Chapter 20

The remainder of the bandits was easily dealt with. The rogues were no match for a shepherd group that had been training for the powerful Valamese army, and were quickly overwhelmed. After a brief discussion with the Village elders who offered their thanks and supplies for the journey, the shepherds decided to set up camp for the night just outside of the village, to keep an eye on things there and at least protect the villagers there for one more night before they departed. Morgan and Owain had made themselves at home in Nathan and Lissa's tent, each picking their own corners to leave their things in and set up their bedrolls. Once it was night, the family gathered in their tent and ended up talking well into the night, bouncing questions off each other about each of their timelines, or what they knew of them, and telling stories.

"…Say, Owain, why don't you know any magic?" Nathan asked. "I mean, I can see you picking up the swordsmanship, but I would think that coming from this family would make it pretty easy for you to learn spells as well…"

The Myrmidon frowned. "Unfortunately, I wasn't given such a chance to learn magic." He told them. "A-after your death, father…mother wanted nothing to do with any sort of combat. She fought when necessary, but wasn't willing to teach me anything."

"Aww, Owain…" Lissa murmured, starting to sniffle and hold back tears, pulling her son into a hug. "I-I'm sorry…"

Her son shook his head. "It wasn't your fault. It was no one's fault, frankly. Nonetheless, Lon'qu taught me swordplay before he died in battle. In particular, he taught me your style, father. He said it was 'what you would've wanted', or something like that."

Nathan nodded. He had agreed to something very similar to that with Lon'qu long ago, to take the other's children under their wing if one of them was killed in battle.

"So, what about the sword? How did you get it? And why doesn't it look like the one Dad has?" Morgan pressed.

Owain held up his battered blue and black sword. "Ah, yes, my divine blade." He muttered. He closed his eyes, as if reciting a fond memory. "Long ago, when I was in a clash with the Fell Dragon Grima, as I cut into it's skin I heard the voice of father calling me. In a flash of light, Mistletainn appeared! It had been blessed by the gods to only be wielded by a true hero of divine descent, and is the only blade which can calm my ever-twitching sword hand!"

Nathan rolled his eyes as Lissa giggled at her son. "You know, you had me for the first bit there. How about the real version of the story, ok?"

Owain grimaced slightly, his gaze falling to the ground. "I…I don't really like the real story," He muttered.

The others fell silent and huddled closer to the Swordsman from the future. Nathan put a hand on his shoulder, telling the boy, "No matter what it is, we're here for you. Know that. I wasn't there for you to see you grow up and become a man, but I tell you now, I'm here now. Maybe I'm not that same person, but to me, you're my son. And I'll be damned if I don't do a better job at being there for you than I did in your timeline."

Owain turned to the tactician and smiled weakly. "Thank you, father…"

His expression changed to a serious demeanor, the first time any of the others had seen him like that, once he began his story.

"First of all, you're right. That isn't your sword. Well…not exactly." Owain began.

Nathan gave him a confused look. "…Not exactly? How so?"

"Well, when you died, your body was never found. They found Chrom, but we never were able to find you. And thus, what you had on you at that time, that being your sword, your tomes, and such, was lost to us."

Lissa cut in. "I see…did you ever think he was still alive? I mean, you never found the body, so…"

Owain shook his head. "One thing was found," He told them with a shiver of fear, recollecting the events. "Your cloak, father, torn to pieces, as though you had been ripped apart."

Nathan cursed under his breath. "Damn. Okay, so I'm dead, then, now back to your sword. How did you get it?"

Owain smiled slightly. "It was one of your practice blades." He confessed. You had it forged to be a replica of your own blade, so that you wouldn't damage the real one. However, this one made it back to Ylisstol safely, unlike the one on your back."

"Oh, so you found it in the castle?" Morgan prodded.

"Well…kind of…mother had taken it and was keeping it in her room, so I ended up taking it eventually once I felt ready. It may not have been the real thing, but to me it was like it was. It made me feel…strong…to know that you had used it, father. In a way, it was the only real memory of you I had. That's why I was so worried about it."

It was Nathan's turn to pull Owain into a hug, his head ending up brushing up against his son's shoulder due to the height difference. "Oh Gods, Owain…"

The swordsman returned the hug, dropping Mistletainn and wrapping his arms around his father. It didn't take long before Morgan and Lissa joined in and it turned into one big family hug.

Once they separated, Lissa formed a bit of a sly grin. "Now then! We need to lighten the mood…"

The princess moved to Nathan's bag of things in the corner of the tent, rummaging through it before pulling out a simple wind tome. She tossed it to Owain, who caught it and stared at her with a confused look.

"…Mother?"

Lissa giggled at her son, and turned to all of them, whom were all giving her confused looks. "We've got the chance to fix what happened in the future here, and that starts with teaching you how to use magic!"

"But it's the dead of night…" Nathan groaned, "Can't we leave fixing the future for tomorrow morning?"

Lissa glared at her husband. "Hey, at least I'm alive for more time in this future! You've got the most to make up for, mister! And for future me, too!"

The tactician rolled his eyes. "Come on, this counts for Owain, but future you being sad doesn't give you any favours from me!"

Owain and Morgan sat watching the two argue and laughed with each other. Their parents turned to them, glaring. "What's going on with you two?" Nathan snapped.

Morgan giggled. "S-sorry…it's just funny…and kinda cool…watching you guys fight over something weird like that…"

"Just makes us seem like a real family, I guess," Owain finished.

Nathan smiled. "We are a real family," He told them. The tactician slowly stood up. "Now then…last one to the training grounds has to clean the tent for a week!"

With that, the group dashed off yet again, laughing into the night.