Chapter 2

"Lucina, before you go, can we talk?" Haura called after her as the rest of the Shepards present filed out of the war council. Chrom glanced back with a questioning look.

Lucina nodded slowly and said, "Is this about the march tomorrow?"

"Nothing so serious. I just had some questions about the future, actually." Haura said with a disarming smile, half aimed at Lucina and half at her father. Chrom gave her a small nod and left. He too knew the confusion of suddenly having a fully-grown child appear from the future. Lucina looked rather uncomfortable, however, but acquiesced, sitting back down at the table.

"It is not a comforting story, but I will aid you in whatever way you require to save us from that fate." she said, furrowing her brow. Haura let out a short laugh.

"At ease, soldier. I'm not asking questions as the Shepards' tactician, but as a mother."

Lucina was taken aback. "Well...I don't think I can help you there. Perhaps it would be better if I fetched Mother-"

"You misunderstand me. I wanted to look deeper into Morgan's amnesia. Why does he only retain memories of me when I recall nothing? And although he traveled from the future, neither you nor any of the other children know him. Why is that?" Haura said as she sat down across from Lucina. As Lucina flushed from her mistake, Haura pondered Chrom's daughter. Her bearing, her expressions, even her words all spoke of grim endurance and survival. She had seen it on all the future children, except for her own son. And while she had expected his lack of knowledge of the future allowed in part for his cheery disposition, the more she watched her son, from the way he fought to the way he spoke to the scars on his body, the more Haura had grown unsettled.

"No, I had never met Morgan in my future. Both you and my father were...lost when we went to war to prevent the Grimleal from summoning Grima. Back then, I was but a small child. I had no idea you had married, let alone had a child. And I was never close to Sir Lon'qu." Lucina said. Haura nodded along. It was all very reasonable, albeit unfortunate, that Lucina knew nothing of Morgan's origins.

Still, curiosity tickled Haura's thoughts and she could not help but ask.

"The Shepards did not fall at once, did we?" Haura questioned.

Lucina had not expected that question, but shook her head. "No, many survived until a couple years before we made the crossing. But our numbers dwindled continuously over the years. Our parents fought the Risen and Grima at every turn, but with their deaths and the destruction of one of the gems, returning to the past became our only way to cheat our certain death and save the future."

"So it took Grima, what, ten years to completely overrun the world…" Haura considered.

"Haura, once Grima returns, that is the end." Lucina exclaimed as panic flooded her voice. Haura was startled out of her reverie as Lucina slammed her hands on the table. "I have no idea how we survived those ten years, with pestilence and villages after villages burning throughout the land. I do not think I could do it again. We may have not always seen eye to eye, but having fought by your side, I know what you're thinking. But let me make this clear: there is no clever backup plan that can face the fell dragon. No countermeasures. She is larger than the castles of Ylisse, everything her breath touches turns to waste, and all our comrades who died could be raised again as her servants. We simply cannot fail."

"I understand, Lucina. I'm sorry to have worried you further." Haura said with a gentle smile. Lucina remained standing with that adamant look in her eyes. To calm her down, Haura explained further, "It is a tactician's nature to try and think of all outcomes and all cards to play, no matter how improbable, but it all means nothing if you don't understand your cards to begin with. And as your tactician, I swear to you I will make it so that we will not fail to prevent that fate from befalling this world."

"It relieves me to hear that." Lucina nodded, with that grim expression still in place as she sat back down. Haura could not feel that Lucina hardly knew the meaning of relief, but kept her mouth silent on that one.

"It seems I cannot stop dragging my duties into everything! Just one more question." And Haura's playful expression turned as hard as the princess'. "I know Chrom was said to have been betrayed. Do you know how I died?"

Lucina squirmed in her seat and despite her words of fealty, Haura could easily see the distrust in her eyes. While she respected and followed faithfully Haura's war plans, anything that dealt directly between her father and his tactician made her frown grow deeper. There had been the false accusations of adultery, a childish gambit that had exasperated Haura at first, but her real feelings ran deeper than that. Haura knew her suspicions, but so long as she kept them to herself, Haura would never give her opportunity or reason to act on them.

"...no. People never spoke of you except from old war stories, during the Ylisse-Plegia or Valmese campaigns. You were an admired tactician, but no one waxes poetically about one more dead captain in that time. I had only know that Father had been betrayed because I had eavesdropped as a child once. And by the time we had learned we could actually return to the past and meet you, none of our parents' were alive to prepare us for the reality of the situation." Lucina spoke slowly and she stared intently at Haura during her entire story. She was blunt as ever, Haura thought with a wry smile. The Brand of the Exalt in her eye fixed upon Haura and the tactician felt the branded back of her right hand itch.

"Thank you. I know it was selfish of me to bring back such bitter memories. But thank you for helping me clarify some things about Morgan. I'll see you-" Haura began to stand up, but Lucina interrupted her.

"Wait. I hadn't wanted to say…but I can tell you how your husband died." Lucina bit her lip and then, resolve solidifying, she said, "And I can tell you about his daughter."

Any knock on the doors at midnight never hearkened good news these days. Maribelle stopped Lissa from rising, insisting she needed her rest. She had spent all last night with a sick Lucina and all day on her feet with the soldiers. For once, her friend had not the energy to protest and only sank down further in the couch. Owain and Brady had curled up by Lissa's side and neither of them had the heart to wake them up to shoo them to their beds. Maribelle had turned her nose up and muttered something about how teenage boys developed bad habits quicker than anyone else and Lissa's tired little laugh had only made her worry once again.

Maribelle wrapped a coat around her, for the castle halls had become as cold as the outside winter with the scarcity of firewood. She too had spent all day on her feet in the infirmary and her fingers were slow to fasten all the buttons. Still, her pride made her forget the ache in the balls of her feet and the way her knees cracked as she strode down the hall. She only hoped whatever called them was not another attack or news of another village burned. Perhaps the cold weather meant a family had come to buy some more firewood. Maribelle resolved to address the concern as quickly as possible so she could retreat to the warmth of the inner chambers.

When she opened the door, instead of a couple farmers or even late night guards, it was Lon'qu that stood there. Behind him assembled a regiment of soldiers and Maribelle saw from their weapons and fur-lined clothing that they were all of Ferox. He inclined his head and said in a rough voice, "Maribelle. I apologize for bothering you so late."

Maribelle let out a small tut of surprise. "Lon'qu, it has been ages. And you never write. But if you are here..." Maribelle's initial excitement turned to a pained understanding. With a hard sniff, she retreated to her little rituals. "Do you think me so craven as to not offer hospitality to you? Ylisstol graciously welcomes you and all the Feroxi refugees. Come in. The halls are cold, but it is better than sleeping in the open air."

Lon'qu gave his thanks and turned back to relay the information to his people. Maribelle opened the doors wider as Lon'qu's soldiers marched in. Each of them clung onto their weapons and marched forward with their eyes to the ground. On further inspection, Maribelle saw it was not just soldiers, but the elderly, the fathers and mothers, the children as well. There were a fair number of civilians and Maribelle had recalled that although Khan Flavia had tried to send most of the infirm out of Regna Ferox in preparation for the winter and the war, many had remained on their lands with a stubbornness that befitted the people of the north.

Now the group was small enough to fit comfortably in the Ylissean halls. They were so few in comparison to the large forts and cities Maribelle had once seen in the north, all those years ago when she had marched with the Shepards. Before she could linger on the thought, Maribelle snapped herself into action.

"You there, boy, follow me and help me bring out the blankets. Lon'qu, go to the kitchen and bring up more wood. You do remember where it is, right? I will not have the Feroxi freeze to death in our castle." Maribelle commanded and spun on her heel to raid the linen closets. The young Feroxi boy she pointed at looked a little bewildered, but tagged along her.

Lon'qu was about to protest that Ylissean winters was like spring in Ferox but Maribelle already vanished.

"Papa. Here." He looked down to find Marc tugging at his sleeve and holding a piece of bitten hardtack. "Aren't you hungry?"

"You need it more than I. Don't think I didn't see you feeding the birds with your dinner along the way." Lon'qu said as he knelt down to meet her eyes. She avoided his stern gaze as her pouting face flushed with guilt. Tucking her chin in and hunching her slight shoulders, she resembled a retreating turtle with downturned eyes.

He had not the heart to admonish her during the march, but, lucky for him, Marc had always knew quickly when she did wrong and he rarely had to do much more than point it out. Lon'qu did not think he had the constitution to lecture and scold his daughter. In a soft voice, Marc repeated, "But aren't you hungry? Papa gave his food to that boy."

Lon'qu exhaled his laugh. He never managed to quite win against her. She truly was her mother's child in that sense. "...Let's split it then. But, you are still growing so take the bigger half. I do not need as much food as you." he conceded and Marc brightened immediately as she grasped the biscuit in her hands and broke it unevenly. She gave him the smaller piece and was about to bite down when she stopped, mouth open around the hardtack, and glared at Lon'qu.

"You're not eating, Papa."

Lon'qu snorted even as he looked back at her. He had actually been considering where they could sleep that night since Marc's thin skin and bony body meant the floors would certainly be painful for her. "Well, neither are you."

"Okay, on a count. One, two, three…!" Marc dictated and Lon'qu lazily bit off a part of the hardtack while she shoved the whole piece in her mouth. It tasted terrible but Lon'qu had long become accustomed to less than edible food. Marc, on the other hand, shuddered as she chewed and swallowed. When she looked down to her hands, her face fell as she saw there was nothing else.

"Marc, Papa really isn't hungry. Here. And find the jerky in our saddlebags. You shouldn't sleep on an empty stomach." He handed her the rest of the hardtack and she looked conflicted for a moment, before tearing into it.

"I'll get water," she exclaimed through a mouthful of crumbs and ran off. Lon'qu stood up as he watched her go, the long frayed fringes of her coat flapping in the wind she kicked up behind her. In her youth, she was always very oblivious to the environment around her, which meant even in these dark times, her smile carried a brightness unblemished. He had worried earlier as he had to carry her on his shoulders much of the march to Ylisse, but her strength seemed to have returned. Perhaps he could ask Maribelle if there were any beds for her. He hated to ask for charity and increase his debt like this, but for Marc he could swallow his pride.

Speaking of Maribelle, he could hear her voice ringing out in that familiar tone of outrage. He turned to see that she had set upon a soldier that tried to tear down the tapestries as blankets.

"-you careless pauper! These noble works of art insulate the entire castle and all its inhabitants and you would take them to warm simply yourself? Have you no ounce of knightly chivalry-"

Lon'qu came over and interrupted, "Maribelle. Ferox's army is my responsibility now. You should return to sleep." The soldier, who had only looked part confused and part frightened when Maribelle set upon him, recoiled at Lon'qu's glare. Meekly, he returned the tapestry to the wall.

Maribelle, coming down from her indignation, turned pale as she grasped the meaning behind his words. "When you said Ferox's army... do you mean to tell me this all that is left? What about Khan Flavia?"

"...Khan Flavia was the reason we survived the evening's ambush. She held off an entire regiment of Grimleal by herself as we lost the fort. Regna Ferox and her Khan has fallen." Lon'qu said. Somewhere behind them, someone burst into tears and Lon'qu stood there with a strained expression on his face.

Maribelle had no words. Among the old royalty, Khan Flavia had survived the longest and Maribelle had felt herself gravitate naturally to the indomitable nature of the East Khan, despite her uncouth behavior and raucous laughter. She was their last great leader and Regna Ferox the last great kingdom. Ylisse was practically only Ylisstol and its surrounding acres now. Plegia had long be wasted to the ground. Who knew what was happening with the dynasts over the sea, for they no longer had any method of communicating with the other continent.

"...what of the west? Do you tell me this is all that's left?" She repeated hollowly.

Lon'qu's brow furrowed. "As of last month, there was the two forts left along the western riverbank. Area Ferox houses the rest of Flavia's clan and they will fight to the death to protect it. The Fortress in the Northern Sleeping Lands has proven too cold for Risen or human to inhabit any longer without southern supplies and it has been abandoned. But the Longfort was our last link to Ylisse and it is overtaken by Risen now. We will not know what happens in the west unless messengers cut across Plegia. An impossibility." he said in a low voice.

The hopelessness permeated the air and Maribelle could feel her own shoulders shaking. Then she remembered Lissa with her sleepy smile and their sons, curled up with only bright dreams in their heads. She was not a moping sort of woman, not when she still had people to safeguard and protect.

"What you all need is rest from your march. Lon'qu, the fireplaces. You will be safe in our walls. We can talk tomorrow morning when Stahl and Sully return from the front lines." Maribelle said and, calling her helper over again, took off. Each of her steps left a resounding clack-clack of her heels. Lon'qu, who knew trying to dissuade Maribelle when her mind was made up was near impossible, watched her disappear down another turn of the hallway. Then, he turned to look at all that was left of his people as they unpacked what little they had, shared their remaining food, and huddled together, and left to find firewood to warm them with.

It had become the wee hours of the morning when Maribelle was satisfied that she had healed any lingering wounds and as many blankets were left had been distributed out to the refugees. The frail elderly and children were given the remaining beds, but most of the Feroxi had to make do with the carpets on the floor. Only then did she leave to her private quarters. She hoped Lissa had already fallen asleep so not to ruin her entire night with such drastic news. Aiming to postpone her entrance, Maribelle had been pacing the corridor when she saw him crouching in the courtyard. "Lon'qu, what on earth are you doing in the dirt like a grubby beggar like that?"

"...honoring our fallen." he murmured. As Maribelle left the corridor and moved into the courtyard, she could see the shovel in his hands and the hole forming in the ground. "They were strong men and women that laid down their lives so we could flee like cowards. Flavia's shoes cannot be filled by me like this."

Maribelle came as close to him as she dared. Even now, she could see him becoming jumpy if she stepped within that invisible circle of three paces. "Do not disparage your survival. We cannot all be the giants that passed before us. We are worse off without her, but those spineless curs will feel our wrath tenfold." She said in an imitation of her regular haughty manner and she lifted her hand as to rest it on Lon'qu's shoulder and then paused, "May I?"

Lon'qu gritted his teeth and nodded. Maribelle stepped forward and laid her hand on his shoulder in camaraderie. He was tense underneath his armor and it pained her to see him in the poor shape he was in. He had clearly not slept well in weeks and his clothes were ripped and covered in the refuse of battle against the Risen. And his anxiety was definitely worse. In their youth, Maribelle had even gotten him to hold her hand once off the battlefield without breaking into sweat. Now they had a decade between them and shadows of loved ones haunted their eyes whenever they closed them.

Maribelle studied him like she would a fine piece of china or a new parasol, careful not to leave any blemish with her stares. He had started to grey in the undersides of his messy hair and the furrows of his brow had grown deeper. His shoulders had their same broadness but they slumped inward more. He certainly was stronger, more polished, he would say, but the air of vitality had left his face. She could not fault him, for the war had left the same weariness in her, although she never allowed herself the luxury of feeling it, except for late nights with Lissa.

Maribelle squeezed once and dropped her hand. He relaxed immediately.

"I am sorry. I mean you no offense. It is still… good to see you in health. It is I who has gotten worse." He said as he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. He did not need to say why. They both knew.

"Well, this war has been hard on all of us. Believe me, you are still much better than you were once and I still abide by my promise to aid you as your friend in any way possible." Maribelle insisted.

"Gods, you still remember that?" Lon'qu said with a harsh laugh as he turned to spear the dirt again with the shovel. "We were such children then. I had believed I could change the way my past affected me with her. That I could be strong enough to conquer that."

"It is a shared regret." she stated baldly and he paused to give her a bitter look. Maribelle met his glare unflinchingly.

Then he exhaled in a long sigh and murmured, "So it is."

Maribelle had spent many nights lying awake in her bed, wondering what Lon'qu and many of the Shepards must have as well. The first question was always whether or not there was something they could have done differently, either to save her or end her. The second was how much had been sealed from the moment Chrom invited her into their fold as a Shepard. And the third was whether she had faked every smile, every tear, and every loving word that fell from her mouth. Maribelle could still remember the glow on Haura's face and the loving teases and flirtations upon her lips that day of her and Lon'qu's marriage. She and all the Shepards at the time had been giddy and ecstatic at the joy of their union, even during the middle of wartime.

It seemed an eternity ago. She had nearly fully grown children now, a regiment worth of dead comrades, and equally dead dreams. The oncoming apocalypse had not ended the corruption that led poor farmer boys to fight Risen while others cowered in their manors. Any semblance of justice had disappeared under starving mobs and the steel of an uncaring knight's arm. Maribelle had despaired.

Still, she simply had not the time or energy. Lissa had stretched herself paper thin between her exalt duties, the war, and her family. The least Maribelle could do was catch all the issues Lissa could not attend to, sneak out of bed after putting Lissa to sleep, and rack her brains for solutions from how to avoid disease from the cramped and unclean streets to where could they search next for the gems until she fell asleep sprawled on the desk. Every evening, she would feel the biting regret and the anger that roiled deep in her belly over the thousands of injustices. But come morning with more injuries, more news of fallen villagers, more refugees, dwindling supplies, she had to put it out of her mind for -how it killed her slowly!- it was a distraction.

They stood in silence as Lon'qu dug and Maribelle tried to not fall asleep on her feet. Tomorrow morning she would have to explain everything to Lissa, start organizing the Feroxi so they could have a roof, work, and food, and check on Lucina again. The girl had gotten sick training out in the rain and Lissa and Maribelle had panicked. All that chaos would begin in a couple hours. For now, Maribelle relished the calm.

Lon'qu had finished digging his pit and began placing stones around the perimeter. He threw in kindling and set it alight by dragging his knife across flint with a sharp, practiced motion. It reminded Maribelle of when Frederick was still alive and taught the children how to start a fire in the wilderness, the first of his many lessons. Owain had tried to take one of the flaming branches as a legendary stave of power to face his exalted cousins with and the entire ordeal had left Owain, Cynthia, and Lucina running laps until dinner. The memory brought a smile to Maribelle's face and a question to mind.

"Thank you, Maribelle. I will strive to pay back this debt as quickly as possible." Lon'qu said all of a sudden as he placed the funerary objects in the fire to burn. Various little symbolic objects, from paper money to a replica badge of honor, all went into the fire. Flavia's name, written in golden ink, as bright as her hair, on paper as red as her armor, was placed in last and Maribelle watched, entranced, by the way the fire traced out the swirls and dips of her name, before expiring all at once into a blackened flower of ash.

"For what? Do you think me so churlish to hold this over your head as a debt? Are we not friends?" she asked after the fire had begun to die down. "Rather than wasting your breath with unnecessary thanks, you should tell me how you have fared. It has been eight years since I last saw you. Brady, Owain, Lucina, and Cynthia, they've all grown so. I warn you, however, that Owain strives to master the sword- he will most likely pester you unfailingly when he finds you are here. Lissa raised him on many fanciful stories of our youth."

"Lissa is doing well? And what of your own? Brady?" he asked as he stood up. Careful of the distance between them, they strolled out of the courtyard and back into the comparably warm halls.

"Dear Exalt Lissa is doing as well as one possibly can. She works herself too hard. As for Brady, well, he tries to be good even though I have no idea where on earth he picked up so many poor habits. It is positively distressing. I do take pride in his violin playing, but do not tell him I said so, else he will languish. What of your children? How are the twins? I have not seen them amid the ruckus, I think."

"...I did never tell anyone in Ylisse, did I?" Lon'qu said. Hearing his tone of voice, Maribelle's insides clenched. They stopped in the hallway and Maribelle turned to confront him. "Marc is wonderful. She takes after her mother in all the best ways. She is quick, daring, and strong, if a bit shy. I feared being enough of a parent to her, but she endeared the entire army. So I have no worries- she will always be taken care of."

"She sounds like a darling." Maribelle started, relieved that whatever she feared was unfounded. At Lon'qu's distressed expression, however, she faltered. Never one to run away from the truth, she asked outright, "That is not all, is it? Your son?"

"Morgan was...taken by Grima shortly after we returned to Ferox eight years ago. She came for both of them and we fought. But she tricked me and stole Morgan right from under my nose. My son...she wished to make them servants of Grima." He closed his eyes and turned his head away.

"No…" Maribelle breathed and the horror on her face was a pale reflection of Lon'qu's own anguish. Hundreds of questions ran through her head and she had to think to breathe. "...Was it really her? Can it be true? It's her that betrayed Prince Chrom? The one who was his dearest friend?"

"No-! It- that monster may have resembled her but Grima is Grima." His knuckles were white as he gripped his sword. "I cannot...bear to think they are the same."

This time, she did not ask for permission as she stepped forward and wrapped him in an embrace. He went rigid, arms falling slack to his side, and Maribelle, with her ear against his chest, could hear the rapid beat of his heart.

"Maribelle…" he croaked, "I can't…"

"I know you're scared. It's okay to be scared. You loved her. It must hurt so much. I'm so sorry we could not be by your side." she murmured as she did to Brady when he came to her, scared and aware of the dying world they lived in. Inch by inch, she could feel him slump and his breath resume in ragged gasps. Something wet hit the top of her head and she could only manage a sad smile. "Parents have to cry sometimes too."

A quiet but commanding interrupted them.

"Auntie Maribelle? Why are you hugging this strange man?" Maribelle released Lon'qu, who quickly turned away, and saw Lucina standing there with eyes bright with fever and a furrowed brow. She had a large blanket wrapped around her shoulders but still she shivered.

"Young lady, what on earth are you doing out of bed? It is the middle of the night and you are in no condition to be wandering these cold halls!" Maribelle scolded as she strode over to Lucina. The girl had hit several of growth spurts during her adolescence and stood a hair taller than Maribelle. It did not stop her from cowering in the face of Maribelle's wrath.

"I heard your voices. Please tell me, what did you mean when you said Father was betrayed by his dearest friend? And who is this?" Lucina pleaded as she looked at Lon'qu with suspicion. The Feroxi swordsman, somewhat recovered from Maribelle's impromptu hug, straightened up and met Lucina's stare unflinchingly. She could easily see his strength as a swordsman and grew more wary.

"This is Sir Lon'qu from Regna Ferox. Remember Lissa's stories? And to think, a princess eavesdropping. Forget all you heard. Now back to your bed. If you worsen, you may be crippled and never have the strength to wield a sword again. Do you understand me?" Maribelle said and Lucina gave a mute nod.

She was clearly still troubled as she trudged back down the hall to her room, turning her head back every couple steps to stare at Maribelle and Lon'qu.

"You have told them nothing." he said curtly as she disappeared. Chrom's daughter looked formidable indeed with the noble bearing of her shoulders and that gaze which seized up the room upon entering.

Maribelle, satisfied Lucina had indeed returned to her room, turned back. "Of course not. They have enough problems with this war. Everyone who knew Haura knows and won't be fooled. Lissa and I try to save them needless pain. It is not like they can fix our mistakes anyhow. ...did you tell Marc?"

"She knew. That she had a twin and he was missing. When she turned nine, she became obsessed with figuring out what she had lost. I told her as little as possible. But she worked it out in the end. And now she wants to find them. Morgan and Haura both." Lon'qu said with a scowl.

It had been one of the few times he had lost his temper with her and he feared for a while she would, with the naive stubbornness of a child, try to leave. In the end, when he found her crying in her room, they had managed to reconcile and he held her until she fell asleep. The entire ordeal left him feeling that same sense of powerlessness from when he was a child, of a world spinning out of control and he was merely a spectator. To this day, he would see her look to the sky or stare at her face in the mirror as if to capture the shadows of her lost brother.

Maribelle let out a yawn that shuddered through her entire body. Exhaustion had outweighed lady like habits. "It is natural for children to be curious and to want a whole family. But Marc is young. Surely she will mature out of it. This lifestyle all too often demands that. And besides, if she is anything like her parents, she would never just abandon you. You need her as much as she needs you, after all." she said with a self-assurance that made it hard for Lon'qu to object.

Behind them, the first slivers of the sun rose. Their faces were dappled with red and orange when they turned to face the new dawn and they squinted in the glare. "Thank you again, Maribelle." he murmured.

"Don't be crude. I desire no thanks from a friend. Rather, thank you for letting me hold you and sharing your worries with me, you obstinate fool."

Haura listened to Lucina's story of her childhood with a quiet stillness that had settled over all her limbs.

"Marc always said her mother had died at childbirth. Sir Lon'qu was a doting father though, and spent nearly all the time he was not at war with her. Marc and I were not close, for she was much younger than me. Owain and Cynthia could perhaps tell you more about what kind of a person she was; they were good friends. But, when Sir Lon'qu did not return from a campaign to retrieve the Fire Emblem, even I saw the change in her. She began training like a madwoman possessed and insisted on joining us to fight the Risen. When I sparred against her, I remember a sense of mania behind her blade. Then Lady Maribelle and Exalt Lissa were gone and it was just us children." Lucina said and then paused. "Are you alright? I realize this may be troubling to hear, milady, especially since Marc might not have been, well-"

"If Lon'qu found another wife after my death and they had a daughter as wonderful as you say, how can I be angry?" Haura replied with a little bit of the teasing twinkle returning to her eyes. "Would I rather have heard he spent the rest of his days grieving for me? It gives me great pleasure to know that his fear of women really could have improved with time and he could have found love again."

Lucina said hotly, "I am not so naive as to not believe that. But it would be natural to be upset that you could not be the only love of someone's life."

Haura burst out into laughter. "This is where being the Foreseer is hurting you, isn't it? You already saw all the conclusions and keep thinking us as some inevitability, all our fights and relationships, in a cascade of certainty. But as someone who only has this one timeline and this unknown future, I see opportunities, possibilities. If the future was so certain, I surely could never have met such a wonderful young woman I had only known as a babe and spoken to her as my equal. That we could be friends and ponder the mystery of time travel." she said. Lucina blinked in confusion and then smiled, soft and earnest. She was beautiful when she need not shoulder a world of burdens by herself.

"So Marc, did she really look nothing like me?" Haura asked and Lucina looked gratified.

"Hah, I knew you could not possibly be so nonchalant about it! Marc had her father's height, but long, soft brown hair that fell so neatly together. She had the same baby face Morgan has, so it is rather easy to see they would have been related. Though I was never good at the whole tell-a-child-by-their-parent comparison…" Lucina admitted.

"And Marc, was she there when you crossed over into the past? Should we be checking more ancient ruins for my stepchild? Although, would it really be a stepchild if I was the first wife…?" Haura said as a joke, but she could already read from the way Lucina tensed and the smile melted from her face that it was not so simple an ending.

"It was chaos when we tried to travel back. Grima had razed Ylisstol to the ground. That is why I have been unable to tell Father who else we should be looking for- more than just influencing the past, I was the first through the gate and I do not know who else managed to follow. And Marc…"

Haura braced herself as Lucina bowed her head.

"She demanded to hold off the Grimleal's high general herself and before we could stop her, she charged into Grima's forces, straight for the fell dragon."

They were silent for a moment as Haura processed all she heard. With a heavy sigh, she leaned back in her chair. "Of course his child would be a martyr and protector, through and through."

"I'm sorry-"

"There is nothing to apologize for. I'm sure she would be happy to know you all made it here alive to fight by our sides." Haura said with a smile. Lucina nodded numbly even as she knew the tactician's heart fracturing slightly for the future daughter of her beloved. She stood up and Lucina mimicked her. What Lucian didn't expect was Haura to come around the table and give the princess a hug. She stiffened for moment before resting her hands on Haura's back. Haura's chuckles vibrated against Lucina.

"So stiff, you and my husband are!"

As Lucina pushed past her father, out of the tent, Chrom wondered what gotten had gotten into his daughter and why she was so red in her face.

A/N: This chapter is really long too, because I love Maribelle and Lucina a lot. Maribelle is just such a great, proud character and I don't know if I can do her justice. Her being Exalt Lissa's right hand woman in the future is an obvious headcanon for me. Lucina with Haura, a female tactician that isn't her mother, is great on another level. The entire relationship becomes really subtle and awkward and showcases a part of Lucina we rarely get to see (childish jealousy).

As a note to the readers, I started considering adding little illustrations to my fics. What do you think?