Lucina: Unprepared parent

"Again. But slower."

Morgan's shoulders slumped back.

"Mom, I got this. It's just a sword. I know how to use a sword. You probably taught me growing up."

Lucina shook her head.

"Falchion isn't just a sword, Morgan. It's our heritage. A gift from Naga herself to the hero Anri. You have to treat it like an extension of your body. As a part of your soul."

Morgan smiled.

"Got it. Be extra careful with Pointy Demonspanker."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Owain told me all about it when I asked."

"Of course he did. I should have never let you talk to him."

Lucina picked a thick branch off the ground.

"Well, you aren't taking this seriously."

"Sorry. I'll try to do better."

"No. It's my fault. I'm asking my brilliant but distractible daughter to go through slowed sword practice when she's spent months in real combat. We should change things."

"If you say so! So, what are we.."

Lucina's branch slammed into Morgan's arm.

"We're starting now. Don't worry about holding back.

"Ok. So how's…"

Lucina tapped Morgan on the head again.

"You have Falchion. I shouldn't be getting through your defenses so easily."

"I thought you wanted me to stop having head trauma. Ow!"

"Morgan, I'm sorry."

Falchion bounced off Lucina's armor.

"Ha! Got you."

"You did."

"And… isn't Falchion supposed to be pointy?"

"Only when used by a member of the Ylissean royal family. And even then, only if it finds you worthy. Which, apparently, it doesn't yet."

Morgan looked hurt.

"Which doesn't mean anything! Owain has never been able to use Falchion. Neither has Cynthia. If anyone thinks the less of you for failing to use a piece of metal, they'll have to answer to me. Even if it's Naga herself!"

"You mean that, mom?"

"Of course, dear. You're my daughter, and might be the most important person in my world. But all this talking won't finish our practice. Come on. I want to see what you can do."

The sword and staff played off each other as mother and daughter spoke. Lucina's branch compensated for its weaker constitution with skill born of harsh experience.

"We don't get to talk as often as I would like, Morgan. The war may be less harsh than it was in my time, but it still keeps us apart. I hardly have enough time with your father."

"He says the same thing. I tried to help with honeymoon plans, but…"

"I'd rather if you didn't."

Lucina turned red. Morgan poked her with Falchion.

"My point!"

"I suppose it is. Heh. You were just distracting me, weren't you?"

"Well…"

Lucina glared.

"Yes. You and dad can totally have that time to yourselves!"

"Good."

Lucina tapped Morgan on the head.

"And now we're even. Don't get distracted. If we let the risen keep us off our game like this, we'd never..."

Lucina parried a blow.

"be able to do our jobs. Good eye. But not quite fast enough."

"Thanks. You'd know."

"I'm nothing special, Morgan. We're all equals in this army. I just hope I can live up to my father and all the world needs from me."

Swing, jump, flip. Morgan was showing off. But it ran in the family.

"Aw, come on, mom."

"What did I say?"

"You're the best soldier in this whole camp! No-one had anything bad to say about you! You're the only person Gerome had unreserved compliments for! And you know he has really high standards."

"I know, but he must have someone else…"

"Nope! And I asked him a lot."

Swing. Parry. Kick to throw Morgan off guard, but not so hard as to stagger her.

"Well. I'm honored, but I can't say that I approve of placing…"

Block.

"me that far above anyone else."

"Mom, just let me be proud of you for once! Dad lets me praise him sometimes. Look, even my boyfriend says you're great."

"You're dating?"

"Um, no. Hahaha. When did I say that?"

"Just now. Morgan, don't lie to me."

"Well, we're just starting. It's not too serious yet."

"Who is it?"

"Gerome."

Lucina blocked Falchion a second before it hit her arm.

"GEROME?!"

"Yeah. I kind of wanted to keep this quiet."

"I can see why. Dating one of my closest friends?"

"Well, he's really good looking."

Lucina smiled.

"I was about to say that now I know how my father feels. Heh. It must run in the family."

"Right. Something else I got from you! This is great bonding. See, I already know what I got from dad. I remember that."

"Let's focus on the good."

"Strategy lessons, good taste in meat, I'm a quick study…"

"Of course."

"And, um, the other thing."

Morgan shifted her left hand on Falchion to show the Mark of Grima.

"The less good thing."

"I know. You know, there's something I haven't told you."

Block. Counter.

"About dad? I think I can guess."

Lucina staggered, but still managed to parry Morgan's blow.

"I'm sorry, Morgan. I couldn't think of another way. You have to know that it hurt me as much as anyone."

"I know."

"Even then, I couldn't go through with it. Not when he was… himself. You come from a better world, Morgan. You don't need to know any of this. It will all turn out alright."

"If you say so. Ha! You're being the optimistic one. That never happens."

"I'll admit I sometimes look…"

Duck, counter.

"On the negative side of things. Which is why you and your father are such a joy to be around."

"Ha! Um, but there's another thing. Do you remember when we went to that one future?"

"You were amazing, Morgan. Don't worry. Losing your nerve is normal in the face of a world so bleak. Holding yourself together until we got back home was better than I did when… I had to bear that kind of responsibility."

"That's not it. You remember the Risen general? On the Wyvern?"

"Yes? I know that the… us of the time couldn't have dealt with her. I can't imagine why a human would side with Grima."

Lucina grimaced as she sidestepped a charge.

"Well, or why Grima would let anyone live. The Grima I knew never had much mercy. Not like your father."

"Or me?"

"Of course. You're a wonderful daughter. Even if you torment Yarne more than you should."

Lucina brace for "But he's so fluffy and easy to torture!"

It didn't come. Neither did another blow.

"Morgan?"

"I think that general was me. I mean, the me there. You know what I mean."

Lucina stopped to match Morgan.

"What?"

"I can see me doing it, too. I mean, I know I love you! You're my mom, and you're really important. But I've always loved dad best, and if he… I don't want to do it. But I know I would."

"Oh, Morgan."

"I know! You're so nice and smart and I know dad would want me to be happy with you if… but I can't!"

Lucina sat down. Morgan curled up.

Lucina cleared her throat.

"He wanted me to talk to you about that. If it's not a good time, we can wait."

"Tell me."

"You know that we're all doing all we can to change the future. But, if my father and I die, you'll be the heir to the throne, and the only hope for the world. I know it's asking more than you can bare, but, if all else fails…"

"I can't."

"I know. And we'll all do what we can so you can forget all of this. But I know you could do it, Morgan. If you needed."

"I can't."

"I gave you Falchion for a reason. I know…"

"I can't, mom. Take it back!"

Morgan jabbed the sword away. Lucina winced.

"Aaagh!"

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, mom, are you alright? I have some bear grease right here."

Lucina smiled.

"I'm fine, Morgan. It's just a… scratch." She pulled her hand from her face. She'd had much worse. The blood on her hand could hardly compare to... blood! "It's a scratch!"

"Yay! A scratch! That's great, mom! That's the best!" Morgan lifted her free hand to the sky. After a second, it fell back to Earth with a thump. "Er… why is it so great?"

"You forgot already."

"Yup! Part of my charm."

"Falchion, in the hands of anyone but her rightful wielder, is dull. It couldn't cut a blade of grass. It cut my cheek."

Morgan nodded.

"Oh. Right! So that means I'm..."

"Going to turn out just fine. "

"Thanks, mom."

Morgan smiled. Lucina stood up and helped Morgan to her feet.

"A breather, and we can return to practicing."

"Really?"

"What kind of mother would I be if I gave up over something as minor as a grazed cheek? Come on, Morgan. We have a lot of lost memories to make up for."

"And I can get pointers from dad about anything you miss."

"Please don't. I love the man as much as anyone in the world, but his entire left side is exposed when he tries for a thrust. You don't have to repeat his faults."

Brady: Amateur theologian

Libra kneeled and tried to prepare his soul. It was madness. He was a man, a broken little thing of flesh, petitioning a god. Worse, he was a horrible excuse for a human. Blood was on his hands, blood on his soul. His parents called him a monster, and they were probably right. And here he was, petitioning the goddess of light for clemency. If he was a priest of Grima or some other foul thing, his nature would be expected. But a man of blood asking a creature of grace and mercy for anything felt like madness. Madness that kept him afloat and sane.

"Hey, Libra!"

Libra snapped to the door of the tent. It was a distraction, but at the moment, any distraction was welcome. Brady. Maribelle's son.

"Hello."

"So, you're the top priest around here. The spiritual head honcho?"

"Err…"

Libra paused. He hadn't ever taken the time to consider it, but he was the highest ranked member of the Ylissean clergy on the expedition. And he did tend to the spiritual needs of the army. Which wasn't easy, considering the assumed that clerics had "prayer magic" to fight ghosts, Gaius thought the gods worked on the same rules as corner merchants, Anna skipped that stage to worship money directly, and Henry… well, he had a good heart. Somewhere.

Meanwhile, Brady was a bit uncouth, but he was an ordained follower of Naga in his time. It would be good to have a theological discussion with some depth. Gods knew that Libra was in no place to judge.

"I suppose so. Of course, when we find the Voice, I will accept her judgement like any other."

"Sure, but she ain't exactly in the regular."

"No. We would be blessed to have her counsel above any Ylissean priest in centuries."

"That ain't what I meant! I need to know how a priest is supposed to work for his boss!"

Libra blinked.

"What?"

"The last guys I bunked with were Mila worshippers. I mean, they were alright, but they don't know what we know, right?"

"They follow a different divinity, but both have similar commandments. Mila and Naga alike demand that we aid the less fortunate, abandon sin, and forgive our enemies. The differences are important, of course, but we can't say that they're wrong."

Brady waved his hand in the air.

"Sure. Fine. But I wanna get down to the main bit. No malarky!"

"Of course."

Libra paused to think over what the younger man would consider important. He came from a world nearly destroyed by Grima, Naga's nemesis. The theological implications of that would be important, of course. Consideration why Mila hadn't intervened, perhaps a discussion of the Almian doctrine and the degree it could be taken as objective truth versus its value as a metaphor for the human condition and the desire of the gods for humanity to take its place outside their shadow. There were so many questions! It was too long since he was able to discuss them. Too long spent on the most basic doctrines. Now he could finally have some depth!

But it wouldn't be right to assume. He may simply wish to consider how to better serve his fellow man. He might need reassurance in the face of doubt, Naga knew there would be reason enough in the wake of Grima's rampage and the attacks on the sacred temple of the Earth Mother. The important thing was helping his fellow follower of the goddess.

"How do you get into clocking a guy?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You're a war priest, right? That means Naga goes into helping you cleave a Risen's skull off! I'm not doing much good on the frontlines now, but I figure if you tell me how to ask the lady upstairs…"

Naga preserve them all.

"Naga did not curse me to dwell in blood."

"Nah, of course not. But she had to give you some tips, right? I mean, you're one of those war monks. Gotta be something in it."

"I would never call it a divine gift."

Libra sighed. Well, he'd wanted something to think on. And Naga, it seemed, had a sense of humor. He hadn't wanted to think about any of this. He didn't want to consider the dark parts of his mind, the impulses that a good man would never even encounter. But here he was. He paused.

"Aw, come off it!"

Brady wouldn't give him the time to consider, then. He would have to go with the first story he had, and pray for mercy as he could find it.

"I fear that there was a darker purpose to my order. That we took our dark impulses not from Naga, but from below. In her mercy, she directed it to do less harm, and perhaps spare our souls, but we still stained our hands and our souls every time we took to battle. The loss of the others was tragic, but their sins came to an end, and we can hope Naga gave them mercy. Mine will continue for longer."

"Geeze. You aren't the guy to go to for a pep talk, are you?"

"I'm sorry."

"Just hit me with the heavy stuff right off. Guess that's what it means to be a priest, right? Got a lot to learn."

Brady left the tent, shaking his head all the while. Libra sighed. He meant to soothe the soul and help them both. Instead he left the poor man more confused than ever. Gods have mercy on him, a sinner.

It was three weeks before he saw Brady again. At least, before he saw him long enough to talk beyond yelled instructions. Even then, most of them passed through Robin first, and the tactician blunted any personal touch in favor of maximum efficiency. (She might be intelligent, compassionate, and friendly off the field, but it was rare to see anything in battle but the lady of war.) Three weeks of battles, death, and blood. Libra did his best to heal and protect, and Naga spared more of them than he had any right to expect, but they still lost soldiers. And worse, he still had to kill. He envied Brady. Envied his innocence. He was still a healer. And Libra was a killer.

They met in the medical tent. Brady was coughing.

"Hey *cough* Libra. Been a while."

"Brady. I didn't see you wounded in the last…"

"Nah. Heh. I'm trying to help out here. Just figures that I'd wind up coughing all over. Naga passed me up when handing out the stamina. Nasty one out there, though. Shepherds made it through alright."

"Thanks to your efforts."

"Haw! A wimp like me? Don't make me laugh. Saw you handle your part, though."

Libra didn't say anything.

"Right. What we talked about. Sorry about that."

"It's not your problem to worry about."

"Uh, maybe you want to jaw about more of the god talk instead? I mean, you seemed to like that."

"I do… appreciate the chance to contemplate Naga's will."

"Sure. Not my favorite bit, but hey. Naga's always done right by me."

"If you aren't interested in…"

"It was something ma woulda approved of, and I couldn't do much else good. So I wave a staff and get the people who can do some actual good back on their feet."

"What would you like to do? I'm sure Naga can find a way to use your gifts…"

"That's a laugh. What I do ain't much good in a war. And I ain't much good at anything else. Leaves us right here. So, god talk? I mean, as I said, I ain't much for it, but you can fill in for the both of us. Might learn something."

Libra paused. It was usually rude to refuse a gift. And Brady had a lot on his mind. The best thing he could do would be to listen. But he couldn't listen unless his fellow priest wanted to talk. Which meant he should keep things going.

"There is something I've been thinking about."

"Go on, then. Not like I have much else to do."

"Soon, if all goes well, we intend to meet the Voice. The daughter of Naga herself. I've spent my life contemplating the divine, living by faith. And soon we will face absolute fact."

"So?"

"So, Naga is above us, but almost with us at the same time. Divine paradox. I'm not sure I will face up to it well."

"Aw, Nah talked to her all the time. Don't see what changes that someone else knows her too."

Libra's jaw dropped.

"One of your friends spoke with Naga?"

"Pretty much nightly. She's got more time for smalltalk than I'da figured."

"That's incredible."

"Never much thought about it. When a god's going around trying to kill you and everybody you know, then making the dead rush after, then you don't get surprised when another one has something to say."

"I'd… well, it makes faith a different question."

Libra tried to smile.

Brady shrugged.

"Didn't much try to think about all this until we were in the middle of it. Priests gotta know how their god's thinkin'. Thought that someone was passing on orders. Like the boss and the mooks, standard setup."

"So, you don't understand how to be a priest at all."

"You wave your staff and people don't die. It ain't like the people who're actually doing something."

"Is that how you see it?"

"It's how it is, pops! Naga talk is for people who talk to her. I mean, if you want me to, I'll do it! But I ain't had to do it before. Don't think I'd be much good at it."

Libra sighed.

"What are you good at?"

"Well, nothing important."

"Naga gave you a gift. It's not my place to judge how it will fall into her plans."

Brady shrugged.

"Sure."

"If you're accepting my authority as a priest, then listen to me here. Your talents are important."

Brady coughed.

"I play violin."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Real laugh. Haw Haw. Ma made me spend hours getting good at it. Kinda liked it. But people don't go around listening to violin much when the dead are clawing at the doors. So I picked up something more useful. Only…"

"I would love to hear it."

"Sure. Trying for that wise mentor jaw. You got your hobbies too, but they don't stop you from doing something useful."

"Useful."

"You don't like it much, but smashing a slackjaw's skull is about as useful as it gets. Meanwhile, I just do a fancier job of humming."

"Don't sell yourself short!"

Libra's statement was almost drowned out by a scream. Looking down, he'd applied a little more force in securing a poultice than he intended. He stepped back. That was not what he intended. Later, he would make his peace with Naga on the matter. For the moment, he could adjust the bandaging, mutter an apology, and hope that the poor soldier would forgive him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to raise my voice. But you're disparaging a gift and elevating a curse. You ask what you can do, and then when the answer is in front of you, you ignore it. I can't speak for Naga, but I'm sure she'd want you to use your talent instead of envying others. For now, you can be a healer. Once this war is over, play."

"That simple?"

Libra smiled.

"Yes."

Brady rolled the suggestion for a few seconds.

"I'll remember that. Maybe I could play something for you."

"I'd like that."

"Whatever you say, pops. Know something?"

"What?"

"Ain't talked to her that much in person, but I'm pretty sure Naga'd say you were alright."

Noire: Unfortunate daughter

"Noire, you already have a mother."

Robin was smiling. Noire tried to smile back. She was making a joke. Probably. Robin would never send her away. She hadn't yet, at any rate.

"It's just…"

"It's just that you prefer to spend time with me. You know, Tharja does love you. She just has an… odd way of showing it. Gods know she has an odd way of showing how she feels about me."

Robin shook her head.

"I'm flattered, really. If I was interested in… that kind of thing, she'd be at the top of my list. But I don't think it would be good for either of us. I'm glad she found someone else. And not just because it means I can sleep a little better."

Noire considered mentioning that Tharja slept with a lock of Robin's hair until the day she died. On the balance, it probably wasn't the best idea.

"She's… trying to be a good mother."

"I know. And I'm assuming I'd have even more trouble if I ever settle down. I might be mother to this whole army sometimes, but I've seen how much trouble Sully has. I'm not volunteering for that. I guess you'll have to do."

"Thank you."

"You're more than welcome. Honestly, I was worried you'd all treat me like Lucina did. This is much nicer."

"Well, you work so hard for all of us..."

Neither woman said anything for a few moments. Robin broke the silence.

"Do you mind if I ask a question?"

"Of..of course not?"

She was going to ask Noire why she was so scared of Tharja, or to talk to Lucina about her, or why she sometimes got all...odd. It was going to be horrible and break everything. Noire knew it. It was too good to last. She didn't get to have nice things. But if she didn't let Robin ask the question, then she'd go away. It was a no-win scenario.

"Thank you. I just wondered why you sometimes acted… funny."

"Oh."

That was just the question Noire was afraid of. Right there with "Did you really think I liked having you around?"

"If you don't want to say anything, you don't need to. You're a kind and helpful young woman, and it's a privilege to be your friend. I just make tactics for the whole army, and that means I need to know how to use every advantage."

"Advantage?"

"Of course. You scare the enemy even more than you scare our side. Also you can keep Inigo in check, which is something I appreciate more than words can say. But if I knew how it worked, I think you could help more. If you wanted to, I mean."

"Well…"

Noire considered her story. She could just tell the truth. Telling the truth would make Robin talk to her mother. And that wouldn't be good for anyone. Or she could lie. If she could think of a good lie.

Or she could tell part of the truth, and hope that Robin wouldn't look too hard for the other parts. Robin was the nice mother for the army, after all. It wouldn't be too bad.

"I had a talisman."

The words shot out like pegasus knights in front of a ballista, eager to die and be forgotten. But Robin wasn't going to leave them alone.

"And I suppose it was powerful enough to leave aftereffects. Most dark magic fades fairly quickly when the source is removed, but a few mages have the skill and the lack of scruples to make something that lasts once the artifact is removed. It's a key part of most plans to summon dark gods. It's a shame it was destroyed."

"It wasn't… destroyed."

"Then it's a shame that you left it behind in your time. I'm not blaming you! I just would like a chance to examine it. I'm not much good at dark magic, but I think something like that would help me learn. More importantly, it would help me help you… manage those outbursts."

"BLOOD AND THUNDER! DO YOU THINK A LITTLE HUNK OF METAL COULD…"

Robin winced.

"Exactly."

"I'm sorry!"

"No. It's just as much my fault for provoking you. And it's not like you did anything that Owain wouldn't in the outburst department. Hmm. Do you think there could be another version of it in the present? I'm not expecting to find anything, but..."

"My mother has it."

Noire slammed her mouth shut. That was another thing she didn't mean to say, added to a very long list.

"Tharja?"

Robin stroked her chin.

"Well. We've stared down roving bands of the undead, multiple armies, and we're in the middle of a war with the largest empire in the world. Your mother isn't much scarier than that."

Noire shuddered. Robin stroked her chin again, then nodded.

"Well, she doesn't need to know. We can sneak into her tent when she's busy. Just set up a rumor I'm somewhere else, and then we can get a quick look at your talisman, map out what it is, and leave before she comes back."

It wouldn't be that easy. Noire lifted a finger. Robin cut her off.

"I know it won't be that easy, but if it was, we wouldn't ever have any fun."

And Noire saw that smile. The same smile that came up when Robin heard Tiki talked in her sleep. The same smile that came up when she saw Ricken writing letters home. The smile that said Grima itself wouldn't dissuade her from whatever mischief she was planning.

"Al...alright."

"That's the spirit. It might be good for you to step out of Tharja's shadow a little more. You can't live your whole life in fear."

"It's… it's let me have a life?"

Noire tried to smile. It came out looking as sick as she felt. An uneasy ship on an ever growing ocean of discomfort.

Robin's smile stayed the same.

"Don't worry. I won't let you get caught if things get out of hand. Just meet me at your mother's tent at sundown. If I'm not there, something has gone very wrong with the plan, and you can consider it called off..."

Noire started to sigh in relief.

"For the night. And we'll try again tomorrow."

Noire's sigh died a lonely death. She tried to ignore the voice in her head counting down the hours until she'd join it.

The day passed in relative calm once Robin left. She helped around camp, spent a little time in the medical tent as an aftereffect of helping around camp, and managed to have a meal in relative peace. It was almost enough to forget that doom was waiting for her at sundown. Almost.

Noire crept out to the tent and hoped that she could hide if it went wrong. When it went wrong. For the first five minutes, she hoped that she could just run, that Robin had delayed things. Then she saw someone in position. A woman, roughly Robin's height, and with the same haircut. In fact, if she'd had a greatcoat, she'd swear the woman was…

"Noire!"

Robin.

"I didn't recognize you."

"It's the coat, isn't it? It's the perfect disguise. It doesn't even need to be there for me to blend in. I slipped Flavia a little from our oh-so-depleted emergency fund to wear in and slip into town for a bit. Tharja jumped at the bait, and now we have free reign of her tent."

"Are you sure it's a good idea?"

"No. But I am sure that we can keep the damage within acceptable margins, and I have half a dozen escape plans ready when and if this goes horribly wrong. Don't worry. Your safety is my top priority."

"And yours?"

"Don't worry about me. I'm sure Tharja would rather die than let any real harm come to me. Anything less than that is a teambuilding exercise."

"But she could curse you!"

"If she does, I can deal with it. I've felt worse from a night out with Chrom and Gaius. Much worse when Sully was along."

"If you say so…"

"I know so. And if we're done worrying, let's go inside."

Robin poked the tent flap.

"I've never been here before."

"I have. When Mother wants to try… something new out."

"She tests curses on you?"

"I didn't say she did."

Her eyes did, of course. But her mouth didn't. And that's what people counted. She wouldn't betray her mother. Not after all she did.

"If she did… well, it's not my place to judge parenting, Noire, you know that. But I could try to talk to her."

"There's no need to do that…"

"No, but I could...gods damned zipper! Sorry, Noire, I didn't mean to talk like Sully. But I could see if there's any better way to handle things. I know she'll listen to me."

The door fell to the ground, then slid back in place.

"Gods, she's hexed the door. I didn't give your mother enough credit. Of course, it's still a tent."

Robin's eyes flashed again, and Noire shuddered. The ideas were going to get worse with every delay.

"Hand me an arrow."

"What?"

"I don't want to risk a 500 gold sword on my own curiosity, and magic would risk collateral damage. I could find something else if you don't have any spares, but I think we both want to get in as soon as possible."

"And back out?"

"And back out."

Noire picked through her quiver for something she wouldn't miss. Robin took an arrow, gave a nod, and went to work on the canvas of the tent. Before long, she cut an opening wide enough for one person, if they were flexible, and handed the arrow back to Noire.

"Come on."

Noire nodded back and choked down the bile at the back of her throat. It would be fine, mother was gone. It would be fine. Mother was gone.

"It would be fine…"

"Noire?"

"Nothing."

"If you're feeling uncomfortable, I can find the talisman on my own. I don't want to make this too difficult for you. I just thought it might be nice if you saw these things can go well."

"They can?"

"You would not believe the number of times I've done something absurdly dangerous and came out without a scratch. You should expect the worst, but not every time. It's not a healthy way to live."

Robin looked around the tent and muttered under her breath.

"Now, where would I hide something valuable if I was a Plegian mage of questionable ethics and unquestionable… hmm."

Robin walked towards a locked chest and poked at the lock. After a few seconds, it fell open, and Robin's eyes went wide.

"Noire, why is this chest filled with locks of hair?"

"I don't know?"

"And… this is all my hair."

Noire looked away and hoped Robin didn't have any more questions.

"I wish I could say I was surprised. Still. It's kind of sweet, in an odd way. I think I see the talisman. I'll just take it, give it a look, and then we can sew up our entrance and..."

Her fingers grasped the talisman. The whole room flashed with thunder. And Robin fell to the ground.

After a few seconds, Noire crawled out from behind a pile of books and looked at the tactician's fallen body.

"Ro..Robin?"

"Robin? Is that what you called me? How sad."

Noire fell back behind the books. It was impossible. It was a curse, that was all. Mother must have put a fear curse on her and now she was imagining things. That was all. Grima couldn't be here. Grima wouldn't even fit in the tent!

On the other side of the books, she heard a scraping on the floor. Robin stumbled to her feet.

"Noire, was it? I can't believe you thought I cared about you. I spent every second listening to your pointless babbling wondering how your mother could be so idiotic as to sacrifice herself for you. If it makes you feel any better about your wasted life, it won't blight the world much longer."

Noire curled up and whimpered. Grima wasn't here. Grima wasn't here.

"B...blood and thunder."

"Oh. You're trying to be brave now. But whatever magic this… thing gave you is busy keeping me from falling into the weak little thing you thought was so valuable."

Noire shuddered. It wasn't possible. It was just a little thing Mother made. It was to make her safe. And now Grima was here and Robin was dead and everything was going straight to hell. She'd die too, a failure and a coward. It wasn't fair, but life wasn't fair, so that fit in.

The thing that mattered, though, was she would die failing the one person who was there for her when she needed someone. The person she cared most about in the world, excluding immediate family. Maybe even including immediate family. All for a stupid little toy Mother said she didn't even need.

Mother. She WAS the daughter of the most feared woman in the army (excluding Sully on chow night). She was Noire, named for the black nights and the cursed stars that even the gods feared! She had survived more dark magic and hexes than anyone else alive! She was...

Terrified. Beyond all reason. But she could try to do something heroic in this nightmare, since she was dead anyway. Unfortunately, most of her equipment was on the other side of the room, with Grima. All she had was the arrow she'd given Robin earlier. Not the most promising weapon. Even Cynthia would have said it was a bad tactic, and Cynthia's idea of a battlefield genius was someone who declared victory AFTER the enemy was dead. But she didn't have a choice.

Noire lept over the books at Grima, jabbing with the arrow.

"You dare?"

The body looked like Robin. The voice was Grima. Noire kept stabbing. And the creature's hand dropped the talisman.

"Noire?"

"Die, monster!"

"Noire, why are you poking my arm with an arrow? And could you stop?"

"What? I'm... I'm sorry."

"It's just a few scratches. I've had a lot worse. And... the talisman is on the floor. I'll just..."

Noire stomped on the talisman. Noire stomped on the talisman again. And a third time.

"Noire?"

Noire kept stomping.

"If... if that's the way you feel we can just leave. But I don't think Tharja will be happy."

Noire's foot stopped.

"It just..."

"I understand. There must have been some bad memories there. What matters is that you're safe."

Noire turned to look at Robin.

"You're... alright?"

"Well, except for holes you poked in my arm. I don't know why you did that. But if that came from the talisman, your mother was right to take it away. Speaking of Tharja, we should leave before she gets back. I can't think of anything scarier to meet in here than your mother in a bad mood."

Morgan: To Train a Tactician, Begin with her Grandfather

"Morgan!"

The girl's spine whipped straight.

"Sorry grandpa! I was…"

Morgan sagged again in the absence of a concluding statement. Chrom sighed.

Grandpa. Grandpa! When he was still learning the ropes of being a father! It staggered the mind. He'd tried to avoid thinking about it up until now. Seeing his mewling little daughter as a grown woman was enough to throw him for a loop. Then his best friend, the one man in the world he thought he could trust, had to go and… well, marry her. And then THEIR daughter came back, which made everything even more complicated.

He'd dealt with until now by just not spending much time with Morgan. She found enough around the camp to occupy her, and any meetings with Robin or Lucina could be scheduled to avoid her. "She'd want her time with her parents to be private." And her grandfather would prefer not to feel ready for the retirement home.

All clean and neat. But then Robin had to notice. Had to say that it would be "good" for them to spend more time together. And here they were. With his granddaughter carving something into the table with a knife.

"What were you doing?"

"...strategizing?"

"In the table."

"Well, you said to put away the books. So, really, this is your fault?"

"What are you even planning for?"

"Well, we're all going down to Plegia soon, and I was thinking that we might not be able to trust bad-grandpa. So, I thought I could help come up with some plans he might use, and then dad could come up with a plan to counter those plans."

Chrom nodded.

"That's… helpful. But he probably has it well in hand already."

"Well, yeah! He's my dad. It just makes me feel better when I can help."

"And he wouldn't want you to ruin the table."

Morgan shrugged.

"He's done it before."

Chrom frowned. Why did he have to tell Morgan that story? It might… gods. It was not a good night for anyone's dignity. Even VAIKE was embarrassed about it! He tried to push the conversation past the road block.

"That doesn't mean you can. What were you planning?"

Morgan smiled.

"Oh, a basic ambush. I mean, Plegia doesn't have that many trained soldiers right now, so they're going to have to use the element of surprise if they want to get anything done. I was thinking they could open with Katarina's enduring…"

And Chrom's eyes glazed over in a storm of technical terms and gambits.

"...anyway, you probably figured it all out for yourself. I've got a long way to go, huh?"

"I have no idea."

"Hahaha! Wait. You aren't joking."

Chrom stared. Morgan shook her head.

"Oh. I just thought you and dad talked about this kind of thing all the time."

"We talk about morale. We talk about the state of the army. I let him do the planning."

Morgan's face went to rubber.

"So mom didn't have a big book of strategy growing up? She didn't play Battles of Thracia and Naga's Favor Guides All before bed every night?"

"Probably not."

The rubber turned to a mask of horror.

"I knew she had a hard time growing up, but I didn't think it was that bad."

Chrom shook his head. His daughter had to grow up in a post-apocalyptic hell where the few survivors were hunted by armies of the undead. He couldn't see how missing out on a few games made things worse. From the look on her face, Morgan disagreed.

"I doubt I thought it was that important."

"We can't let it happen to her again."

"Well, I'm sure your father will…"

"Dad's going to be busy with me! You'll need to do it."

Chrom's hands flew up in protest.

"I'm not any good at…"

"Which means I have to teach you. Starting now."

"Sumia's waiting for me with baby Lucina right now! As soon as we finish here…"

"She'll understand. What's more important? Being a good parent, or being a little late for one night?"

Chrom had enough time as a father to know there was no right answer. Unfortunately, his granddaughter appeared to be the type to take every pause as a victory.

"Exactly! Just a second."

A book slid out of Morgan's sleeve and opened to the middle. With a gesture, it unfolded into a board. Small castles and forests emerged from the map. Morgan rattled her other sleeve and a box of pieces spilled onto it.

"Ta-da!"

"What is that?"

"Akaneia Warlords! It's what mom and I play, so it's not as tough to figure out. I figured we could go with the beginner rules, so it's not so tough. I'll let you pick factions first."

Morgan slid the board towards Chrom. He frowned. Brightly colored tokens sat in piles. Some looked like figures out of the history books, or like the armies of the past. Others could have, if they were larger, stood guard outside the castle without anyone noticing. After a few seconds, he picked up a blue piece.

"The hero king Anri. Are you sure you haven't played before? That's mom's favorite team."

"Yes."

"Okay then. I guess I'll go with… the DARK DRAGON LOPTYR!"

Morgan snatched up all the purple pieces from the stack and arranged them across the board. After a second, she took the blue pieces and slid them over Chrom's side before making the rest of the pile vanish up her sleeve. Chrom looked down at his army. Pegasus knights, cavaliers, archers. All familiar. And at the head, Anri, the first great hero of the armies of man.

Morgan had an assortment of dragons, monsters, and heavy armor units. It was almost a fair fight. But Anri had Naga at his back. The divine dragon, the goddess that saved mankind. With that kind of drive, nothing could stop him. Chrom smiled. This might not be so bad.

Ten minutes later, Morgan moved her dragons into his last castle.

"And the Loptyr sect desecrates the shrine, ending the game and plunging the world into a new era of darkness."

"I lost, then?"

Morgan winced.

"You really, really lost."

"It can't be that bad."

"On a scale of dad to Vaike, you were in the negatives."

In spite of everything, Chrom felt the need to defend his honor.

"I ran some strategies past Robin just a few weeks ago that he said were 'interesting'!"

"He was just being polite to spare your feelings. Well. At least we know where we are!"

Morgan smiled, and Chrom's stomach sank. It was going to be a very, very long night.

"Well, now you know archers are ranged units. Maybe it will take this time!"

"I haven't ever tried using pegasus knights as a shield against ballista fire. So, it's good to see what that would look like!"

"Grandpa, you can stop going easy on me now. I'm going to win anyway, and you'll learn more if you play your best. ...Oh gods. This is your best. Forget I said anything! You're… not getting worse?"

It was a relief when Sumia entered the room.

"Chrom, Lucina's off to sleep."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there. Our granddaughter arrived this evening."

Sumia turned to Morgan.

"Oh!"

"Robin dropped her on us without warning. My best friend."

Best friend came out much easier than son-in-law.

"You mean our son-in-law."

Well, it came out easier for Chrom. As much as he loved his wife, Chrom had trouble dealing with how she'd adapted to… current scenarios. He'd spent his daughter's wedding half insane. Sumia was smiling and telling her how beautiful she looked.

Gods! He should have thought of it sooner! This was the first time Sumia had a real chance to meet with their granddaughter! This was the distraction he'd been searching for. Chrom passed a silent prayer to Naga.

"Well, I've spent too much time keeping you two apart. I'll say goodnight to Lucina and...:"

He was halfway to the door before they could even look at each other. He was going to make it. It ruined the romantic evening he'd been planning, but that was torpedoed the second Morgan came through the door. At least he could…

"Wait grandpa Chrom!"

Be stopped an inch from freedom.

"I was just talking to grandma, and she'd love to see what we've been doing all night."

Sumia smiled.

"It's wonderful that you're spending so much time trying to be a better parent for baby Lucina."

Chrom coughed.

"Well, with the war over, I thought…"

Sumia looked down at the board.

"And is that a Ribald Tales of the Faith Wars map?"

"Yup! Dad bought it from Anna a few weeks ago. It came with the Lopt sect army and special rules for inheritance!"

"Oh my. Chrom, we'll have to play this with little Lucina when she's old enough."

"I'm pretty sure dad taught me how to play before I could walk. I'm teaching grandpa right now."

Chrom looked into Sumia's eyes and realized what was coming. As much agony as playing another round would be, the consequences for not playing would be much worse.

"Chrom, could you show me what you've been doing?"

"Of course."

"Grandpa's really been getting into the strategies of the game. I've never seen some of the things he's done."

Morgan's eyes flashed in Chrom's direction. Chrom could almost hear what she didn't say. She'd never seen them because in her house, anyone that tactically incompetent would have been tossed outside to feed the wolves. Or the risen. Or risen riding wolves, a frequent scenario in Robin's worst case plans. Sumia was already on her side, and every joke for months would be at his expense.

Robin was a good man, and a good friend. His daughter was clearly the devil. Chrom picked up a model of Marth, the hero king. Well, he had one last chance to salvage the his dignity. His ancestor would stand with him, for good or ill.

"Are you ready, grandpa?"

"As I'll ever be."

Morgan spread his pieces and hers across the board. Chrom looked at the castles and forests, the dragons and heroes. After a few moments, something deep inside him clicked. Something about the games. About how Robin saw the world. This wasn't just a game. It was war in miniature, swords and heroes clashing against the night. That was why he lost. It had to be.

Morgan moved her first piece. A chunk of metal slid on the board. But he could see what it meant now. A dragon crashed through the forests, a massive nightmare. And this was war. Men against the impossible. Marth would take his armies. He would try to fight.

His soldiers were cut down in waves. Chrom sent them to maneuver. To plan. To adapt. The dragon would fall. It COULD fall. He saw a die turn. To his armies, that meant something more precious. The creature was bleeding.

Morgan nodded. Smiled. And pulled the dragon back to retreat. Chrom was stunned. He hoped he could pull out a win. But he made Morgan retreat this early? It was amazing.

And then something else pushed through the brush. Chrom looked at his men, and to Morgan's piece. He could only tell what his men felt from Lucina's words. Because this wasn't a simple dragon. This was a god.

Chrom's forces were torn apart in the first charge. He was lucky that Marth and a few others could escape. Naga's grace gave him a chance to regroup and fight. But that was all he had now. Morgan's armies were bad enough, but he'd never seen the force of their leaders. Now, he wished it could have stayed that way.

Chrom looked over to Morgan.

"How is this fair?"

"Medeus has a really high point cost. Dad and I did tests, and it's really well balanced."

"You have a divine dragon. I have a few soldiers."

"Hey, Marth managed to win with the same things."

Chrom grumbled, but moved his pieces. Archers could pummel the dragon from a safe distance, allowing him to retreat his main army to safety. He didn't look back at what it cost him. Gods, in a real war he'd never be able to live with himself after this. And Lucina said she'd seen... this.

The dragon wasn't delayed for long. Knights. Cavaliers. Everything Chrom threw at the dragons was torn to ribbons. And then it was Marth. Alone against the monster. Everything else he had (precious little) was too far away to use. That was it. That was all he could do. Chrom sent the hero against the enemy, and hoped for a miracle.

"Wow. It's right out of the legends! Only, in the legends, Marth still had an army at this point."

Chrom winced. All or nothing. Marth stabbed into the fiend…

And the dice clattered out a 20.

Morgan lifted an eyebrow.

"Huh! Looks like you did it."

Chrom just smiled. It was at a cost. It was an unacceptable cost. But he won! He faced down the darkness, and…

Morgan moved another dragon to the castle, and she tipped over a panel next to it.

"And I won!"

Chrom stared.

"I thought you'd guess it was a distraction."

"Your distraction just destroyed my army!"

"Well, they can't get much more distracted than dead. Good game."

Morgan swept the pieces back into her sleeve, and the book with them.

Chrom stared at the table.

"Good game."

"Thanks. So, that's what we were doing, grandma."

"It really seems like you had a good time together."

"Yeah. Chrom's definitely the best grandpa I have. Which isn't saying much, since my other grandpa is evil and probably tried to have all of you killed last time, but…"

Morgan shrugged.

"I'm really glad I got to stay here. Dad and mom were right."

Chrom shook his head. Robin and Lucina normally were.

"What did they say?"

"That you were the… well, mom said SECOND best, but she said it was close. They agreed that you're really great. I mean, I spent the whole night beating you in the most embarrassing way possible, and you kept playing."

"What did you say?"

"Not just now, of course. I mean, it would be rude to do that in front of grandma. But you kept getting humiliated just to make me happy and maybe help mom have a better childhood.

"You were… testing me?"

"Everything's a test if you look at it right. I mean, I needed to know how you'd react under pressure for myself. Frederick would have stomped away by the second game. But you kept at it!"

"Well, self improvement is…"

"I mean, Uncle Henry would do that too, but he's kind of crazy."

"Of course."

"So, that's more important than how much you know about strategy. I mean, I knew you wouldn't be good at all."

Sumia giggled.

Chrom didn't.

"What made you think that?"

"Mom. She can only beat me, like, one time out of five. And she said you were even worse."

Chrom sighed. Well, for good and ill, the girl was family. He'd just have to try and deal with that.

(Author's notes: And here we have the delayed set. Hope it lives up to expectations. (As an extension, I hope those expectations weren't too high). In case it wasn't already clear, they're all set within the events of the game, between missions.

As for the individual substories:

Lucina: I did warn about more Morgan. Lucina's one of the few second generation characters who seems at all prepared for that kind of responsibility. Or, well, any kind of responsibility a lot of the time. Meanwhile, female Morgan struck me as... interesting in her relationship with her family. Male Morgan's kind of a moron a lot of the time, so I can see him convincing himself that it's not so bad, and that Grima is the parent he cared about. But Morgan(F) is one of the smartest characters in the game, in her scatterbrained way. On the other hand, her conscience... seems less reliable.

Brady: Not sure this one worked so well. The basic idea was contrasting Brady's priest work as a practical matter with Libra's attempts to understand what his position meant, but it didn't come together as well as I'd like.

Noire: First time Robin's shown up in the flesh instead of just being mentioned. And it's the other Robin. What can I say, she worked better for this. Male Robin's exclusive supports tend to be more cautious. Guy's careful, sometimes to excess. Female Robin still tries to keep everyone alive, but spends a lot more time messing with people. Not Morgan levels, but enough I'd assume some level of trouble from time to time. And anything that involves shooting a ton of dark magic right into the vessel for a god of evil seems like first rate trouble.

Morgan: Well, Chrom doesn't spend much time with his grandkid, if he has one. Which I figured was for a pretty basic reason, IE it's weird and requires thinking about things he'd rather ignore. Considered something more directly dangerous, but they're not the kind of people who'd let awkwardness interfere with matters of life and death. Games, though? Yeah. Morgan would be a nightmare for her poor grandfather.

And that's it for this time. )