Memory: To Change Fate
Moonlight shone through the window, casting the faint image of the cabin she could see through squinted eyes in an ethereal light. The ship's bowels creaked and groaned, as though it too dreaded their destination.
She couldn't sleep.
Lucina supposed this shouldn't have come as a surprise. The end was nearly upon them. At long last.
When next the sun set, Grima would be returned to slumber.
With a sigh, Lucina swung her legs over the edge of the bunk and began to dress herself. A quick midnight patrol to calm her nerves. That was all.
Fastening Falchion's sheath to her belt, she cast her gaze over the moonlit cabin one last time before the door clicked shut.
To her not entirely surprised notice, she was not the only one having trouble sleeping. A dark figure stood at the bow of the ship, cloak masking his features from sight.
The figure tilted his head back, stark white hair and bloodshot brown eyes visible beneath his hood.
"Hey, Lucina," Robin called, raising his hand in a slight wave. "Guess I'm not the only one who can't sleep."
Lucina stood there for a silent moment, and Robin looked as though he were grasping for something else to say. "I suppose not," she finally answered, bootsteps falling lightly upon the deck as she walked to join him.
Here, she could see what he'd been watching. Origin Peak rose from the sea far in the distance—little more than a pinprick for now, but betrayed by the blackened smoke rising from its maw.
"He's waiting for us," Robin said, gloved hands tightening on the deck's rail. "Up there, above the cloud cover. I can feel him."
An abject chill crept across Lucina's neck. She stifled the urge to lay her hand on Falchion's hilt, choosing to grit her teeth instead.
She shook her head. "Why doesn't he attack us now? Burn our ship to the water while we sleep, vanquish any hope of mounting an attack?"
Robin frowned. "Pride, I think. He doesn't think we stand a chance. The fact that we're trying at all amuses him.
He blinked. His next words were not mere musings, but spoken with chilling certainty.
"He wants to kill our hopes at their highest."
Lucina's gaze returned to the sea. "You would know."
Robin nodded after a moment. "Yeah."
Suddenly, his voice came not from her side, but behind her. "Listen, Lucina—"
Lucina's heart leaped to her throat. She pivoted on her heel in an instant, hand falling to Falchion's hilt. "Do not—"
"Sorry," Robin said hastily, raising his hands as he stumbled back. "I— pace when I'm nervous— sorry." He coughed. "Sorry."
Allowing herself to exhale, Lucina eased her grip. Robin didn't meet her gaze, and she had no desire to linger on the moment.
Waves lapped against the hull idly. The sky began to lighten just-so—dawn would break before long.
The minutes passed in stark silence.
Robin leaned forward on the rail, drawing her gaze to him. "Lucina."
She tilted her head in acknowledgment.
"If you could…" he trailed off. "No, that's not— alright." He took a breath. "What if you were given the choice to save Ylisse. Instantaneously."
Lucina stared blankly. "What manner of choice is that?"
"At the cost of your life," Robin finished. "A sacrifice. Er—" he quickly raised a hand, stifling her response. "Don't answer that."
She continued to watch him as dawning realization crept in. "This is not a hypothetical question."
Robin laughed lightly. "Always forget you're quick on the uptake. Chrom never is, so—"
He caught the look on her face and stopped talking. "Right. The point. Or rather, not— the Awakening wasn't a waste of time, actually. We knew Naga would bestow her power, but I didn't expect her to stick around. Bet Falchion cuts up Risen even better, too."
"Robin," Lucina interrupted. "What are you saying?"
"I'm trying to say," he bit back, hands tightening on the rail. "Sorry. I'm Grima."
Lucina froze, then immediately devoted her efforts towards not throwing him overboard. "You're sleep-deprived."
Robin shook his head. "No. Well, yes, I am. But no, it's like you said. Naga, too. He has to kill himself."
Her eyes widened. It clicked.
"Robin—"
"I'm going to kill Grima," he said, eyes on the clouds. "Tomorrow. I'm going to kill Grima."
An emotion swept over Lucina, or perhaps several—she couldn't put names to them, and didn't know what would happen if she tried.
Instead, she asked. "Why would you tell me?"
"I tried to tell Chrom," Robin explained. "I lied. Promised him I wouldn't do it. But you," he turned towards her. "You know why this has to be done."
For the briefest moment, she allowed herself to picture it. No longer would the world's fate be chained to the awakening of the fell dragon. Never again would its people suffer beneath the shadow of despair. Grima would be dead for eternity.
The nightmare would be over.
Lucina's voice came in a whisper.
"How?"
"I need to strike the final blow," Robin said. "The dragon or the vessel, but—"
"The vessel will be easier," she finished. "The dragon's scales are too thick."
"Agreed, so—" Robin paused, a note of surprise creeping into his voice. "You'll help?"
Lucina's gaze, too, returned to the skies—and the hint of starlight beyond.
"It was never a question."
"Finally… it ends."
The witch Aversa fell to the ground, unmoving. Robin stood over her, lightning still crackling in his palm.
With his back to her, Lucina couldn't see his face. He only lingered a moment longer, tearing his gaze away from the woman's corpse.
With her death, the last of the Risen defensive dissipated—crumbling to ash to join that which caked the volcano's slopes. It took only another breath as she sheathed Falchion for Lucina to recognize what that meant—this army had been bound to Aversa's lifeforce. The fell dragon's true forces still awaited them.
"Is everyone alright?" Chrom called, his resplendent silver armor splattered with black. Murmurs of assent echoed across the battlefield as the Shepherds fell into their usual post-combat routines.
"You alright, Luce?" a familiar voice greeted. She turned to meet Severa's gaze, her blade equally blackened from tearing through Risen.
"Fine," Lucina replied, giving herself a once-over. She frowned at the seared gash along one side of her torso. It was light, but she'd been a moment too slow evading a bolt of Thorn.
"Well, you don't look fine," Severa helpfully pointed out.
"Ah," Lucina murmured. Reaching for her belt, her hand closed on empty air.
"Here, take mine," Severa said, offering her a vial of vulnerary.
She accepted with a grateful nod, tipping the contents into her mouth. "Much appreciated, Severa."
"Don't thank me," Severa admonished with a scowl. "Just get yourself healed without me having to come over and bug you, alright?"
Seemingly satisfied, Severa stalked off back into the thick of the Shepherds. Indeed, it seemed they'd all been fortunate enough to avoid serious wounds—the healers were occupied only by minor injuries. She spotted her father turn to Robin's side, and the two began to converse in low voices.
Lucina tilted her head at another's approach—eyes softening at the familiar sight of her mother.
Aversa's pegasus had survived the fight, kneeling at their mistress's side as though in solidarity. Sumia approached them slowly, lance stowed and arms spread placatingly.
"Easy there girl," she murmured, boots crunching against the ash. "We're not going to hurt you."
Suddenly, the pegasus reared—braying and spreading her wings as she shot into the smoke-choked skies. Sumia's soothing smile collapsed, gaze tracking the pegasus's ascent.
A heartbeat later, the source of her fear was made clear. An ear-splitting roar thundered from the heavens, sweeping across the earth like a tangible force. The Shepherds braced themselves around her, clutching their ears or digging their blades into the ground. Lucina gripped her cloak in one hand, shielding her face with the other.
"What was that?!" Lissa yelped from somewhere not far behind.
Pulling her hand away, Lucina turned her gaze skyward, heart frozen in her chest. "The dragon's call!"
Lightning flashed through the sky, heralding the demon as though it sundered the heavens themselves with its arrival.
For the first time since the Dragon's Table, Lucina's gaze fell upon Grima's true form once more.
It seemed even larger than she recalled, if such a thing were possible. Each fang rivaled the size of the mountain's peak, the space between them great enough for a man to walk through. Its curved horns cut through the clouds like blades, each beat of its six wings stirring the winds into a maelstrom. The demon's crimson eyes narrowed—first on the Shepherds far below, then…
On the pegasus, desperately fleeing the scene.
With reflexes hauntingly fast for a creature so bogglingly gargantuan, Grima's jaws snapped shut around the pinprick of black against the horizon that was the pegasus.
Lucina pulled Falchion free of its sheath, and she could swear that the monster's eyes tracked the movement. "Grima!"
Exalted Falchion joined it soon after, cutting through the darkness with its golden glow. Chrom's voice carried over the army, a rallying cry. "We can defeat him!"
"Milord, how does a man challenge a mountain?" Frederick exclaimed, eyes locked on the dragon. "Where would one even strike?!"
Suddenly, Exalted Falchion's glow shifted—no longer gold, but azure blue. Naga's ethereal form coiled around the length of the blade—a serpentine manifestation of the dragon she'd seen on books and emblems since she was a child.
"The fell dragon has a weakness on the nape of his neck," she murmured, her voice seeming to echo from the blade and Lucina's own mind simultaneously. "But that weakness will be guarded by his servants. I can send you onto the dragon's back, but the rest is in your hands."
Robin, who had been strangely silent until now, bowed his head. Lucina didn't miss the way he rubbed his branded hand. "Chrom," he murmured in a low voice. "Remember the plan. And the contingency plans."
"Right," he replied. "Er, any one in particular?"
Robin glanced her way briefly, then turned his eyes to the sky. "That depends on him."
Chrom nodded, then turned back to Falchion, holding it before him like a blazing torch. "Then please, milady, and quickly! We would ask no more of you."
Naga vanished, the blade's light returning to its usual gleam. Lucina could feel her energy now slowly enveloping their forces—a soothing warmth, alike what she'd felt on Mount Prism.
"Everyone!" Chrom called, casting his gaze over the Shepherds. "Gird yourselves! One way or another this ends here!"
A blinding flash of light emanated from his blade, and for a moment the world was still.
In the next, the world roared.
Raging winds whipped across her face and screamed in her ears. They were here, they were high—just above the upper roof of the cloud cover. If she looked closely, she could likely see the sea far below.
Lucina resolved to not look down.
The Shepherds stood in formation atop Grima's back, each blackened scale several feet in diameter. The dragon's ancient armor was worn and weathered—pockmarked with scars that mercifully made for better footing.
"Oh!" a voice exclaimed. It carried over the winds unnaturally, its sickening resonance digging into Lucina's ears like teeth. "The vaunted Shepherds of Ylisse. How kind of you to join me…"
Perhaps fifty yards ahead, a shrouded figure stood at the nape of the dragon's neck. Rings of fiery light swirled around him, and suddenly he was here—mere steps away from her and the rest of the front line. The demon hovered inches off the ground, arms crossed almost casually. The hood of a familiar cloak slipped free in the wind, the crimson eyes beneath it blazing like blood.
"…to watch your world burn."
Her father's azure gaze shone back. "No, Grima. We've come to—!"
Lucina's breath seized in her throat.
Grima's hand twitched.
"Expiration."
Spikes of violet light sprung from the dragon's back—a sea of night that the Shepherds broke upon. Lucina collapsed to her knees, stifled breath stolen, fell magic roaring through her veins, her blood screaming at the contact. Her mind began to white out—the pleasantly natural pain of her teeth digging into her lip all that kept her grounded in reality.
As quickly as it began, it was over. The spell did not leave physical wounds—their blood was not coating the dragon's scales, but as the darkness receded and Lucina wrenched her gaze upward, the Shepherds lay collapsed around her.
The words repeated in her mind. It was over.
The future is upon us.
"What?" Chrom choked, struggling to remain on his hands and knees. "What manner of magic…"
"Magic?" Basilio forced out, a wry laugh in the word's wake. "That was a damned catastrophe."
Oh, gods. Lucina struggled to plant Falchion into the groove of a scale, the blade sliding against its surface feebly.
"And so it ends, Robin," the Fell Dragon decreed. "See how frail these human bonds of yours are? How short-lived? How pointless?" He spread his arms forward. Several of the Shepherds began to rise, but it seemed to take all their strength. Whatever fell magic Grima had utilized, it had taken a greater toll upon her—Father as well, who rose to his feet only with Frederick's aid.
Grima's eyes shone with self-righteous amusement. "You have all thrown your lives away, and the result is the same!"
Robin, on the other hand, had never fallen in the first place—he stood—battered, but standing. "We're not dead yet!"
"Details, details." Grima sighed with the same inane disappointment one might show towards a food they disliked. "But yes, I suppose it's time I got you all off my back, so to speak—permanently."
"No—"
"No," Grima agreed, lowering himself to the ground. "You don't want that, do you?
Leering, he took a step closer to the tactician. "You do have a choice, you know…"
At last, the blade found hold—slipping into a deeper gouge in the scale. Lucina staggered to her feet, pressing her weight into Falchion's hilt. Grima's expression flickered, but mercifully his attention remained on the words he now shared with Robin.
"…Become one with me, and we shall spare their lives…"
"You really must believe you're playing me for a fool," Robin murmured, his voice cutting through the haze of her concentration. His expression hardened. "You'd kill them all either way."
Grima chuckled under his breath in veiled disappointment. "Well of COURSE I would. I only thought you might want to leave your comrades with a heroic, selfless image." He shrugged. "But so be it. Leave them with the final memory that you were their undoing!"
Grima flicked his wrist, and a sickening black rift tore open beneath Robin's feat—devoid of light, crimson magic arcing across its surface.
Robin spun back, eyes meeting Lucina's.
He gave her the briefest of nods, one she only barely returned.
"Robin!" Chrom shouted, nearly shoving Frederick to the ground even in his weakened state.
But the rift, and Robin, were gone.
Lucina braced herself, expecting the end to come at any moment.
It didn't. Grima remained, but he was unmoving, his eyes shut. It seemed his attention was elsewhere.
Taking the only opportunity she knew she'd have, Lucina staggered to Chrom's side.
"Father," she breathed, reaching out.
"Lucina," he sighed in relief. "Thank gods. Are you—?"
His brow furrowed. "What are you doing?"
"Trust me, Father," she murmured. "Please."
He appeared prepared to protest, but a hacking cough seemed to remind him he was in little state to do so. Silently, he nodded.
Divine Dragon Naga, Lucina prayed in her mind as she turned from him and pressed forward. Though your true daughter I am not…
Grant me the power to save this world.
Grant me the fire to do what I must.
Grima stood before her, his attention mercifully elsewhere—murmured words on his lips unspoken.
Please.
Hilt clutched in her right hand, she brought Falchion down like an executioner's axe.
"Lucina Lowell," Grima hissed, eyes flinging open in a split-second. He effortlessly caught Falchion's blade in one hand, blood dripping down his palm. "The once-future Exalt. A rematch, then? But I'm afraid I've a prior engagement at present, and lest I remind you," and the very world seemed to rumble with his words, "I cannot die."
Lucina spat blood. "Nor can hope."
The Fell Dragon's expression flickered, struck with realization a fraction of a second too late.
Swinging out with her left hand from behind her back, Lucina drove Exalted Falchion into Grima's stomach.
The blade surged with Naga's radiance, a divine spearhead of force and fire that sent Grima flying head-over-heels through the air. The air flickered, and suddenly Robin was there—exactly where he'd vanished, gasping for breath. "Now!"
With the last of her strength, Lucina threw her father's blade. It spun through the air, and as he caught it high above his head Naga true form manifested over the Shepherds once more.
"Children of man, take my power!" she roared. "Rise now, and face the Fell Dragon!"
The full force of Naga's light washed over the Shepherds one last time. Their strength was restored in an instant, traces of wounds even battles-old banished to memory. Lucina, spent but a moment before, felt better-rested than she had in years.
Grima rose to his feet, violet flames bleeding from the wound carved into his flesh. "WRETCHED NAGA!" he seethed, his rage washing over them like hate given form. His ear-splitting screech rose even over the howling winds, dragon and vessel roaring as one. "I WILL RELISH YOUR DESTRUCTION, SOON AFTER THAT OF YOUR ABHORRENT SPAWN!"
The scars carved into Grima's scales began to glow with a fell light—not scars, she realized.
Sigils.
And from them Grima's armies sprung forth, endless droves of Risen howling their master's fury.
Compared to the terror thrumming through her heart, the familiar ebb and flow of combating Risen was almost a comfort. Grima's final army may have been smarter, may have wielded sturdier shields and stronger spells, but Lucina had been fighting for her life nearly as long as she'd lived it. She had faced Deadlords and emerged victorious. This was… strangely normal.
Though these thoughts rushed through her mind she did not allow their distraction to take hold, not as Falchion split a sniper in two in one stroke, and not as it sundered the shield of a great knight in the next. This was it. Their final battle. The wind was at her back, family and friends at her side.
A gust distinct from the symbolic wind whistled in her ears, and she leaped to the side just as a falcon knight soared overhead—its lance splitting through where she'd stood a moment before. She tracked it through the skies, attempted to strike back when it made another pass—but it pulled up too fast, Falchion swinging through thin air as it continued to circle her like a carrion crow.
"Hey, flyboy! Eyes on me!" a voice rang through the air. Another pegasus knight descended from the heavens, piercing the Risen rider on her lance and sending its mount careening through the clouds below. "Looking good, sis!" Cynthia shouted over her shoulder before dashing back into the fray.
"Thank you!" Lucina called after her. She swiveled back in an instant, Falchion piercing with ease through the assassin that had attempted to sneak up on her. Attention now shifted behind, she spied familiar faces battling a fearsome foe that brought her resolve to waver—a Dracul.
Lucina had yet to see one since crossing into the past, and they had been a rarity even in her own time—a relic of an age long past. Several feet taller than the man it must have once been, the terror wielded strength even beyond its lesser Revenant and Entombed cousins. It swept out with one gangly arm, forcing Severa and Inigo to dodge back. Owain, slashing gouges into its side, was caught off-guard when its other arm shot out lightning-quick, hoisting him into the air with a bony hand.
"Owain!" Inigo shouted.
"Cut the arm!" Owain begged, struggling to maintain hold of his sword. "Cut the arm!"
"Allow me!" Lucina called, dashing into the fray. Falchion's descent was heralded with a great swathe of golden light, and the Entombed staggered back in pain as its right arm was severed at the elbow.
"I've had enough of this guy!" Severa exclaimed, leaping at it from behind. Her blade found purchase deep in the square of the Dracul's back, and it tore through the monster all the way as she slid back down. With a final baleful cry, the Dracul erupted into ash and mist, its titanic form scattering to the wind.
"Severa!" Owain called, rushing to her side. "Er," he stammered as she met his gaze. "Thank you."
Her stare continued for a split-second before her face broke into a grin. "You're welcome! Nice to get some appreciation around here!"
"For the record, Sev," Inigo began. "You really did perform admirably—"
Her smile vanished in an instant. "You have Risen to kill, Inigo."
"Right," he quickly agreed with a nod. "For the last time, hopefully."
"Indeed," Lucina murmured. She took the opportunity of the brief lull to reassess her surroundings. They'd pressed towards the dragon's neck in a defensive formation, fending off attacks from all sides. In doubling back to aid in the Dracul's defeat, she'd slipped from the front lines into the force's well-protected heart. Flashes of blazing blue and arcing gold betrayed the presence of Robin and Father ahead, just out of sight.
They were nearly there. Time to go.
"I must return to the front," she said, looking between her friends. "Our bonds give us strength."
The three echoed their old greeting. Lucina could swear Inigo's grin was one of nostalgia. "Our bonds give us strength."
With a final nod she turned, pushing through the throng of battle. Several moments and dispatched Risen later, she was clear. Chrom, Robin, and Sumia fought at the head of their formation, facing off against the fell dragon's elite guard. Father's strength was that of a dozen men, Exalted Falchion cleaving through entire ranks of Risen the moment they arrived. Robin unleashed primordial fire and lightning effortlessly, cutting their path forward. Sumia defended the rear, skewering threats from the sky and dashing in atop her pegasus, healing staff at the ready.
They made an effective team, to be sure, but a fragile one. The core of the Shepherds' strategy had always operated through pairs of two—a design she now knew originated from Robin. It was the same dilemma she had witnessed with the Dracul—it is far easier to cover only a single partner's back. Three fighting in tandem may have been more effective on paper, but opened the door to blindspots in practice. A ballista of glass.
She needed to get there now.
Father cut down another of the Risen generals, its plated shell slipping to the ground and rolling off the side of the dragon's back. He glanced to his side—with Sumia covering his back, Robin had been caught off-guard by a berserker, drawing his Levin sword to defend himself in close quarters. Sumia noticed a moment later, diving forward to fill the gap, but then…
Lucina saw the rings of magic manifest as if in slow motion
They were yellow, the shade of a dying sun.
"Behind you, Chrom!" Robin's voice called.
Yet as he spun back, instinctively, it was not Robin who was waiting for him.
"FATHER!" Lucina screamed.
"I figured that trick would only work once," Grima murmured, lightning crackling between his fingertips. "I suppose you could say I was saving it for—"
Lucina struck with a strangled cry, Falchion tearing through one end of the vessel's coat. "—a special occasion!"
Grima leaped to the side, gliding through the air effortlessly as Lucina pressed her assault. As he backpedaled, two more berserkers sprung forth from the sigils—he'd retreated too far. She spared only a moment dispatching them, then rushed back to Chrom's side before Risen could fill the gap.
She gasped in relief as she saw her mother and Robin standing at his side—wounded, but alive.
"—blocked it with Falchion at the last second," he was halfway-through explaining to them. "The blade soaked up the brunt, but it's not exactly a shield."
"You're lucky that thing can't cut you," Robin sighed in relief.
"The bolt burned too deep," Sumia murmured. "You need more time to heal, dear."
"Fly him back behind the lines," Robin was quick to suggest. "Lucina and I can hold here until he's back in action."
Her first instinct was to admonish him, as she had countless times—what reason could Robin have for sending Chrom away, here, at this critical moment?
No. She knew exactly why he wanted her father out of the way.
For the first time, that thought brought her comfort.
They had a plan.
"Robin's right," Lucina said, nodding swiftly. "You can count on us, Father."
"...Right," he finally said. "I know I can, Little Light." He turned his gaze to Robin, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Robin. Promise me you won't do anything stupid."
"How can I?" he grinned. "You're—"
"Taking all the stupid with me, right," Chrom chuckled. Sumia tugged at his shoulder, another Risen pinned beneath her lance, and he reluctantly allowed her to help him onto her pegasus. "I'll be back before you know it."
"I'll just be here, then!" Robin lied with a smile.
The pegasus took off not a moment too soon—the Risen renewed their assault with a fervor, a tide of corpses threatening to sweep them away. But Lucina fought at her best—fought the way her father had trained her to, and Robin quickly matched her rhythm. She slew one, he incinerated three. He was caught off-guard, and Falchion pierced through the undead and the one behind it.
As quickly as it came, the tide ceased. No, not ceased—they had simply flowed past their sides, a sea of corpses separating the two from the Shepherds.
"How rude of you to lie, my Heart," Grima chuckled, descending to the back of his draconic counterpart once more. "By the time your precious Exalt returns, the two of you will be quite dead."
"Nice of you to give us the time to ourselves, then," Robin grinned—though she could tell his teeth were grit.
"I do enjoy a solemn farewell," he replied. "All the better to watch the very hope die in your eyes."
A bolt of Thoron rang out, one Grima casually sidestepped. "Are you truly so eager to return to me?"
The ground beneath Lucina's feet trembled, and she very nearly grabbed onto Robin to maintain her balance. She realized the source of the tremor a moment later—the dragon's head reared back to face them, cavernous maw wide as though it too grinned in anticipation.
"VERY WELL THEN," roared the voice that haunted her darkest nightmares. "MY KIN. MY HEART. MY BLOOD. COME. WE ARE ONE AND THE SAME."
Another bolt of Thoron followed the first, one Grima countered with his own blast of lightning. They stood there in lock, each pouring their power into the spell. Lucina was mid-positioning herself to strike Grima's side when inspiration. Raising Falchion high, she thrust it down once more into the dragon's flesh with all her strength. Grima flinched, hissing in pain, and it was enough to break his concentration, the bolt striking him in the arm with staggering force.
"You should never have picked up that sword!" Grima spat. "Your fate—" and in the blink of an eye he had warped directly in front of her, lashing out with a jagged, pitch-blade blade oozing fell magic. "—was to die, with Ylisstol as your tomb!"
Behind him, Robin signaled with one hand, continuing the barrage of magic. Meeting Grima blow for blow with all the power she could muster, she was offered no reprieve to acknowledge him.
"I—"
"Challenge your fate?" Grima mocked. He threw his free hand back, countering a burst of fire from Robin. "Today it stares you in the face, fangs bared and jaws wide!"
"Then today—" Lucina growled, thanking the gods Robin hadn't waited for a response, "—I change it!"
Grima almost casually made to deflect Robin's next spell. Only, Robin's next spell came not from behind but above—a pulsating orb of thunder launched down from the heavens as Robin's wind spell momentarily held him aloft. Focused on Lucina's relentless onslaught, the blast shattered his guard and slowed his reflexes, granting her the opportunity to drive Falchion home.
Of course, Grima was not defenseless. He dashed to the side, leaving her to strike a glancing blow—yet true nonetheless. Falchion pierced clean through Grima's side, boiling blood sizzling on dragonscale in its wake.
Despite his contorted visage, Lucina genuinely expected another sadistic quip to slip through the Fell Dragon's mouth.
It did not come.
"EXPIRATION."
A spike of darkness sprung forth from the ground, pinning her in place as Grima's true maw loomed over her, bringing with it shadow and death given form.
Senses numb with pain, she didn't have the chance to scream before fellflire engulfed her.
"Lucina!"
Voices echoed through the darkness.
"You are not equipped to fight me alone, Robin. You've burned through the majority of your mana with paltry efforts."
She struggled to move.
"The child of Naga lays dying at my feet."
She struggled to see.
"It is over."
She struggled to breathe.
"I am this world's end."
Mercifully, Parallel Falchion's light cut through the shadow. Embers of Naga's fire flowed from its hilt through her veins, pulling her from the precipice of the abyss.
Her breathing was ragged. Her blood burned. It was but little strength.
It would have to be enough.
Robin had stowed his tome and engaged Grima head-on, Levin sword trading blows with what must have been Grima's defiled fang itself. Were it not for their blades, it would be difficult to tell which was Robin and which Grima.
That was more than an idle observation, she realized. She could feel the fell magic flowing through the both of them—Grima's an ever-burning maelstrom, while Robin's…
A final gambit, energy building in his free hand slowly but surely. The killing blow.
Little time remained. This had to end. Here. Now.
Lucina ran, her every step labored, every tilt of her heel sending fire through her legs. Robin caught Grima's fang on the Levin sword's jagged edge, twisting it down before pulling free. But Lucina could see Grima adjust his grip, prepared to rear free of the lock into the air—Robin would not be prepared for his counterattack, the scales beneath her feet seemed to tense in anticipation for the end.
Grima swung.
Lucina leaped.
Robin struck.
Grima collapsed to the ground in an embrace of shadow and ash—a god struck from the heavens to earth. His labored breathing seethed. He forced himself to his knees with one hand, then the other. "What is this?"
Lucina fell into a roll as she slid across dragonscale, adrenaline surging, pulling herself up the moment she was able. Her feet carried her to the tactician's side, heart beating with purpose.
Robin took a step forward. One foot, then the other. His gaze tilted downward.
"For once," he said. "I'm glad you and I are the same."
Grima grinned, blood dripping between his teeth. "What are you doing?"
"Now, I can give my life to protect those I care for."
Grima's gaze froze. His expression hung listless, dead—abandoning any pretense of humanity.
"Naga. She would not dare."
Even here, now, he mustered a roar of defiance. "YOU WOULD NOT DARE!"
"I would," Robin said, his tone measured, as though he were chatting with an old friend. "And I will. The evils you would visit on this world are unthinkable."
"In some way, I—" He took a seat before the fell dragon, crossing his legs. "We. Share the blame. It's only right we meet our end together."
Grima clawed forth desperately, but his hand fell short, consumed by the very darkness he commanded. "NO!"
As the vessel faded, only the dragon was left to wail in its death throes. "DAMN YOU, NAGA! ROBIN! YOU CANNOT— KILL— WHAT MAY NEVER—"
Robin let out a weary sigh.
"Die."
Grima's horned skull split in two, the severed upper half of its ghastly visage plunging into the sea. Lucina wrenched her gaze away as she collapsed at Robin's side.
She supposed the sight of what lay beneath would not go on to haunt her nightmares either way. Nonetheless, it was not one she wished to linger on.
"Oh," Robin said, as if surprised she'd sat down. "Hey, Lucina."
She tilted her head. "What?"
"I thought you'd blame me for that," Robin murmured. "Chrom. I'd blame me for that."
She shook her head, running one hand against the grooves of Grima's scales. "There's no point. You did it."
"Yeah," he said. He watched as Grima's fang slipped off the side of the dragon, plummeting towards the abyss. "We did."
Lucina frowned, attempting to stifle a rising cough. Thankfully, Robin paid it no mind.
"Listen, Lucina—" he began before suddenly collapsing, back against the ground. "Oh. Guess I'm lying down now."
Unsure what to say, Lucina lowered herself to join him. Perhaps it would ease the tension in her lungs.
"I need to be honest with you. Maybe it's selfish of me, but—I need you to hear this. Okay?"
She nodded jerkily, waiting for him to continue
"I…"
She tilted her head. Parts of him were beginning to shimmer in the light, wavering as their form grew unstable.
"I understand why you hate me."
The words were not entirely unexpected. She winced at them nonetheless.
"If I had been in your boots, well…" he trailed off. "You overextend with your leftward swing."
"I do," she murmured. That fact had served her poorly today.
"And!" he added with a light laugh. "As it turns out we really lucked out with you, well, not killing me."
His brief grin faded.
"…Robin."
"Meanwhile, I just… couldn't manage it, with you. Hate," he clarified. "It's funny, because compared to Gangrel or Excellus, you got much closer." He turned his head to the side, glancing at his other arm flickering like a blurry reflection. "In the end, the only person who ended up doing me in was me."
"Robin," Lucina called.
He didn't seem to notice her, his good hand raising animatedly as his words hastened. "Because every time you were alone, or you didn't eat, or you begged Chrom to at least keep me under guard, all I could think was…"
He blinked. "'That's my fault.'"
"I failed Chrom," he continued. "I failed the Shepherds. I failed you. And the world paid the— the price." He hissed in pain, clutching at his side. His eyes widened in muted surprise when his hand nearly phased through his abdomen.
"I'm just— I'm glad I can make up for it now."
Lucina no longer had the breath to interrupt him. She wasn't sure why she'd put her hand in his. Something to ground them, perhaps.
"Promise me something?" He looked almost pleading as he turned his head the other way to face her. "Don't leave. Somehow, Chrom enjoys my company, and…"
Something akin to guilt flashed in his eyes.
"Well, this is going to hit him hard. He's still your father. Little Lucina doesn't change any of that."
She could almost see right through him, to the skies on the other side.
"He loves you."
The wind howled through the still silence.
"And— you deserve a chance too. To be happy. I know I don't have any right to ask, but—"
"Robin, I—" Lucina began, then twisted her gaze away, arm bent as she hacked blood into her sleeve.
Some terrible, unfamiliar emotion wormed its way across Robin's features, his brow furrowing in a way that was almost panicked.
Fear.
"Lucina, what did you—?"
And then Robin, Heart of Grima, Tactician of the Shepherds, was gone.
Just dust and a memory.
The world shone with radiance as Naga's ethereal light returned them safely to the cliff face below. Lucina wrenched her gaze upwards as Grima's abominable form plummeted into the sea.
The beast did not rise from its abyssal tomb, and from somewhere distant a cacophony of cheers rose up—equal parts elation and relief.
Astonishment shone across Lucina's face, even as her shoulders slumped, even as blood trickled down from the corner of her mouth.
"Lucina!" a voice cried, all the warning she had before Severa's embrace sent her toppling to the ground. "We did it!" she beamed like the sun above her. "I never doubted us for a moment, obviously, but we actually…" she trailed off, chuckling incredulously. "We won."
Lucina did her best to keep eye contact with her. Her hand grasped feebly for the familiar comfort of Falchion's hilt, but it must have been lost in the battle.
"It's over," she nodded, sighing. "I'm finally… free."
Severa rolled her eyes. "You could at least try to not sound so dramatic and dour, for once…"
She trailed off, gaze traveling downwards.
"Severa," Lucina murmured. "I need to—"
"Oh, gods—Lucina what the fuck did you—" Severa cut herself off, pressing a hand against Lucina's stomach.
Her glove came back red.
It shot down to her belt, reaching for an empty pouch. Severa leaped to her feet, eyes blazing.
"HEALER!" she screamed desperately. "I NEED A HEALER!"
"Severa?" she heard Owain's voice call, footsteps approaching. "Through the netherworld I sensed your soul cry out, despite our momentous—"
Lucina blinked.
"Owain, get your mom. Get your mom right now!"
The darkness returned.
"I can't— it's not working! Why isn't it working?!"
Eager to claim its due.
"Lucina!"
Her eyes flew open.
Blue ones stared back.
"Father," she said.
Wet with tears.
"Father, we did it."
"Yes," Chrom reassured. "Yes, we did. Hold on Little Light," he pleaded, "look at me look at me—"
Lucina smiled.
"We changed fate."
She closed her eyes, and breathed her last.
TO THE SHEPHERDS,
If you're reading this, I'm not around to say any of this to you in person.
Know that this isn't what I had to do, but the only thing I could do. Grima's survival was an unacceptable outcome when the alternative incurred minimal losses.
I hope that, in the wake of the future this builds, you will come to understand.
I'm sorry.
…
Lissa,
Jokes on you. I love frogs. They're shaped like friends.
You're stronger than you know.
Frederick,
I have Frederick's Fanatical Fitness Hour to thank for surviving as long as I did. What I'm saying is, the thanks for killing Grima pretty much goes to you. Chrom should get you a medal for that or something.
I know you'll keep him safe.
Sully,
Trust me, the seaweed you can get in Valm is pretty great. Not for weight loss or anything, just as a snack. Maybe Virion can get you a discount.
You're an inspiration just the way you are.
Virion,
Get Sully her discount.
That's an inside joke, you'll have to ask her about it. Here's to hoping that was the last war we'll ever fight. If not—here's to the battles to come.
The trust you regain from your people will be well-placed.
Stahl,
Uh, probably don't try to brew anything out of Grima's remains. Just in case you weren't sure.
Remember to take care of yourself.
Vaike,
Half your gold is in the barracks at Ylisstol. The other half is in Wyvern Valley. Consider this my vengeance from beyond the grave, old friend.
Miriel,
Remember that thing you're working on? Not that thing, THE thing. I'm not writing its name for confidentiality, obviously. Anyways, if the one thing doesn't work for it, I've got a really good feeling about the other thing. You know the one. Call it tactician's intuition.
Sumia,
They're going to write a good book about you. "The Dragonslayer-Queen of Ylisstol!" Or hey, maybe you'll write it yourself! Thank you, for everything.
Look after Chrom for me, alright?
Kellam,
Of course I wouldn't forget you. Read carefully, for I am entrusting you, Kellam, with my greatest secret. For the past several years I've been labeling the provisions I keep in the Ylisstol barracks with your name. There's some great stuff waiting for the taking when you get back home—well-kept, I assure you.
Donnel,
All these years later, I've still never gotten the hang of cooking. You, though, could open a tavern or a restaurant with that pot of yours. Or whatever else you want to do, really. You've got talent, Donny. I believe in you.
Lon'qu,
You're going to kick old Basilio's ass. Pardon my Feroxi.
Thank you for inspiring me.
Ricken,
Family name—restored! You did great, Ricken. I know you'll do greater things still.
Dearest Maribelle,
It is with great pleasure that I write to inform you that I have, in fact, been walking with kings since the beginning. Well, a prince, but he got there. With this observation thusly made, I have concluded that your extensive etiquette tutoring did indeed prove to be a tremendous asset. Thank you.
Panne,
I have a confession to make. I'm actually more of a sandwich guy. Don't worry, I passed my recipes on to Donnel. He's got the soups and stews nailed.
No matter what, you've made your people proud.
Gaius,
Just because I'm dead doesn't mean you can go run your mouth. Not that I think you would, but you know, just for my peace of mind. There should be enough pounds of hard candies in Ylisstol to keep my debt paid off beyond the veil of mortality.
Cordelia,
Confession time. I've been going through this telling people to take care of other people, and I'm starting to worry people won't take care of themselves. I don't want to go and place that responsibility on you either, since that just creates the same problem, but I'm also running out of ink since I had to smuggle this out of the supply tent. That's not your fault.
You're a good friend, Cordelia. Thanks for being mine.
Gregor,
Listen up, Gregor. I've read a lot of fiction since I met Sumia, and half the saving-the-world tales end with "and they all went their separate ways and barely saw each other ever again." That's not allowed to happen here, alright? The Shepherds were my family. I hope they were a family for everyone else, too. So, I've paid out your advance fees in full. Stick around, if you don't mind.
Nowi,
Pretty sure Tiki's triple the teacher I ever was, with her experience. You've got a long life ahead of you, Nowi. I'm glad I got to know you for a bit of it.
Libra,
I made sure that portrait got a spot of honor in Ylisstol before we left. I couldn't think of a soul who would do it better. If you talk to Olivia, maybe you can display some of your work in her theater.
Tharja,
We had a bit of a rough start. I'm willing to take partial blame for that. I'm also willing to bet those hexes you worked into my cloak are the only reason Grima didn't blow me to pieces three times over. You'll have to share the distinction with Frederick, but congratulations on saving the world.
Thanks for always looking out for me.
Anna,
Lots of business rolling in after the death of a god, I'd say. New markets booming, old markets crashing—it sounds to me like you'll be paying out 20% of your profits for the next two years to my estate.
That's a joke. Thanks for the business, Anna, and the friendship.
Olivia,
Orivie Opera Company. Nice ring to it? No worries, you don't have to go with my idea—this is your stage. I got the finances all squared away before we left Ylisstol, just in case. I'm sorry I won't be able to catch the grand premiere, but hey—leave a seat open for me at the reruns?
Cherche,
Don't give up hope, Cherche. Minerva will find the right guy for her, I know it. I leave my extensive dossier on prospective wyvern mates to you. And Minerva.
Henry,
I am honestly unsure if the Risen will continue to exist, with Grima being dead-dead and all. Sorry about that. Hope the news isn't too much caws for alarm.
…
Tiki,
You have power I never will. My father's tome is in my tent, and you'll recall we recovered the divine tome Naga as well. With Grima's death, I believe one can destroy the other. History must remember how closely we brushed with ruin, but I would not see any trace of Grima's power outlive it.
Also, there's an incredible napping spot in Ylisstol. East wing, fourth floor, hallway past the Anri painting. Couch in front of the window, stuffed with wyvern down. You'll thank me later.
…
Owain,
People used to say I was the heart of the Shepherds. Seriously ironic, looking back on it. Regardless, you are the heart of your own people. Continue to do good by them.
Inigo,
Please keep yourself out of trouble.
…
Severa,
You're being ridiculous. Your mother was still training new recruits when we left Ylisstol—a lack of pegasus knights is a perfectly reasonable scenario. I'm the guy that killed Grima, you know. You've got the talent, but know when to heed the experts.
Look after your friends, alright? Inigo. I mean Inigo.
…
Lucina,
Remember what I said. Ylisse is more your home than it could ever be my own.
Chrom,
You were my brother. I'm sorry I could not repay your trust.
…
Naga told me there was a chance I could return. Small, but our bonds give me strength. If they aren't enough for this, nothing is.
I loved you all. I hope you will remember that, if anything.
May we meet again, in a better life.
Your friend,
Robin
…
…
…
A brief scrawl, torn from the end of a larger piece of parchment. Its contents have been written and rewritten several times over.
To
I'm not entirely sure why I'm writing this. You're not real. Not in this timeline. But I know feel remember(?)
Lucina came from a parallel future. My memories of that future (her past) came from Grima's heart. But somehow, there's more. Lives unlived, paths untread, and I think I see them, sometimes. Glimpses in my dreams. Like our world is a single star, lost in the waves of the sea.
I'm getting off-topic.
I don't know who your mother was. Is. Would be. All I can hope is that she was there for you, when I wasn't, for as long as she could be. I'm sorry that you'll never be. But I hope that if I had met that you, in another life, she'd understand.
I would have loved to have a daughter.
"Bird of time, on the wing,
How far is she to fly?
Come now love, do not weep,
We all must live,
and die."
END OF ACT I