Aaron of Ferox was in love.

He'd tried to phrase it other ways before. That he respected his commanding officer. That he hadn't seen a finer soldier other than the Khans. That he could, on a purely intellectual level, acknowledge that she was brilliant, kind to a fault, and incredibly beautiful. But love was for haughty nobles off in the burning lands and schoolchildren. It would be absurd to suggest one of the Khan's hand picked bodyguards, the greatest warriors in the whole of Ragna Ferox, would go for such a childish emotion.

Then Khan Flavia walked right up to him, slapped him in the face, and told him to just talk to the girl instead of mewling about like a gods-damned puppy, and now he had to admit that yes. He was in love.

She called herself Marth, and a few of the older hands thought that was funny. Apparently, he was a legendary hero down south. Then again, it was a joke in the arena that anyone coulda been a legendary hero in the south until recently. Their current king was a man, right enough, but his predecessors were weaklings and maniacs, and the further south you went, the worse it got. Idiots down south nearly got the world destroyed before he was born, and if it hadn't been for the Khan's good old Feroxi steel, the rest of the world'd been dragon chow. But Marth… if she was from the south, she went so far it warped back around to north again. And now, she was in a meeting with both Khans. She was Lon'qu's right hand! And he was going to barge in and ask if she wanted to marry him, just because the reigning Khan said he had a shot.

He pulled in his breath. There were scarier things after all. Like telling the old woman that you weren't taking her advice. Then he charged the door.

"Marth you're the most amazing woman in the world and I love you and if you would take this humble and worthless mercenary as your husband and/or boytoy really whatever's fine just please don't kill me."

Every eye in the room was on him. Khan Flavia. Khan Lon'qu. Old man Basilio, gods knew why he was allowed at the meeting but there he was. And, of course, Marth. And they were snickering.

Flavia stopped just long enough to shake her head.

"Gods. I can't believe this is the man you think is good enough."

Marth smiled under her mask and, if Aaron didn't miss his guess, blushed. He didn't even know she could do that.

"He has his moments."

He coughed.

"So, um… would anyone object?"

Lon'qu came closer to smiling than he had in months.

"No-one here. Her family might."

"She has a family?"

It was a stupid question. Of course she had a family. Aaron knew she had a family. Everyone had a family, even foundlings like him had someone, the Old Man if no-one else would bother, to substitute for parents in addition to whatever wolf eaten carcasses had dumped them on a Risen infested mountain. He'd just never considered that Marth would bother with one. The barracks had theories, of course. Cut from a mountainside solely to fight. Spawned direct from the mind of Naga. All the blood spilled in a thousand wars between nobles congealed into a merc, and she wandered into Regna Ferox one night looking for a job.

Parents who still gave a damn about her were never even on the board. And, to her credit, Marth didn't call him on his stupidity.

"I… haven't talked about them much, have I? It seemed rude. You were all saying how much better off we were than being burdened with letters home and grieving parents. I didn't want to intrude."

"Well, it only left me looking like an idiot now, and I can do that pretty well on my own. Gods, and we're eating off the Khan's table every third night, and they're scrounging in the lean times like everyone else. I'm sure you do what you can for them, but two mercs can provide better than one."

"You think they live like that?"

"It's the Feroxi way, isn't it? Start with nothing, fight for everything, and no blue bloods clogging up the gears. The best scramble to the top, the rest… well, we provide for them as best we can, but it's not like they can expect special treatment just for having a funny birthmark!"

Old man Basilio laughed.

"Thick little sprog, isn't he? Sorry your highness. Would have put more effort into training him right if I knew you'd take a shine to him."

"Your… highness? I mean, she's got a lock on the khanate when… Oh. Oh, gods."

"Managed to figure out before you finished the sentence this time. Might be hope for you yet! Still serious about her?"

"Even if the world was ending."

"That's the spirit. Not too far off the mark, either, way I heard it."

"What?"

"Ah, not my story. Well, not more than a part, and that was in my prime. Used to run this place, you know, before her father got in the way. Anyway, if you really have the nerve, she's got a ride waiting for you outside."

Aaron looked around.

"Wait. I thought this was just a conference. You were leaving? I mean, you have the right to leave. If you want to. I mean not that I could..."

Marth blushed again.

"Flavia said you were going to… suggest something. I wanted to be prepared."

Flavia shook her head.

"She'd been feeding you hints for six months, and you still were too thick to act on them. If the only way to get you going was to set things up myself, then I'd do it."

Marth turned to the Khan.

"Thank you, by the way."

"I could pay back an old friend and remove one of the biggest threats to my throne from play at once. It's the least I could do."

"It's a little more than that."

"Then consider that a bonus to get something off an old friend's hands. Now, if you two lovebirds are done talking, go outside and let an old woman have her rest."

"An old woman who can still destroy me in the arena."

"Ha! Not for much longer, if I'm any judge."

The two women embraced. Then Marth nodded to Lon'qu.

"Sir."

"Your highness."

"Have I?"

"No. But you're the closest I've seen."

"As good as I can expect. Thank you."

She turned to Aaron.

"I'm ready to leave if you are."

"What was that about?"

"An old family story. I'm sure someone else could explain it better than I could. The greatest arena battle in the history of Regna Ferox, they say. And apparently I managed to at least approach their legacy."

Aaron shrugged.

"If you say so. Me, I don't like worrying too much about the past. Being the best you can here and now counts for more. And, if you don't mind me saying so…"

"Yes. I know. But I still appreciate the sentiment."

She stepped out, and he followed to see two pegasi. Each with a woman in armor next to it. The markings said they were royal knights, and Aaron had his doubts that even the most south-bound soul would be such a fool as to leave the position to amateurs. He took their measure before saying a word to them.

The woman at the front had red armor, messy brown hair, and a smile that seemed to have his number far too quickly. She carried herself like a professional, and the captain's stars on her shoulder backed the idea.

The white haired girl in the back, the one in rookie green armor… just tripped. Aaron decided that she was not the priority if things went pear shaped.

The girl on the ground looked up at Marth and smiled.

"Hey Lucy! Is this your boyyyfriiieeennnd?"

Aaron turned to Marth.

"Lucy?"

"An old nickname."

The Captain nodded.

"Those were the days. Before mom had me drilling 24/7 and I had to be the good role model for everyone. You were a jerk, Lu, leaving like that."

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't apologize. You just make me feel worse. And hold on a second."

She turned to the girl on the ground.

"CADET CYNTHIA!"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Did I give you permission to crawl on the ground like a worm, you little nerd turd?"

"No?"

"No, I didn't. Because you said that this time you were committed! This time you'd be a good cadet, and really IMPRESS the princess with how good you were at something besides picking out party dresses. I'm not seeing it!"

She turned back to Marth.

"Really, she has gotten better. I mean, she's still the last cadet I'd trust in a warzone, and gawds do I hate to think about taking her to deal with Risen, but she knows which end of a spear to use, at least."

Marth coughed.

"You could be more polite."

"I could be. But it wouldn't get anything done. So, this is the guy?"

"Err…"

The captain looked Aaron up and down, then nodded.

"Not bad. You're Aaron, right? The idiot who took six months just to figure out a girl liked him?"

"I wasn't…"

"Don't make excuses. You'll just look like more of a moron."

The woman held out her hand.

"Captain Severa. Ylissean pegasus knights."

"Aaron. Bodyguard to…"

"I know. And no offense, but I don't much care. Lucy likes you, good for her, but I want to get the barbarian stink out of my nose as soon as possible, so tell Cynthia we're leaving. And if you don't want to get left behind, you can ride with her."

"I don't know how to…"

"Look. Cynthia knows how to handle it, and even you can't be as stupid as she is. Just do what she says, and don't fall to your death. Go on. Get going!"

Aaron backed away towards Cynthia. Marth was pulling her out of the mud.

"I think we're leaving. I hope you packed, because I didn't expect any of this."

"Of course."

"And you packed up your mask."

He'd seen her eyes before. It wasn't like she wore the mask all the time. But Aaron was used to it. It was part of her mystique, the steel between her and the world. Seeing it down in broad daylight felt bizarre. Mountains walking into the sea.

"Of course. I can't very well wear it into a family gathering."

Severa looked over at them.

"Because you stole it?"

"No! I would never… Morgan said it would be… And I was planning to return it!"

"She stole it. Really, she acts like she's Miss Perfect, but give her a chance…"

"You said you wanted to leave now. Cynthia, are you ready?"

"Yep!"

"Then we can continue this discussion in Ylisse."

Aaron stumbled onto the back of Cynthia's pegasus and tried to believe things would go well. It wasn't easy. The flight just made it harder. Whatever virtues Cynthia might have, patience wasn't one of them. The pegasus zipped in random directions throughout the trip south, and Cynthia chattered for the whole trip about… well, Aaron didn't know what she was talking about. It could have been something important, interesting, and enlightening. But he was too busy keeping his lunch down to notice. By the time they came in for a crash landing in a palace garden behind Severa's pegasus, Aaron was too grateful to be on the ground again to much care about how graceful the process was.

When Marth helped him to his feet, that just made things better.

"I'm sorry if you had a difficult journey."

"It's nothing. I'm tough. Laugh in the face of pain."

"HA!"

Aaron turned. He didn't was reasonably sure that Severa and Cynthia didn't laugh like that. And Marth… rarely laughed at all. She certainly wasn't laughing now. He turned to see a blue haired woman smiling.

"Well, you asked me to laugh. Everyone's waiting for you already."

Blue hair. In her thirties or thereabout. (It was hard to tell with her, and Aaron wasn't much good at guessing a woman's age to begin with. Flavia said it was one of his more charming qualities.) Eyes that looked like Marth's, barring a creepy glow for the new woman and Marth's odd mark.

Aaron had a guess.

"You're her mother?"

"Daughter. Close enough!"

Aaron wasn't that bad with ages. But before he could question it, Marth was running over.

"Morgan!"

"Yup! Still me. Good memory. I mean, I barely remembered I'm me this long. So, is this not-dad?"

"He is the man I…"

"Like I said. Not-dad."

Morgan walked closer and stared Aaron in the eyes.

"Don't tell me anything. Dad did this all the time, and it looked really cool when he got it right. Now that he doesn't, I have to keep up the family tradition."

Aaron coughed.

"Umm…"

"Aw, please? It really ruins the effect when you say things."

"I just said 'Umm'!"

"Which gave me your rough accent, probable place of birth, recent associates, and since I have Lucy as a control, I can guess if you've moved anywhere lately. Way too easy."

"I'm sorry?"

"You're doing it on purpose now. Which is okay! That's exactly what I would do. "

Aaron didn't respond. After a few seconds, Morgan nodded.

"Feroxi, mercenary training. At least… three years combat experience. Some time spent… farming? That's weird. But hey! Looks like it worked for you!"

Aaron shrugged.

"There was a place near the camp. People there needed extra help, I had some downtime, it wasn't that big a deal."

And Marth was there sometimes too. He didn't make the connection then, but by the lady it was obvious now! Oh, yes. It was a coincidence that the place he most wanted to be was always where she was. And feeling hollow when she wasn't there? Just having an off day.

"Well, that and growing up around Basilio was most of what I had. I mean, anyone could figure out the blushing part."

Marth coughed.

"Blushing?"

"Oh, man! There's hearts bubbling over your heads! That's hilarious."

Morgan shook her head.

"But that's probably long enough. Dad and Grandpa and Mom-prime and Grandma are all waiting. Which is kinda selfish of me already, but I think tiny me is also there, and wasting my own time really feels like I'm in the wrong. Come on!"

Severa coughed.

"Um, Ma'am?"

"Right. Uh, have Cynthia take the horses back. Severa, you're... free to do whatever you want?"

"So, I don't have to spend more time around Cynthia?"

"No."

"And Cynthia has to spend all night cleaning up pegasus mess while I get to attend a royal banquet with mom out of town."

"Probably! No time to argue!"

Severa smiled.

"Why do they say you're the devil again? I'm not seeing it."

The group stumbled into the palace, minus Cynthia, and Aaron gasped. It was decadence. It was ridiculous. It was completely unnecessary.

It was also the most beautiful building he'd ever seen. Someone living there had good taste. Decadent, but good.

Morgan lead them through the corridors with as much chatter as Cynthia gave them for the trip from Ferox. The difference, or at least one of the differences, was that Cynthia's nattering almost never had a particular purpose. She wanted to talk, and as long as no-one outright objected, she'd keep going. Morgan was different. Her meandering conversations tended to connect to the circumstances at hand. Sure, it was a rock skipping on a pond. Every impact with a relevant topic was brief and hard to see unless you were looking for it, and her words skipped through the air between. But if you followed it, you could see the steady approach of a point, and, with luck, something interesting.

"And Grandma got that painting as a replacement for the one I accidentally burned down. And that one's a replacement for one grandpa smashed through on accident. And that wall… well, I was really sorry, and my sword broke too, so it's kind of like I paid for it, even if I blamed it on Owain."

Marth coughed.

"How long ago was this?"

"Over a decade? Owain still thinks he did it, so… try not to tell him. I still can't believe that worked."

As the walk continued, Aaron tried to piece what he could together from the stories. Marth's family had a tendency towards breaking… well, everything. At least on her father's side. Really, he wasn't at all what he'd expect of a noble. More like a Feroxi, and that was as good as compliments got. On the other hand, her mother… sounded different. The polite way to put it would be to say she sounded like a noble. The Feroxi way to put it would be to say she sounded like a gods damned noble. And either way you put it, he was not looking forward to meeting her.

Morgan smiled.

"And I know you're really looking forward to meeting grandma, so… here you go!"

One hand drew a wind tome and blasted open a door. The shoved Aaron forward. Before he could recover from the stumble, all four of them were in an audience hall with the doors slammed shut.

Several less flattering nicknames for Marth's… 'daughter' made much more sense now. Aaron wished he'd paid attention to them earlier. He might have been able to handle the situation at his own pace then. Or at least he could avoid stumbling like a rookie in front of the most perfect woman in the world's family.

He looked up and across the room and saw a whole crowd ready to judge him. At the edges, a young woman and a young man, a little younger than he was, who both looked a lot like Morgan. One notch in on either side, he saw a scruffy looking man in a beaten down old coat soiled from a thousand campaigns, and his opposite in more than one sense, a proper looking woman in robes that didn't look like they'd seen dirt since it was invented. And in the center, what had to be the king and queen. The man fit Morgan's stories and the old tales up north, a warrior who could face down a god without flinching. The woman didn't look as prim and proper as he expected, hell, he could see a few good scars, but she did look a lot like Marth with another couple of decades and a longer haircut. There were more faces in the crowd, too many for a quick accounting, but they ranged from mages to warriors to nobles to… gods, was that a dragon?

Morgan waved at all of them. The twins waved back, but it was the woman in robes who spoke first.

"Another ruffian. I wish I could be surprised, dear. I don't suppose we can hope that this one is secretly nobility?"

Aaron shook his head.

"Not in the slightest."

"Of course. Gods know we couldn't be that lucky twice."

Marth stepped forward.

"He's a good man. One of the finest I've met! Isn't nobility of spirit…"

"Well of course he is. You'll notice that we're having a polite conversation. If I thought he was planning to knock one hair on your head out of place, (and speaking of your hair would it have killed you to have a proper beautician prepare something instead of lopping it off in huge chunks with a knife like some kind of barbarian) then he wouldn't see daylight again. Just because I trust your judgement enough to let you gallop off to fight for your living like some kind of peasant you have no right to assume I stopped caring about you."

"I never would assume that."

"And I would never assume my daughter would bring someone unworthy of her attention in front of me. But really, would it have hurt you too much to find someone with a little more… class? A mother has to ask."

The man in the coat cleared his throat.

"Look at it this way. She isn't marrying a dark god, a demon dragon, or a sleeper agent for a hostile power."

"At least those have a little dignity to them. A dark god, for all its social faults, is an accepted institution."

"Which explains all the excuses you haven't made for me."

"Well, if the aforementioned dark god insists on being treated like a member of the common rabble, then the rules of good manners state that you indulge its curious habit and treat him like a commoner."

"I still have my doubts that there's a guidebook on proper manners when meeting a dark god."

"Well, if you ever read a single page of one etiquette guide, I might think you had a valid opinion."

"And if I'd ever seen a hint that one of them had something worth saying anywhere in its, average size an estimate based on mass, 1,500,000 pages, then I'd look at one. But…"

The blue haired man in the center sighed.

"I think we've all heard this argument often enough. Now, if the Queen of Ylisse and the King of Plegia would please settle down for a moment? Gods. Emeryn would jump out of her grave in shock now. A diplomatic meeting where I'm the voice of restraint."

"Sorry."

"I apologize for indulging your uncouth friend, my love."

"Good enough. Look at us. The most powerful people in the world, arguing like a bunch of schoolchildren. So! You're the man who thinks he's good enough for my daughter."

Aaron looked at the blue haired man and started sweating. He knew what it looked like when someone was planning to murder him, and he knew what it looked like when someone was quite capable of murdering him. It was rare to see them both, and rarer to live to tell about it after. He passed on a silent prayer and tried to find the right words to make it to the end of the day.

"I don't know if I'm good enough. Hell if anyone I've met is. But I'd do my best, if she's willing to have me."

Marth nodded.

"Willing and eager."

The blue haired man leaned back. His eyes were down from murder to a light stabbing.

"Robin, have you been coaching him? I swear, you said the exact same thing."

The rumpled man smiled.

"Chrom, if I was giving advice, they'd have been married already and communicating with you exclusively by carrier pigeon."

"That's not how I remember it."

"No. It's how I would have handled it with the benefit of more than a decade to plan. The first time, we were both a bit too busy to risk infighting."

Chrom shook his head.

"I knew I could trust you. I even gave you my blessing. I would have been glad if you'd been the one to coach him. It would mean he'd been vetted by the best possible judge."

"Other than the obvious one."

"You can't trust a woman in love, Robin. After all, that's how one of the most brilliant legal minds ever to grace Ylisse wound up married to an overgrown oaf who could hardly go a day without breaking something."

The proper looking woman in robes made a noise that fell halfway between an appreciative chuckle and an irritated hmph. The blue haired woman in the center just chuckled.

Robin shrugged.

"Alright. We're all much luckier than we have any right to be. I'm not going to argue the point. So, how much do we know about him? I assume you've gotten letters, and I know Morgan's already done three layers of background check since he got here."

"Four!"

Robin nodded at Morgan.

"Four. Unfortunately, I've been busy lately. I've let certain things get out of hand…"

The blue haired woman in the center smiled.

"Out of hand."

"I admit it, we managed to get things back in line before any real harm was done. But I should have seen it coming sooner."

"You found a conspiracy before it passed five members, addressed any legitimate complaints they had, neutralized…"

"I missed the evidence for six months. That's more than enough time for a disaster. But we're drifting off topic. My point was I don't know anything about him. And, well, he's…"

Morgan smiled more than usual.

"Marrying your wife!"

"Not how I would put it, but fine. Which brings me to my point. Chrom, Lucina, younger Lucina, would any of you object to me taking Ylisse's future prince consort out of the room for ten minutes to talk?"

Chrom smiled.

"I thought we weren't sure if he was good enough for my daughter."

"I thought you knew that once Lucina sets her mind on something, it WILL happen. That applies to both of them, just to be clear."

After a second, Chrom nodded.

"I suppose we do have some catching up to do. And I'm sure your wife has some stories she can only trust to herself about you."

Robin nodded back.

"Won't that be fun. So, Lucy?"

"Of course. You aren't jealous, are you?"

"Too old and too married to be jealous. Come on. There's a nice garden out back."

Aaron hesitated. There was too much going on that he didn't understand. Stories he'd never heard, jokes he'd never catch. And traps he'd never see coming. Walking away from witnesses and the people he was more or less sure he could trust seemed like a mistake. Then he saw Chrom again. The man was still staring daggers at him. Staying wasn't much safer.

He followed Robin out of the room and beneath the moon. It was a cold night for this far south. Aaron wished he'd grabbed a coat. Or anything, really. Marth would provide, but leaning on her kindness too much felt wrong. Robin nodded to him.

"So. Here we are. I remember before this garden was here. Different design, different walls. There was even a big hole right where you're leaning."

"This place was abandoned?"

"No. Chrom was clumsy. But war came, and the whole place was trashed. Maribelle, she was the judge in the robes back in the palace, well, she and I cooperated on the redesign."

"You didn't seem to agree on much."

"Not as such. But I figured out how to make this place more secure, and she made it look like a garden instead of a plant based deathtrap. We made a good team. When we weren't trying to strangle each other."

"This place doesn't look much like a deathtrap. No spike traps, no tigers."

"No, Maribelle made me cut a lot in the planning stage. But look over there."

Robin pointed at a small patch of flowers at the wall.

"Incredibly allergenic. Non-lethal, of course, but anything that breathes it in is going to be sneezing like a maniac. Pretty hard to be stealthy when you're suffering from hay fever."

"Okay…"

"It gets better. The crickets are normally fairly pleasant, right? But these are Valmese barking crickets. If they detect a surge of magic, they go insane. And any spells coming in from outside? Chon'sin drain weeds. They feed off most varieties of magic and release it as light. That's not even half of it, but I think you've got the idea."

"You're really proud of this."

Aaron tried to keep the pity out of his voice, with mixed success. If this was the best thing someone had done, well, it made him very glad that he had a real job. Robin laughed.

"It's ridiculous, I know. But Lucina loves it. Well, both of them do."

"Both of them."

"Oh, gods. How much has she told you? I thought Basilio or Flavia would have at least mentioned something. Then again, they're damn good at keeping secrets."

"I know that Marth is apparently the crown princess of Ylisse. I know that everyone here calls her Lucy or Lucina, which I'm guessing is her birth name. I know that a crazy woman at least her age and probably a good chunk older is running around claiming to be her daughter. And I know that someone else is named Lucina. If you're asking how I put any of that into a coherent whole, I don't."

"Right. Well, it was confusing enough for me, and I was at ground zero. I can only imagine how it looks to someone arriving decades later. How much do you know about time travel?"

"What?"

"The outrealm gates?"

"Never heard of them."

Robin sighed.

"This won't be easy. You know what? Just assume I said 'magic' to cover anything that seems odd. You… don't understand magic, right?"

"No."

"Good. That should make things easier. We might not be out here all night. So, to begin with… gods. I have no idea where to begin. There are two Lucinas. One's twenty years older than the other. I'm married to the older Lucina."

"Okay?"

"Good enough. What's important is, I've been where you are right now. And I can help."

"Okay. Why are you doing this?"

"Because it's in both of your interest that things go smoothly, and I owe her family everything. Take a seat and get ready. There's a lot for us to talk about. Do you have a notebook?"

"Why would I have a notebook?"

Robin stared daggers at Aaron.

"Why would you… I have a spare. Keep it. That's the first thing. Keep a notebook. This isn't Lucina specific. It's general life advice. Proper planning is one of the most important things, on the battlefield or off."

Robin pulled a small, blank book and handed it to the younger man.

"Alright. This is advice I wish I'd had when I was getting married. Don't question it. Don't interrupt. Just remember everything."

The next five minutes were a blur of advice, ranging from odd to confusing to terrifying.

"She doesn't get jokes most of the time. If it seems like there's a misinterpretation that could sound like an insult, keep it to yourself."

"Just remember. She can make almost anything she wears look gorgeous. She will also pick the one thing she can't make work for any formal occasion. Find a tailor you can trust and pay them enough to make sure that they'll NEVER leave."

"Don't ask how I found this out, but nothing gets her in a romantic mood like killing a few bandits. If you aren't comfortable doing… certain things… while covered in blood, explain that to her immediately, before it becomes a cherished couples ritual and you can't back out of it."

"Her favorite classical composition is 'Ode to a dying star'. If you can play any instrument… well, you're in a better position than I was that night."

Aaron's notebook was filled with sketches, tiny snippets of conversation, and question marks. Mostly question marks.

"And to wrap it all up… gods, we're the luckiest men in the world. Never forget that."

"I think I knew that already."

"Good. Well, that's all I had in the old man rambling department. And, unless I miss my guess, this is about a minute before the point where Morgan stops pretending to care about social graces, so we should get back inside."

Aaron paused and looked into the hall. That was life ahead. Rambling stories from lunatics, cushy royal postings instead of real work out in the wilds, and for what?

Then Marth walked past. Right. For her. If nothing else, Robin had been right about that. It was all worth it.

(Author's note: Well, if you're still here, that's the chapter. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed, and that it met standards. Going a bit shorter this time, with only one story in the block, at a suggestion from the reviews. If there's issue with the change, I'd like to know. Point of putting work up is for others to enjoy it, after all.

The basic idea going in was the younger Lucina dragging someone into the whole mess as an outsider, both for the levels of awkward it could bring to someone who didn't know about, well, the weirder parts of Awakening's events and to let the second Lu step out of her 'sister' 's shadow a bit. It tends to feel a little odd to me when the pairings repeat for the time travelers and their younger iterations. Different life experiences, different influences, and in some cases they'd grow up on different continents. Nature and nurture, of course, but I'd think the changes would show in their later lives, at least a little.

Of course, that left me having to add an outsider to the narrative, which can be... tricky business. Tried to have someone inoffensive for the viewpoint. Went with a name from Shakespeare for speed, figured Ferox would be a good place for the younger Lucina to crash her heels given the relevant epilogue, and here we are. Until next time.)