Lucina found that she rather enjoyed the nomadic lifestyle of a mercenary. It wasn't unlike traveling from battlefield to battlefield, which she had already known accustomed to. Keeping her head down and her left eye covered, she quickly adjusted to being unable to immediately return to her time—even if it wasn't ideal.
Six months passed, and she visited Mount Prism once again. Wary of Ylisstol, she had left a month in advance to prepare for a large detour. Naga told her that she was able to establish a connection to her time, but it wasn't yet undoubtedly safe to travel. Keeping it in mind, devising a plan to retrieve Falchion for when she could leave, she was fine until she was approached by a man she didn't know, carrying a letter and package.
"Are you the friend of a Valmese wyvern rider named Gerome?" He asked.
Lucina didn't turn towards him, not recognizing his voice. "…Yes," she replied after a few moments.
"This letter and package is for you, then," the man said. He gave them both to her, and she took them. "If it's not yours, give it to one of the red-haired merchants." After that, he left, leaving Lucina to stare at the letter and package.
Finding a corner of the town where no one could see her, she read the letter first. It's contents were brief and simple:
Dear friend,
That might not sound right, but I'm not sure if this will get to you. Better safe than sorry; I know you don't want to be found. How did I find you, then, if this is actually you? Description. Hopefully you haven't changed much about your appearance.
I thought I would give you a warning. After the war ended, I've been in the wyvern sanctuary with Minerva. But I've been thinking…and I've made a decision: I'm leaving Valm, although Minerva is staying here where she's happy. It's unlikely that you'll see me unless conditions are favorable. I don't want to share where I'm going, however, lest this ends up in the hands of someone irresponsible.
The package contains a gift. I thought it would help you, if you chose to use it.
—Gerome
Slowly folding the letter back up, unsure of what to think, Lucina then opened the package. Inside was a small wrapped object; unraveling the soft fabric covering revealed a mask reminiscent of the one she once wore. Examining it, she put it on and resumed her work, thanking Gerome in her thoughts for the gift while wondering the intention behind the gift.
For the next few days, she often thought of the letter. When they last spoke face to face, he seemed content to stay in the wyvern sanctuary with Minerva. What had changed? For him to leave, doing so without his mother's wyvern…it seemed odd. For the next three years, she received similar letters and packages; for those three years, her friends steadily disappeared.
Severa, Owain, and Inigo left next, although they came back for a time. Permanently leaving a few months after Gerome's letter, Lucina was already beginning to dread the surprise mail. In addition to Gerome's gift of a mask, everyone else gave a gift too. A simple outfit from Severa; a book of legends from Owain; a sheath meant for Falchion from Inigo; a silver lance from Kjelle; medicines from Yarne; a hand axe from Brady; several novelty tomes from Laurent; a feathered blanket from Cynthia; and a small toy from Noire. Each one was accompanied by a letter with many common phrases:
I'm leaving. I can't tell you where. Take this gift. Stay well and safe.
It was perplexing—or would 'vexing' be a better fit? Confronted by a messenger or one of the Annas, Lucina was quickly able to predict what the contents would be. When asking if Naga had any guidance, she simply reminded her "Do not be afraid." Lucina found it hard to heed the advice on most days. She kept herself busy, willing herself to think positively, but she wasn't Morgan. Her mind fell back on the negative, dark, and hidden; it worried for her friends, and she desperately wanted to know how they fared. At this point, as far as she was aware, her and Morgan were the only two left—as such, she distantly monitored and watched her brother, trying to predict if he, too, would leave based on patterns their friends had followed. The slight paranoia she felt during the war had shifted into being overprotective at a distance without any true reason to worry.
Donning her mask from Gerome, the simple outfit Severa gave her, and armor made out of Nah's manakete scales, she once again became Marth. She researched her friends' departure while also working as a mercenary, gaining the reputation of someone who would take a job but won't socialize. Her payment was either money or a piece of news concerning the royal family.
She sometimes had dreams of her time. There were still people there…no more than two hundred in all, but there were still people. In her dreams, she returned to them—and they welcomed her warmly. She could imagine being there, with all her friends, rejoicing that their time was peaceful, too. That Grima had been slain, and no more strife had to be lived. Children didn't need to lose their parents; parents didn't need to mourn the loss of a child; siblings didn't need to fear being separated.
It would be such a happy world, one she would get the chance to lead. But now…was that dream even possible? She liked to think her friends returned, but she wasn't sure how they managed it or if they were even alive. Over the years, worrying put its strain on her. Her situation could get worse, however; she realized this as she read a letter hastily sent across the continent, describing someone she knew well.