucina's face was filled with faith, then Inigo's was painted with fear, "But Morgan commanded us to stay with the Exalt no matter what, that we had to fight Grima all together." He ran a hand through his hair, "She told me not to leave you."
"No buts Inigo, this is the way we win."
"But Severa," Kjelle interjected.
"I AM THE HAND OF THE EXALT" the knight shouted. "You will obey me!"
Kjelle and Inigo's mouths closed, they glanced at Lucina, hoping that she might overrule.
"Do as she commands," was all the blue haired girl said, before darting out from behind the wall and moving through the city.
"Live you two, no matter what, live," Severa told the pair, following her princess without a second thought.
The duo crept through the town towards Grima, dashing from house to house, doing as much as they could to keep hidden from wandering Risen.
Her armour made it a little difficult, but the din of the battle elsewhere was enough to prevent any true scares. The pouring rain gave its own aid, drowning out what little sound was left with the fall of raindrops.
Grima was easy enough to keep track of, walking down the street to their old position. There wasn't any urgency to his movement, as if he didn't feel he was under any real threat, but every so often the tell-tale boom of a Thoron bolt could be heard from his direction. None quite as devastating as his first, but enough to pick off anyone unlucky enough to come into his view.
Lucina had the lead, choosing what she perceived to be the safest path to Grima and Severa was happy to follow. The redhead was still trying to make sense of how she seemed to be able to feel out where the Fel Dragon was. She didn't know why but she felt like she could identify his position better than she could feel her own toes.
Steadily they progressed, until they found themselves hidden in the remains of a shed, with a pack of Risen the only obstacle between them and their goal.
Grima's guardsmen were outfitted better than the Risen she'd seen before; most wore armour and they all had weapons instead of relying on claws and brute strength as many of the others had. They seemed more aware too, with alert reactions from each of them, responding to a bit of movement here, or a suspicious sound there.
Severa calmed herself.
They were just another band of soldiers.
She would defeat them.
There were a lot of them though…
Lucina looked over to the knight, eyes searching for confirmation that now was the time to act.
The redhead took a breath, then another before raising her hand, fingers outstretched.
Five
Four
Three
Two
One.
Lucina whirled out from the building first, Severa close behind.
The Risen reacted immediately, readying their weapons. Grima seemed disinterested, head inclining slightly as he regarded them from beneath his cloak.
The two crashed into the front line, Falchion batting away readied spears, the knight's sword sinking into dead flesh.
Severa had preferred single combat in her training, but this was an exception. There was no remorse to feel over the pain she caused these things, they were the perfect targets for the bloody, hacking techniques she'd learned for facing a crowd.
Her sword flickered, cleaving hands and heads, stabbing eyes and shattering knees as the back line of Risen tried to fill the gaps.
It was said that Lucina's father, Chrom, had been able to destroy training dummies, even stone walls with his raw power, but the knight had never seen that sheer force from her princess.
Now Lucina corrected that perception.
The Exalt powered through, Falchion smashing through upraised shields and shattering swords that were meant to be stronger.
The redhead caught not just the glow of the holy blade, but one that seemed to surround Lucina herself. It almost stung.
Her princess was a force, one unlike any she'd ever seen. For every monster she defeated the blue haired girl tore through two or three. Strikes aimed to disarm or deflect ripped limbs away.
And her instincts, Severa had always felt able to feel the battlefield, to know her terrain. But Lucina's command was beyond even that. Where Severa hopped past obstacles, the Exalt found new weapons.
A bucket was kicked into the eyes of one of their opponents, Elwind took a plank out of the path of her feet and into her unsuspecting enemies.
The piercing, almost painful radiance around Lucina seemed to intensify with each step she took and in turn her speed and strength seemed to increase with each member of the undead that died.
The day Gregor had humbled them had been the worst defeat of Severa's life, but she doubted even the master himself would stand against the princess as she was now. Severa didn't think anything could stand against the Exalt.
Instead she simply tried to keep up.
Together they danced, as elegantly as they had in the halls of Ylisstol castle, but this was a dance of death. Borne from not simply years of training together, but years of trust and love, they fought with a synchronisation that was unmatched.
Severa angled her head so that Falchion could stab into a Risen in front of her.
Lucina ducked as the tome at Severa's side unhooked itself and opened to the right page, a bolt of Thoron blasting the Risen line.
An archer tried to shoot at them only to find that Lucina's wind magic had taken its arrow into a Risen in Severa's grasp.
Severa was in Ferox, learning to dance with her princess for the first time. Their synchronisation, their incredible chemistry marvelling the adults. Chrom looked on approvingly as she leaned back to allow Lucina to smash a Risen's face. Olivia and her mother spoke quietly, with smiles on their faces as the Exalt tripped a swordsman into Severa's blade. Feroxi boys marvelled at the two beauties sending Risen back to their graves.
The Crashing Wave took a Risen at its waist, Lucina's sword fell in the middle of its head, cleaving straight through the body.
The princess had to have been five foot in the air when she started that. How?
Quartered, the monster fell apart, bits falling to the ground with sickening thuds.
There were none left.
All that remained were the knight, her princess and Grima.
He hadn't made a move to help his minions. She'd never had to counter any spells. He'd simply watched from the darkness of his hood, an eerily familiar shade of purple hiding his face.
Then he laughed.
It was the laughter of maggots on rotten meat, the laughter of flies on a corpse.
Severa's skin crawled.
"Aaah the little Exalt has come to play, wielding the same toothpick as her father." The smug confidence oozed off his oddly familiar tone.
"The last time you faced this 'toothpick' it banished you for a thousand years, monster," Lucina shouted, brandishing the Falchion, tensed for an attack at any moment.
"No, I believe the last time I faced that toothpick, it was in the hands of dear old Chrom as he died. You know you're not half the leader your father was and I finished him with ease."
Severa looked at her princess, who gave away little, but the slight tense in her hands made it clear that Grima had hit home.
"And you," Grima let out a rancid chuckle as he regarded Severa, "I wondered which one of you I sensed."
Which one of who?
No.
No…
Grima lowered hood she remembered.
"My daughter."
Her father looked at her.
The shock of white hair was the same, the wrinkles around his eyes, the casual, arrogant, stance. But his weighing dark irises had been replaced with ones of a mad red.
And then his other eyes opened. Two pairs on each cheek blinked in unison, each burning red with his insanity.
She didn't drop her blade in shock.
She didn't step back or scream.
Instead, she took a breath and looked at him, dead in the eyes.
He would have been proud.
"Guarding the young Exalt to the end, just as I taught you. I couldn't be more pleased," he said, giving her a rictus grin.
"No greeting for your father?" he said as she stayed silent. "No hug for daddy?" another sickening chuckle. "Well, no matter. You'll be mine in the end."
Severa trembled with rage.
Lucina's voice was tinged with shock and worry, "Sev, he's not your father. Whatever's taken him, it's not Robin any more."
She was wrong.
A man so wracked by guilt that he tortured those he loved to assuage his conscience.
A man so scared of losing control that he took freedom from everyone around him.
A man who would destroy the world so that he would never lose anyone again.
This was her father.
A man cruel enough to take his daughter's love away.
This was the father that she had always known.
With a cry she charged, tears dripping off her face with the momentum of her attack.
Grima casually dodged the first swing, "So impatient. At least take time to savour our reunion."
Her backswing went wide as he hopped backwards again. "That was closer, better."
Then she used Ignis.
The Viper Strikes lanced at his neck at double the pace of her last attack, a thin sheen of blue flame coating her blade.
Red eyes widened in astonishment as he tried to dodge away again.
Blood spattered as a gash opened on the Fel Dragon's cheek.
For a moment, fury overcame that conceited certainty in his expression.
"That was good," he rubbed the wound on his cheek, sucking the blood off his thumb.
Severa didn't wait for him to continue, jumping into another attack.
This time she feinted and a hand thrust at her.
She felt the wind on her skin from the inhuman power of the blow even as it flew wide of the mark.
Her sword flashed her riposte, The Tiger's Claw, swinging to his left.
Her father turned into the arc, trying to close, as she felt a swell in his magical power.
She fell to her knees as a hand flew above her face, lightning blasting out into the distance.
Aware of the danger of his miss, the Fel Dragon stomped at her, the knight barely avoiding the heel of the old tactician's boot as it came down and shattered the stone beneath it. He tried to reset, to compose himself once again.
She would not give him that space.
Engaging again, sword and magic met fists and unholy strength. A blue flame began to engulf Grima, his strikes gained power, his attacks speed beyond that of a normal human. Claw marks appeared on the walls behind her with each strike she avoided, entire streets were scorched as bolts of Thoron flew just wide of their mark.
"This is my power," her father had once told her. Now she knew the truth of those words as Robin showed control over Ignis that she'd only dreamt of.
Under the weight of such intensity, Severa was left with but one option: calling upon the horrifying strength within her. She sank deeper under the burning waves, the terrible ecstasy tempting her further into its thrall. Strikes became faster, stronger. Her reactions sharper, quicker.
As the fires burnt her life away, she felt more alive. It was if a veil had been lifted from her eyes as if she was seeing the world in its entirety for the first time. The smell of the rain, the sound of Lucina's heart, the sight of Grima's blood flowing from his cut.
She plunged into the rapturous pain that was Ignis because even as it killed her, her life depended on it.
They fought; she didn't know for how long.
She took the words from him first, as his snide comments slipped away.
Then she took his smug expression as it transformed first into a look of anger, then one of concentration.
Then she took a piece of his ear.
"You precocious piece of trash!" He screamed, thrusting his arm at her from distance.
There was no swell of magic.
No giveaway about what would happen.
But she had been forged into a weapon.
He had been the one who forged her.
She leapt; power enhanced by the sickly-sweet strength of Ignis.
Onyx spikes, dark as the abyss sprouted from the ground beneath her.
She landed safely to their side.
"How!" the Fel Dragon shouted in fear and disbelief.
Her mother had trained her in how to fight every opponent.
Even him.
Especially him.
Again his hand thrust out and again, the spikes burst forth, stabbing the air that she had once occupied.
A burst of magic pulsed as he tried to strike with lightning only to find her too close to release it.
Each time a hand thrust.
Each time she broke away.
Until the Fel Dragon thrust his claws again.
And with a burst of blue fire she took the arm from his shoulder.
"AARGGGH" A howl of pure outrage as his left hand flopped uselessly to the floor.
The knight jumped backwards, knowing the counterattack would come.
A burst of cutting wind sent her flying, but she rotated, landing with a backwards roll and coming up sword drawn.
Severa's vision flickered; her head ached. Ignis had taken its toll.
Her princess dashed into view, kneeling beside her.
"Sev that was incredible."
The knight's vision flickered again, her head throbbed. Had she clipped herself on the roll?
Grima was kneeling himself, right hand clutching at the stump that had once been his left arm, a desperate attempt to stop the blood drenching the wet stone beneath him.
"I can take him from here," her princess' voice told her as she tried to blink away the shadows in her eyes.
The Falchion began to glow with that infuriating, painful light.
"He'll never hurt us again."
The Exalt stood, stepping in front of her Hand, ready to bring light to the darkness.
A sword appeared in Lucina's chest.
The Exalt looked down, stunned.
Severa's hand pulled her blade free.
Lucina collapsed into her arms.
Her princess raised a hand to the knight's cheek.
The only emotion in her beautiful blue eyes, love.
"This is not your..
your fault..
Promise me..
you'll finish this..
I lo.."
The light died in those beautiful eyes.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH"
Severa screamed.
She howled until there was no air in her lungs.
She cried until there were no tears in her eyes.
Until there was nothing left in her.
Nothing except a laughter that was not her own.
Notes
This story was inspired by someone very close to me playing Awakening for the first time and commenting on how much they loved how dedicated Chrom was to Robin.
The ending of this chapter is what I envision after that and it's taken three years in my head and ten months of writing, but the story is finally here.
I hope this isn't too much for some people and you can still enjoy what's left.
Reviews
Guest: Thanks for the kind words and I hope this chapter lived up to your expectations!
