(A/N: This is the intermission chapter! It's also the last one, since the final arc is just the last two chapters. These next few chapters focus on Marth and Malin, so they'll be referred to as Lucina and Morgan until further notice. I hope you enjoy the chapter!)
It was like any other day—it began as if it were, in any case. Lucina woke up and was greeted as she normally would; the only indication of it being anything special was that Morgan offered to do her work for the entire day more enthusiastically than usual. She declined as she would on any other occasion, since her work today was more for her own curiosity than productiveness.
Ever since they came back with three letters—one addressed to Lucina, one addressed to Morgan, and one sent for 'whomever it may concern'—and a book—a tactics primer of some sort—Lucina received reports of more letters and objects. She even heard of a few people who had come, asked about the time and place, then mysteriously disappeared in the south. These didn't seem to have much consistency, so determining their purpose was hard; they all appeared in different places, different times, but Lucina feared what was happening and she hoped that it wasn't the case. She spent her spare time investigating this, and it only made it clearer that her fears may be true.
Only a few hours passed before Morgan checked on her, trying once again to take over her work. She brushed away the offer and he left. Closer to lunch, Morgan came back—she stopped him before he even tried to offer, and he left again. Lucina continued reading over reports and observing the objects that were found either in the middle of seemingly nowhere or in the Risen's possession, stopping when Morgan came a third time.
"I'm back," Morgan declared. "I'm here to get you for the meeting this time, though."
"Finally, your insistence relents," Lucina said somewhat teasingly. She folded up the reports and put them in their place. "I don't think you've ever been this nice on my birthday."
"You didn't let me do anything for the eleven years we were mercenaries," Morgan pointed out. "The least I can do now is try to let you rest every now and then."
Lucina and Morgan left the tent together, going to a larger one. The meeting itself was with Lucina's council-of-sorts—the twelve people who went back in time with her. They helped her in most affairs, especially the smaller or trivial ones, allowing her to focus on the more important things. Meetings were held fairly regularly so that everyone knew about every stage of restoration at any given point.
She took her spot at the head of the table, and Morgan sat to her right. The only other people there were Laurent, Noire, Severa, and Kjelle; they begun as soon as Brady, Nah, Cynthia, Gerome, Inigo, Owain and Yarne came. "Thank you for coming," Lucina said. Looking towards her brother, she continued, "Morgan, can you start with a basic report?"
Morgan nodded. "Right. As far as I'm aware, there aren't many Risen left in Ylisse—most of them are concentrated in Plegia. If any Risen to come near us, the walls around Ylisstol will stop them from entering the city itself. We can start rebuilding houses fairly soon, too; we have enough wood and stone to start this week. There's also been a lot of activity down south."
"I have comments on that," Gerome said. "I ran into a group of people when I was patrolling—all of them were people who had lost their lives here. They asked for my name, then starting going south." He pulled out a letter, sliding it down the table to Lucina. "Before they left, one of them gave me that letter and told me to give it to the 'ruler of a ruined land.' Considering that you're the only ruler we know of, I assume it's for you."
Lucina took the letter. As she slowly unfolded it, Kjelle added, "I found someone that's supposedly dead, too—that dark mage who was recruited at the same time you were. Henry, I think; he asked after Morgan, laughed a little, then disappeared. Wanted to know if Morgan 'finally became a tactician with tact.'"
Morgan only looked at Lucina, but she hardly noticed as she read the letter's contents aloud. "'I've made plans to visit. Don't try to deny it; we've been working hard these past few months. You won't need to house us, just listen to what we have to say—it's been almost two decades since we've all seen you, after all. It will just be me, Robin, and skilled guards; no need to about anyone else.'" Silence fell as the words sank in. "…It's Chrom's handwriting," Lucina finally admitted.
"Lil' Morgan wasn't kidding," Morgan said, almost sounding amazed. "Except it sounds like Chrom and Robin are coming here instead of me coming to them."
No one said anything more. Some of them looked amazed or startled, and others looked happy or scared. On a few, it was a battle between all four. They all looked at Lucina as if for guidance, but she had none to provide. She was lost as well, after all; she couldn't tell if she should be angry or accept the circumstances as best she could. She knew that she should have expected this, and she wanted a chance to talk with her living parents again—but not now, not here, not in this land of recovering decay. There was nothing for them here but death; even Chrom and Robin could lose their lives should they encounter any Risen on their own. It wasn't safe, and it never would be.
The meeting went no further. Lucina slowly took out Falchion to dismiss the others, but as she held it out, it began to glow. She froze, and nearly everyone else did as well. Moments later, one of the townspeople stepped into the tent, out of breath and panicked. "Your Grace! I'm sorry to interrupt, but there's a man and woman outside the city asking for you. Th-they bear a resemblance to the late exalt and his lady! They said—"
"Don't worry yourself," Lucina said calmly, which in truth betrayed her actual emotions. She slid Falchion back into its sheath and stood up. "I'll handle it."
"Lucina…" Morgan began, standing up as well.
Already at the entrance of the tent, Lucina looked back at him. "It's all right, Brother—I will send them your regards as I tell them to leave. They don't belong here; they never will." She didn't bother waiting for his reply, instead walking alone to the edge of town.
