The tip of her wooden sword cracked like thunder, shot off like an arrow and hit the ground point-first. She had broken three training dummies today, on top of that. Her lip was busted, she had a new bruise under her right eye, and her whole body ached with familiar pains. Clothed up to the neck, she was beaten in places no one could see, and in the early afternoon she knew that she had reached her limit.
Severa dropped her sword, which was battered, but not yet broken. "I'm done. You've been sparring all morning, haven't you? You're a wreck." She pointed back to the broken dummies. "And you busted those up, too. What time did you even get here?"
"Before dawn," Lucina replied.
"Why?"
"I..." She paused. "Because I needed to."
"No one needs to train that hard. You're gonna wear yourself out before the battle even begins. What's wrong with you?"
"I'm not sure." Then, she added, "It seems that ever since Cordelia fell ill, everyone's been under much more pressure than usual."
"Don't you dare bring my mother into this!"
"I'm not saying they're related," she argued, "I'm just saying that that seems to be what happened. You feel it too, don't you?"
"It's not her fault if they can't pull their own weight."
"That's not what I meant."
"Then say what you mean already!"
"It's..." She brought a hand up to her face, massaging her temples. "It's my parents."
Severa made a face. "Your parents? What about your parents?"
"They're fighting. Or at least that's what it looks like."
"Fighting? But your parents never fight. What are they fighting over?"
"I wish I knew. That way I'd have some idea of how to help them."
Severa scowled, suddenly. "Don't tell me..."
"What?"
"You remember what happened between our mothers in—in our past, right? Their future, maybe, but our past?"
"Severa, no," Lucina said firmly.
"You don't think it could happen again?"
"Don't say that."
"Lucina, beating stuff up isn't going to solve anything."
"Then what do you suggest we do?"
"I..." She faltered. "I don't know, all right? Who knows what they're thinking? Besides, they're not going to tell us anything; they never do. The only time we ever hear anything is after the fact. But we can't let it happen again. That's why we're here."
"I really don't think it's quite the same thing, though."
"So?"
"I mean," she said, "if we meddle too much, we might make things worse than they already are."
"How could we? Your parents are fighting; they've practically hit rock-bottom by now."
"I mean... I don't know if they're fighting, exactly..."
"Gods, but you are a coward. If you're not going to do anything about it," Severa said, stomping back toward camp, "then I will!"
Half a second later she walked straight into her mother.
Lucina wasn't sure of all the details herself, and was certain of only one thing.
"So you're in love with Chrom, right?" asked Severa.
They had chased Cordelia backed to the medical tent, where she sat dumbly on her bedroll, overwhelmed by her daughter's forwardness.
"I'm... I don't see what this has to do with anything..."
"Stupid, this has everything to do with everything. Lucina's parents are fighting because of you."
"Severa," said Lucina, "you know what happened then hasn't happened yet, right?"
Severa glared at her. Her pigtails swayed. "Yeah, so?"
"I don't think your mother understands what we're talking about."
"Hmph. You," she said, pointing to her mother, "almost broke up their marriage. In the future, I mean."
Somehow, Cordelia didn't seem all that surprised. "How? Why?"
"Because you were jealous, duh."
"Severa, please..."
"Shut up, Lucina. This affects you too."
"I never even got the chance to ask you, Lucina," said Cordelia, "where did you all get those new wounds from? Do you usually get that hurt sparring?"
"That's exactly my point," said Severa. "If something that like happens now, you're going to ruin your friendship all over again and Sumia and Chrom and everyone else will be absolutely miserable, just like you were when you left me. That is not an option."
"Where does Cynthia figure into all of this?" she asked.
"Has she ever talked to you? Once, even?"
"Well... Actually, I don't believe she has."
"Then there's your answer. She thinks you're a she-demon. Or an archnemesis. Whichever one is worse."
"I wouldn't put it that way," Lucina murmured. Severa gave her a look. "I mean... I guess, maybe a little..."
"Um," said Cordelia, "so what happened, exactly?"
"We don't know," said Severa. "You wouldn't tell me, and Sumia wouldn't tell her kids—well maybe she told Cynthia, and that's why Cynthia hates you. But the most obvious answer would be that you were having an affair."
"With Chrom?"
"Who else would you be having an affair with? Sumia?"
"You have a point..."
"Well, whatever. A few weeks after that you told me you had to go fight for what really mattered."
"I see." She thought about it, for a moment. "Nothing like that has happened yet, though. I've barely even talked to Chrom, much less touched him."
Lucina grew rigid. Severa elbowed her.
"I'm telling you this for your own good, Mother," Severa said icily. "Don't get any ideas."
"Of course, Severa. Oh, and if you don't mind my asking..."
"What?"
"When are we scheduled to start moving again?"
"Oh," she said, and made a face. "Lucina, have you heard anything?"
"Tomorrow, I think. We make for the Dragon's Table."
Cordelia smiled breezily. "Madness, isn't it? Here the world is on the verge of destruction, and we're fretting over a future where everything already lays in shambles... The least we could do is postpone our petty squabbles until we have the time to deal with them."
"But that's just it," said Lucina. "We turn to our so-called 'petty squabbles' so we won't have to think about the future. I'd think about my parents fighting sooner than I'd think about the end of the world."
"Stop being so fatalistic!" Severa growled. "You," she said, turning to her mother, "you're a married woman, so keep your paws off of Chrom, and you," she turned to Lucina, "you stop being so reckless or I'll make Robin put you on convoy duty during the next fight."
"You wouldn't!"
"Hmph. Better than getting yourself killed."
"Wait, Lucina," Cordelia said, as they stood up to leave, "I have one more thing to ask."
She turned toward her. "Yes...?"
"What are your parents fighting over now? It couldn't be me; I haven't done anything."
Lucina shook her head. "I don't know. They never told me."
"So... What was the point of telling me all of this?"
Severa and Lucina looked at each other.
"So you don't cheat?" said Severa. She narrowed her eyes. "I know you'll be tempted one day."
She sighed. "You sound so certain of that."
Later that day Lucina entered her mother's tent. It seemed like a reasonable enough decision to make; she wanted to make sure that her mother was OK, and she was too intimidated by her father to go up to him right now.
"Mother..."
Sumia had been idly staring at herself in a hand mirror, brushing down her hair. It was dark and and long wavy, and Lucina had always liked the look of it. She had always reached for it as a baby.
She turned around. "Yes?"
"Um... May I come in?"
She beamed. "Of course!"
She slipped through the tent drapes. It was really rather small, given that her mother was royalty, but she supposed that no one had the right to complain about their quarters during wartime.
"Um... There's something I'd like to ask."
Sumia put down her comb. "Uh-huh? What is it?"
"It's about..." She put her head down. "It's about, um, you and Father."
"About me and Chrom?" Sumia asked, her expression sobering. "What about us?"
"You aren't... There isn't anything going on... between you two, is there? I know it's rude to ask since you're my parents, but now that we're so close, I..."
Sumia laid a hand on her shoulder, and brushed some of the hair out of Lucina's face. "Lucina, honey, you're covered in bruises. What happened?"
"I was... I was sparring with Kjelle and Severa this morning."
"At the same time?"
"No, one after another."
"Right after the other?"
"I... Yes. That's what happened."
"Lucina, you need to take breaks."
"I was just so worried... about you two. Because..."
"It's nothing, really. Chrom's—your father's—you know. He's a little... thick, sometimes. He's a warrior before he's a diplomat. That's what Robin's for, I guess. He's not very good at dealing with people. Especially women. But it's no big deal; he'll get over it."
"So everything's really all right? Your marriage is going to last?"
Sumia laughed. "What? Of course! This silly little thing, this is nothing. There's no way it would break up our marriage." She squeezed Lucina's shoulder reassuringly. "I know lots of bad things happened in the future, but I promise they're not going to happen here, all right? We've got your foreknowledge, after all; that has to count for something."
"Yeah," Lucina said, and curled up against her mother. "You're right."
In the evening, she visited the medical tent to talk to Cordelia—no, warn her. Lucina was... upset, in a word, of having been reminded of something that could have potentially caused her parents' deaths, or at least her parents' reckless behavior, in the future.
Right now, her parents were more naive, friendlier, and they had a genuine sense of hope for the future. This time, at least they thought they had a chance. Lucina wasn't about to squander that for anything.
"You're still here," Lucina said, looking at her.
"They expect me to return to my duties tomorrow, once we start moving again," Cordelia said. "I suppose my break is over, then. They aren't going to make me fight, though."
Lucina furrowed her brow. "Are you feeling better?"
"Is that really what you came here to ask about?" Cordelia asked, and she said it so honestly it hurt.
"You saw right through me."
"I know you love your father very much. And I want you to know I wouldn't do anything to hurt you or Sumia. Chrom's daughter and his wife... They're just as important to me as Chrom himself."
"You say that," Lucina said, guardedly.
"I do say a lot of things, don't I?"
She grimaced. "I want to believe you, but... knowing what happens..."
"You had the same problem with Robin, didn't you?"
"I didn't want to hurt Robin, you have to understand; I only—"
"I know, Lucina. You were only doing what you thought was right. It happens."
"Sometimes I just don't know what to do anymore," Lucina said. She finally walked over to her bedroll and sat down. "With all this knowledge, I mean. It might not even happen. Many things that have happened to me I'm sure will never happen to you. But not knowing which ones will and which ones won't is the hardest part about this."
"At this point, all you can do is have faith that Robin and your father will do the right thing," she said. "You can't control everything—you've already done far more than anyone thought possible."
"It isn't enough, though. It'll never be enough."
"There's no reason for me to break up your family, Lucina, I swear."
She stood up. "How am I supposed to know?" Her voice pitched; it sounded shrill. "You left us. You and everyone else—you left us. You might make promises now, and you might even believe them, but in the end everything fell apart, and I have no reason to trust that you won't make the same mistakes again. Stay away from him." She fought back anger, tears, and emotions she thought she had left back in her own Ylisse. "Stay away from him, or you'll regret it."
Cordelia smiled in a way that made her stomach lurch. "I understand."
She left, then. The conversation had only made her feel worse.
The next day, Lucina was deemed unfit to fight in the battle against Validar, against her protests otherwise, and rather forcefully. She was bruised, and angry, and the anxiety was driving her insane. Her replies were terse. She was unfriendly. She wanted nothing more than to fight and forget about everything that had happened, but deeper down she knew that Robin had been right to keep her here. She would have been a reckless fighter—a liability, even. She felt stupid, and she hated to admit it, but maybe Cordelia was right about one thing: she had done her best. Now, all she could do was wait.
Lucina kept herself busy running errands as the battle raged on. She was strong, and even though her whole body ached from the blows she had taken yesterday, she hardly felt them. Her body may have been at camp, but her mind was on the battlefield, waging war with imaginary Grimleal. She stacked boxes, counted inventory, cleaned stalls, polished armor, sharpened swords, and did whatever else the army staff would allow her to do. She avoided Cordelia. She refused to look up at the sky.
She didn't, until the shadow of the Fell Dragon rose up over the horizon, and it took the breath from her lungs. A huge, demonic monstrosity, one the size of an island, lay there in the distance, like a newly formed mountain. She almost fell to her knees. She forced herself to stand upright. She chanted five words to herself.
I say when it ends.
Though he was able to walk, her father returned with serious wounds, and was ushered into the medical tent as soon as he returned to camp. She watched with a mixture of horror and relief as Lissa administered ointment to his largest wound—one burnt, gaping scar across his stomach that had only recently been closed up with healing magic. If they had gotten to him any later, he could have died.
"Father," she finally said when Lissa was done, "I saw it. I saw Grima."
"I know," he said, holding his stomach. "Robin has the Fire Emblem. We're going to Mount Prism, to petition Naga's aid. Are you all right with that, Lucina?"
"Yes," she said briefly.
"And, also..." he added, in a quieter tone, "about your mother... I'm very sorry. I should have known better than to push her. I forgot how stubborn she can be sometimes."
"Oh." She could find nothing else to say.
"She thinks she owes Cordelia a debt."
"Does she." She didn't bother to mask the hardness in her voice.
"She won't tell me why, though." Chrom shook his head. "She told me it was something between friends. I guess I'll just have to respect that."
It's because she loves you, Lucina thought, and the very idea repulsed her. She was tempted to tell her father the whole story: about Cordelia, about what happened in the future, about their states of mind when they all marched themselves to their deaths. She realized that she was blaming Cordelia for more than she could possibly be accountable for.
She didn't care that she was, either. Hardly anything had changed. The only wild card here was Robin, and even Robin couldn't do it all alone.
"Lucina," he said, insistently, "if you have something to tell me, please say it. No one else will." There was something harsh about his tone of voice, something both fatherly and strict.
"You love Mother, don't you?" she said. "You'd never leave her."
"I would never..." He looked disturbed. "Of course I wouldn't. I love Sumia—I have for a long time. What are you trying to say?"
"You cheated on her. In the future. With Cordelia. We can't be sure that's exactly what happened, because you never told us, but in our future, we know that something happened between you three. Children pay attention; we know, Father. And no matter how hard you try to hide it, we can always tell."
He said nothing.
Lucina left him, went straight to her tent, and sat and cried for a long time.
