Part 4:
By the time Severa left the palace, the world was a different place.
Even on market day the streets were nearly empty, and the people who did come, kept their heads down as they rushed about their business. Severa would scour the stalls, but all the dresses had been replaced with swords, the jewelry with tomes, and the ribbons with vulneraries. That was when she was actually allowed outside.
The rules had only tightened since her time in the palace. Not that that stopped her. Mother frequently traveled to the palace to "assist Exalt Chrom" while Daddy spent hours sharpening his battle skills. Often she would join him…and other times she would slip away, when he was so engrossed in his training that he wouldn't notice her absence.
When she didn't go to the market, she explored the wildlife near her house instead. She never went too far. Not that she was afraid of Risen or anything. It was just easier to keep Daddy in sight in case the Risen snuck up on him. Anyway, her adventures didn't do much good.
The plants had withered while she was away. Wherever there had been a patch of flowers or a bushy shrub, she found only soiled petals and dried sticks. Nothing pretty to show off to Noire. But not one to leave empty-handed, she climbed up trees and poked around thorny bushes, searching. She had to wear trousers to hide her scraped knees from her parents, but it was worth it when she came home with a handful of precious feathers.
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Severa's world wasn't the only thing that changed.
Noire was different, too, but she had a harder time putting her finger on why. If anything, she had expected Noire to be more fragile after her father's death. The girl was still as timid as ever (not even the foretold apocalypse could change that), but the girl who couldn't stop shaking the last time Severa saw her now had a sureness in her eyes—if nowhere else—like if push came to shove, she could stay on her own two feet.
Noire had said that her mother had given her some type of charm for fortitude, but Severa didn't pay it much thought. She had more important things on her mind: training.
Of course everyone had expected her to be a Pegasus Rider. Of course she was stuck with her mother as her main instructor. Of course the first thing Mother did was stick a lance in her hand.
Of course she flunked that.
The Pegasus wasn't the problem. Severa was actually fond of her steed; it was a great listener whenever she needed to vent about Owain insisting that she "christen her instruments of holy flesh-stabbing", or when Cynthia would yell stupid battle moves in the middle of training. Dum-dums…
She blames them for distracting her. And those stupid lances. What dummy thought it a good idea to use an oversized toothpick for a weapon? Not to mention the balance. It was top-heavy and too long for Severa's blossoming figure. Any attempt to lunge ended up with her tripping on her own feet and looking as foolish as Auntie Sumia. And that takes work.
It didn't help that everyone expected her to just get it, as if she had popped out the womb with a lance in hand. It also didn't help that Mother drilled her again and again, nitpicking her every detail in front of everybody. "Try tilting the lance another five degrees up, dear." "There must be one point fifty-two yards between your feet, not three and twenty-five." "I told you before, dear: take two steps before you lunge." Finally, Severa had had enough of her corrections and pitched the lance at a tree. It pierced through the heart of it, the length of the steel quivering like a dart in a bull's eye.
Daddy taught her lessons after that.
She was in awe the second he put the sword in her hands. The sleek blade glinted like starlight and its length allowed an agility that the lance did not. Daddy's hands gently adjusted her grip on the handle, and guided her through the basic stances. While he didn't have the precise perfection of Mother, he had a graceful ease of a master as he danced along the training field. Severa followed his footsteps, their swords glinting together in the sun.
He lunged, and Severa did the same. The sword cut the woodblock in twain.
Daddy called her a natural. She grinned, and brought down her sword again.
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Now it was time for Noire to learn how to shove back.
Axes were quickly ruled out. Noire's willowy frame didn't have the muscle for it, and she couldn't lift an axe any more than Severa could when she was three (though not from a lack of trying). Lances were out of the question, too, since neither had a proper teacher to instruct them that Severa didn't want to strangle. Magic would have been the best alternative. Noire's mother said she was gifted, but she would never come out of her research to teach her.
That left swords.
Her eyes were too bright when Noire first picked up the sword. Her hands trembled, though not from weakness. She steadied her chin and stepped into position.
"Perfect stance." Severa nodded, appraising her. It was an unspoken agreement that she would be Noire's sword master. "Your dad taught you well."
"He did," Noire said, with more conviction than Severa usually heard from her friend.
After that, the lessons went about as well as expected.
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"Now strike!"
"Ay-ya!" Noire thwacked the tree branch with her sword, slashing into the bark. The leaves rustled; Noire yelped, jumping back and dropping her weapon.
"What was that?" Severa demanded. She stomped over to her and seized the sword. "Gawds, Noire, you never drop your weapon! If this were a battle, you'd be skewered through!"
"Sorry," Noire squeaked.
"'Sorry' won't save your ass any more than your fairy godmother will blast your enemy to bits with her magical goodness." Severa shoved the sword back into her hands. "Again," she ordered, stepping out of the away. "And this time, no yelping."
Noire lunged forward—the leaves rustled—and she jumped back with an "eep".
Before Severa could say it, another voice bellowed, "That was pathetic!"
Severa scowled when Kjelle marched up to them. "Great, it's you. What do you think you're do—"
The knight shoved past her to Noire, ignoring the other girl's huff. Kjelle was about a head shorter than Noire, but what she lacked in height, she made up for in sheer ferocity. Noire whimpered, shrinking into the shadow that the other girl's armor cast.
"A warrior never—" she jabbed her finger into Noire's chest "flinches! Our parents are depending on us to take charge and fight." Jab. "Not act like giggly schoolgirls who faint at the sight of blood!" Jab.
Noire was shaking with each push, but suddenly her body stills. Her pupils swallow up her irises. "Blood…"
"Crap," Severa muttered. She tugged on Kjelle's shoulder, but the other girl swatted her away without looking.
"If you can't handle the weight of our parents' mantle," Jab! "then go back to—"
"BLOOD AND THUNDER!" Noire roared.
"Damn," Severa said.
Kjelle blinked, shocked. That second of surprise cost her dearly. With a burst of strength, Noire struck her on her top-heavy armored shoulder with the flat of her sword. The blow was enough to knock her back.
Only a warrior's reflexes stopped Kjelle from falling on her bottom. She lunged for her lance. Her fingers had barely grazed the handle when Noire had her at sword point, her eyes narrowed and ruthless. A shadow had fallen across her face, and her features contorted with enough wrath for even Kjelle to pause.
"INSOLENT FOOL!" she bellowed. Her timid voice was shadowed by thunderous tones, too unfathomable to tell apart. "WHO ARE YOU TO PASS JUDGEMENT ON ME?! ME, THE FIRE AND THE FURY! YOU MAY ACT WITH STRENGTH, BUT I SEE PAST YOUR FAÇADE, YOUR PITIFUL ARMOR. AND I. JUDGE. YOU. WEAK!"
Kjelle rolled, and the earth was stabbed with the blade that would've have pierced her gut had she moved a second later. Severa glared at the baffled girl.
"Run."
For the first time, Kjelle listened to her brain rather than her brawn. She ran.
Noire wrestled the sword out from the ground. "COWARD! DO NOT RETURN, LEST I WATER THE EARTH WITH YOUR BLOOD! BWAAA HA HA HA HA!"
Dirt flung back when she pulled out the sword. "YOU!" she snarled, and leveled the blade at Severa.
Severa had seen Noire and her "fits" before. Usually she sat back and watched the show, figuring it was good to see the girl finally get some backbone—even if it did stem from a dark artifact. But never had the malevolent fury been directed at her before.
Noire howled. "YOU DARE COME BETWEEN ME AND MY—"
Severa sprung forward and snatched the talisman from the girl.
"Never," she growled, "point a sword at me again."
Instantly the shadow cleared from Noire's expression. Her grip loosened, and the sword clattered to the earth. Her eyelids fluttered. "Um…what?" She blinked at Kjelle's retreating form, already a dot in the horizon. "Did I…do that?"
"Yep." Severa tilted her head to get a better view. "Huh. Who knew her backend would look more appealing than her front."
She shuddered; a chill crawled up her arm and she dropped the dark artifact. "Gawds." She winced. "I hate touching that. Next time you get possessed, exorcise yourself."
Noire giggled sheepishly. "Sorry?"
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Severa banged her head on the tree. "No, no, no." She marched back over for what felt like the hundredth time. She seized the branch and shook it. "This. Is. A. BRANCH. About as deadly as Owain's battle lines, and yet you're leaping away from it as if it's Grima."
"Sor—" Noire gulped when she saw Severa's expression. "It's just that…when I'm about to move, I see a tree, but as soon as I attack…all I can see is a person. And I don't—I don't—"
"Want to kill."
Noire nodded.
"If this was a perfect world, you wouldn't have to. You could be as squeamish all you want and you'd leap over rainbows on Pegasi and sing la-de-da. But you can't, because the world isn't perfect and you're in a damn war."
Noire nodded again, her head hanging down as she traced aimless patterns into the dirt with the tip of the sword.
Severa sighed. "But that doesn't mean we have to stare death in the face when we kill." Severa grabbed the sword and sheathed it. "How do you feel about shooting the world in the face?"
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Severa wished they had tried bows first; it would've saved her hours she could've spent training on her own skills.
They had encountered the same problem with lances: neither had an acceptable teacher. That didn't stop Noire. She had only held a bow once in her life when Uncle Virion had shown her how, and yet even through Severa's untrained eyes, she knew that her stance was flawless: shoulders back, arms level with her bow, legs planted firmly in the earth.
The first problem was solved in that the bow offered distance between her and her target. Noire had time to breathe and calm her nerves before shooting. The arrows would swerve to far at first, but with each shot, the head would embed itself closer and closer to the bull's eye that Severa had painted on the tree.
By the time the sun had set, she could hit her target two thirds of the time. When Severa replaced bull's eye with a caricature of Kjelle, the arrow hit every time.
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They were at the apple tree again. They were finally tall enough to climb it, but Noire would only go on the low branches, just high enough that her toes would graze the grass when she swung her feet. Severa climbed far into the canopy. Every time that Noire called for her not to go so high, she would climb higher, and only stopped when Noire's voice started to wobble.
Severa dropped down the juiciest and reddest apples for Noire to catch from below. Then she made her descent and perched on a branch high enough that her feet were level with Noire's shoulders.
"Apple," she said, and lowered her hand. Nothing. She glanced down, clenching and unclenching her empty hand. "I said 'apple'!"
Noire jumped, looking up. "What?"
"'What?'" Severa mimicked in a nasally tone. "What are you staring at?"
She looked up, and saw two boys sword-fighting in the rolling fields spread out in front of them. Inigo and Owain. Their shouts and blade clashes could be heard from here.
As Severa watched, they stepped around each other, circling, weaving in and out with the fluidity of partners. No longer were they the children that flinched at the blow of a wooden sword, but unflinching adults that countered with a flick of the wrist. Their blades darted by as quick as a dragonfly's wings, only visible by the flashes of light on steel.
One day Severa might even consider them competition.
But Noire wasn't looking at them. Well, not them, plural. Both boys were agile, but Noire's eyes were locked on the more graceful of the two…the one with the footwork of a dancer.
"Ohhh." Severa rolled her eyes. "You like him."
Noire jumped as much as she had the first time. "What? W-w-who?"
"You know who." Severa nudged Noire's shoulder with her toe. "Mister Pretty Boy. Indigo."
"Inigo," Noire blurted, then blushed.
"First name basis, I see."
Noire looked away. "That doesn't mean anything. We've known him since we were kids."
"But you didn't like him when you were a kid."
Noire's blush deepened.
"You didn't." Severa said. Then seeing Noire's flustered expression, she threw her head back and cackled. "Oh, you did—no, do."
"Do not!"
"Gawds, you're a terrible liar." Severa snorted. "Look, if you like him, tell him. Unrequited romances are for morons."
"No!" Noire furiously shook her head. "I couldn't. He, he, flirts with everyone."
"And gets blown off by everyone, too."
"That almost makes it worse."
"How? Naga knows what he'll do if a girl actually pursues him first. He might just combust from happiness."
"Even more reason not to."
"Look at him!" Severa threw her arm in the direction of the sparring boy. "What do you think he'd rather be doing? Combusting because a pretty girl's flirting with him or getting bruised up by his sweaty sparring partner? Besides," Severa added, "I bet you could show him better ways to get bruises."
"Severa!"
"If you need tips, I've got just the book for you."
"SEVERA!"
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She had already demanded that Daddy stayed. He had frowned, his brow scrunched up, his lips drawn tight, and Severa was certain he would cave in to her wishes like he always did. But not this time. She wanted to try another ploy, but he wouldn't come out of the bedroom, where he was packing their things.
Their things.
Severa knew that she was the only person invincible to her tricks and ploys. All of Severa's weapons were useless. And if she were to stand a chance, she had to lay down her armor, too.
It was the only time in her life that Severa begged.
She tugged on her mother's sleeve, as if she was a child again. "You can't leave me. You just can't," she pleaded.
Mother pulled her in close. Severa instinctively buried her head into Mother's shoulder until she could breathe in her red rose perfume.
"You're so beautiful, my sweetest girl," Mother murmured into her ear. "So strong and brave. How could I ever have been so lucky to have you?"
It was what Severa had always wanted to hear.
But not like this.
The perfume lost all its sweetness, turning the air rotten.
"You'll be alright. I know you will." Mother ran her elegant fingers through her hair, caressing a path to her cheek.
Severa slapped her hand away. "Don't," she hissed. "You're just saying that so you can abandon me with a clean conscience."
Her mother flinched; Severa looked away, but that didn't extinguish the bitterness in her mouth.
"I'm not abandoning anything," Mother said, her voice gentle but firm. "I must go. I must protect—"
"Your kingdom, I know."
"No." Mother shook her head. "It is my duty to protect my kingdom, yes, but my one and only priority is to protect the person who is special to me."
This time it was Severa who flinched like she had been slapped. "Your beloved prince, you mean." Severa shoved away until she was out of her arms. Mother reached for her, but Severa held her ground, summoning every ounce of anger and frustration and jealousy that she could muster, until a fire raged inside of her. "I may not be a genius like you, Mother," she spat, "but I'm not an idiot. I always knew you loved your precious Chrom more than Daddy and I. This is just the final proof."
Mother gasped, her perfect ruby eyes shimmering. "Severa, how could you say such things? You know I—"
"—love me. Yes, yes, I know. Just not enough."
She turned away before Mother could see her chin tremble. It had always been easy to summon her temper, but it was harder to hold onto it. Already she could feel the energy draining away. She kept her voice steely through sheer will. "If you're going, then go. I don't need you."
Another gasp, like a dagger sinking in. Severa turned her back and ran. This time, Mother didn't run after her.
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The days after, Severa would continually glance up at the graying skies. When Noire pointed it out, she denied it furiously. "Gawds, blame me for making sure it doesn't rain buckets on our heads," she'd snap.
But one day while they were training, she finally caught a sparkle against the dreary clouds. By the time Noire had slackened her bow, Severa had already dropped her sword and was charging towards the growing shadow on the ground. Dead leaves scattered when the Pegasus beat its winds and swooped to the earth.
"Mother! You're ba—" Severa skidded to a stop. Before the knight even dismounted, Severa knew it was not her mother. No mane of red cascaded down the knight's back as she dismounted.
"Ma'am," the woman said, bowing. She stepped forward. When Severa stepped back, the woman stopped with a pained expression.
"She's dead, isn't she?"
The woman closed her eyes and nodded.
"How?"
"There was an ambush. We were—"
"We? We, as in the Pegasus Knights that vowed to protect one another?"
The woman bowed her head. "We were outnumbered, my lady, but your mother fought—"
"Perfectly. She fought perfectly, and died because you didn't have her back. Then again, you never did, did you?"
"Please, that isn't—"
"You finally got your wish!" Severa screamed. "You should be happy. You should be having a damn celebration! She's dead, so now you and all your other little cheerleaders can hog the glory for yourself!"
The woman's expression hardened. "I understand your grief is immense, but your words are unjust. Cordelia was one of our own; we loved her like a sister."
"No, you didn't! You never did, so stop lying to yourself!" Severa shouted. "You were jealous, and she died because of it! Gawds, you small, pathetic bit—"
A hand on her shoulder. Severa jumped. Noire. When did she get here? Noire was shaking her head, her expression as sorrowful as she remembered it after her dad had died.
Severa's voice dropped, "And my daddy?"
Another nod. The dead grass rustled when the woman moved forward. "Child, I will help however—"
"I'm not a child," Severa snapped. Then, in a softer voice, "Not anymore."
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Severa didn't move even after the Pegasus had vanished into the horizon. She stood rooted to the same spot, her head down, her teeth clenched, and her hands balled into fists. But she couldn't stop her shoulders from shaking as teardrops fell from her chin. Noire didn't try to hug her or say anything. She just stood with Severa, holding her hand.
When the streaks of tears had dried on her face, Severa squeezed Noire's hand, and let go. Noire followed her as she marched back to where they had been training. Noire didn't pick up her bow, but watched as Severa seized her sword and launched herself into every strike and slash.
By the time the sun had sunk, their practice stump had been reduced to nothing but sawdust. Severa's chests heaved when the sword dropped from her hands, the open blisters stinging from the cold air. Severa wiped away the long streaks of hair glued to her forehead, and for once was glad that sweat drenched her body; it had washed away the tears.
When Noire tried to bandage her hands, Severa shook her head.
"Leave them."
Noire hesitated, but put away the bandages. If Severa hadn't been too exhausted, she would have been relieved. Now she had something that hurt more than the pit in her heart.
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Part 5:
There was almost nothing left of the world they had grown up in by the time that Lucina summoned them. The new Exalt was never one to pull a punch. She held nothing back as she explained in her grim voice the risk they would be taking in toying with time. But surrounded by the hardened faces of the children they had grown up with, she asked them to do the impossible. There was no hesitation.
So together, Severa and Noire said nothing as Naga bathed them in a cyan light. It became blinding, and in the sightlessness, their hands found each other. They held on as the world swirled around them.
When they opened their eyes…they were home.