All the World's a Stage

I let out a satisfied breath, rising up from where I'd been crouching and wiping the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. Summers in Baham weren't as bad as what I was used to in Australia, but it was still possible to work up a decent sweat if you tried hard enough. Looking down from my perch I gave a small grin at the maid waiting beneath me, her face white as a sheet and her lips pursed into a tight line. I couldn't blame her; being totally honest, my track record with heights wasn't exactly great. At least there were no wyverns to punch up here, though.

"What's wrong, Thundercat?" I called down. "Why don't you come up? View's great up here!"

"I'm more worried about you coming down, milord," Elle called back up to me.

I scoffed and looked back up, smiling as I took in the city view.

My city.

Baham, the jewel of the north.

Surrounded on all sides by thick forest, the city was the first or last stop in Ylisse for most merchants on their way to or from Eastern Regna Ferox. It was one of the biggest cities on the major eastern trade route, meaning it was always a hive of bustling activity. And if I had my way, soon it would be an artistic and educational mecca, too. I had inherited lordship of the city after preventing a civil war between the territories of Baham and Fruford before the Valm Campaign, and with it had come the thing I had dreaded most.

Rank.

Duke Ben of Baham. Founder and retired General of the Ylissean Royal Regular Army. Occasional retainer to the Exalt. Liberator of Valm. Hero of Chon'sin. And, of course my personal favorite, The God-Slayer.

"Daddy! I'm hungry!"

And… recently doting father.

I looked down again, a small raven-haired girl standing with her feet shoulder-width apart and her arms crossed as she glared up at me. Noire had made Elle tie her hair in small pigtails today, making me nervous that Severa had been too much of an influence on my baby girl.

"Alright, sweetie!" I called down. "Daddy's almost done, so-"

"No, daddy! I'm hungry now!" she shouted, stomping one foot for good measure.

The tradesmen on the roof around me snickered as I sighed and rolled my eyes, setting aside my hammer and nails. I was almost done with the roof tiles anyway.

"Sorry, guys," I said over my shoulder. "Can you finish up?"

"Sure thing, Your Lordship," one of the carpenters grinned.

"Mock me all you want," I grinned, edging towards the waiting ladder. "Truth is? The women in my life have called the shots since the day I got to Ylisse. No shame in that."

"Aint that the truth for all'a us!?" one of the other carpenters called.

The men on the roof exploded into laughter as I slid down the ladder, clamping the sides with my feet and palms and letting gravity do the work. On the ground I heard Elle let out a relieved breath as little Noire glared up at me, the spitting image of her mother. And her older, time-travelling self, but that one was a given.

I smiled back, pulling the bandana off my shaved head and stuffing it into my pocket. I was wearing simple pants and a shirt with a matching vest over top. I held out my hand, my jacket magically appearing in it before I pulled the garment on. Of course, the magic was actually my bodyguard and assistant Su'ko, who had been with me since before Valm, too. The ninja woman looked deceptively unthreatening in a simple purple dress, a deep red sash tied around her middle.

"Thank you, Su," I said with a nod.

She silently bowed, but I caught the hint of a smile at the corner of her lips as she did so. Even after all this time, it still pleased her that I acknowledged her presence.

"Daddy!" Noire cried.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," I groaned, before muttering. "I swear you take more after Severa than your mother… either way I'm doomed…"

I turned to admire our handiwork as I approached the others, the shape of the building we were constructing standing tall and proud in the morning sun. The Baham Performing Arts Theatre. First of its kind outside of Ylisstol. I was overseeing the construction with Olivia, who was currently inside using her old army quartermaster skills to get the interior outfitted. We'd both retired after Grima; me because I'd been crippled in my sword arm, and Olivia because she wanted to follow her dream. This dream. Having her own stage.

Only she didn't know yet it was hers. That part was a secret.

God I couldn't wait to see the look on her face when I gave her the keys…

"Okay, sweetie, what do you want to eat for lunch?" I asked, squatting down to Noire's level.

"Cake," she said, smiling brightly up at me.

I barked out a laugh, grabbing my little girl in a hug and pulling her up in my arms as I stood. I hugged her close to my chest and kissed her forehead, grinning broadly as she smiled back, and…

"No," I said, my smile dropping. "Healthy food, remember? Cake for desert."

"You suck," Noire pouted, turning away in my arms.

"And you just lost cake privileges," I laughed.

"Aw! Thundercat, protect me!" Noire cried, throwing her arms out.

Elle gave a long-suffering groan, and from behind me I could swear I actually heard Su'ko chuckle a little. The maid stomped forward, her thin frame deceptively strong as she picked Noire out of my arms and set her back on the ground.

"It's bad enough you have the Exalt calling me that, milord," Elle said, glaring at me before turning that glare on the girl. "The young miss knows better, though."

"I'm sorry, Miss Elle," Noire said, totally unrepentant.

"You're still not getting cake for lunch," I said over Elle's head.

"You all suck!" Noire pouted, crossing her arms.

"Young lady!" I admonished with a grin. "Oh, how sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child! Where did you even pick up such language?"

"I wonder," Elle deadpanned, glaring at me again.


It was evening by the time I returned to the theater, content to just wander around the almost finished building and soak in the ambience. The smell of sawdust, something I'd found comforting since my days as a boy hanging around my father's workshop, still hung in the air even this late in the evening. The only light came from the single lantern I'd brought with me and left on the edge of the stage as I wandered through the rows of bench seats, running my fingertips along their smooth, sanded edges.

All of it was empty right now, but someday soon these seats would be full of laughing, smiling patrons. The halls would bustle with movement, the backstage would hum with nervous tension. There would be life. The kind of celebration of life that only the theater, only the arts, could bring.

I think Olivia was the only other person besides me excited like this. She was only in it for the dancing, though. As I passed through the rows of seats, I eventually reached the stage, running my hand gently over the polished wooden surface. I was here for it all. The dancing, the poetry, the acting and the music. All of it would happen here one day. Baham would become a place of art and culture, not war and hatred like I had let it be for so long. They would come from all over the world; dancers from Plegia, jugglers and acrobats from Valm, singers and musicians from Regna Ferox, poets from Ylisse… actors from wherever I could get them…

With a small grunt I hoisted myself up onto the stage, my old injured wrist screaming in protest going ignored as I stood tall on the platform. If nothing else, the constant fighting had given me a high pain threshold. I looked out over the benches, cast in shadow as the spotlight of the lantern fell on me. Slowly, unbidden, a smile rose to my face.

I was all alone here…

Why the hell not?

"Morning in Paris, the city awakes, to the bells of Notre Dame..."

I began to sing the first song that came to my mind; the opening to Disney's Hunchback of Notre Dame. I knew the song off by heart, thanks to the youtuber Jonathan Young's cover, so…

"The fisherman fishes, the baker-man bakes, to the bells of Notre Dame…"

And so it went, I sang the entire opening score, utterly butchering it. I wasn't warmed up, and I wasn't that great a singer to begin with. I honestly just wanted to hear the acoustics of the theater while it was empty, and Olivia had done her job well. I hardly had to push to project, and my voice filled the whole, fortunately empty, space. As I finished, eschewing the high note at the end of the song for a more distorted metal-vocal sound I stopped, arms spread wide and panting now as I grinned a little to myself.

My goofy little grin dropped with my arms, however, at the sound of clapping.

"Woo! Go dad! Encore! Encore!"

I rolled my eyes and blushed deeply, crossing my arms and glaring at the figure sitting up in the nosebleed section. Morgan grinned as she rose to her feet, quickly approaching the front as I dropped into a sitting position on the edge of the stage, praying that the weak light hid my red cheeks.

"How long were you there?" I asked.

"A while," my time-travelling daughter grinned impishly.

"Oh god, how long is 'a while'?" I groaned, burying my face in my hands.

Morgan just grinned, hopping past me onto the stage and doing a little spin before stopping, copying the pose I'd taken at the start of the song. And then she surprised me.

"Morning in Paris, the city awakes, to the bells of Notre Dame," she sang, perfectly in tune.

She did the first few lines before breaking into a fit of giggles and grinning down at me.

"Well, clearly you get that from your mother," I smirked. "Because you just heard how bad I am at singing."

"Aw, you weren't so bad," Morgan laughed, pulling me up by one arm.

I sighed as she dragged me into the middle of the stage.

"Now, come on, let's sing together!" Morgan said with a radiant smile.

"No!" I laughed along.

"C'mon, it'll be fun!" Morgan pouted.

"I can't sing!" I warned her.

"I just heard you," she reminded me. "You weren't that bad!"

I opened my mouth to rebut when a thought popped into my head. With a grin, I decided that if she liked my horrible Disney singing so much…

"Nants ingonyama bagithi Baba!" I 'sang' at the top of my lungs.

Morgan jumped, her face shocked before she burst into laughter again.

"What the hell was that!?" She asked, still smiling.

"The Lion King," I shrugged, grinning again before continuing. "Nants ingonyama bagithi baba! Sithi uhhmm ingonyama! Ingonyama!"

"Stop! Stop, I'm sorry!" Morgan cried.

She was laughing so hard that she was doubled over now, one hand holding herself up on her knee while the other clutched at her heaving ribs, tears of laughter almost running down her face at this point.

"Lesson learned?" I asked her.

"What language even was that?" she asked, shaking her head as the last of her chuckles died down.

"Zulu I think," I shrugged. "A language from back home. I'm not really sure, I just know the song."

"Well, it's no worse than when you taught us Du Hast," Morgan chuckled.

"Hey, that song is an important part of your heritage, missy!" I said, mock-seriously.

We looked at each other for a moment before my frown cracked and we both burst back into laughter. After a few minutes of laughing so hard I went light headed, we moved towards the edge of the stage and sat down.

"So, what's up?" I asked after a moment.

"Well, I am your daughter, and I do enjoy harassing my family members just as much as you do," Morgan shrugged.

"Oh, I'm sure," I smirked.

"I'm also wondering if you've found me a mom yet," Morgan said, mirroring my smirk.

"Knew it," I scoffed.

I leaned back until I simply fell onto my back, staring up at the domed ceiling of the theatre.

To this day, Morgan hadn't told anyone who her mother was. None of the other time-travelers could remember, thanks to the temporal anomaly I had created when I'd dropped myself into their existence, and Morgan was insistent on not 'spoiling' things for us. Hell, she even spent a fortune on hair dye from Anna so I couldn't find out that way. It was nice that she wanted me to find love the old-fashioned way, but when she was breathing down my neck about it like this it got annoying.

"I don't think I've ever met any daughter so interested in their father's sex life," I said from my prone position. "Are you jealous? Should I have called you 'Ophelia' instead?"

"First, ew," Morgan said, scrunching up her face in disgust and sticking out her tongue. "And second, I do have something of a personal stake in this. I'm already going to be way younger than Noire this time. I would still like to be born."

"You can't have your cake and eat it, too, missy," I grunted, sitting back up. "Either tell me where to aim my dick or stop bugging me about it. Or I start in on you and Inigo giving me grandkids again."

"Dad! Ew!" Morgan laughed. "I keep telling you, Inigo and I are friends! No fuckin'! That'd be like fucking my brother!"

"You know what they say: Incest is wincest," I shrugged.

"Oh fuck, Dad, barf!" Morgan laughed, holding her stomach. "I don't know whether to laugh or puke."

"Do both, I'll hold your hair," I smirked.

"Ass," Morgan chuckled, shoving me in the shoulder.

"Apple don't fall far from the butt-tree," I grinned, shoving her back.

"Mmmm, buttery," Morgan muttered. "Now I want a muffin."

"You're gonna end up fat," I warned.

"Please, with the exercise routine I inherited from you?" Morgan scoffed. "I got abs you could grate cheese on. Look!"

Morgan leaned back and pulled her shirt up, exposing her pale, toned stomach while I laughed and tried to pull her shirt back down.

"Okay, I get the point! Knock it off!" I laughed.

She wasn't wrong, though. Abs like a fucking boxer, that girl.

"So, what are you really doing here?" I asked.

"I'm here for opening night," Morgan said, perking up. "Think I'd miss that? Hell no!"

I rolled my eyes. "Well, at least you didn't bring Inigo along to-"

"Oh, he's already at the fort," Morgan cut me off. "He loves it there. Probably hiding and watching Olivia practice again or something."

"Why are all of you kids so fucking creepy?" I asked, furrowing my brow.

Morgan's only response was to throw her head back and laugh again, the sound echoing around the empty theatre.


"Director! Director!"

I groaned, my shoulders slumping as I turned a little to glare out of the corner of my eye.

It was morning now, and I was back in the theatre that I may as well have been living out of at this point. I'd just finished breakfast with Noire and seen her off to her tutors for the day and was looking forward to getting a few piddly things done at the theatre, then actually getting some free time to sit around and do nothing, but alas, it was not meant to be.

I ran a hand down my face, looking up to see a giggling Olivia approaching me.

"Olivia, you are the only one who can get away with calling me that," I sighed. "But please don't. What's up?"

The pink-haired dancer smiled brightly, her teeth glinting in the morning sunlight as she laughed at my standard grousing.

"I think it's a dignified title," she said.

"I think it makes me sound like I'll be a lot more involved than I plan to be," I said, rolling my eyes. "Being 'patron' is enough. I'll find someone else to run the place."

"Oh, don't be like that, I know you're having fun, you big grump," the dancer laughed, coming alongside me and playfully bumping my shoulder with her own.

Of course, after training and fighting for close to five years straight she may as well have bumped into a brick wall. I may have been retired, but I was proud to say I was still built. Olivia, too, was far more muscular than she once had been; she was still lithe and graceful in the extreme, but the defined lines of muscle beneath her silken-soft skin spoke of the hardships she had endured with us. She had taken to wearing a silk shawl around her shoulders in an attempt to hide what she considered to be unsightly muscle mass for a dancer. Clearly, she had never seen a ballerina before… but aside from that, she still dressed much the same as she always had. I had seen her, much like myself and the rest of the veterans in Baham, wearing her old duty jacket when it got colder out, though.

Despite myself I smirked at her playful behavior, the timid Olivia a thing of the past now. Most of the time, anyway.

"Did you have a reason for bugging me, or are you just here to fulfill the universe's quota of 'pissing Ben off for the day'?" I asked. "Because I'm pretty sure the idiots installing the railing up top may have already beat you to it."

"As much fun as that sounds," Olivia laughed, crossing her hands behind her back, "I did want to talk to you about opening night."

"Shoot."

"I've come up with some basic choreography, and my old dancing troupe should be arriving any day now," she began to explain. "I wanted to get your opinion on it before I went ahead and began organizing the costumes, but you seem to be-"

Olivia was cut off by a loud crash of falling lumber, both of us visibly cringing.

"Busy," she finished with a small smile.

I spun, glaring at the contractors who had dropped a bundle of balusters for the railings around the upper platforms. The two young men looked at me with guilty expressions, and I debated ripping into them, but it didn't appear that any of them were broken, so I just shook my head and turned back to Olivia.

The plan for opening night was an all-out assault of all of the arts. The two main shows would be Olivia's dance performance, utilizing musicians and dancers from all over the world, and my play. Olivia had told me her segment would have dancers performing traditional, crowd-pleasing dances around the non-traditional, experimental stuff she liked to do. I was honestly excited to see it.

"I'm gonna fucking kill those two if any of those are broken," I sighed. "I'll make time. I promise. When are you free?"

"I'm free all day today," she said with a hopeful smile. "I still have to wait for the rest of the interior to get here. Anna's taking her sweet time."

"You mean extorting more freight money out of me?" I deadpanned.

"You said it, not me," Olivia laughed.

"This place is bleeding me dry," I groaned, running both hands down my face.

"Yes, but it's good practice for me," Olivia smirked. "I get to watch you make all the mistakes so I don't when I build my own theatre."

"Right, right, I'm always the first pancake," I sighed.

Olivia just laughed again as we threaded our way through the milling builders, back outside into the sunlight. We both let out matching sighs as we tilted our heads back in sync, basking in the warm morning sun.

"How's your script coming?" she asked conversationally.

"Just making the last adjustments," I said, my face darkening into a frown. "Seriously, though. Fuck iambic pentameter. If I had any hair left, I would've pulled it out weeks ago."

"I'm sure it's not that bad," Olivia laughed.

"Not only did I have to write this fucking thing from memory, but I had to work it into the pentameter, too," I groaned. "Fuck everything. Seriously. I am not doing this again. At least the acting troupe you suggested are professional enough that I don't need to hover over them while they practice. Although I do have to keep explaining the script to them, but that's no surprise…"

"They're good," Olivia nodded. "Better than they were when we travelled together by far. It's been good to see them all again. I heard Morgan's the understudy for one of the lead roles?"

"Yeah, she offered and there's really not a lot of woman-actors out there," I said. "She is my daughter, after all. It runs in her blood."

I sighed out my nose, leaning back against the outside wall of the theatre.

"Think you might go on tour again once this is done?" I asked.

Olivia glanced over at me, a small, knowing smile on her face.

"Why Ben, are you asking because you would miss me?" she asked coyly. "You? Mister 'everyone leave me the fuck alone'?"

"Oh god, did I ruin all of you?" I laughed. "I'm just curious."

The dancer laughed, too, her smile turning bitter-sweet as we ambled back towards the city.

"I don't think so," she admitted after a moment. "I'm not as young as I used to be. Not as flexible. Not as… good. Don't get me wrong I don't regret anything that I did but I'm just not the woman I was before I joined the army and-"

"Olivia, fuck, take a breath," I laughed, some of the dancer's old timidity rising to the fore.

"Sorry," she chuckled. "I just don't want you to think… well… I wouldn't change anything. At all."

As she spoke Olivia subconsciously moved her hand to her hip, currently covered by a carefully positioned wrap of her gossamer outfit. I knew that, underneath, was an unsightly scar she'd gotten in Valm; a scar that was on full display when she danced.

"Good," I sighed, theatrically laying the back of my hand on my brow and adopting a bad 'southern belle' accent. "I fear I've grown accustomed to your face, dear."

"Oh stop," Olivia giggled. "Are you sure you shouldn't be the one up on stage on opening night?"

"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts," I quoted with a smirk before stopping and snorting. "Fuck that noise, though. I have enough parts as it is, I don't even want to be anywhere near another. Opening night is going to be when all the little mistakes come bubbling to the surface, and which poor bastard is gonna have to fix em? Me."

We stopped at the edge of the cordoned off zone for the theatre's budding gardens, Olivia smiling at me again as she spun to face me.

"If you really hated it so much you wouldn't be here on your day off," she pointed out.

"Yeah, yeah, you know me better than me," I said, rolling my eyes. "Go do something productive with your day off. I'll come find you once I kick the builders' asses for a few hours."

"I'll hold you to it," Olivia said with a wink, before spinning and sashaying off down the crowded market street.

I watched her until she disappeared into the crowd before letting out a long sigh, thinking to myself that the new, outgoing Olivia was a welcome change, indeed. As I walked back into the comparatively dim interior of the theatre, I couldn't quite help but smile at the thought of Olivia's visit, letting out another sigh and shaking my head.

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day, indeed," I muttered to myself with a grin.


Time marched onward, and before long the theatre was done. Which meant that, slowly but surely, people had begun to trickle into Baham for the Grand Opening gala. Eventually, every noble house in Ylisse had a representative present in my city, not to mention all the visiting foreign aristocracy. Maribelle had taken over a good half of my guest wing alone, and I had my maids and butlers beating her people off the half I kept made up in case Chrom decided to drop by. Everyone else had booked out every inn and hotel in the city. Half of the Valmese ruling caste had shown up, not to mention Say'ri, Tiki and a very large contingent of Chon'sinian nobility I was hoping I'd never have to see again, let alone entertain at my estate. I'd given the Chon'sinian group my own quarters. There was no way I could make a visiting foreign queen and Naga's Voice stay at one of the hotels in town.

Then, scant days before the big night, when I was at my most stressed out after having corrected a number of small mistakes in my script at the last minute, Chrom arrived with all the pomp and ceremony one would expect of a monarch visiting one of his territories. Sumia and both Lucinas in tow, he showed up on my doorstep at the worst possible moment, as was his usual MO.

I hurried down the stairs, ignoring a flustered Elle as she rushed after me and tried to neaten my appearance, approaching where the former Duke, the veteran Helman, was receiving Chrom in my stead.

"Your Grace," I called out across the foyer. "I didn't think you were coming."

Helman reacted first, heaving a long sigh when he saw me and shaking his head. Chrom snickered as Sumia emulated the former Duke, while the time travelling Lucina simply rolled her eyes. I was also certain I could already hear Frederick's silent disapproval from outside, even though I couldn't see him yet (nothing new there, though).

I was currently a mess. I won't lie.

I hadn't shaved in weeks; I hadn't had the time. My clothes were rumpled and creased, and I'm sure I stank to the high heavens. My fingers were dyed almost uniformly black from all the ink I'd been dealing with, and I'm pretty sure I had more than a few smudges on my face.

I got like this when any writing deadline came around. It wasn't something you really grew out of.

Fortunately, there was one person among their number who was happy to see me, no matter what I looked like…

"Uncle Ben!" a small Lucina cried, darting around her father and barreling into my knees with all the subtlety of a charging freight train.

I almost went over, laughing instead as I bent down to scoop the young Princess up in my arms.

"Wow, someone's getting big!" I laughed.

"Uh huh! Uh huh!" Princess Lucy nodded quickly. "I'm up to my older-self's stomach now!"

"Lucina, please!" the time-traveler hissed in embarrassment.

Lucy just turned in my arms and blew her older self a raspberry, earning another laugh from her father.

"Father, do not encourage this kind of behavior!" Lucina groaned.

"Still hasn't lightened up, I see," I muttered to the younger princess.

"No, but I keep trying," she told me.

"I know you do, sweetie," I laughed, setting her back down. "Why don't you and your sisters go see the girls? Remember where Noire's room is upstairs?"

"Yeah!" Lucy cheered excitedly.

She was off in a blue flash, grabbing Lucina by the wrist and apparently pulling a young Cynthia out of hammer-space, before dragging them both up the stairs; much to Chrom and Sumia's great amusement. Frederick finally chose that point to make his entrance, carrying literally all of the luggage himself. He watched the girls fly up the stairs before his eyes settled on me and he gave a long-suffering sigh.

"Sup, Fredward," I grinned.


Once everyone was settled in the suite I kept for Chrom's visits, we met back up in one of the downstairs patios I liked to use to entertain guests on nice days. Of course, Chrom and Sumia's arrival hadn't gone unnoticed, and Maribelle, Say'ri and Tiki had all joined us, as well. Elle had set a table with snacks and tea, and that's where we all sat, basking in the autumn sun.

I'd taken the time to have a quick shower and run a razor over my head, but I'd decided to forgo hacking at the beard that had formed on my face until I had time to do it properly. But at least I didn't stink now.

"Fie," Say'ri muttered, looking down at her cup. "Would that you had told me we had taken your own quarters…"

"Ah, don't worry, I'm pretty much living in my office right now anyway," I waved her off, ink stains still evident on my fingers underlining my statement.

Say'ri was wearing a beautiful kimono that was probably nearly as old as Tiki, and no doubt cost as much as all of my holdings put together. Delicately embroidered white flowers decorated the pale pink fabric, swathes of color and stylized birds beneath them. Tiki was dressed much the way she usually was, though; and so were Chrom, Sumia and Maribelle.

"One day you will begin to actually act like a noble," Maribelle sighed theatrically. "And on that day pigs will soar through the air."

I rolled my eyes but kept my mouth shut. Ever since we'd made peace with our 'relationship' when I'd first shown up in Ylisse, Maribelle and Themis had, surprisingly, been my staunchest supporters in the Ylissean House of Lords upon my appointment as Duke. However, this unofficially made me her bitch, a fact she liked to exercise as much as humanly possible.

"We could have stayed in the guest quarters," Tiki added, reaching out and piling slices of roast apple onto a small plate.

"I only have enough space for two 'official visitation contingents'," I sighed. "One's permanently on reserve in case Chrom decides to vacation for the summer."

Chrom cleared his throat, arching one eyebrow.

"Sorry," I said, rolling my eyes, correcting myself. "I mean 'I respectfully maintain a suite of rooms for the esteemed Exalt and his family, ere they require lodgings in the north'."

"Better," Chrom smirked.

"Besides, I couldn't kick my old friends out and make you stay in an inn," I shrugged. "All the classy ones are already booked out. And if I tried to oust some other noble from one of the nicer inns then I'd have to deal with the fallout from that and… ugh. Fuck politics. How do you all deal with it?"

"A lifetime of training," Say'ri said automatically.

"I revel in the challenge it presents," Maribelle said haughtily.

"Ale," Chrom said simply.

There was a moment of silence before the entire table burst out laughing, the Exalt's comment even getting a few dainty chuckles from Maribelle.

"I notice you did not extend your hospitality to General Virion," said noblewoman drawled.

"Hey, he wanted the top spot, he stays in the barracks," I shrugged.

"Aren't you supposed to at least offer?" Sumia asked.

"Probably," I smirked, leaning back in my chair. "But like I said; fuck politics."

"How do you manage to have any friends at all with that attitude?" Tiki laughed.

"Charisma and the best stock of ale north of Ylisstol," I said, flashing a grin.

"Naga knows that's the only reason I'm here," Chrom muttered, earning a swift elbow to the ribs from Sumia.


And so, finally, opening night came.

The theatre was done, and utterly packed. Every seat had an ass in it, and the warm-up acts were just wrapping up.

And I was about to have a stroke.

"No, the props for the play need to go at the back, the dancers need room to move back here! Reg! Where the fuck do you think you're going with that light filter!? I don't care if it's dirty, we need it for the next act! And why the fuck isn't there any water at the snack table!? You, you and you, get some clean fucking water!"

I stalked through the crowd of actors, dancers, singers and musicians backstage, shouting out orders with Olivia and Morgan in tow.

"Well, you can take the General out of the army…" Morgan said with a grin.

"Gods I wish I'd had more directors like him when I was travelling," Oliva agreed.

"And where the fuck are the feather boas!?" I snarled over my shoulder.

I ignored Morgan and Olivia snickering at me in favor of glaring at the prop assistant hurrying forward with an armful of brightly colored feather boas for Olivia's dance routines.

"Why are you not freaking out like me?" I asked her, turning a little more.

"Because you're doing a good enough job for the both of us," Olivia giggled. "Also, I am actually really nervous about being back on stage again after so long and its such an important night and I'm trying really hard to maintain my cool-"

Morgan and I both quirked our eyebrows at her and the dancer caught herself, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes.

"Okay, point taken," I smirked.

"Sorry," Olivia said, eyes still closed. "I'm just so nervous. It's been so long since I've been on stage that… I've got the butterflies… I… I'll b-be fine, though!"

Morgan rolled her eyes, reaching out and poking Olivia on the nose.

"Boop."

Olivia jumped a little, her eyes snapping open. Morgan pressed her attack, giving a wordless shout and…

"M-M-Morgan!? What are- EEK! Stop! Stop!" Olivia laughed.

…wrapping the dancer in a big bear hug, pinning her arms to her sides and lifting her off the ground.

"Are you distracted yet!?" Morgan said above Olivia's laughter.

"Yes! Yes! Stop before you ruin my costume!" the dancer cried.

My daughter set the slight older woman down, Olivia taking a deep breath and desperately trying to hide the smile on her face.

"… the fuck was that?" I asked with a smirk.

"My mom used to do that to me all the time when I was nervous," Morgan shrugged.

"Cute," I said, turning to Olivia. "You good now?"

"Surprisingly, yes," the dancer nodded.

"Okay, good, now go get ready, you're on soon," I said.

Olivia took a deep breath, switching over from her usual self to 'stage Olivia'. The change was palpable, an aura of calm surrounding the usually skittish dancer as she let herself simply sink into the moment. She didn't even speak as she walked away, Morgan and I watching this display of ethereal grace with equal parts awe and envy.

Then the lights went up, the band started and the dancers flooded the stage.

The warm-up acrobats beat a hasty retreat, knowing that they would just be in the way if they lingered. As Olivia's old dance troupe crowded the stage and their show began, I gave myself a moment to watch as Olivia started the dance, her swaying, willowy movements only the beginning of the powerful, energetic dance that I knew was coming.

I'd had to sit down after she'd shown me the prototype. It was that amazing.

The lights went low, blue glass filters being put over the lamps as they all took their places. Olivia was at the back, her pure white outfit contrasting sharply with the dimness of the stage, making her and the other dancers stand out even more. The music started, low and thrumming as the audience began to give their first appreciative glances as they started to move, each dancer's movements flowing into each other's like water. At the center of it all, Olivia moving and spinning, ever so slowly, tantalizingly, as she began to work the stage.

And that was all I had time to watch, cursing my luck that I was back stage and not in the audience watching this spectacle. I hadn't even seen the damned dress rehearsals of her dance; I was too damn busy with my own dress rehearsals, making sure the play was utterly perfect. Which, to my mind, it was.

"Alright, places, people!" I said, turning and clapping. "The dances only go for an hour, so let's make it count! I want everyone in costume and ready to go! This is the big one, people!"

There was a low cheer from the assembled cast and crew, keeping a lid on it so as not to distract the dancers on stage. A new fervor overtook those of us still backstage, Morgan hovering around me as I did one final check of the props we'd need for the play. Unfortunately, Murphy's Law dictating 'everything that can go wrong will go wrong' was in full force that night, and just as I was finishing with the props one of the stage hands came running up to me out of breath.

"Milord! Milord, we have a problem!" the young man said, out of breath.

"I swear to whatever gods you hold dear if you tell me the caterers bailed early…" I growled in warning.

"N-no, milord, it's… ah… well…" the young man stammered.

"Well? Out with it!" I snapped.

"You need to come to the dressing room, sir," was all he said.

I felt a familiar sinking feeling in my stomach as I exchanged glances with Morgan. The kind of feeling I only got when we were in the field and things were about to get FUBAR.

We hurried to the dressing room, the assistant leading us in and standing dutifully just inside the door as I entered into a scene from my worst nightmares.

Our female lead, in full costume, was lying on the floor holding her ankle. The male lead and his understudy were both being held apart by more of the stagehands, faces bloodied and costumes torn.

"What. The. Fuck?" I growled, stomping into the room.

Both men shook off the stagehands, exploding into accusations and pointed fingers, curses and excuses faster and louder than I could comprehend. I held up a hand for silence, my old army countenance clearly slipping on as both men clammed up immediately.

"You," I said, indicating the stagehand who had brought the situation to me. "Explain. Now."

"Maly fell, sir," the stagehand said, indicating to the woman on the ground. "Twisted her ankle, sir."

"And Wingus and Dingus?" I asked, indicating to the two bloodied actors.

"It was Sige's fault!" the lead cried, pointing at the understudy. "If he'd been on time with his delivery for-"

"Hany, shut the fuck up!" the understudy snarled. "You're always such a perfectionist you can't tell that-"

"Silence," I said, barely raising my voice.

Once again, the two actors clammed up. Maly gave a small whimper of fear from the ground.

"Neither of you can go on stage like this," I said, frowning. "Or Maly, for that matter."

I moved to kneel by her side, indicating I wanted to look at her injured ankle. She nodded, and I gently prodded at the joint while everyone else silently watched on. After so many years around clumsy farm boys playing at being soldiers, I'd gotten a feel for this kind of injury. Maly's ankle would be fine if she rested it and we got a priest to look at it. Unfortunately, even if we had a priest take care of her right now she would still be limping for a good few hours until her body realized it was healed. Which meant she was out, too.

"Morgan?" I called.

"Yes, sir?" she answered, snapping to attention.

"I want you to bring Maly to one of the quieter rooms and help her change," I said. "You think you're up to playing our lead tonight?"

Morgan's face went slack for a moment before lighting up like a roman candle.

"Sir! I won't let you down, sir!" she said enthusiastically.

"Good," I nodded.

"I'm sorry, milord," Maly mumbled pitifully. "I… I…"

"You need to rest and get better," I said gently. "Because there's still at least a week of shows here, then possibly a tour if we're well enough received. And I know for a fact Morgan still has a day job to worry about. So relax, and feel better. Okay?"

Mollified somewhat, Maly nodded and sullenly let Morgan lead her out of the room. Leaving just me, the stagehands and the two bloodied actors.

"Right," Sige said, smoothing down his ruined costume. "I suppose we should get a priest in here, get our faces fixed up and-"

I turned to the stagehand who had led us in, ignoring the man.

"Get the prop department on fixing up new outfits right now," I said quickly. "Tell them we had an incident, they weren't salvageable."

"But sir, they're just-" Hany started.

"You fuck-knuckles have bled all over them," I pointed out. "They're ruined."

Both men looked sullenly down at themselves, as if noticing the state of themselves for the first time.

"You are both supposed to be professionals," I said, turning to face them both head on. "I do not expect this from professionals that came highly recommended by Olivia, a woman who is currently out there on stage making the rest of us look bad with her fucking perfectionism. While you two, my two leads, brawl like children.

"Sorry, milord." "Sorry, sir."

"Stick your apologies so far up your ass they end up behind your eyes," I said. "Fucking… you both sound like you've been punched in the mouth. Even if we heal you now it won't be enough."

I turned to one of the other stagehands.

"Was there anyone else studying the part?" I asked.

"Not… seriously, sir," the stagehand said. "A few of the others ran lines, but…"

"Dammit," I seethed.

"Well, there's always you, sir," the other stagehand suggested tentatively. "You ran lines, and you even wrote it-"

"Not an option," I cut him off.

"No," Hany said, exchanging a glance with Sige. "No, I think it might be the only option."

"No," I said again.

"He's right," Sige sighed. "We messed up. But I don't want to see this show ruined just because of us."

"No!" I said again.

"Milord, please," Hany said, bowing. "Play the lead role."

"Fuck! No!" I almost shouted.


I stood at the side of the stage, watching as the dancers came walking off after their final bow. The curtains lowered, and the stagehands quickly set about sweeping and clearing the stage as more of them began to put the backdrops and props for the first scene of the play into place. I had my 'don't fuck with me' face on as the dancers passed me, almost all of them averting their gazes. Only Olivia hesitated, her face shocked as she was hustled past me. Our eyes met, my gaze pleading 'kill me' as she turned to continue looking at me, until she was gone.

From my side Morgan snickered, bumping me in the shoulder.

"You look weird with hair," she commented.

"I will never have sex again," I warned. "You will never be born. Don't push me."

I wore a dark brown wig of yak hair, carefully styled to look as real as possible. My beard was gone, replaced instead with some dark designer stubble where it had once been. My face had been covered in a generous helping of foundation, the make up artist commenting again and again how pretty my lashes were and what a waste it was they were on a man. I looked ten years younger. I felt like a fool.

And worse, I had a feeling I hadn't had in more than a decade.

I had stage fright.

The curtains went up, and the narrator stepped forward to riotous applause. The sound died away as he began to speak, reciting an opening that I knew by heart.

"Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean…"

"Here we go," I muttered to myself.

Romeo and Juliet, the bastardized Ylissean version, had begun.

"This is so exciting," Morgan said, bouncing a little.

I sucked in a shuddering breath, wincing at the feeling of air on my upper lip.

The narrator finished, bowing and backing off stage as the first actors went out. I watched for a time, waiting for my cue. They performed their roles perfectly, as if made for them. Shakespeare's bullshit made up version of English had stumped even the most experienced members of their troupe at first, but they had adapted swimmingly, and by the time Prince came on stage I was sold.

"Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow. We would as willingly give cure as know."

"Dad, that's you!" Morgan whispered, bursting with excitement.

"I know!" I hissed back.

I took one last deep breath, glad that the foundation was hiding the nervous blush coloring my face, and stepped out on stage.

I moved languidly, sluggishly, as if the world had lost all meaning to me. Because that's how Romeo is feeling during this scene. He was lovelorn, scorned and depressed. So I had to be, too. It was time to channel my inner teenager.

The crowd went silent as I stepped on stage, no one even daring to move. I didn't dare look out past the lights, past the band pit, to the faces of literally every person I knew watching me.

A few more lines were exchanged as I milled pointlessly about the back of the stage, and as Montague and Lady Montague exited, I stepped forward.

"Good morrow, cousin," Benvolio greeted.

I gave a theatrical sigh. "Is the day so young?"

"But new struck nine," the actor said.

"Ay me! sad hours seem long. Was that my father that went hence so fast?" I asked moodily.

"It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?" the other man asked helpfully.

"Not having that, which, having, makes them short," I answered cryptically.

"In love?" Benvolio guessed.

"Out—" I said, my voice catching.

"Of love?" he asked.

"Out of her favor, where I am in love," I finally explained.

And so it went. So we performed. I fell back into a role I had never actually played, only been understudy for. I had always played older roles; MacDuff, Claudius, that sort of older man. Hell, I'd even played Puck. This felt odd, especially now I was in my thirties, to be playing a man as young as Romeo. But, judging from the fact I wasn't being booed off stage, I guess I was doing okay.

I was so keyed up when I stepped off stage I even missed Morgan's debut as Juliet. She'd be breaking a lot of hearts tonight, that girl. She'd looked stunning all done up in costume and makeup, and I felt an explosion of pride at what a beautiful young woman she was becoming.

The play continued on, until finally it came the scene where Morgan and I were on stage together, during Capulet's party. Capulet and Tybalt just had their little argument scene about letting Romeo stay, and I slowly sashayed my way up to Morgan across the stage, an eager, boyish grin on my face.

"If I profane with my unworthiest hand," I said in my best come hither voice."This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand, To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."

"Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much," Morgan laughed, drawing back ever-so-slightly from me. "Which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss."

I stepped forward again, grinning down.

"Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?" I asked playfully.

"Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer," Morgan rebuffed.

She stepped away from me, and I reached out to grasp her hand, before I gently pulled her back to me. A small blush spread across Morgan's cheeks, enhanced by the lighting and the masterful application of her makeup.

"O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair," I intoned.

"Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake," Morgan said, smiling shyly.

"Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take," I said, leaning down again.

Morgan turned up to face me, eyes half lidded as I closed in.

And we both froze, the same thought currently passing between us.

OH FUCK, WE'RE RELATED.

After a moment of hesitation Morgan didn't pull away, nor did she break character. So, I decided 'fuck it' and played the role, performing the scene as it was intended.

And by that, I mean Morgan and I kissed.

My time-travelling daughter and I shared a brief, tender kiss under the spotlights, the entire crowd losing their minds and cheering for the two young lovers in the story.

Morgan, hopefully just playing the part, moved her body against me as we kissed, and wary of blocking the action I turned us a little, pulling her flush against me in the process.

When we finally separated we locked gazes, Morgan's eyes sparkling as she grinned up at me, a much more pronounced blush now on her features as we separated.

"Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged," I said huskily.

"Then have my lips the sin that they have took?" Morgan asked, somewhat amorously.

Doing it for the play, doing it for the play, opening night has to be perfect, it's part of the play… I desperately thought.

"Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again," I laughed, pulling her close again as the crowd roared their approval.

And Morgan, much to my utter stupefaction, amped things up a notch. If the first kiss was tentative and experimental, this one was a kiss of lust and desire. Much as Romeo and Juliet would no doubt have shared. My senses were overcome as she slipped her tongue into my mouth and I grasped her tight, the roar of the crowd falling away as I simply focused on the play.

Not the kiss.

Not Morgan mewling into my mouth as we passionately embraced.

I focused on the play.

Not the way Morgan dug her nails into my back, just hard enough to be pleasurable.

We were acting.

Not making out on stage.

After a moment that seemed to last an eternity we finally separated, gasping for air. Morgan grinned up at me shyly, fluttering heavy lashes.

"You kiss by the book," she said.

As the scene progressed I found myself in a sort of fugue state, performing the part as well as I could as I kept reminding myself 'it's just for the play'.

Then, once the scene was complete the curtains finally came down on the first act. There was a very brief intermission as the band began to play to fill space and stagehands rushed to change the set and prop pieces from the party to the garden scene, complete with a balcony for Romeo to climb up. This gave us a few moments to catch our breath, and the first thing I did was move for the pile of my clothes I'd left in the corner when I'd changed into this costume. I dug around for only a few moments, pulling out the bottle of whiskey I'd stashed in my jacket (I knew tonight would be stressful, I figured I'd need it sooner or later) and took a very long drink from it.

"Dad! What! The! Fuck!?" Morgan screeched, flying across the backstage area.

I had enough time to spin as Morgan advanced on me, opening my mouth to protest, and then she was there, hiking her dress to kick at my leg and dropping me to my knees, where she wrapped her hands around my throat.

"What! Is! Wrong! With! You!?" She shrieked, strangling me.

"We… were ac-act-ing!" I croaked, struggling against her iron grip. "Ack! Yo-guh-you… kissed…m-me! Ghk!"

"You set the tone!" Morgan cried, her voice shrill. "I went with it!"

To my relief, Morgan's hands were tugged from my neck by a practically glowing Olivia.

"That was incredible!" the dancer gushed, holding both of Morgan's trembling hands in her own. "You two are amazing onstage! Such chemistry! Such passion! Gods, I swooned! I haven't swooned like that for a play since I was a girl!"

"We're related!" Morgan defended, her voice still shrill.

"Which is why the two of you have such great chemistry!" Olivia chided, before turning to me. "What are you doing on the floor?"

"Dropped my whiskey," I croaked, holding up the half-empty bottle.

Morgan snatched it from my hand, upending the bottle and drinking the rest before Olivia and I could get a word in edgewise.

"Well. Okay," I said slowly.

Morgan tossed the empty bottle back to me with a glare.

"I cannot wait to watch you die," she said dangerously.

"You mean in the play, right?" I asked, terrified.

"Oh, I know!" Olivia laughed. "He's been doing such an amazing job I just bet he'll give us a spectacular death!"

"You mean in the play, right? Right?" I repeated, eyes widening.

"One minute, people!" one of the stagehands shouted.

Morgan huffed and turned away, doing a very convincing impersonation of Severa as she stomped away to take her position in the little tower prop we'd had made. Olivia chuckled, reaching down to help me up.

"I'm dead," I groaned, massaging my neck.

"She's just being shy," Olivia chuckled. "You two really are amazing out there."

"Thanks," I said. "Well, if you'll excuse me, the audience awaits."

Olivia blushed, reaching up on her tip-toes and blindsided me by planting a gentle kiss on my lips.

"It's a l-little late but… that was for luck," she said, pulling back. "Now… go knock 'em dead!"

I grinned, feeling a little better.

"You bet your perfectly-toned ass I will," I laughed.

Olivia giggled, swatting me on the arm as I turned away. I made my way back to the stage.

The audience awaited.


Later that evening, after the thunderous applause at the end of the show and the standing ovation for the actors, dancers and everyone else who had performed throughout the night, I slipped away from the after-party for the cast, crew and certain VIPs at my mansion.

It was fun, and the celebratory mood was intoxicating after the rush of being on stage again. But I just wanted a place to quietly come down from the adrenaline high. My hands were still shaking, hours later. The night air was cool on my skin as I slowly walked, basking in the moonlight and grinning up at the stars as I unconsciously made my way back to the theatre.

Unfortunately, I wasn't alone as I walked.

"My, but that was inspiring," Inigo laughed, ambling alongside me. "I think I'll have to use some of those lines. What was that one about roses?"

"What's in a name? A rose by any name would smell as sweet," I supplied.

"Right, right," Inigo nodded. "Brilliant!"

I rolled my eyes, unable to stop the grin on my face. Admittedly, Inigo wasn't a bad guy. He was just difficult to be around when he went into 'horndog' mode. Although, at present I was in such a good mood I could live with it.

"You pick up using Shakespeare lines, you let me know," I laughed.

We walked along for a while, just shooting the shit and chilling out. The cool night air did wonders to help bring me back down, and the four ales I'd had were starting to cycle through now, so I was feeling pretty good. Once we began to cross the gardens out front of the theatre Inigo went momentarily quiet.

"So why are we heading back to the theatre, anyway?" he asked.

"I just want to bask while it's still mine," I shrugged.

We went inside, passing a few staff members doing a little last-minute cleaning.

"What do you mean?" Inigo asked, furrowing his brow curiously. "Are you giving it to Exalt Chrom or something?"

"No, I'm giving it to-" I started.

"Inigo! Ben!"

I glanced up to the stage, my words cut short by Olivia's shout. She waved merrily from the edge of the stage, smiling brightly in the dim light of the lantern she'd set up on top of one of the piles of props.

"Hey, Pinkie," I greeted.

"Hi mom!" Inigo called. "I'll catch up with you later! I'm heading back to the ladies at the party!"

Inigo spun, sparing me a wink before he disappeared back into the stands. Olivia made an adorable little sound of disappointment as Inigo left, her frown turning back into a radiant smile as I clambered up on stage. I wasn't as young as I used to be, and I was definitely feeling it after all the excitement of the play.

Olivia laughed, bouncing over to me and throwing her arms around my neck in a big hug. Her good mood infectious, I picked her up and we spun a few times.

"Tonight was amazing!" she laughed when I put her back down. "You were amazing!"

"No, you were amazing," I chuckled. "I was adequate. And I look like a kid without the beard."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short," Olivia said. "You performed incredibly as a stand-in with literally no practice! And you look good!"

"I did kind of write the thing," I pointed out.

Olivia smiled up at me again, and all of a sudden I was very aware of how she was still in my arms. We both had yet to clean up after the night's show, and Olivia still had a thin sheen of glitter across her exposed flesh, her musky scent intoxicating at such close proximity. Which made me feel bad, because I no doubt stank to high heaven at present. Olivia seemed to finally notice we were still holding each other, too, pulling away and laughing awkwardly. I suddenly felt cold without her pressed against me.

"So, what're you doing here instead of the party?" I asked, trying to dispel the awkward mood.

Olivia grinned almost girlishly as she threw out her arms and did a slow circle, closing her eyes and leaning her head back.

"I just wanted to soak it in," she said, turning back to me. "One day, I'll have something like this, too. I just… can't wait."

I smirked, crossing my arms and leaning back against the prop tower Morgan had cried 'Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?' from earlier that night.

"What about someday real soon?" I asked. "Like, say… tomorrow?"

The pink-haired dancer scoffed, brushing one long bubblegum strand away from her face as she smiled sadly at me.

"I'm afraid I could save for a lifetime and not have enough to own a theatre this extravagant," she admitted sadly. "Never mind tomorrow."

"And if, say, some bored Duke were to decide it was too much work to keep a theatre this size organized and running smoothly and wanted to get rid of it…" I said, trailing off with another grin.

Olivia gaped for a moment, freezing up. She brought her hands together in front of her chest, her fingers fidgeting with each other in the old nervous tic I rarely saw anymore.

"Ben, if this is a joke… it's… the cruelest thing…" she said, her voice a low whisper. "You know this is my dream…"

"Well, I do so love making dreams come true," I laughed.

I bounced off the tower, taking a few steps across the stage towards Olivia. When I stopped in front of her, she winced, looking up at me with big, wide eyes. I grinned, reaching into my pocket and producing a ring of keys before dangling them between us.

"I haven't got the deed on me, but hopefully this is symbolic enough," I said. "It's yours. All of it. Always was."

"Ben… I…" Olivia hesitated.

"Take them," I said.

"I can't…" she whispered. "I didn't… didn't earn it…"

"You made all this possible," I told her gently. "I wouldn't have even known where to start. I only did this because I had you at my back to keep me going, Olivia. You've always been like that. Always been the one that's supported us, supported me. In the army, hell, even back when we were just Shepherds. Without you… tonight wouldn't have happened."

I stopped, a familiar smirk rising to my face again.

"Which also means that I wouldn't have had to make out with my time-travelling daughter on stage if not for you, so…"

Olivia snorted, clamping her hands over her mouth to stifle her giggles. She looked down, and I jingled the ring of keys hanging off my finger again, making her glance back up at me.

"This is my dream," she said airily.

"I know," I told her.

"And you… you did this… all of this… for me?"

"Well, you and me," I shrugged. "I want Baham to be more than just a logging town and a military base. I want there to be art. I want there to be learning. I want there to be beauty. I want you to help me do that. Consider this a bribe, if it helps."

Olivia sniffled, half-laughing and half-sobbing as I jingled the keys again.

"Take them," I whispered. "I never intended to keep this place."

"You did this for me," she whispered, tearing up.

"'Course I did," I smiled.

Slowly, tentatively, Olivia reached out and took the keys from my hand. She held them in her palm, as if weighing them, looking at the keys as if they were made of glass and would shatter if she were too hasty, before holding them tightly against her chest and looking down at the stage.

"Is… is this really okay?" she asked.

"I'm kinda the Duke," I laughed, reaching out to cup the side of her face. "What I say goes. So yes. It's okay."

Olivia shuddered under my touch, drifting a little closer. I stepped in, gently tilting her face up.

"Thank you," she breathed, tears caught in her lashes.

She covered the last of the space in a flash, throwing herself at me and wrapping her arms around me to pull my lips down to hers. I pulled her in with one hand around her waist, my other moving back to run through her hair before cradling the back of her head as I deepened the kiss. Olivia gave a small gasp, pressing herself against me as our tongues met, the dancer's grace spreading, apparently, even to her tongue's rhythmic movements against my own. The dancer slid against me, our bodies meshing and beginning to grind together as we rocked back and forth a little, Olivia wrapping one leg around the back of mine to hold herself tighter against me as we moved. She was intoxicating in my arms, her scent, her feel, her taste, pressed up against me like this, and soon our kiss reached a fever pitch…

And Olivia pulled away.

"Wait," she gasped, stepping back. "Wait… stop."

"Right," I sighed, internally screaming at myself. "That wasn't fair… sorry…"

"Wh-what?" Olivia squeaked.

"I don't want you to think I'm just giving you the theatre to get into your pants," I said. "I really care about you, Olivia, and I shouldn't have… sorry. Just… sorry."

"Sorry for giving me the most thoughtful gift I've ever gotten?" Olivia laughed, smiling sadly. "Or for… th-the best kiss I've ever had in my life?"

"Woman, don't tease me," I growled, frowning as I turned away. "You're sending really mixed signals right now, and that's not cool."

"I know, I'm sorry!" Olivia said quickly. "I don't think you're just giving me the theatre to… I… I know you really care about me. And I really care about you too, but… but Inigo…."

"What?" I asked, turning back to her. "What about him? Did he say something about the future?"

Olivia shook her head, long pink hair flying about with the motion.

"N-no… but…" she said, bunching in on herself again. "I… want him to be born. I owe it to him, after everything he went through to s-save the world… with us. So… I… until I find out wh-who his f-father is…"

I gave a long, deflating sigh as I turned away again. It hurt to even look at her right now.

"Don't worry," I said, shaking my head. "I get it."

"Y-you do?" Olivia asked hopefully.

"I wouldn't do anything to risk not having Morgan," I said, running a hand over the top of my head. "So yeah. I get it."

We looked at each other a moment, sad, terrible heartbreaking understanding passing between us as-

"WILL YOU TWO PLEASE JUST FUCK ALREADY!?"

We both jumped a foot into the air as the shout echoed around the empty theatre, followed by a second desperate voice.

"Morgan are you out of your fucking mind!?"

"No! No, I'm so sick of seeing them dance around each other!"

"Morgan, stop it, we swore we wouldn't interfere!"

"Fuck! That! Do you know how much I've spent on hair dye over the years!? No, this ends today!"

"Dammit, Morgan! Stop! Stoppit!"

"Fucking let me go or I'll-"

There was a strangled yelp and Inigo went crashing over the railing above the seating area. Fortunately, he didn't have far to fall as the nearest seats were only about two or three feet lower, but he landed heavily and Olivia and I both involuntarily winced in sympathy.

Then Morgan appeared at the top of the aisle, stomping down the stairs with a look of frustrated rage on her pretty face. Inigo righted himself and hurried to follow, arriving at the stage at almost the exact same time she did, brushing his hair back from his face into its usual style.

"You two were doing so well," Morgan seethed. "And then you had to go and fucking ruin it."

"Actually, I'd say it's you killing the mood right now," Inigo said.

Morgan punched him in the shoulder without even looking.

"Shut. Up," she growled, glaring at him out of the corner of her eye.

"You!" she snapped, facing Olivia. "He may as well have just proposed! We can all see how into each other you two are! For fuck's sake, you even retired to the same city! Mom, I love you to bits, but you need to sack up!"

"And you!" she snapped, rounding on me. "I've seen you go from zero to balls-deep in half an hour! Will you please just do the deed!? Please!? Just! Fuck! Already!"

"Morgan, gods!" Inigo wailed, covering his ears. "These are our parents! I don't need to think about them… ugh… gross…"

"You are not helping!" Morgan shouted, rounding on Inigo again.

Inigo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, he placed both hands on Morgan's shoulders, giving her a wide smile.

"Morgan, I love you, but you need to shut the fuck up now," Inigo said sweetly.

Morgan opened her mouth to continue, but Inigo spun her around, wrapping one arm around her middle to pin her arms and clapping the other hand over her mouth. Her muffled screams didn't quite echo, but we all got the hint that she was displeased. Inigo grinned bashfully up at us.

"Sorry, wasn't quite how I wanted you two to find out, but you know what Morgan's like," he chuckled. "I'll get rid of her, try and get her drunk at the party so she passes out and stops shouting. You two look like you have a lot to talk about. Mom. Dad. I'll see you later."

Inigo then proceeded to drag a struggling Morgan from the theatre like a fucking pro, like he'd done this thing a million times. She struggled and screamed around his hand the whole time, and judging from the cursing she managed to bite him at one point, but in only a few minutes Olivia and I were left alone in the theatre again, watching where the two time-travelers had been with matching dumbfounded looks on our faces.

We turned, our eyes meeting… and we both simultaneously burst into laughter.

We laughed for what had to be ten minutes straight, until we were both doubled over and gasping for breath. I gave a little sigh, straightening and wiping the tears from the corner of my eye as I shook my head.

"That's girl's gonna be the death of me," I chuckled. "So… uh…"

That was as far as I got before Olivia was on me again. Only this time, I wasn't expecting her, and as our lips met, I toppled backwards, landing flat on my back as we kissed again.

"I guess… this means we're… getting married now?" I asked between kisses.

Olivia pulled back, giving me an impish little smile that damn-near stopped my heart.

"You bet your perfectly-toned ass it does," she whispered in my ear. "But you're still growing the beard back."

I grinned up at the dancer looking down at me with alluring, half-lidded eyes.

"Yes, ma'am," I laughed, leaning up for another kiss.


I let out a satisfied breath, rising up from where I'd been crouching and wiping the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. Another year, another summer in Baham, another chance to clean and repair the roof to the Royal Baham Theatre. It had been almost three years now since that first opening night, that perfect, golden evening where…

"Daddy! We're hungry!"

I sighed, letting my shoulders droop as the maintenance crew positioned around me chuckled.

"The more things change, the more they stay the same, right?" I muttered to myself, scooting towards the edge of the roof.

I glanced down, Noire glaring up at me with her fists on her hips. She was older now, almost too old for me to carry, standing brazenly with feet spread wide as she called to me. Behind her Elle sighed, my poor maid as put-upon as ever.

Only now…

"Noire, be nice, your daddy's almost done," Olivia gently scolded. "We'll go get some lunch after that."

"Sorry, mama Olivia," Noire said in a suitably chastised tone.

Olivia just smirked, seeing right through the act, and bent down to plant a kiss on the top of the girl's head. "Just be patient, okay sweetie?"

"No, I'm basically done up here," I called down, before turning back to the maintenance guys. "You guys, uh…"

"We're fine, milord," one of them laughed. "Go ahead. We can handle the rest."

I nodded, smiling as I slid down the ladder to the ground. As soon as my feet hit the cobblestone path a little grey blur shot towards my legs, Inigo wrapping his arms around one leg as he smiled up at me.

"Up!" my son cried joyously.

"Alright, kiddo," I laughed, bending to lift him into my arms.

He laughed and squealed as I lifted him high, before settling into my arms against my shoulder.

Olivia bounced forward, a bundle containing newborn-Morgan held closely to her chest, and leaned over the two kids to give me a quick peck on the lips. She had begun to dress more conservatively once Inigo had been born, wearing a long cream skirt and a stylish white blouse that did nothing to hide her dancer's physique.

"Come on," she said with a smile. "Tharja's supposed to meet us at the mansion for lunch. You don't want to keep her waiting."

I scoffed, taking little Noire's hand with my free hand and walking side by side with my family back towards our home.

"Why do you think I left Su'ko at the mansion?" I asked under my breath.

Olivia just laughed, leaning over to kiss my cheek.


AN2019: OH GOD. I AM GOING. TO GO. TO HELL. FOR THAT SCENE. Why Romeo and Juliet? Just for that one scene. I'm also a huge fan of The Bard, and his tragedies have long been a huge influence in my own work. It was nice to make as many quotes and references as I could in one story, though.