(A/N: Although they're as good as they can be, I will warn that I wrote this chapter and the next on practically one half of a brain cell since I was sick at the time. I felt physically fine—which is why I believe that chapter 24 onward should be better—but my mind wasn't quite there as my family kept pointing out.)
Marth and Malin took a little detour east before heading down to Ylisstol. Malin waited for Marth to finish up the conversation—for whatever reason, she was the only one who could talk with who they needed to confirm with, or at least the only one comfortable with confirming to begin with—and when she came back, she wore a little smile.
"Everything's ready," she said. She didn't have her mask on—not a lot of people came up here, so she didn't have to—so he could see her eyes. Overall, it was an odd combination of happiness and worry.
"So all we need is Falchion?" Malin asked.
Marth nodded. "Would it be all right if you asked after it? You've changed more than I; they might be suspicious, but they won't state it outright."
"I can go in," Malin said. Offering a kind smile, he said, "Are you sure you don't want to try giving them something? You'll be taking what they have left of you—there won't be anything here that would say you did much of anything."
"That doesn't bother me," Marth replied, slowly putting her mask back on. "No one in this time needs to know that those from a ruined future ever came here. In the event that we disappear one day because of that, well…then there won't be anyone to miss."
"But Chrom and Robin—" Malin tried to argue.
"No," Marth said firmly. "It's been nearly fifteen years since I left them. My time for apologies and formal goodbyes has passed. It would take more than a few hours—we need days at least, I feel like—but we've spent two decades here. It's better if we start heading home as soon as possible."
Malin looked at her, then looked away and sighed. "I won't spend too much time at the castle, then. But I will have to give some kind of apology to them, if we're going."
Marth gestured for him to follow as she started walking back down the mountain. "You don't have to leave at all if you don't want to. I know you would prefer to stay here with Lucina and Morgan."
"Whether or not I would prefer it," Malin began carefully so she couldn't protest, "I'd say one Lucina needs me, the other can make do without—and you're the one that needs me. That can go for pretty much everything—our time would need me more than anyone here would, even if I'd rather spend some time with Robin or the littles."
"As long as we have Falchion, I don't mind if they come with us," Marth offered. "I would like it better if they didn't, but…they can. It wouldn't help for Chrom and Robin, but you can talk with the children, at least."
"Thanks," Malin said, smiling a bit.
…
It took another few days to get to Ylisstol. Marth was put on edge for most of the time, and Malin didn't want to push her too hard, so he didn't insist that she do much of anything. They went to a little house that an old war friend let him rent for the time being, and since they were alone Marth took off her mask while Malin made sure they had everything.
When Malin happened to look at his sister, she wore a pretty serious frown. Carefully, he said, "I'm here if you need a second opinion on something? You look a bit conflicted."
"If the children have to come with us," Marth said quietly, "Then at least one of them will inevitably ask why we need Falchion, or why we'll be going to Mount Prism. Someone will, and depending on who… I'm worried they might learn something that their parents should be telling them."
"The whole future kid thing?" Malin guessed.
Marth nodded. "They'll know who we are by the end of the trip, I fear. There's no way we can warn them as long as we don't claim to be the children who left, so I suppose we can't help them at all… It won't be fair, but I can't name much that is."
Malin could only nod his silent approval. He continued going through their things, eventually coming to an agreement with Marth about when they would buy more supplies. If the kids come with them, then there will be nine of them—they only had enough for two. Given how neither of them wanted to spend too much time in Ylisstol (if only because both of them could be recognized fairly easily), they decided to go to a town on their way east. It would take them longer, but it was ultimately the safer option.
They only lingered for a day before Malin opted to go to the castle. Marth stayed at the little house, content to stay there until they left, so Malin went ahead and alone. He just went straight to the castle guards at the gate. One of them looked at him and said, "Any non-frequent guests have been asked to state their name and their reason for their visit."
"I'm Malin," he said. "I know the kids. I want to talk with Robin and Chrom."
The guard just looked at him with an unamused frown. "Maybe if you could specify 'kids'..?"
"Lucina, Morgan, and Owain," Malin replied.
That guard still frowned at him, and left. Malin just waited, then, watched over by the second guard. Frederick, of all people, came out next—it was someone Malin recognized, so he both perked up and stepped away in the same movement.
"I'd like to talk with Robin and Chrom," Malin said, repeating it simply.
"For what particular reason..?" Frederick ventured skeptically.
Malin was ready to ask if he had to when, from the inside of the castle gates, a kid ran up behind Frederick—Robin's kid, to be specific, with Noire slowly coming behind him. "Oh! Malin!"
Frederick looked a bit surprised, but still tried to hide it as he looked back at Morgan. "Are you actually acquainted with this man?" Frederick asked.
"He helped us!" Morgan replied with a nod. "And kicked our butts last month in a mock battle. You can let him in."
Malin smiled at Morgan. "Thanks, kid."
Morgan nodded as Frederick stepped away so Malin could come in. "Do you need to be anywhere in particular?"
"Yeah," Malin said. "Do you know where your parents are?"
"I can lead you to Mom's office, as long as Noire doesn't mind," Morgan offered. He glanced at his friend, and she silently shrugged in response. Morgan gestured for Malin to follow, with Noire and Frederick trailing behind them. It was an odd entourage—the guide, the person being guided, and the two people following the guide out of mistrust or boredom. He didn't mind, though; two of them, at least, probably wouldn't be there for the next conversation.