Fire and Ash
Fires burn tall,
Men cry for death.
Screaming in her mind,
Until her dying breath.
Lucina stumbled, gasping and heaving. Robin's body weighed heavily in her arms, arrows still protruding from his back. She had been running for, give or take, four hours. It was only due to her exalted blood that she had made it this far, avoiding the armies searching for the Prince. The Plegian desert had grown to be freezing in the night air, and she was aware that she needed to gain more distance, but she feared her strength was running out.
Indeed, her stamina was impressive, but it was not unlimited. Eventually, she stumbled upon an oasis, and seeing no search parties in the distance, she took the opportunity to gather her strength, and tend to her charge.
The oasis wasn't too big, but it was sheltered by dunes on all sides, closing it off from the world around it. The dunes surrounding it were big enough that most armies would most likely avoid it, and her heavy foot falls in hard packed sand went unheard by any human ears. Robin stirred in her arms.
She was rather knowledgeable in traditional first aide in addition to healing magic, both thanks to her Aunt Lissa, but this was far beyond her capabilities. She sat him by the water, the shade of night accentuating his white hair and pale skin, giving him all the appearance of a ghost.
She then set about removing the arrows. The process was… painful. She had to go through, remove each one by one, and close the wound using healing magic. This was far from a permanent solution, it only kept him from bleeding out. His internals would require very extensive healing efforts, and it was something far beyond her capabilities.
Robin woke up several times in the process, only to then black out from the pain moments later. Eventually, the process was finally done, and the prince rested as peacefully as he could. Lucina simply sat beside him for a moment, trying to understand.
He hadn't possessed any expectation of survival, that had been clear to her. He had charged headfirst, not giving a second thought. It was as though he wanted death.
She also couldn't help but wonder just how he had moved so fast, but she regarded that as a less important question. Perhaps the more important question, and the one that still plagued her, was why he was here in the first place. Why was this time different then one from whence she came, and what would be the after effects? Validar ascending to the throne so early changed everything, and she was not certain any action on her part could bring time back to its original state.
Then there was Robin himself. In truth, Lucina no longer blamed him for the death of her father, seeing that the tactician was as much a victim as the exalt. The hard part, however, would be convincing her allies the same. Her friends knew that Robin had been the most likely candidate for her father's murderer, and in truth, many of them would see him dead. Gerome especially, who believed firmly that the death of Chrom was the beginning of the end. Lucina agreed with him to a point, yet she had little doubt that Gerome would not try to make a move against the tactician, the first chance he got.
"I… I'm sorry…" Robin's voice, weak and small, drew Lucina from her thoughts.
"Do not waste your energy on such things," she answered, gruffly, though she didn't bother disguising her voice anymore. She turned to face him to find his eyes closed. She realized after a moment that he was dreaming.
"I'm sorry…" he said again, his voice soft.
She could tell that whatever dream he was having was hardly present. It continued on for a moment, the young prince apologizing for a wrongdoing Lucina didn't know. His mantra only changed once, before he drifted back to a more peaceful sleep.
"I'm sorry… mother…"
Lucina raised an eyebrow, curious now. Robin, however, had already drifted off. She pondered the prince for a moment.
The fact he would so willingly give his life away gave her no small amount of distress. While she was certain her comrades would disagree, she knew the truth. Robin's life held immeasurably more value than her own. In the events to come, he was a far greater necessity than she. Now, she had to find a way to convey this, once the prince had returned to better health.
For the moment, she stood watch over her charge, the endless Plegian night stretching on across the silent desert.
Men screamed, women cried, the children were all already dead. Fire and ash, her world was fire and ash. She watched as it consumed her father, her mother, her aunt. Her brother fell to the flames, followed by the world around her.
The fire, the flames, it burned tall, yet everything still seemed so dark. She looked around, finding herself in a dead world. Armies fought him, the Shepherds opposed him, but Grima conquered all.
Fire and ash.
Her world was fire and ash.
Lucina woke from her nightmare to the sound of movement, a soft foot gliding across the sand. The moon still hung in the sky, though it was clear that dawn would break within the next two hours.
Lucina heard the movement again, and by the next moment, she was wide awake, blade drawn and at ready, a lifetime of sleeping lightly paying off.. She faced the direction of the sound, keeping the still unconscious Robin safe behind her.
"You really should mind who you point that at," a voice called, instantly putting Lucina on edge. It was familiar, and not in a good way. Feminine, intelligent, and shrewd.
"Perhaps I may lower the blade, should you show yourself," Lucina offered. A mirthless laugh responded.
Through the shrubbery of the oasis, coming by the water's edge, was a woman in a black robe with hair to match. Her skin was nigh flawless, but extremely pale, despite Lucina knowing that this was a Plegian. When she looked closer, the swordsmaid began to stammer, realizing who this was.
"L-L-Lady Tharja?!" She hadn't even bothered trying to disguise her voice this time, her surprise overwhelming her composure. The dark mage raised an eyebrow, but rather than question how Lucina knew who she was, she seemed interested only in Robin.
"I would ask who you are, as well as why you hold the prince behind you," she said, no small amount of steel to her voice. Lucina cleared her throat.
"I am called Marth. Robin is… my charge, currently," the swordsmaid replied, Falchion lowering.
"Ah, a bodyguard? You do not seem to be doing a very good job of it, if the prince's current state is any indication," Tharja responded, a slight smirk on her face. "I would tend to him, I trust you will not run me through?"
Lucina nodded, sheathing her blade. The woman before her was far different from the Tharja she remembered. In her time, Tharja had been obsessed with Robin to an unhealthy extent, constantly pining for his love, only to find her affections unrequited. This made the dark mage rather… difficult to be around. She fought alongside the Shepherds without fail, but she was cold, abrasive, and given to a rather difficult disposition.
This timeline's Tharja, however, seemed different. When she checked Robin's pulse, she did not seem to dally longer than she needed. When she murmured spells, none of them were an experimental attraction hex. This Tharja seemed to care very much for Robin, but in a different manner.
"May I ask, what is your affiliation with Robin?" Lucina asked, after a moment of silence. Tharja seemed to ponder this for a moment.
"He is… very dear to me. I owe him a great deal, and I would see him repaid for what he has done for me," she said, a small smile coming to her lips. She continued her work, casting hexes, and muttering other spells Lucina could not recognize.
It took roughly an hour, Tharja working ceaselessly, Lucina keeping vigil over the two of them, after telling the dark mage just what had happened to Robin. When she was finally done, Tharja rose, swaying a little, but waving off Lucina before she could offer help.
"It… is fortunate that I found you… he most certainly would have died from internal injuries before another night could fall. What I have done is not a permanent fix, but he should wake soon. He will be able to walk, at least, but you will certainly want to get a true healer sooner rather than later. To where are you headed?" Tharja asked, wiping the sweat from her brow.
"Ylisse. He will be safer there than in Plegia," Lucina said. The shorter woman seemed taken aback for a moment.
"The Ylisseans would see him dead! You lead him to a grave!" Tharja said, her fists balling, finding new reserves of energy.
"I am Ylissean, and I would see him live. Where he goes, my blade follows. Any who would harm him must first get through me," Lucina said, simply.
"I will not pretend to understand why Validar ordered the death of his only son, but how is one to know that the Ylisseans will not do worse?" The dark mage asked.
"I know the Exalt. Emmeryn would not sentence a man to such a fate. Even if she did, they would have to tear through me first," Lucina replied. Her confidence gave the shorter woman pause.
"Tell me," Tharja said, a curious tone, "Why do you pledge to protect him? Are you a personal friend, a lover, or simply a follower?"
"I… know the truth. In days to come, Robin will prove instrumental; not for Ylisse's favor, but for all of mankind's. I have a duty to uphold, and as of now, that duty means pledging to protect him."
Tharja nodded, slowly, before turning and beginning to walk away. She stopped, at the edge of the oasis, turning back slightly.
"Keep an eye on him, Marth," she said, quietly. "Robin is a good man, but he has suffered more than anyone ever should. He did not hesitate to throw his life away once, and would not hesitate if the opportunity arose again. Tell him I was here, that I have matters to attend to, but I will be there when he needs me."
Lucina nodded to the dark mage as she disappeared over the dunes. She sat by the water's side, taking a moment to polish Falchion, despite the fact that the blade never lost its shine. It was a nervous habit of hers, but she found a certain catharsis in it. Perhaps it reminded her of her father, perhaps it simply made her think of better times. She just knew that it brought her a certain level of comfort.
Robin began to stir a bit, drawing Lucina's attention. After a moment, his eyes snapped open. He turned his gaze on her, and again, Lucina could feel it. In that moment, he was dissecting everything she was, seeing past every wall she had. Intelligent, grey eyes stared, unblinking, breaking down the person they focused on.
He then turned on his side, and vomited.
"Ugh," he said afterwards, "Did you heal me with dark magic?" He asked.
"I… no. 'Twas Lady Tharja," Lucina replied. Robin groaned and sat up, writhing in pain as he did so.
"I have not been healed by dark magic before," Lucina began. "Is it truly so different from regular healing magic?"
"Yes, it is," he said, clutching a spot on his chest. "Normally, healing magic works by accelerating the natural healing process of one's body. Dark magic… ah… is more like forcefully mending your body together. It… does not feel very good, and it is only temporary. But, Tharja was here?"
"Yes. She said she had matters to attend to, but when you truly need her, she'll be there."
Robin nodded slowly, his gaze again turning on Lucina. She tried not to wilt under his stare, but it was odd, feeling completely exposed such as this. His eyes narrowed after a moment.
"Forgive me, but I fear I have a great many questions. Foremost of which, who the hell are you?" He asked.
"I am Marth," she responded, voice carefully even as she met his gaze.
"A chosen name," he said with a smirk. "I can accept that you don't wish to tell me your true name, or show your face. What I cannot accept, however, is not knowing anything about who you are. So tell me, who are you?"
She maintained his stare for another moment, before breaking and looking at the water's surface.
"I… am your shield," she added, a small smirk in place. He scoffed, clearly not appreciating her lack of a true answer.
"And why is that? I do not know you, and as far as I know, you do not know me."
She sighed, unsure of how much to say.
"I have… knowledge of events to come. Events that you play a pivotal role in. It would not due to see your place vacant," despite not making eye contact any longer, she could feel his gaze harden.
"Ah… a foreseer?" His question seemed more to humor her than out of genuine belief.
"...Of sorts, yes," she said, cautiously. "And as a foreseer, I must reprimand you for your actions."
He raised a brow, "Reprimand me?"
"Aye. What you did was most foolish. Your life has far more value than you seem willing to place on it," she said, tone completely neutral.
"So what? I should have just sat there, and let you die?"
"Yes."
Lucina was meeting his stare once again now, her eyes conveying her seriousness, her absolute certainty on the matter, despite being sealed behind her mask. He scoffed.
"You will forgive me, foreseer, for not being able to do that," he said, shaking his head with incredulity.
"Robin, in the days yet to pass, you will be a pillar that holds up the world. Your life holds irredeemably more value than my own. 'Twould not do to see a king sacrifice itself for a pawn," her assuredness, her certainty only seemed to bewilder the exiled prince.
"Are… are you mental? This is not a chessboard, this is your life," he said in disbelief.
"Aye. And the simple fact is that my life is disposable. Yours is not," Robin's face turned to the sand at his feet, a dark shadow crossing over his face.
"There are things you do not know, Marth. Else, you would not say such," he said, a cynical smirk coming to his face. She narrowed her eyes.
Before she could counter, the sun peeked over the dunes. Dawn had broken, and time was limited. Lucina turned back to eye her charge, a determined look beneath her mask as she walked over to where he sat.
"Robin, there is much I cannot yet tell you, and I am sorry for that. But please, tell me. Can you trust me?" She asked, extending her hand. He gave a long, tired sigh.
"It… would seem I've little choice," he admitted.
His hand clasped with hers, black leather gloves meeting with blue.
Chrom walked through the halls of Castle Ylisstol, the early morning sun bathing him in gold light as he moved with purpose. He knew better than to question why his retainer had awoken him at such an early hour, fully believing the situation to be serious. Frederick had called him by his given name, rather than his title. That always meant something was dire.
After keeping step with the knight for a time, he eventually realized they were headed for the war chamber, a room that hadn't seen use since the Conquest, nearly two decades prior. The room was a grand one, stained glass windows making up the east facing wall, with a long table making up the center of the room, the table being big enough to seat twelve people.
The Exalt, the prince, and ten bureaucrats.
Chrom made little secret of his distaste for the military High-Command. Many of them only acquired their position through deals with the former Exalt Emmyria, Chrom's father. While a few had some level of competency, most were woefully undeserving of their position. Chrom saw the way they looked at Emmeryn, as well as the way they took advantage of her kind nature.
Still, all of the High-Command were gathered, all of them stone-faced, which further spoke to the seriousness of the current situation. Nobles that weren't bickering, that sat together in silent contemplation, were nobles that feared for their very lives.
Chrom turned to Emmeryn, who sat at the head of the table. She offered him a weary smile, and nodded once, silently asking him to be seated. He did so, aware of Frederick standing at attention behind him. Standing beside Emmeryn at the head of the table was Phila, who was to be expected, but another woman joined them as well.
With her red hair, light armor, and fair complexion, Chrom recognized her as Cordelia. Though young and a new recruit to the Pegasus Knights, many stories circulated regarding her natural ability, as well as the sharpness of her mind. Frankly, Chrom had been keeping an eye on her progress. The Shepherds, at present, numbered only ten members. While not a bad size, it was hardly a platoon. As such, Chrom was always keeping an eye out for potential recruits.
His sister rising to her feet snapped his attention forward.
"I thank you all for coming," she began, her tone uncharacteristically dull. "I am certain many of you have heard, but for those who haven't, I will say it now. We have reason to brace for a Plegian invasion."
Chrom's breath caught in his throat as a few of the council began to murmur amongst themselves.
"They have recalled all of their border guard, and the attacks from Plegian bandits have ceased altogether. While this may come as a pleasant surprise, these are not signs of an end to hostility. They are more characteristic of an army soon to mobilize," Emmeryn said, silencing all of the nobles with her certain tone.
"Perhaps this is all a misunderstanding, but my station prevents me from treating it as such. I will attempt a meeting with the Plegian Crown, to attempt to mend the wounds between our states."
To this, Chrom stood, a rare look of frustration aimed at his sister.
"Emmeryn, you would play into their hands. You speak of the same king who would send bandits into our nations, ravaging the villages of innocent civilians. Validar wants a war, and I figure killing you would be as much casus belli as it would be a tragedy. He wishes for blood to be spilled between our states, and you would only offer him your own."
Around him, a few of the council members muttered amongst themselves, some clearly offended by the prince's breach of protocol, while others agreed with his words. Emmeryn gave him a small smile, seeming more bemused than offended.
"I understand your concern, Chrom. Perhaps it is for the best that I do not meet with him. Regardless, should it come to war, we would certainly require assistance. Chrom, take the Shepherds to Regna Ferox to speak with their Khan. Let us hope that our old ally will come to our aide once more."
Chrom nodded, though he sighed inwardly. He was hardly a great diplomat, but Emmeryn seemed fully intent on making him one. Her soft smirk told him that much. He would most certainly do it, but that did not mean he would not complain to her about the matter at a later date.
"I will ready my men," Chrom said, standing ro rise. One of the old generals on the council, an ancient looking man named Lyseth, raised a hand to stop him.
"On the matter of the Shepherds," the old man began, each word incredibly spaced out from each other, "we have noticed that you have yet to name a tactician."
Chrom looked over the council, noting that they all looked hopeful. He had to repress a sigh of disdain.
"We've yet to find a tactician, yes. We still search."
Lyseth's decrepit eyes caught a bit of light.
"Then might I suggest som-"
"No."
Chrom felt the eyes of all of the councilors widen as they held a gaze on him. Being truthful, he held a certain distaste for most tacticians. All of the ones Chrom had dealt with and met had been arrogant, cowardly, and narcissistic, all convinced that the sheer genius of their own mind made them too valuable to fight on the battle. None of them had a problem with sending a soldier to face death, but they were all terrified to do the same.
That was the reason that the Shepherds were the only military outfit in all Ylisse without a dedicated tactician. Frederick knew a fair amount on the subject, and Chrom hoped Virion would prove capable until they found a permanent strategist for their group, so they got by for the moment.
But this did not stop the High-Command from attempting to instill their lackeys, children, or cousins into the position. Anything to curry favor with the royal family. Chrom had his pick of tacticians, in truth. He could have any one of them he had wanted. But that did little to change the fact that he regarded every tactician he had known as cravens.
"I will choose a tactician when I find one who I feel is worthy of such a position. Worthy of holding not just my life, but the lives of all of my comrades in their hands. I've yet to find such a man, and thus; we still search."
The prince's words carried more an edge to them now than they ever had before, as his gaze wandered over the room. None met his stare. He scoffed at them, before walking toward the door, his retainer close at hand.
"Milord," Frederick began as they walked down the castle hall. Chrom repressed a sigh; he knew what was coming. "While I agree with your decision on the matter of finding a tactician, perhaps it would be prudent to voice your thoughts more… softly?"
The prince gave a smirk as he walked with purpose. "If I were more gentle, they would only take advantage of it, would they not?"
Frederick fell silent after that, knowing the answer all too well.
Lucina buckled a bit, before finding the strength to continue on. Robin limped beside her, arm over her shoulder as she half helped, half carried the injured prince across the desert. The sun beat down overhead, and the sand often caused her to lose her footing, but she was able to continue on at a good pace, something she knew Robin had taken note of.
They walked across the desert sands for the entire morning, finally stopping at another oasis surrounded by the sands. This one was smaller than the one before, and it did not have dunes shielding it from view. Still, it was clear that Robin was tired. Every step seemed to pain him more than the last.
She positioned him so that he could sit by the water's edge, before she herself sat behind him, intent to watch their flanks. She drew Falchion, and held it in her lap, the weight a comfort to the Foreseer. After a moment, she became aware of eyes watching her.
Lucina turned back to find the prince's gaze on her, discerning.
"Yes?" She asked, after a silent moment. "Is everything alright?"
She saw his gaze slide down her body, lingering on her thin arms and legs and bony frame that her outfit only barely hid. She knew what questions were coming.
"...Tell me, after the events at the castle gate, how did you get me to that first oasis?" He asked. "I know the area. That had to have been at least twenty miles, and we got there by nightfall, whilst avoiding Plegian patrols."
"...I carried you, and ran," she said simply. He sized her up once more.
"I hope that you do not take offense to my words, Marth, but you do not seem to be in the best of health. It's rather clear that you're malnourished, and have been for sometime. To hear that you carried me so far, so fast, is a bit… difficult to believe."
She gave a noncommittal shrug, hoping he would drop it, but she could see in his eyes that she wouldn't. The exalted blood that ran through her veins allowed her a few advantages, mainly superhuman endurance and speed, as well as an immunity to disease and a longer lifespan. She could assume Robin had read about such boons before, and she feared that he may begin to piece it together.
They sat in silence for a moment, Robin drinking water from the oasis as Lucina stood watch. After a few minutes of silence, Robin spoke up.
"So… you're Prince Chrom's time-traveling daughter?" He said, simply.
She wheeled about to face him, sputtering incoherently for a moment, unable to form any concrete line of rebuttal.
"W-w… What?!" She finally managed. She was simply answered with a smirk.
"You carry his sword in your lap right now. A sword, might I add, that only someone of exalted blood can use. And I saw you cut through three people with it with little issue. I've studied Falchion enough to recognize it when I see it. Being of the exalted bloodline would also explain why you were able to carry me so far, so fast, despite being so obviously malnourished," his smirk continued, as he fixed his gaze on the water's surface.
"I admit that I was confused for a moment. Perhaps you were a bastard daughter of the previous Exalt, and simply stole Falchion? But as I considered it, I realized that this is unlikely. You match the description of the previous Queen more than the Exalt, she was the one with blue hair. Her life was also rather thoroughly documented, a fourth pregnancy would have been well known. Ergo, you are someone of exalted blood, but not the child of the previous Exalt or Queen. Neither of them have any siblings that are known of, so that only leaves a few possibilities," he turned his eyes back to her.
"A child of someone related to the previous Exalt and Queen, but not their children, nor children of any siblings of theirs. That was a brick wall for me, until I considered your words. When you first approached me, you asked for the history of the past two decades, saying something 'went wrong', insinuating you know how time should have played out, but finding that this is not what happened. The fact that you call yourself a 'foreseer' only furthers the hypothesis. I propose you come from a future where things took a turn for the worse. Hell, Ylisse and Plegia are on the brink of war as we speak, perhaps it ended in your nations destruction. Life of a prisoner, or that of a refugee, could well explain why you are so malnourished."
Lucina could only stare at him, at a loss. In the combined total time of a few hours, injured and exhausted, the man before her had been able to tear apart any semblance of a facade she had, with apparent ease. As she looked into his eyes, she realized that she had badly underestimated him. He was not simply an intellectual man, nor just any tactician. This was the man who had defeated Walhart's legions with an army outnumbered twenty to one, fighting in unfamiliar territory. It was the man who was able to utterly destroy Plegia in her own time.
She realized, only then, that to refer to this man as "intelligent" was to diservice him.
She realized, only then, that this man was perhaps the most gifted mind the world had yet seen.
"Does… d-does this not seem… far-fetched?" She asked, half-heartedly. She made a decent actress, but she was a terrible liar when confronted directly.
Robin's smirk took on a somber look, his words soft.
"Believe me, when you seen what I have… nothing seems impossible. I don't claim to know how you accomplished the feat, what sort of magic may have been used, but I am certain that there are stranger and more outlandish things in the world than time travel. Maybe not much more outlandish, but there must be something."
Lucina simply nodded, taking in a long breath.
"There is… truth to your words," she admitted. "I come from a blighted future, one in which humanity itself began to crumble. I was given a chance to come back, to save this world from a meeting a similar fate. Yet, as I return to the past, I find that things went wrong."
Robin shifted, turning his body to face the Exalt.
"I see… what's so different about this time than yours?" He asked, curiosity piqued. She glanced at him, measuring her words carefully.
"Validar did not take the throne until much later. Gangrel held the throne, and his ascension to it was uncontested. He was… a puppet on your father's strings, but he was still the one that went to war with Ylisse in my time."
She gave him a look before continuing.
"Similarly, you left Validar, as well as Plegia, at a young age. You never spoke about it, at least, not openly. That said, I did not know you well, in my time." The prince raised an eyebrow at her.
"But you did know me?" He asked. She gave a slight nod.
"You were… a quiet man, furtive in your ways and mannerisms. You were not unkind, however. You would often buy me trinkets, when I was younger."
"Huh… So, I was an ally of Ylisse?" He asked.
"Aye. One of her staunchest. You lead Ylisse through the bloodiest wars of history, and found victory. You were known across the world, just as my father was," she said. Robin simply nodded.
"I see," he said, a sad smile coming to his face as he regarded her malnourished state once more. "And then I failed."
Lucina winced beneath her mask.
"I… I do not wish to reveal any specifics, but many… many would say you had. That the calamity that befell us was your responsibility and yours alone. I believed as such, for a long time," she said.
"And your opinion changed?" The prince asked.
"I… I have been given cause to believe that what happened wasn't something to lay on your shoulders. You… you were as much a victim as anyone else."
He gave another nod. He did not press for information, knowing that she was unlikely to reveal much else. Rather, he sat in silence, contemplating.
It was clear that Marth intended for him to fulfill his role as he had in her time, as an ally of Ylisse. In truth, Robin did not deny that he had no love for Plegia, but he was uncertain of how receptive the Ylisseans would be, having the prince of their historic rival as an ally. While Chrom seemed a good man, and stories circulated of Exalt Emmeryn's kind heart, they hardly accounted for the masses. He did not believe his father's propaganda, but he was keenly aware that many Ylisseans would be less than receptive to his presence.
Still, he had no other recourse. He doubted Marth would let him walk away from his "destiny" even if he wanted to. It was either fight and potentially die for Ylisse, or live his life running.
"There is one thing I must… warn you of," Marth's voice cut through the air. Robin turned his head to face her once more.
"I made the journey with others. They come from the same dark times as I. There are twelve others in total, amongst them my brother and my cousin. Nearly all who made the journey are good, decent people, but…" she trailed off for a moment.
"Many of them would lay the fate of the world at your feet, and hold you accountable for it. Most of them would not attack you outright, but you will need to be vigilant around a woman named Kjelle. She is a proud warrior, and she would most certainly relish the chance to test her mettle against your own. As long as I'm able to talk to her, though, she should stand down," her face darkened a moment before continuing.
"Gerome is the one I worry about the most. He… he was perhaps the most virulent of our group, the most set in his belief."
"And his belief was?" Robin asked, raising a brow.
"...That your death was necessary for a better world. I do not think anyone could talk him out of it, in honesty. If… if he sees a chance to kill you, he will almost certainly take it."
Robin nodded, grimly. She seemed pain as she talked, as though describing a former friend that had fallen from grace.
"Furthermore," she continued, "should anything happen to me, you must find a man named Owain. He is my cousin, and should I fall, it will be he who becomes the leader of our group. While he may seem a tad… colorfult, he is a good man who would help you however he could."
Robin sat quietly for a moment, his words quiet and measured when he finally spoke.
"Tell me, am I truly worth the trouble? Worth you risking your life for me, your cousin risking his?" He asked.
"...I have told you. My life is disposable, yours is not."
She spoke with a cold tone, one that did not offer any chance at talking on the matter. Lucina knew the truth of things; Robin was the only one who could lead Ylisse and her allies through the tribulations to come. If he could refute his fate, fight back against his father, then Robin could well be the only man with the genius capable of defeating Grima.
She would give her life a hundred times over, if it meant protecting her father, if it meant the defeat of Grima. Robin could be the one to do both.
As such, she knew that she may well have to give up her life for his.
She would do it without a second thought.
Two men faced each other, circling one another in the massive coliseum. One man, a scion, the other, a champion. Their blades were drawn, pointed at one another as they circled, both waiting for the other to make the first move, the scion, out of caution, the champion, out of preference.
It was the scion who moved first, holding his father's blade. He moved forward, his blade a flash of light as it descended upon the champion, who's own blade only just managed to raise in time to deflect the other man's downward slash. The scion continued his attack, pressing in on the champion, slashing faster and faster with his blade. The champion, despite his very apparent skill with a blade, only barely managed to keep up.
The assault lasted for two minutes, the scion's blade moving too fast to allow the champion to make any kind of counter-attack. While the champion was able to ward off every attack, it became immediately apparent that this was to be a battle of endurance; something the scion seemed to have much more of.
The man's attacks were unrelenting, but his opponent's defense began to slow. His blocks became sloppier, each pushing him back more than the last. Then the first attack got through his guard. Then a second. Then a third. Fortunately, not one of them were killing blows (a stab to his shoulder and slashes to his ribs), but it further impeded the champion's ability to defend himself from the other man's onslaught.
Then, it happened. The scion leapt back, giving the champion but a moment of reprieve, before the scion started running forward again. The champion internally sighed, knowing he could not maintain this much longer, before raising his sword in a defensive stance once more.
The scion leapt through the air, flying toward the champion with incredible speed, as the champion raised his sword to block.
The champion's eyes widened as his opponent's blade began to glow a bright blue.
The scion gave a dangerous smile as he charged forward, blade slashing out as he leapt past his opponent almost too fast for the eye to see.
"Luna", he said, his voice quiet and soft.
Behind him, he heard the sound of the champion's blade clattering to the ground, severed in two, followed by his chestplate. After another moment, the champion collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
The crowd roared and thundered, the Khan laughing heartily at the show that had been before him.
Owain smiled. He had done it.
He had won.
Everything was going according to plan.