Secret Dreamer

by Arvanion

Only a few months have passed since Exalt Lucina and her friends, aided by travelers from the past, performed the Awakening and saved the world. As Severa settles into the routine of serving Lucina as one of her faithful knights, she must come to terms with her feelings toward the Exalt, and their possible consequences. (Mirrored from AO3.)

17. Masquerade

Chapter 17: Masquerade

Severa adjusted her hat and smiled. "So, what do you think?"

Beaming broadly, Cynthia clapped her hands in delight. "It's awesome, Sevvy! Wow!"

The older girl smirked in triumph. "Of course it is. What did you expect?"

Despite not having planned ahead, Severa was quite proud of the costume she'd managed to pull together over the course of the morning. The base layer was everyday clothing: plain leather boots, light-colored breeches, and a white shirt. Over that went a black coat with elbow-length sleeves, artfully worn-out and reaching down to her knees. Her forearms were wrapped in strips of cloth, and a worn blade—a real weapon, not a prop—hung from a broad belt over the coat. She wore her hair unbound, and a rakish black hat completed the look—her best approximation of the clothing worn by the legendary Tempest King of Magvellian lore.

Cynthia sighed dreamily—obviously, Severa's costume was tickling her fancy for fairy tales. "You're like some kind of dashing hero who goes around making jokes and saving damsels in distress!" She clasped her hands together beseechingly. "Quick, say something cool!"

"All right, I'll humor you." Pulling a coin out of her pocket, Severa idly flipped it in one hand, dropping her voice to a self-assured drawl. "Lady Luck is on my side."

The knight-commander giggled with glee. "Ah, this is so exciting! Your costume is amazing!"

"You don't look too shabby yourself," said Severa, winking. True to her word, Cynthia had borrowed one of Laurent's costuming tomes to dye her hair bright green for the night. She'd acquired a set of white armor as well, and the result was a timeless but decidedly heroic appearance.

Of course, she keeps forgetting who she is… Cynthia had gone through nearly a half-dozen identities already—the captain of the Medonian Whitewings, a Silesian general, a Frelian commander, the Empress of Begnion's bodyguard, and (most recently) the queen of Crimea. I suppose that there are an awful lot of green-haired pegasus knights in the old stories, after all. That's probably why she has such a hard time keeping them straight.

"Haha, thanks!" Cynthia giggled again, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. "And once we get to the masquerade, we're sure to see all kinds of costumes just as cool as ours!"

"Do you have any idea what the others are dressing up as?" said Severa.

"Not a clue!" the other girl replied blithely. "It'll be fun to find out, though, won't it? And to watch the fireworks, afterward."

"That's only if the weather stays clear." There had been a brief shower of rain earlier that morning, sweeping through Ylisstol on its way to make other pastures greener. Severa very much hoped that there would be no repeat performance: the cancellation of the Harvest Festival fireworks would certainly cast a pall over the festivities.

"Sheesh, with an outlook like that you'll bring the rainclouds down on us yourself," said Cynthia, a teasing note in her voice.

"Yeah, whatever." Severa settled her coat more securely over her shoulders and glanced toward the door. "The celebration will be starting soon. We should probably get going."

Cynthia practically skipped ahead of her friend to reach the exit first. "Look out, Ylisstol! Your heroes are on their way!"

The crowds in the streets of Ylisstol were thick enough that Severa lost track of Cynthia before ten minutes had passed. She wasn't particularly concerned—Cynthia was sure to pop up again at the gathering they'd planned for Noire, and in the meantime it freed up Severa to take in the sights and sounds of the final day of the Festival at her leisure. She turned her steps toward the masquerade—though she wasn't quite as overt about it as Cynthia, Severa had a considerable interest in seeing what other people were wearing.

Technically, the gathering in the grand square wasn't a proper masquerade. Most of those present didn't bother with masks unless their costume called for it. The variety of costumes was staggering, nonetheless—Severa saw familiar characters everywhere she looked. A barefoot girl dressed in a tight-fitting red shirt and black breeches murmured an apology as she moved out of the way, keeping the jet-black wings she wore folded neatly at her back. Two men wearing the distinctive red and green of the Bull and the Panther over the comfortable weight of middle age passed by on her right, exchanging good-natured insults. A young woman in red and yellow, wearing a dangerously short skirt and wooden rapier at her side, waved cheerfully—from her pale blue hair, Severa recognized Susanna of the Shepherds.

"That you, Sev?" Kjelle's voice cut its way through the crowd, and Severa turned to see a few of her other friends making their way through the crowd. Kjelle and Owain took the lead, with Inigo and Brady traveling behind. Severa took a moment to take in their costumes: after all, on a day like this, such things were important.

Kjelle wore blue-and-gold armor somewhat more ornamental than her usual, with a dashing red cape slung over her shoulders and an axe in her belt. Her hair was dyed a deep blue, and brushed up into a style that made it appear even shorter. Owain's costume was similar in coloring, but he carried a gold-painted wooden sword and his armor was lighter. His hair, also dyed blue, was secured by a headband whose loose ends flowed out behind him as he moved through the square. Inigo had kept his hair's natural gray color, and his costume was fairly simple: a knee-length belted coat of pale blue, supplemented by a bow and quiver that looked like props from the play.

However, it was Brady's costume that caused Severa to do a double-take. The scarred priest wore a set of wings that looked as if they might have been white at one point in the past, but the wings, along with his robes, were now spattered with mud. Even his hair was dirty, its usual blond color matted by muddy brown.

"What happened to you?" said Severa.

"I, er…" Brady ran a hand through his muddy hair, making it stand up in an even crazier-looking series of spikes. "Well, ya know, the roads were bad 'cause of the rain today, and while I was walkin' into town I saw a cart stuck in th' mud, and the old folks by it didn't look like they'd be able to dig it out themselves, so…"

"That would explain it." Severa hid a smile, crossing her arms. "Honestly, Brady, you're too nice for your own good. What was your costume supposed to be before you took your mud bath?"

"The Heron Prince," Brady mumbled.

"Well, you look like the Hawk King. Not like that's a bad thing, I guess." Severa looked over at Kjelle. "Have you seen Cynthia around yet?"

The knight shook her head. "Can't say I have. Who's she going as?"

"I don't think even she knows that. But her hair's green, so keep an eye out for that." After a moment's pause, she added, "The rest of you have nice costumes, by the way."

"The quality of our raiment is far beyond nice," Owain intoned, drumming his fingers on the golden hilt of his sword. "All those around us bask in our… radiance."

"Was that a mythical pun?" Inigo grinned. "Very nicely done, Owain. Your skills are coming along nicely."

"Don't encourage that crap," said Brady. "It's bad enough with just one of ya."

Owain wrinkled his nose. "Please, Brady, don't stand so close. The mud on your robes is quite… pungent."

"…I swear, I'm gonna slug ya one of these days."

"I don't think he deserves that kind of punishment," said Inigo.

"Oh, come on!" Brady turned to Kjelle, a pleading look on his face. "Stop those two, will ya?"

Kjelle's eyes glinted wickedly. "Perhaps I'll have them thrown in the pungeon."

Brady smacked his forehead with one hand as Inigo and Owain both roared with laughter. Rolling her eyes, but hiding a smile, Severa turned to go. "I'm going to leave before I'm infected with this stupidity, too."

"Take me with you—"
Inigo grabbed him by the muddy collar, grinning broadly. "No you don't! You promised you'd play the violin in a tavern, and we're not letting you out of our sight until you do."

"Have fun!" said Severa with a cheery wave. Turning on one booted heel, she headed back into the crowd.

There was plenty to entertain her at the festival, and she moved to and fro as the fancy took her. There seemed to be performers at every corner: a black-robed man with a long and brilliantly-colored red wig juggled fireballs in midair, an appreciative crowd cheering his every move. Further down the street, a girl a few years younger than Severa, her brown hair done up in a pair of buns, danced in a swirl of pink ribbons, accompanied by a blond man with a small harp.

Near a stand set up for a target game, Severa spotted Cynthia once again: the pegasus knight commander was hurling wooden rings with considerable energy but little accuracy. Beside her was Nah—dressed in the elaborate red robes and dark-colored wig of Tellius's Child Empress. Severa approached the pair from behind, grinning.

"So, I see that you managed to find your liege. Or is it sister ruler?" she said teasingly. "I can't keep it straight for some reasson."

Cynthia stuck out her tongue in response before throwing another ring—an overhand throw that sailed completely over the prizes and bounced off the canvas behind.

"You're not going to have much success like that," said Nah, waving a ring of her own in reproving fashion. "You need to let it float down, like so…" She tossed the ring underhand. It fell several feet short of any of the targets, and Severa snorted.

"Maybe not like so."

"Oh, hush." Nah rolled her eyes. "I don't see you doing any better."

"Because I'm not playing," said Severa. She waved to the stall's owner, a brown-haired young man in white armor and a red-lined cape. "How much to play?"

"A gold piece gets you two tosses," he responded promptly. "Two gold gets you five. Would you like to try, miss?"

Severa, grinning, rolled up the sleeves of her coat and tossed a pair of gold pieces down on the counter. "Oh, I'll do more than try."

Five minutes later, Severa hummed contentedly as she claimed her target. Cynthia stuck out her lip with a pout. "That's totally not fair. I was trying to win that one."

"Cry me a river," said Severa, grinning and winking as she squeezed her prize: a stuffed pegasus, just small enough to fit into her knapsack.

"You're really going with that?" said Nah, her tone dubious.

Severa stuck out her tongue. "Yeah. Anything wrong with that?"

The manakete shrugged. "Dunno, it just seems a little odd for you."

"It's cute!" said Severa in a tone of injured dignity. She hugged the stuffed pegasus closer. "And besides, I used to have one just like it."

"Did you win that one at a carnival, too?"

Severa remembered the proud looks on her parents' faces and smiled. "Yeah, I did."

"Hey, do you two want to get some food?" said Cynthia, a hopeful note in her voice. "Because boy, am I hungry."

"I knew that already," said Nah. "Your stomach was rumbling pretty much the entire time you were tossing rings."

Cynthia's cheeks went pink, and she looked dismayed. "You heard that?"

"I've got good ears."

"There's a stand just off the main square that served pork, potatoes, and cornbread," Severa offered. "Lucina and I went there earlier this week, and it was pretty good."

Cynthia nodded several times in a row, smacking her fist into her palm. "That sounds like exactly the sort of thing I need to give me the strength to continue fighting for justice!"

"Is that what you call missing the targets now?" said Nah dryly.

"Stop being so mean…"

It took the trio a while to reach the food stand, given the considerable line, but at last they stepped away laden with their lunches. They were making their way to a table when someone jostled Severa's elbow, almost making her drop the food. "Hey, watch it!" she said, glaring in the direction of the offender.

"Uhh, sorry about that…" The bare-chested young man who had bumped her bobbed his head in an apology, steadying the mugs he held in either hand. Severa noted that his costume was decidedly second-rate: sandals, an orange hip-cloak, and white pants that looked like they'd seen better days. His wolf-tail and ears still had bits of glue sticking to them, and the painted-on tattoos on his arms were rather haphazard. Still, there was something familiar about him.

She blinked. "Yarne?"

The taguel's eyes widened, and he lowered his voice to a hiss. "Keep your voice down! Don't give away my position."

Nah covered up a laugh with one hand. "Oh, this is too good."

"Your costume is—" began Cynthia, frowning.

"Really bad, I know. It was Laurent's idea." Yarne grinned. "He said that people would be unlikely to suspect me if I was wearing ears and a tail that were so obviously fake."

"Those are your real ears, Yarne."

"Yeah, but they have glue on them, so they don't look real."

"How do you plan on getting the glue out?" said Nah.

"I… uh."

"Very painfully, probably."

"Yeah, probably." Yarne sighed. "Still, it's worth it to have the chance to walk around with Noire."

"Where is she, anyway?" said Severa.

"Holding a table for us. We might be able to squeeze you three in, if you want."

"Just show us the way!" said Cynthia.

Yarne led them through the crowd to a far corner of the square, where a trio of people were already seated. Noire rose as Yarne approached, sidling past the other two to plant a kiss on her boyfriend's cheek and relieve him of one of the mugs. She smiled at the others. "Nice to see you."

"You, too. Happy birthday."

"Your costume's a lot better than Yarne's," said Cynthia bluntly, setting her plate down.

Noire blushed. "Uh, thanks."

She really did look good, Severa thought: a flowing robe of tan, maroon, and gold-trimmed black, complete with a bushy white tail and wolf ears, proclaimed her friend to be the Wolf Queen of the Desert. The look was completed by neat, swirling patterns painted on her arms and lower legs, and a cloth bandage draped over one eye.

"Enjoying the last day?" Laurent, his glasses replaced by a monocle and the usual plain gray of his robes changed to richly ornamented green and black, toyed with the handle of a cane as he spoke.

"So far, yeah." Severa turned to the last person at the table: a blond man in a high-collared black coat, his hair neatly brushed back.

"Uh, who are you?" said Cynthia, voicing exactly what Severa was thinking.

The man toyed with a white mask in his hands. It wasn't until he held it up in front of his eyes that everything clicked. "Gerome?!" Cynthia gasped.

"About time you figured that out," said Gerome, smirking.

"It was hard enough to recognize you without your mask," said Severa. "But now you're changing your hairstyle, too?"

"Lots of people do that. And it's only for tonight, anyway." He set the mask down on the table. "Besides, isn't the idea to change up the way we look?"

"I suppose so."

"Speaking of which, have you seen Lucina anywhere?" Laurent looked at Severa as he spoke.

"Now that you mention it, no." Severa took a bite of her food, chewing thoughtfully. "All I know is that she dismissed her guards this morning—I suppose that she wanted to be able to take in the sights of the festival without being immediately recognized."

"Maybe she should take lessons from Gerome," said Cynthia.

The wyvern rider coughed halfway through a sip of ale, regaining his composure in time to remark, "It's not my fault you have no idea what my face looks like."

"Technically, it is your fault," said Laurent, smiling. "The mask did obscure quite a bit of your face."

Gerome sighed. "I suppose you have a point there."

The conversation moved on to other topics, but Severa felt like she was missing something. Is it just me, or did Gerome seem awfully evasive about that?

She was still mulling it over as she finished up her meal and excused herself, promising to see them all again later that night for Noire's party.

As Severa headed off, she felt a prickling sensation at the back of her neck. I'm being watched. Another pickpocket, perhaps? Concealing her unease, she began surreptitiously scanning the area.

In the street ahead of her, a red-robed man with long brown hair was performing an elaborate series of sword forms. A trio of girls dressed as the Whitewing Sisters stood nearby, arguing about whether his costume was inspired by the Elibian or the Archanean sagas. None of them fit the profile of her mystery watcher.

Severa kept her eyes on the swordsman as she walked past, using that as an excuse to glance back over her shoulder. For the most part, the people behind her seemed like ordinary citizens. There was one person, however, who stood out: a slender young man in the regalia of the Hero-King Marth, his upper face covered by a butterfly-shaped mask with gilded edges and a Falchion swinging at his side. Unlike most of the civilians around him, he moved with a predator's effortless grace, slipping through the crowded streets without being jostled or rushed.

Suspicious, Severa increased her pace ever so slightly. The false Marth did the same, subtly pacing her, not letting the distance between them widen by more than a hairsbreadth. She felt her pulse quicken and hurriedly turned her face forward again, not wanting to give herself away. He's definitely watching me. Who is he? She squinted at her footpad's swordbelt. Wait, hold on… that's not a Falchion. It's the Falchion.

A slow smile came to her face. So Gerome was hiding something. Lending a mask to Lucina so she could move around unnoticed, huh?

She chuckled to herself. Well, let her think I haven't noticed her yet. I'll give her a surprise.

Severa stopped in front of a stand selling earrings, idly looking over the various products laid out there. The proprieter, a blond woman with a white feather ornament in her hair, was eager to respond to Severa's request to try on a pair. Severa used it as an excuse to look in the stand's mirror, adjusting it to scan the street behind her. Lucina had moved closer now that Severa was stopped, and was quickly closing the distance.

Smiling brightly, she turned around just as Lucina reached her. "What do you think of these earrings, Your Majesty?"

The disguised Exalt's mouth dropped open. "How did you—?"

"You're quite the actress, but don't think you can fool me so easily," said Severa, winking. "Granted, your disguise is better than it was when you checked in on the recruits, but still." She thumbed one of the earrings, winking at Lucina. "So, what about my question? I'm trying to figure out if I should buy them."

"I'm no expert on fashion, but I suppose I could give an opinion." Lucina crossed her arms, right hand going up to stroke her chin thoughtfully. Severa found herself embarrassed by the princess's scrutiny. I hadn't expected her to be quite so… intent.

After a moment, Lucina smiled. "I think they suit you very well."

"I wasn't asking how they looked on me," said Severa, blushing.

Lucina looked puzzled. "Didn't you just say you were thinking of buying them?"

"Yes, but not for myself," said Severa. "I thought these might make a nice present for Noire."

"Oh." The Exalt looked again, somewhat more impersonally, and nodded. "Yes, I believe that they would."

"That's good enough for me," said Severa with a smile, waving to get the stall owner's attention.

A few coins changed hands, and soon the earrings were tucked away in a small box next to the stuffed pegasus. As the two made their way down the street, Severa turned to Lucina.

"Why exactly were you following me around, anyway?"

"Kjelle told me that you had a run-in with a pickpocket earlier in the week," said Lucina. "So I wanted to keep an eye on you, just in case."

"For a second there, I thought you were a pickpocket," Severa responded, smiling ruefully.

"I guess I was acting quite suspicious."

"Thank you for thinking of me, though," said Severa. "It's nice to know that you're still watching my back, even with everything over."

Lucina laughed quietly. "Think of it as returning the favor. You've looked out for me all this time, after all." There was the barest hint of a blush under her mask as she spoke.

"It feels kind of weird having the Exalt guard me, but I suppose fair is fair."

"Good, I'm glad that's settled." Lucina gave Severa a slight bow, pitching her voice slightly lower in a would-be dramatic tone. "Shall we move on, Your Majesty?"

Severa matched her Exalt's theatrics with a flourish. "Yes, Your Majesty, I think we shall."

For the next few hours, the two "kings" made their way through the capital's streets. This time, however, it was Severa who got the stares—her distinctive red hair marking her as the pegasus knight sub-commander. Lucina, a taciturn presence at her friend's side, seemed to enjoy not being the center of attention for once.

As the sun made its way downward, the pair finally turned their steps back toward the castle courtyard. Noire's party was set to begin at sunset, and neither of them wanted to be late. Zoe, dressed in a Silesian knight's uniform that wasn't particularly different from her normal attire, waved them through listlessly, mumbling a greeting to Severa and ignoring Lucina entirely. She doesn't recognize her Exalt? I suppose that Gerome may have given some helpful advice. Nobody recognizes him without a mask, but nobody recognizes Lucina with one.

They arrived in the garden to find most of the others already there. Owain waved to them, grinning broadly. "Ah, our noble company is nearly assembled in full!"

"Who's missing yet?" said Severa.

"Just Yarne," said Inigo. "And Noire herself, of course. We wouldn't dream of beginning the festivities without her."

"Five gold says those lovebirds lost track of the time," said Kjelle.

Laurent smiled. "It seems more than likely."

"Fine by me. Gives us more time to practice," said Brady.

Cynthia raised a hand. "Uh, what exactly are we practicing?"

The forbidding priest raised his violin pointedly. "Well, we've gotta sing her a happy birthday, obviously."

"Did we plan this?" said Kjelle.

"I'm plannin' it now. And I wanna make sure we do it proper."

"A music rehearsal, eh? My vocal chords twitch!"

Nah poked Owain in the side. "Don't you start."

Brady drew his bow over the strings, nodding to himself. "Right. Inigo, start 'er off."

Inigo smiled broadly, lifting his hands. "And-a one, and-a two…"

Their voices rang out in a ragged chorus. Cynthia's warbling soprano, Kjelle's deep contralto, Owain's off-key tenor, Gerome's growling bass—as a group, they weren't particularly good singers, but what they lacked in talent they made up for in enthusiasm. Brady pronounced their performance "good enough" as the last lopsided chord cut off. "Though I wouldn't say you're ready for a concert just yet."

As the others dispersed—Cynthia wandering off in the direction of the gates, Brady crouching to admire the flowerbeds—Severa saw Lucina surreptitiously lift her mask, wiping at her eyes. She gave the Exalt a sidelong glance. "Something on your mind?"

"I was just thinking about how wonderful it is… to be able to sing with everyone like this." Lucina smiled. "It's more than I ever could have hoped for."

Hurriedly blinking away the tears in her own eyes, Severa smiled back. "Well, don't cry too much, or you won't be able to sing. We wouldn't want that."

"You have a point, there."

Cynthia burst back into the garden, green-dyed hair bobbing behind her. "Guys, they're coming! Everyone get ready!"

Inigo stepped forward, grinning. "All right, everyone, just like we practiced—"

"—hopefully better than we practiced—"

"—shush, Gerome. And-a one, and-a two…"

Noire and Yarne came to a surprised halt at the courtyard entrance as a burst of song assailed them. Their incredulous smiles grew as they took in their assembled friends, and when the last notes of the song split the air asunder, both of them burst into delighted applause. "I didn't expect you to sing for my birthday."

"To be fair, none of us expected to sing either," said Kjelle.

"Still, it was a pleasant change of plan," said Laurent. He smiled. "Now then, shall we begin?"

Noire giggled. "Sure."

The party lasted well into the evening—an evening filled with conversation and laughter, along with the best food the castle kitchens had to offer. At the end of the meal, full and content, Severa leaned back in her chair and looked up at the sky, letting the conversations of her friends wash over her. Just like Lucina said: it's everything we ever could have hoped for.

But deep within her heart, a nagging voice whispered, You had hoped for more than this.

And try as she might, when Severa heard Lucina's laughter, she couldn't deny the truth in those words.

---

Author's Note:

As you may have noticed, the "costumes" section of this chapter is jam-packed full of references to previous Fire Emblem games. If you didn't catch all of them, fear not: I put a cheat sheet together, which you can read over on the occasionallydiverting tumblr page (everything related to the fic is tagged #secret dreamer, in the event that by the time you read this, the post in question has descended into obscurity).

I'm going to stop talking now.

-Arvanion