(A/N): Hello. Sorry for being late with this chapter. I was upset with how its progression and decided to scrap it and rewrite it. But here it is. Please enjoy!

"Gotcha." A familiar voice assured her, firm arms wrapping around her slumped, bruised shoulders. Turning her head unsteadily, Marth was greeted with Azul's ragged face, covered in sweat, his breathing heavy. "I finally caught up you. You had me worried."

Immediately, an overpowering guilt overrode all of Marth's exhaustion. She had no idea how long she been running for. Before Azul's voice, the pelting of Marth's footsteps against the empty cobblestone road was the only thing that broke the suffocating silence of the night that ate away at her. Where her legs had carried her, she cared for not. She only wanted to get away. Her legs screamed in pain at her to stop but she did not hear anything else but those words:

"The Order of Heroes killed her."

The sudden revelation of betrayal and confusion was what made her run away in the first place.

"Can you stand?"

She nodded. And just as she opened her mouth to apologize, Azul put his slim, finger across her cold lips.

"Save it." He whispered, his voice, firm, but gentle. "All that matters is you're okay."

Azul steadily helped Marth up. With his support, she was able to return to her feet. His thin frame belied the strength he possessed, even in the face of his own exhaustion.

Why was he so intent on helping her?

The two had only just met yet he treated Marth like an old friend, chasing after her in her endless run across Hearth as she nearly succumbed to her delirium. Marth couldn't bear the thought of returning to the Order's camp after learning what she had. So she ran, and continued running, her mind fevered with singes of painful memories that flashed over and over again.

The flames that consumed her amid the scorched fields. The cries of her companions as the fires licked away at her bones. The sacred blade Falchion plunged deep within her chest.

It wasn't long until her frenzied strength wore off and she painfully tumbled unto the stone road below her bruised feet. She did not know how long she remained laying on the cold ground but what she did feel for certain was a haunting voice that called to her from the depths of her heart, a stupor setting upon her. Like a flood of black water, it threatened to consume her consciousness wholly. And in that moment, she almost surrendered herself to its embrace, submerging her mind slowly into the drift that awaited her.

She wanted this nightmare to end.

And by closing her eyes, Marth felt like she could do so.

Free to drift away into nothingness, that was all she wanted. Just to have a chance to forget all that had happened…

"Here," Azul offered, lowering his shoulder. "You can lean on me… or would you prefer I carry you?"

But then Azul appeared, pulling her away from the murky depths of her consciousness. Marth did not want to bear the thought of what would have happened if he hadn't woken her at that very moment.

The depths of misery are near impossible to resurface from once having sunk below its waters. Marth was familiar with its clutches all too intimately.

Lord Ephraim had been mostly responsible for beating the self-pity out of her, literally. He constantly reminded her that her self-destructive wallowing was a waste of time.

"If you have time to cry, you have to time to swing your sword."

Even now, his face flashed across her mind. He would have damn near killed her if he saw the pitiful state she regressed into today. Marth had thought Lord Ephraim's harsh disciplining had snuffed the habit out of her, had made her stronger.

How wrong she still was.

Despite Azul's insistence, Marth still had some semblance of pride left and doggedly chose on walking without Azul's assistance. But the unsteadiness in her legs persuaded her otherwise. She was growing increasingly dependent on the people around her these days. It sickened her.

She gratefully took Azul's offer, wrapping one arm around Azul's shoulders. They were broader than she had thought.

"Th-thank you… and sorry." She whispered finally, glancing awkwardly at Azul's face as her feet trudged on, side by side with Azul's own. "That wasn't… I wasn't me."

It was a poor excuse that did little to explain the turmoil that whirled around inside her. But what else could she do? She did not want to throw any more burdens atop Azul's shoulders. No stranger should have to share the weight she carried. Tossing her problems upon others was all she had done since she arrived in Askr, handing them around just as easily as the air she breathed out.

Still, Azul shook his head, giving her a kind smile, finding no fault in her careless tirade. "It's my job to help people." He stated simply. "It's what I do."

Even though Azul was a stranger, inexplicably familiar warmth filled her heart. As they walked quietly down the empty streets of Hearth, those feelings continuously tugged at her memories. Had she, Lucina, known Azul? She had to have, intimately, otherwise Azul wouldn't have broken down as he had earlier. He even called her Lucy.

Lucina clearly meant a lot to this man, the way he cared for now was the gods' proof of that. But when she recalled the way he spoke about witnessing her death, Marth noticed a wall between Azul and Lucina, speaking as if he were peering through a looking glass and not actually there. If Lucina really did indeed mean a lot to him, why was Azul sounding so powerless at the time of her death? As if he were reciting something from the lines of history?

Just who is Azul? Marth silently asked herself. She hadn't found a moment of respite for her mind since running into him that she didn't even think of the most fundamental question when meeting someone new. Marth wondered if it would be too late to ask now. But as luck would have it, Azul continued speaking.

"This… takes me back." He muttered, a lonely air hanging between them. "I thought I would never get the chance to see you again… but here you are, Lucina. Prophecies be damned."

Marth stopped in her tracks, her arm falling to her side. What Azul had said did not register in her mind.

Azul had noticed that she was no longer by his side. Immediately, concern raced across his face as he rushed to her and asked, "What's wrong?" His worry only further drove the stakes of guilt further into Marth's heart but she knew she had to clear a misunderstanding that would only end up hurting the man.

"Azul," she began, trying her best to keep her voice from shaking. "Please listen to what I have to say."

He held her shoulders, genuine worry and fear in his eyes, his hands firmly clinging to her small frame. "Is something the matter? Are you feeling unwell?"

Yes, something was unwell within her. She should have already told Azul. The familiarity of Azul's hands only worsened the pain in heart.

All this time with him, she was consumed with was when she was called by her real name. Every time Azul called her Lucina, she would always feel a deep chill run down her spine. Although it was the one concrete memory she held, it always felt… wrong. Although never directed at her, Marth had heard her true name being thrown around a handful of times in her time in Askr, and they were always filled with heraldries of her heroism and bravery. And while she too was the princess the people spoke of, that praise wasn't for Marth. It was for Lucina. Marth was but a shell of the true princess that came before her, a barren husk of a hero undeserving of the people's reverence. The mask and name she still clung to was testament to that.

She wasn't allowed to be her. Even the goddess had denied her that.

And Azul needed to know that she wasn't the Lucina he spoke of.

"I'm not the Lucina you know…" She admitted, "I was summoned by the Order several months ago. I'm just… another Hero of the Order."

She saw Azul's frame shiver, just as it had before when she asked him about her death, referring to herself as someone else. The warmth of Azul's face faded, his shoulders now rigid. Marth nearly regretted opening her mouth but she knew she had no other choice. A bone-piercing chill spread across her body and was almost enough to numb the pain that shot across her legs.

But no words came from the mercenary. Azul was as quiet as the night air. His eyes shut, not giving away a sliver of his thoughts. But judging by his reaction, it was almost as if he had been preparing Marth to say something of the sort. Could it be that he was deliberately calling her by her true name to hear what she had to say?

He opened his eyes.

"So I take it that you don't remember who I am?"

Marth shook her head. She tore through her memories to see if she could find anything, anything at all, about the man that stood before her but all she could recall was pain.

"I'm sorry, Azul. I can't remember anything."

He grew quiet, his eyes wandering the night sky, lost in thought. A heavy mood weighed over them both, drowning out the world around them.

"It was on a night just like this," Azul described, his hands reaching into his cloak, pulling out the mask he wore earlier, "when you disappeared." He held the weathered mask tightly in his hands, almost fearful that it might disappear from his grasp. "You remember this, right?"

As precious as it was to him, Azul handed the mask to her without hesitation. Of course she remembered what it was.

She still wore it on her face.

"It was the only thing you left behind," he explained, retrieving the mask back from her hands. "The princess of Ylisee was gone when we needed her most."

Her? Gone? Did she really desert her people as Azul had said? Marth could not believe it. She refused to. As conflicted as she may be with herself, there was no way she could have abandoned the people she was entrusted to protect. Even now, she strove to serve the realm she was fighting for.

So why couldn't she remember anything?

And why did Azul know so much?

"Who are you…?" Marth asked him finally, her voice quivering. Deep down, unknowingly, a part of her feared what he might say.

Azul smiled bitterly, masking his distraught heart. "The gods must really be out to punish me… My sister does not even recognize me."

The world came to a crashing halt.

Did she hear those words right?

Sister? Me?

Then that would mean that Azul was her brother? But she did not remember. She could not remember. The name Azul itself rung no bells in her memories. And as much as she wanted to implore further, all of her words lodged themselves into her throat, only allowing a stifled gasp to pass through her lips.

"Azul, I—"

"Stop," he demanded, holding his hand out in front of her, crestfallen. "Please. Just… me be for a while." He slumped to his knees and onto the ground. He ran his hand over his pain-ridden face, brushing aside his gray hair that had fallen messily over it. All Marth could do was kneel next to him.

What else can I do? She thought to herself. She was at a loss when consoling her own broken self, even more so with other people. In her search for finding meaning in herself, she had turned a blind eye to the hearts of those around her. But seeing Azul as he was right now, her heart ached for the man. Not knowing why herself, she reached for Azul's hand, holding it tightly, hoping that whatever semblance of comfort she could give to him could reach his wounded heart.

He looked up at her with the same listlessness he had when they had met earlier. He seemed to acknowledge her comfort, as poor as it was, giving her a weak nod, peering into her eyes, dejected. And as she stared into his despondent eyes, bathed in light by the lone moon in night sky, Marth saw it.

It was unmistakable.

She had the very same mark in her own eye.

A sudden torrent of memories shot past Marth's eyes.

She could see a blue-haired youth kneeling before her, crying, a broken wooden sword resting in the dirt. Then, with an outstretched hand, she raised the boy back to his feet. She was no bigger than he was, perhaps only slightly taller. She wiped the tears off the boy's face, holding his hand all the way through.

Once the boy's sadness was no more, he held her hand tight, smiling radiantly, the gleam from his eyes, and the Brand, shining brighter than any sun or star, and the warmth of his hands enough to thaw the coldest of hearts.

The warmth she felt now was just as it was in her memories.

Yes, she could now say with absolute certainty in her heart.

A name that had lay lost and forgotten for so long began to resurface across her lips.

"Inigo?"

(A/N): The next update will be much sooner. Thanks for reading.