Chapter 10: Memorial

The end of August was fast approaching. The leaves had changed color, and the days grew shorter as a chill entered the air. The warm, cleansing rain of summer had given way to cold drizzle that did nothing but add to the dreary atmosphere. It was on one such morning, when most of the others had stayed indoors, that Severa made her way down to the stables. It had been two weeks since the meeting between the Shepherds—two weeks since she had flown back to Ylisstol with Lucina slumbering against her back.

Today, she would be flying alone.

She carried a pack with her, carried across both shoulders to distribute the weight. A heavy wooden box was carefully settled at the bottom. On top of it were stacked several small, cloth-wrapped bundles of bread, meat, and cheese: her meals for the day. She had put them together in the kitchen after supper the previous day, setting them down on the floor of the cold-room overnight to keep them fresh.

Severa had dressed in her winter clothes: she had no desire to get sick because she hadn't taken sufficient care with her dress. Woolen underclothing, a thick felt tunic, a fur-lined hat and gloves, a worn-out knitted scarf, and an oiled rain-cloak complemented her usual practical breeches and boots. The cloak, a gift from Noire from a few years ago, shed water as easily as the feathers of a duck—something to do with hexes, she expected. Severa was actually sweating slightly from all of the layers, but she knew that she would be grateful for them once she was in flight. The wind, the rain, and the high altitude would leech every bit of warmth out of her body without sufficient protection.

Blizzard, a warm blanket thrown over her back, gave Severa a doleful look as the knight took her saddle down from the rack. "I know, girl, I know," Severa muttered. "On any other day I would let you stay in and eat all the hot mash you wanted. But today…"

The pegasus nuzzled at her owner's hand, reassuringly. "I'll make it up to you, I promise," said Severa, pulling off the blanket and settling the saddle onto the pegasus's back.

A few minutes later, they were in the air, winging their way to the west. Within an hour of their departure, the rain had grown worse, falling heavily and steadily. The droplets stung Severa's face, and she ducked her head, letting her hood take most of the water as she pulled her scarf up over her lower face. Breathing into the scarf kept her face pleasantly warm, and made her feel slightly less like her nose was going to freeze up and fall off. She bent low in the saddle, letting the warmth of Blizzard's back keep her warm as well. The flight out to her destination was a long one, and she wanted to stay warm for as long as she could.

She landed once, around noon, to give Blizzard a rest and to eat the first of her meals under the cover of a tree. By the time that she was finished, the rain had cleared a bit, and Blizzard took to the air with new energy. The rain had nearly stopped by now. They were close to the Plegian border, with the mountains looming before them. As they flew over the foothills, Severa nudged Blizzard's flanks with her heels, sending her pegasus into a long, lazy spiral towards the ground. They landed on the road, and Severa slipped out of the saddle as soon as they did, figuring that Blizzard had earned a rest. The pegasus shook her wings, spraying Severa with water—luckily, the rain-cloak deflected most of it—before folding them across her back. Then, placidly, she followed Severa up the hill.

The exertion of the climb had her breathing hard within a matter of minutes, and she pulled her scarf back down to ease her breathing. Severa's boots were soon covered with mud, and she came close to slipping a few times on the slick surface, but a hand on Blizzard's shoulder helped her stay steady. The pegasus, white coat flecked with mud, snorted as if in reproof, and Severa rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, don't scold me. I'm trying to be nice to you." At another snort, she continued on. "Don't worry, I'll be sure to give you a good wash and brush as soon as we get back."

As they approached the top of the pass, Severa kept a careful eye on the road ahead of her, trying to spot the proper place to turn. She had only been here three times before, and each time her mother had been leading the way. She was relieved when she saw the shape of a trail winding between a grove of gnarled pine trees. It isn't much further, now. She patted Blizzard on the shoulder, securing the pegasus's reins loosely to the saddlebow so they wouldn't get tangled in Blizzard's legs as she grazed. She pulled her pack down from Blizzard's saddle and shouldered it before nodding to her mount. "All right, girl, I'll be back in a while. Try not to get into any trouble while I'm gone, got it?"

Blizzard made an amused noise and nosed at Severa's shoulder before wandering off. Severa took a deep breath and turned back to the path.

The path was almost entirely silent. Severa could barely even hear her own footsteps: the path was buried deep in pine needles, which felt like a cushion under her boots. She had to brush several branches out of her way to get through. One of them, brown and dead from lack of water or sun, showered her with needles as her cloak caught on it. She shook as many of them out of her hood as she could and pressed on.

At last, she reached the grove. It had changed from the place she remembered: the grass was longer, more wild, and the standing stone at its center was weathered. She approached it and knelt in front of it, taking off her glove to feel the cool stone under her fingers. She hadn't been here in eight years—not since she was twelve years old. Her hands had been much smaller then, but she had run them over the stone in the same way: wistfully, reverently, feeling out each individual letter etched into its surface. She cleared her throat, suddenly self-conscious despite the empty space around her.

"Um… hi, daddy."

She paused, as if waiting for an answer, and laughed weakly. "Sorry I haven't visited you lately. With the war, and the Risen everywhere, traveling was pretty dangerous. But now that it's over… well." I haven't been here since mom died… we used to visit him together, on this day every year.

"The weather isn't very good right now… it's wet, and cold, and completely miserable. I guess that a lot of people would call me crazy for being out in it, but at least I came prepared." She held her scarf between her fingers, rubbing them across the worn knitting. "The scarf that you knitted me, back when I was a kid… I'm wearing it now. It's still warm, and besides, it reminds me of you."

Severa coughed awkwardly, searching for a new topic of conversation. "I… um, I'm one of the pegasus knights now. I kept on insisting that I would never do it, but I really did want to be like mom, and like you. I wanted to be able to stand by the Exalt's side, like both of you did. You and mother both… you said it was your greatest pride as knights to be able to defend them. I think I understand now, what you meant."

She smiled. "I've been training the new recruits for the pegasus knights. It's hard sometimes, but whenever I'm stuck and can't think of how to get them to work, I just think of what you'd say. I'll never be as good a teacher as you were, of course, but I think I've accomplished a lot. I wonder if…" Severa shook her head. "No, I know that you would be proud of me. You told me that yourself… only, I guess it wasn't really you, was it, daddy?"

A breeze stirred the grass, bringing the scent of damp soil and pine needles to Severa's nose. She could feel the moisture from the ground slowly sinking through the fabric at her knees, where she rested her weight. "Daddy… even though I knew that you were gone, it was good to see you again, one last time. To hear those words from you… those words that I always wanted to hear, after you were gone… it meant so much to me. I hope you know that. Even if I never said it out loud, I… I can never thank you enough for what you did. Both you, and mother. You showed me what it was to be a true knight, how to serve the ones that you… that you… loved."

She bit her lip. "Daddy, I… I'm…" She took a deep breath. "I'm in love with Lucina." Severa paused for a moment, a hand going to her mouth, as if saying it aloud had somehow changed something. Maybe it had. "I… I know it sounds crazy, but… I guess…" She laughed softly. "Well, you know how it is, I guess. Mother was always… well." The young woman trailed off, awkwardly. Even speaking in front of her father's grave, she had difficulty discussing matters of the heart. I'm hopeless.

She thought back to her father: tall and strong, yet so kind and gentle with her and the other children. The same smiles that made hardened soldiers quake in terror would soothe her and her friends when they were frightened. The same voice that barked out orders for tasks that would break a wyvern's back had read bedtime stories to her, going from high to low as he tried—usually unsuccessfully—to act out each of the characters. His hands, callused and scarred from long battles, had gently picked her up and held her, or carefully positioned her arms as she tried to learn how to fight. And his eyes…

There had been a faraway look in his eyes, as if something precious to him had been taken away. It had been there, even when he was with Severa and Cordelia: a look of such aching loss that recalling it made her want to cry. Even when he was with us, his family… At long last, she realized what it had been; the reason for the sorrow in her father's eyes. He had also loved, and lost. Teary-eyed, she smiled. "I guess… I guess you would understand better than anyone, daddy. You loved him too, didn't you? The same way that mother did. You just hid it better, didn't you?"

Severa wiped her sleeve across her eyes, letting out a half-sobbing giggle as the motion merely served to smear more rainwater across her face. "Well, thanks for talking to me, daddy. Even if it was only for a little while, I'm glad that we could chat again. I've missed you." She reached into her pack, pulling out the box from underneath her cloth-wrapped supper, and laid it on the ground in front of her. "I… brought you something. I guess it's not much of a gift, but it's really important to me, and I thought that you should have it back."

Slowly, reverently, she opened the lid of the box and drew forth its contents: jagged metal shards, the pieces of a shattered sword-blade. She brought each forth carefully, careful not to cut her fingers on the broken edges. Last came the hilt, a few inches of broken blade still attached. "I… I saved these, all this time. I know that it was silly of me: I could have used the metal for something else, after it broke. Maybe it was wasteful. But I always… I wanted to bring these back to you. I wanted to give you back the gift that you gave me. You saved my life more times than I can count, and this sword was my reminder."

Severa laid the hilt of the sword on the grass beneath Frederick's gravestone, falling silent. "Daddy… happy birthday." She thought for a moment that the rain had come back, but the water running down her face was warm, and mildly salty to the taste. There had only been a few tears before, but now it was as if a floodgate had been opened. She cradled her face in her hands, her voice choked, her shoulders shaking. "I know… I know that you told me to be strong, but… just this once… I'll cry for you, okay?" Her voice broke on the last word, and she gave vent to the grief she had kept bottled up for so long. Kneeling in the grass before her father's grave, Severa wept for her own parents, for Lucina's parents, for all the lives that the war had claimed. She wept for Lucina's lost childhood, for the burden that the woman she loved had been forced to bear.

Last of all, she wept for herself.

She cried until her nose ran, her voice was hoarse, and her cheeks were stained red by salt. She cried until she was hiccuping unevenly, without a shred of dignity. She cried until she had no tears left to cry.

When she was finished, she brought her sleeve up to her face, wiping away as much of the mess as she could. For a moment, she had the sensation of arms wrapping around her, of a reassuring voice in her ear, the feather-soft touch of a kiss on her forehead. For a moment, it was as if her father and mother were there beside her, close enough to reach out and touch. She knelt there for a moment longer, clinging to that feeling of togetherness.

As she stood at last, it began to rain. She turned her face upwards, eyes closed, and breathed deep, letting the water wash over her skin. Then, pulling up her hood, she turned and strode down the path, purpose in every stride. Ahead of her was the future that her father, and so many others, had died to win her.

Behind her, she left one broken sword and a world of troubles.