Chapter 4: Debtor

Severa poked at her plate with an uncertain expression. It was Cynthia's turn to cook tonight, and her ideas of what constituted proper food had always been interesting, to say the least. Today, it seemed, she had pulled out an old recipe of Lissa's: "Rainbow Pie."Severa picked up a piece of it with her fork and eyed it suspiciously. According to the recipe, it's meant to be served as a dinner. I suppose that I should give it a chance, no matter how it looks...

Steeling herself, Severa slipped the fork into her mouth and swallowed. She instantly regretted her decision. Oh, gods. I don't know what I was expecting, but this is even worse than I thought. It must have been a failed experiment... that's the only rational explanation.

She stole a look around the mess hall. Most of the others were having similar struggles—though, from the look of it, Zoe had already eaten three plates and was beginning on a fourth. Even her taste buds are lazy...

"Excuse me, sub-commander." The voice came from behind her, but Severa instantly knew who it was. Nobody else addressed her so formally.

"Yes, Teresa?"

"I was wondering if you would permit me to sit with you."

Severa shrugged. "Sure, I don't care."

Teresa rounded the table and set down her plate and glass opposite Severa. She glanced at her superior officer's mostly untouched food and raised an eyebrow. "Are you not hungry?"

"Taste it for yourself," said Severa, motioning towards Teresa's own plate. "You'll realize why."

Teresa took a bite of her pie. Her expression quickly shifted through puzzlement, shock, dismay, and mild pain before settling back to neutral stoicism. "Ah," she deadpanned.

"Yes."

Teresa took a long drink from her glass and reached down to her side, bringing her pack up onto the table. "Fortunately, I bought some bread down in the market earlier. I had intended to have it go with dinner, but substitution works just as well." She pulled out two loaves, offering one to Severa. "Would you like some?"

"Gods, you're a lifesaver," said Severa, accepting the bread with relief.

"A soldier is always prepared," said Teresa. Her tone remained flat, but Severa caught a hint of a smile that was quickly pinned back down.

Severa took a bite of the bread, glad to have something that let her get the taste of the Rainbow Pie out of her mouth. After a moment, she looked over at Teresa. "So what was it that you wanted to talk about?"

"I had a question, actually."

Severa waited for Teresa to go on, but the other woman said nothing. I suppose that she's waiting for permission. "Okay... go ahead and ask it, then."

"Was it the Exalt you were talking to while we were training?"

Severa saw no reason to lie. "Yeah. She wanted to keep an eye on how you all were doing."

"Then why the secrecy?"

"She thought that if people knew she was watching, they might get nervous."

"A fair point." Teresa sighed and stared into her cup.

"That didn't sound like the good kind of sigh."

"No, it was not."

Once again, Severa waited for Teresa to continue, and once again, Teresa said nothing. Does she want to talk or not? Severa thought waspishly. She kept her voice even, however. "If you want to talk about it, you don't need to wait for my permission."

"...thank you, sub-commander, but I am fine." The soldier took a large bite of her bread, washing it down with a swig of water.

"Teresa, if you need someone to talk to—" Severa began, but she was interrupted by a loud shout from the direction of the kitchen. Cynthia appeared at the door, beaming.

"Dessert's ready!"

Severa and Teresa took one whiff of the scent wafting from the kitchen and simultaneously pushed back their benches. No, thank you.

Severa sat at her desk, illuminated by candlelight, and stared at the sheet of paper in front of her. I have no idea what to say... She was trying to write a letter to Noire, telling her how things were progressing in the capital and asking her how she was, but the words wouldn't come.

"Dear Noire, I hope you've been doing well." ...no, because if she hasn't been doing well, she'll feel bad for worrying me... I just know it. "Dear Noire, we've all been missing you here." ...but that might just make her feel guilty for not being here. She tossed down her quill and sighed. Ugh. This would be so much easier if I could just talk to her in person...

Severa decided that it would be for the best if she took a break from letter-writing. She stood, grimacing at how stiff her muscles were. Maybe I shouldn't have spent so much time sitting still. A good walk should help work this off.

Pulling on her boots, she set off down the hallway and out into the courtyard. As she made her way down the colonnade overlooking the garden, Severa paused. She thought that she heard a sound coming from further down the corridor. Is that... crying?

Severa moved in the direction of the sound, calling out softly. "Uh, hello?"

There was movement from near the railing. Severa caught a glimpse of Teresa's face, streaked with tears, before the other woman hurriedly dashed them away. "S-sub-commander! I did not think you would be awake—"

"Are you all right?" She mentally cursed. "...no, never mind, don't bother answering that. You wouldn't be up in the middle of the night crying if you were all right." She leaned against the railing, keeping her distance to respect Teresa's personal space. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I..." Teresa cleared her throat. "The truth is that I have not been well." There was a haunted look in her eyes. "I had thought that Grima's fall would have made matters better, but still, the memories return." She gripped the railing with white-knuckled hands.

Severa weighed her words carefully. "Memories of what?"

Teresa met Severa's eyes. "Do you recall the first time that the Risen broke through to Ylisstol, six years ago?"

A sky black with smoke, the sunset tinged blood-red. The screams of the dying, mixed with the eerie howls of the Risen. The floor of the throne room itself, slick with blood. Her sword, the one her father had helped her make, breaking in her hand. She had been fourteen years old. "...I remember," Severa said.

Teresa shook her head. "I was barely trained; just a girl who had been given a lance and told to defend the city. But we were overrun... my comrades died around me, one by one, defending me. One of the Risen disarmed me and grabbed my arm. I was sure that I was going to be eaten alive, but I could do nothing to defend myself—only wait for my end to come." She looked up. "In that moment, the Exalt saved me. She told me that we could not let those 'things' win, and that I must fight on. So I did. We won the battle, and drove them back. But ever since then..."

I think that I understand. "Has training been difficult for you?"

"Somewhat. But I think that standing by and doing nothing would be even worse. Besides, I am indebted to the Exalt for saving my life. I am not the sort to leave my debts unpaid."

"Thank you for telling me this," said Severa. There's something about this that seems... familiar, somehow. But what is it?

"No, thank you for asking me." Teresa rubbed at her eyes. "Despite the blow to my pride, I am glad you saw me. Perhaps having talked about it will make it easier."

She nodded. "Any time." What kind of person would I be, otherwise?

Teresa's expression was hard to read, but she sounded relieved. "Thank you."

Severa nodded. "Uh, right. Try to get some sleep, okay?"

"I will." Teresa stood and saluted. "Goodnight, sub-commander."' She headed back down the corridor in the direction of the sleeping quarters.

Severa leaned against the railing, taking a deep breath of the cool night air. At least I was able to do some good. I was terrified that I would say the wrong thing. Lucina would have been able to speak to her much better.

Although... perhaps she wouldn't have been able to speak as freely with the Exalt. The stone of the railing was cool against her arms as she leaned her cheek on one hand. Perhaps I was the right person for the job after all. For some reason, I felt like I'd seen this before... but why?

Realization struck Severa like a hammer-blow. Oh gods. Mother.

The survivor's guilt, the stubborn perseverance—it was all the same. Cordelia had been tormented by the sacrifices her comrades in the border guard had made for her, and even more so by the Shepherds' failure to protect Chrom at the Dragon's Table. She had taken responsibility for things beyond her control, and in the end that had been too much for her.

After her husband had died, Cordelia had sunk down further and further under that burden. She had hidden her pain from everyone, even her own daughter, projecting the image of herself as Severa remembered her: strong, unwavering, perfect. It had taken a long time for Severa to realize that the front she put up was as insubstantial as mist: a lie told to frightened children, to comfort them and melt away their fears.

And by the time Severa saw the lie, it was too late.

I failed you, mother. Even if I was young, that's no excuse: I was selfish, and blind to your pain. If I had been more understanding, if I had helped you, maybe you wouldn't have... Tears dripped from her eyes onto her hands, warm against her skin. She almost laughed. Here I am, in exactly the same position Teresa just was. Maybe Lucina will happen along and ask me why I'm crying. Perhaps she'll dry my tears herself, and—

She did laugh at that thought: a watery laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. Gods, I should get some sleep. My imagination is running wild. With the sleeve of her shirt, she wiped the tears away from her eyes, shaking her head.

I can't change the past. Nobody can. But maybe, by helping Teresa, I can begin to make up for not helping you. I won't make the same mistake I made back then. She straightened, looking up at the stars. Mother... are you watching me? If you are...

I hope that you're proud of me.