Chapter 20: Paragon
Severa was used to living in the shadow of others—accustomed to pushing down her own feelings and consigning herself to second-best. Even when her grief was fresh, this mindset held firm.
When her father died, she put on a brave face as well as a girl of nine could. Part of it stemmed from a wish to live up to her father's standards. Even if he was gone, he wold want her to stay strong. Strong, like him.
Part of it was her determination not to burden her friends. After all, many of them had lost more than she had. Gerome, Nah, and Laurent had all lost both of their parents. Lucina had lived without hers for longer still; her father dead, her mother suspected as the killer. What was her sorrow, when measured against theirs?
And the last part—the part she found hardest to admit, even to herself—was a refusal to show weakness to her mother.
Mother, who is always better than everyone else. She even mourns perfectly.
Despite her husband's death, Cordelia didn't take any leave of absence from the Ylissean military—the only acknowledgment of her loss, a black armband tied under her right pauldron. Other knights, and even some of the children, had imitated her, honoring lost parents, siblings, or lovers.
Severa mourned differently.
Ever since the Ylissean forces' return from Plegia, Severa closed herself off from her friends at every turn. She turned down invitations to go for walks, or requests to play together. More often than not, she ate alone—Cordelia was almost always gone.
Sometimes Severa lashed out in anger when she felt as if her friends were prying. She reduced Brady to tears when he timidly tried to comfort her, prompting Cordelia to pull her aside when she returned from the day's patrols.
"Brady also lost one of his parents, Sevvy," her mother said gently. "He's going through the same thing at you are, so he understands—"
"He doesn't understand!" Severa, eyes stinging with tears, glared up at Cordelia. "His dad is still there for him!"
"Yes, but his—"
"Unlike you!" As her mother halted, blinking in shock, Severa pressed on. "You're never here anymore! You just stay out flying around, because you don't even want to be around me!"
"Sevvy, you know that isn't the reason."
"Then what is?" Severa was almost shouting by now. "Ricken seems to think that being with Brady is more important than going out and killing Risen, but you don't feel the same way about me! You go out without even telling me!"
"I have a duty to—"
"You don't even care about how hard it was for me to lose daddy!" Severa clenched her small fists at her sides. "All you care about is doing what Chrom told you to! That's all you've ever cared about!"
Her mother's mouth trembled. "Severa, you know that I love you—"
"I HATE YOU!" Severa's voice cracked as she shouted. "You fell apart when Chrom died! But now that daddy's gone, it doesn't even seem like you care!"
Cordelia looked stricken. Her lips moved soundlessly, unable to bring forth any words.
"I'm sick of talking to you. I'm going to my room." Severa turned on her heel and stormed off toward her room.
She did not look back, though she heard a muffled sob behind her.
Had she looked, she would have seen Cordelia crumple slowly down to the floor, tears streaming from her eyes.
Severa slammed her door closed and fumbled with the lock. For some reason, she couldn't manage to latch it properly. Giving up, Severa flung herself onto her bed, buried her face in her pillow, and shut her eyes tightly.
Why do I have to be so weak?
A hot, sickening feeling of guilt had been growing in her since the moment she turned away from her mother.
I shouldn't have said such horrible things.
Severa tightened her fingers in her hair.
I wasn't being fair.
She folded in on herself, curling into a ball, trembling, her breath coming quicker and quicker as she shook with sobs.
If Daddy had heard me talking that way to her, he would have been so disappointed…
That only made the feeling of guilt within Severa grow stronger. She cried and cried, until the sheets on which she rested her head were sodden with tears.
She wasn't sure how long she lay there. Long enough, at least, for it to worry someone else.
There was a hand at her back, gently stroking her shoulder, and a voice murmuring quietly to her.
"I'm here for you, Sevvy. I'm here."
Though her vision was blurred by tears, Severa could still recognize her mother's vivid hair. "M-mommy…"
"That's right." Cordelia squeezed Severa's shoulder gently, reassuringly. "That's right, sweetie. Mommy's here."
"Mommy, I'm…" Severa flung herself against Cordelia with a sob. "I'm so sorry, mommy—"
"I forgive you, Sevvy." Cordelia wrapped her arms tightly around Severa, rocking her back and forth as her daughter continued to cry against her chest.
"I didn't… I d-didn't…" Severa stammered, her breath still uneven.
"Shhh, dear. Just take a deep breath."
"I-I-I—" Severa hiccuped, her throat feeling almost too tight to force out the words.
And still, Cordelia's voice cut through her sobs, softly and reassuringly repeating "It's all right. It's all right."
"I didn't mean to…"
"I know, darling. I know." With one hand, Cordelia smoothed back Severa's hair, her fingers working out the tangles. "We all deal with these things in our own way."
"B-but I'm awful… I made Brady cry… I made you cry…"
"Severa." Cordelia's voice was gentle, but insistent. "Sevvy, look at me."
Sniffing, Severa looked up.
Seeing her mother, Severa was struck by how she looked. This close, she could see all the cracks in Cordelia's composure: her eyes, bloodshot and red-rimmed from tears, dark circles like the ghosts of bruises high on her cheeks.
"I know that this is hard for you. It's hard for me, too, but because of that I haven't done enough for you."
"Mommy?"
Cordelia sighed. "I've been trying to push away my grief—to bury it in anything that I can, by throwing myself into my work, my duty… I've been a coward."
Severa shook her head vehemently, wiping at her eyes. "No, mommy, you're brave! You are!"
"But I haven't done right by you," said Cordelia. "I've run away from it, run away from you, because I wasn't strong enough to help you without falling apart myself." She shook her head. "It's what I would do with one of my soldiers, but you… you're my daughter. You deserve better than that."
"Mommy—!" Severa leaned into Cordelia's chest once again.
Cordelia hugged her tightly, fiercely. "I promise you, Sevvy, I'll do better from now on. I'll be here for you, like I should have been all along. I promise."
They sat there, arms around one another, for what seemed like hours. At last, they drew apart.
Severa wiped at her runny nose, blushing as she looked at the front of her mother's shirt. "I'm sorry I made a mess…"
Cordelia tousled her hair, smiling. "That's fine. It'll be easy to clean up."
"Okay." Severa looked over towards the door with a weak giggle. "I'm glad I didn't manage to lock the door."
"So am I, Sevvy." Cordelia got to her feet, offering Severa a hand. "Are you hungry? I know that I am."
Severa felt her stomach rumble and simply nodded.
"Well then, let's get something to eat together. We can make more promises to each other once we're properly fed."
"All right."
Hand in hand, mother and daughter went down to share supper.
Things were different between Cordelia and Severa after that. If there was one thing that Frederick's death and the following fights had accomplished, it was bringing them closer together.
They still had their fair share of arguments, of course—Severa only grew more obstinate as she got older—but they always apologized afterward, and made everything right again.
Cordelia continued to run more than her share of patrols, but she was sure to always tell Severa before she departed. It became a sort of good-luck ritual: Cordelia would squeeze Severa's shoulder and kiss her forehead.
"It's time for me to go, Sevvy. I love you."
"I love you too, mom. Come back safe."
"I'll be home before you know it."
It was always the same words they exchanged. As time went on, they took on a sort of sing-song quality, as if they were some kind of magic spell. Mother and daughter would always share a secret laugh when it was done.
They had precious little to laugh about, otherwise.
The news from elsewhere continued to be grim. Grima's wrath was focused north, on Regna Ferox. Though the Feroxi were fierce fighters, theirs was a losing battle. Step by bloody step, they were being beaten back across their land.
Not even Exalt Lissa's efforts to help her husband's people could slow the relentless advance. The casualties continued to mount, as the remains of Chrom's Shepherds began to fall apart.
Gaius. Cynthia's father had always been kind, always ready with a joke or a piece of candy when he saw a child in need of cheering up. He'd fallen defending a wagon of Feroxi children fleeing the overrun west.
Tharja. Noire had locked herself in her room when she heard of her mother's death. Severa, sitting outside her friend's door in hopes of comforting her, had heard the other girl weeping and raging by turns, thrown off-balance by the news.
Sully. Kellam. Stahl. Along with Stahl, Kjelle's parents had led a unit of heavy cavalry, wielding themselves like a hammer against the Risen ranks. Their daring charges had saved countless lives, but that luck could not hold forever.
Each time Severa felt her mother's kiss and said "Come back safe," she worried that Cordelia would be next.
The push came just before Severa's thirteenth birthday.
It was a hard winter, all the more so because of the steady flow of refugees into the capital. Supplies were stretched thin, and room was in short supply.
Even more demoralizing was the stories that the hollow-eyed Feroxi told. The line of defense had fallen. Khan Flavia was dead. Entire cities had been razed by Grimleal mages, and those who fled too slowly were engulfed by the horde.
Now Khan Lon'qu was leading the last of his people in a desperate rush to the Longfort, Ferox's ancient border-wall. Exalt Lissa, in response, was sending her forces northward to aid her husband's retreat.
Cordelia's knights would ride with them.
"You said that you would be here for my birthday!" Severa said, gritting her teeth. "You promised."
It was the morning of the pegasus knights' departure, and Severa was not about to quietly accept her mother's decision.
Cordelia ran a hand through her hair, clearly exasperated. "Severa…"
"What, mother? Is it suddenly too hard for you to keep your promises? You said that we would celebrate together, just the two of us… but now you're going to be gone for the whole week!"
"When I get back, we can—"
"It won't be the same! You've always been here for my birthday!"
"Sevvy, I'll make it up to you. I promise."
"You promised that you'd be home with me, and we both know how much that meant to you."
Cordelia's jaw tightened, and her eyes flashed. For the first time in a long time, Severa saw a hint of anger penetrate her mother's cool facade. "I do this to protect you."
"Oh, sure." Severa scoffed. "Like I can take anything you say seriously. This is pointless." She turned to leave.
"Severa!" Cordelia's tone was uncharacteristically harsh. "We're not done talking yet."
"I am," said Severa without turning back.
"You—Severa, come back here! Severa!"
She ignored her mother as she stormed to her room and locked the door behind her.
I can't believe her!
Severa sat sullenly on the floor, resting her back against the wall beside the door, and fumed.
I guess I shouldn't have expected any better, though. She's perfect. She has much better things to do than worry about her ungrateful, second-rate daughter.
She spent an increasingly long time absorbed in self-pity: hugging her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them, and generally stewing in her own foul mood.
Well, if she doesn't want to be with me, then fine. I'll just celebrate on my own. She'll be sorry when she gets back. At least, she'd better be.
A loud knocking on the door made her jump, banging her head back against the wall. She rubbed at the sore spot, glaring. "Ugh, what?"
Cynthia's cheerful voice chirped from the other side. "Hey, Sevvy! Since our moms are both going to be headed out, I thought we should all have lunch together with the knights. You know, to see them off before they go!"
Severa's stomach rumbled at the anticipation of lunch, but she had no desire to see her mother just yet. Not when she hasn't even apologized to me for breaking her promise.
"I'm not hungry," she lied.
"Well, I hope you are soon! Because after lunch, we'll get to watch them fly out from the courtyard!" Severa could practically hear Cynthia grinning. "Just think, Sevvy—a real pegasus knight takeoff!"
"Yeah, whatever."
"Anyway, I'll let them know that you'll be down to see them off!"
Now when did I say that? "Hey, Cynthia, don't—"
It was a bit late for that. She could hear the other girl's footsteps clacking merrily off down the hall. Severa shook her head and sighed.
"She never listens."
It was some time before she heard another knock at her door, and this one was so soft she wondered if she had imagined it. Her mother's voice came softly through the door.
"Sevvy, are you in there?"
Go away, thought Severa huffily.
There was a slight rattle as Cordelia tried the doorknob. Severa had made sure to lock it this time, though.
"It's time for me to go, Sevvy."
There they were. The same words they exchanged every time Cordelia left, filled with false cheer. Only this time, Severa was in no mood to give the normal response.
"I love you," said Cordelia.
No you don't. If you really did, you would have kept your promise to stay.
Severa didn't reply.
The silence dragged on and on. She could almost feel Cordelia's soft breathing as she waited. No answer was coming, though. No kiss goodbye, either.
At last, Cordelia sighed. There was an almost defeated tone to her voice. "I'll be back before you know it."
Then, the clack, clack, clack of her boots retreating down the hall.
Fine. Go ahead, leave. See if I care.
Severa thumped a fist against her leg, gritting her teeth.
It's not fair.
Cordelia's voice came to her, as if an echo, repeating words she had spoken long ago. "I want Severa to live to grow up. I would give… anything to make that happen. Anything…"
She buried her face in her hands.
I'm so selfish.
Severa stood up, unlocked her door, and began to run.
She ran down the halls of the castles as quickly as she could, drawing shouts of surprise from a cleric she came close to bowling over, barely pausing to apologize before she was off again, running, running. She set her sights on the courtyard.
She could hear orders being shouted, the clanking of metal, the unsettled shifting of wings. She ran faster.
The winter brightness of the courtyard shone before her, almost blinding, and the pounding of her footsteps and her ragged breathing drowned out all other sound. She put on a last burst of speed and staggered out into the courtyard, doubled over, panting.
"Mother—!"
Severa straightened. The courtyard was already empty. In the distant sky, white wings beat toward the horizon.
"Severa?" That was Panne, her nose wrinkled in confusion, shepherding Cynthia, Noire, and Yarne back inside. "I didn't think you would be coming."
"Are…" Severa coughed, trying to get a better breath. "Are they gone?"
"Yes. The pegasus knights have taken to the air." Panne frowned. "I had thought Cordelia went to fetch you…"
Severa felt a lump in her throat and swallowed hard. "Oh."
Panne mistook Severa's reaction and smiled reassuringly. "Do not worry, your mother was not unhappy with you. She told me to take good care of you while she is gone. After all, this is a very special week for you."
Noire nodded shakily, smiling. "Are you going to help with the celebration?"
The taguel scratched at one ear. "I will admit, I am not familiar with any birthday customs you might celebrate, but I will do my best to give you a proper celebration."
"I'm invited, right?" interrupted Cynthia. "Oh, please say yes, Sevvy, I love going to your birthday parties, they're always so much fun…"
Panne's gentle manner had begun to cheer Severa up. She managed a smile at Cynthia. "Of course you're invited. And so is Noire, and Yarne, and Lucy, and Kjelle, and—" Her stomach rumbled loudly, cutting her off. Severa blushed.
"Come on, Severa, let's get you some lunch," said Panne. "You'll be able to plan much better when you're not so hungry."
"Okay," said Severa, letting herself be steered inside.
I guess it was a dumb thing to argue about… of course mom had something in mind.
When she gets back, I'll tell her that I'm sorry. I know that she'll understand.
The skies were overcast, steel-gray with the promise of snow, when the remnants of the rescue force returned from across the Longfort.
Severa felt as if she was reliving a nightmare from three years past.
The children crowded around the gates of Ylisstol—so few of us, still waiting for our parents to come home!—as the Exalt's troops came down the road. Severa caught her breath.
Not a nightmare… even worse.
The group marched with little regard for order. An Ylissean lancer, her uniform stained with enough mud and blood to make its color unrecognizable, waved the people following her inside with one roughly splinted hand. Soldiers and civilians walked together in a single ragged mass. Some leaned on each other; others limped along with makeshift crutches cut from the leafless trees.
She saw no familiar faces among the crowd.
A hard knot of anxiety settled into Severa's stomach. Khan Lon'qu was supposed to be leading, but I don't see him anywhere. Where's Ricken? What about Libra and Olivia? Sumia? …Mother?
Exalt Lissa stepped forward, her staff trembling in her hand. "Who's in command here?"
"Me, Yer Grace." A dark-haired man with an x-shaped scar on one cheek stepped forward, leaning heavily on his lance. "Of what's left, anyhow. Not many able bodies left 'round these parts, so we make do with what we can."
"Is this…" Lissa kept her voice even, but the look in her eyes betrayed her dismay. "Is this all?"
A wagon rolled by, one dented wheel giving it an uneven bounce. A hoarse voice called out from inside.
"Lissa…"
The Exalt's eyes widened. "Ricken!" She took in the fissure in his breastplate, where a heavy blow had crushed the metal inward. "What happened to you?"
The mage coughed, scattering flecks of blood over the rough blanket that covered him from the waist down. "Ambush. They caught us just north of the Longfort."
"Where's Lon'qu?" said Lissa. "And Owain! Where is my son?"
"Owain's with us," said Ricken. "But the Khan… he's…"
Tears began to trickle down Lissa's cheeks, but she kept her voice level. "Tell me what happened."
"Forward scouts went missing," mumbled Ricken. "We had no warning. One minute we were marching along the road, then there were suddenly Risen everywhere. Archers on a bluff above the road."
He coughed again. "They got my horse first. She fell on my bad leg, crushed it… barely managed to drag myself out."
"And my husband?"
"The Khan was walking with Owain, up at the front of the column. When he saw the archers, he…" A drop of blood bubbled at the corner of Ricken's lips before trickling down his chin. "He wouldn't let them harm your son…"
Lissa shut her eyes tightly. "He would have done the same for anyone."
Ricken nodded."Yes. He was always brave." He took a deep, rattling breath. "Libra got me to one of the wagons, gave me what healing he could. The last I saw of him, he and Olivia had a group of soldiers together to charge the bluff… too steep, they could never have made it all the way up, they were just trying to buy us time…"
"Where's mommy?" demanded Severa. "Mommy and Sumia should be here, too…"
Ricken met her eyes for only a moment before looking away.
"No…" Severa whispered, her eyes going wide.
Lissa put a hand on Severa's shoulder. "What happened?"
Ricken, his voice raspy, spoke. "The Risen were holding a group of mages in reserve… some of them were wielding wind magic. Between them and the archers, our knights never stood a chance."
He was saying something else, offering more explanations, more apologies. Severa barely heard him.
Her mother was gone.
I should have said goodbye to her… should have done anything but argue with her when she was about to leave.
All that time, she was telling the truth… she was doing everything for my sake. I was too selfish to realize it, but now…
It doesn't matter anymore.