Aversa hated her brother.
She knew it was wrong, of course. Even ignoring standard familiar obligations, it would be wrong. Father had said so, and she owed him everything. Every night she woke up screaming, and every night he took time from his busy schedule to sooth her fears. He took her away from a massacre, gave her a home, a family, and the promise of a future at the right hand of a god. The least she could do for him would be to love her baby brother.
She couldn't even do that.
It was Robin's fault. It had to be, or else it would be Aversa's fault, and then she would have failed her father, and then she'd be worth less than nothing, like he said some nights when she'd been especially bad. Robin deserved to be hated, as much as his father deserved to be loved. The way he burbled? Stupid. His drooling? Asinine. The way he looked around a room with his little eyes, like he was trying to take everything in? Just proof he didn't deserve the love father gave him. If he deserved it, he would just accept his place in the world and be grateful for it. Father loved him more than Aversa no matter how she worked, and mother?
Morgan had never loved Aversa. At most, she tolerated the girl. Pitied her. And now her worthless wretch of a natural born child was just a little older, she didn't even bother with that. The love that Aversa fought for was given freely to a drooling imbecile with delusions of grandeur.
Every night, just before she drifted off into a sea of nightmares, she prayed to Grima that he would grant her one thing. No matter how little she deserved it, no matter how mad it was to beg for such a thing, she asked.
And then, one day, Robin and mother were gone. Father was angry. The palace was in an uproar. And Aversa promised her god to be a loyal servant all the days of her life.
Grima really did care for his people.
Long after the death of a god
Robin paced across the room. Objectively, he knew he was doing the best thing for everyone. Objectively, he knew that any alternatives would be much worse. But people he loved were in distress, and he was sitting (well, standing. Walking) around doing nothing to help them. There had to be some point he'd missed, some way to change things.
He turned to face the doorway and took in a breath.
"Are you sure you don't need any help preparing dinner, Lu?"
"I'm fine, dear. Thank you for asking."
Morgan bobbed her head out the arch.
"I'm sorry, father, but.. remember last time you tried to cook?"
"It wasn't that bad. Nah liked it!"
Robin could almost hear Lucina wince in the kitchen.
"Err… Nah has never had the most discerning palette. I'm certain you tried your best!"
Robin sighed. There was nothing he could do but wait. At least, unlike cooking, he was rather good at it. A tactician had to be. Charging in too early or too late could mean the death of someone you cared about. Your timing had to be perfect, or everything would go wrong.
Admittedly, right now charging in too early would only ruin a side dish, and even Lucina's father hadn't killed anyone without reaching the main course, but the principle was sound. Haste made waste. Patience made success.
If anything could make a success. The problem with waiting was it meant thinking, and thinking meant realizing how stupid some of your past thoughts were. Things like, oh, just for a random example, inviting your murderous, morally bankrupt foster sister to a nice dinner with the in-laws. That would certainly be a mistake! It was amazing anyone with enough intelligence to remain upright would even give it a second's thought.
It was even more amazing someone described, by more than one person, as the greatest mind in Ylisse would be stupid enough to go through with it.
But family was family, at least when you hadn't stabbed them through the heart, and Aversa said she was trying to turn over a new leaf, that she had left her evil ways behind her.
Even at his stupidest, Robin hadn't believed her, but she hadn't killed anyone for… gods help them all, she'd killed far fewer people in the past year than Robin had, which was worth at least the ghost of a chance.
He'd made a call, and now he'd have to live with it. That was all. Like any social situation, or any battlefield, if it was right he could capitalize on it to a stirring success, and if it was wrong, he could do his best to mitigate it.
Robin tried to focus on the task at hand. It would be cowardice to try to avoid thinking of consequences just because you didn't like them. Really, that was the good thing about not being able to help in the kitchen. All that time to think.
Robin leaned back and smiled. Yes. So much time to think about how to best handle dinner with his sister.
So much time to think about all their time together before.
So much time to remember what she'd said to him, and to Chrom, and even to Lady Tiki...
"Lu? Are you absolutely sure you don't need any help?"
Aversa knew better than to ask for help. Grima had taken her brother away, but it seemed like that was the last thing he'd give her. Everything else, she'd need to earn.
Her father's love most of all.
She knew he loved her. Loved her more than she deserved, perhaps even a tenth as much as he loved Robin. Damnable Robin. the favorite, even in his absence. When father cursed his name, he made it very clear that Aversa was a pale substitute. When Validar praised Aversa, he made it clear Robin would have done better.
Aversa never argued, not anymore. She remembered what happened the night Robin vanished, when she was fool enough to smile. Father loved Robin too much to admit they were better off with the traitors gone. He made that…
He made that very clear on the night Morgan ran away, when Aversa was foolish enough to hint that she didn't miss her brother.
She could still feel the burns on cold nights when the wind was strong.
That wasn't important. What mattered wasn't Robin, who stole father's heart and mother's everything. What mattered was Aversa. She couldn't force father to realize that he was better off without the brat, but she could show him that she was good enough for him to love.
Aversa worked every day and night. Magic came easily? It just meant she wasn't following the right paths. If someone as inferior as she was could manage a spell, it was barely worth learning. If someone else had trouble with it, that just meant they fell even lower than she did. Human garbage, hardly worthy of life.
It was amazing how few people were worthy. Magic seemed to primarily attract human refuse, the sort of trash you'd think Naga would encourage, not the children of Grima.
Well. Some day their god would cleanse the world of the impure. It would be a delight to see the look of shock from his 'faithful servants' when they found they were part of that number.
But that was for a later day. Aversa was still young, the world was still corrupt, and she still had her studies sitting between her and her father's love. She tried to make up for everything Robin could have been. Weapons, tactics, every mangy animal she could imagine riding. Whatever he was meant to be, she could surpass him. Whatever dream he was following in whatever damned foreign clime was hiding him, she would crush it.
Not everything was as easy as magic. Not everything felt worth the effort. But every shred of a smile, every small compliment from father made it feel like her efforts were not in vain.
One night, when he thought she was asleep, Validar even mentioned a secret. A great and terrible thing that he must have known Aversa would never feel worthy of.
She was meant to be the bride of a god.
No wonder he pushed her harder than Robin. Robin would have had less to live up to.
Aversa would sit at the right claw of Grima himself. What could Robin imagine that would match that?
"And then… and then she took her sword and then she walked out into the desert promising never to return until she cleansed it of evil by…. no! She had to reclaim her heart from monsters because they'd each taken one of her organs and she could never feel love again until she had it. That's why I never saw Aunt Aversa until now, right… I mean, correct?"
Lucina smiled up at her father.
He looked away, but he was smiling too.
"...Close enough."
Lucina nodded in satisfaction and slid back into her seat. She knew it was something like that. Given the rest of her family, it would have to be. It just didn't fit for someone with that kind of lineage to do something on a small scale. And Lucina couldn't imagine someone brought up alongside Uncle Robin being cruel or ignoring family bonding if she had a choice.
Well, she'd have her proof soon. Less than an hour's ride left until they'd reach Uncle Robin's.
Lucina tried to sit still. A good girl would be able to sit still. A five year old should be expected to sit still, after all of that learning and experience.
But it was so hard!
It wasn't enough that she had to keep in all the excitement from having her mother and father to herself again for a few days instead of having to share with baby Cynthia. It wasn't enough that she'd have to contain herself on a trip to Aunt Lucy's, and all the excitement that implied. It wasn't even enough that cousin Morgan was there, and almost certainly willing (given past experiences) to tell Lucina a few things that her parents would make her wait until she was older for.
No, if it was just that, then Lucina could keep calm and civilized with the grace of a saint. But she was meeting Aunt Aversa for the first time, and that would be, if half of what she imagined was true, an experience that would make Naga herself shake with excitement.
Lucina gritted her teeth. She would be good. She would be the best. She was a princess, and the daughter of heroes, and that meant she would do whatever was needed of her, no matter how impossible it seemed.
What felt like hours passed. Hour after hour of being good and still. Years of being good and still. But she would…
"Lucina?"
She would pay attention when mother was talking!
"Yes, mother?"
"You've been clenching at your seat for the last ten minutes. Are… are you alright? We can go back home if you're feeling sick! I'm sure Aunt Lissa could come on short notice! We could get…"
"NO! ...I mean, I'd rather not, mother. I would hate to ruin a family dinner. I can…"
Father smiled.
"She's just excited, Sumia. Aren't you?"
Lucina slowly nodded.
"A… a little, father."
"There's nothing wrong with that. And it's better to admit it than to wreck your seat."
Lucina looked down at her hands. Feathers were poking out of the seat where she'd clutched at it. Whoops.
She looked up to her father.
"I didn't mean to."
Father smiled.
"Don't worry too much. I've done much worse."
He leaned in closer to whisper in Lucina's ear.
"We still haven't closed the hole I smashed in the back garden. I'll show you when we get back if you promise not to tell anyone else."
Lucina's eyes widened.
"Not even mother?"
"Especially not your mother. I promised I'd fix it months ago."
Her father winked and looked away. Lucina tried to shove her seat back into something resembling repair. Mother sighed.
Not much changed for the rest of the trip, except the seat looking even worse. Lucina frowned. She was trying her hardest. That had to count for something.
Mostly it counted for a ruined seat.
A voice came from the front of the carriage.
"Your ex…"
"Chrom. Just Chrom. Please. It's bad enough to have to put on airs around the palace, but if I have to deal with that when I just want to spend some time with a few old friends, I might go insane."
"Well, err… Chrom. We've arrived. And I hope it's not too much to say it's been an honor serving you. Not every day… well, it's not every day, that's all."
Father winced.
"I'm sure it isn't. And…"
It looked like they were going to keep talking for a lot longer. Lucina decided that, for all her patience earlier, this was too much. If she waited for them to be done, who knew how long it would be? She might be as ancient as six by the time they were done!
She slipped out the door, nearly tripped on the steps, and looked across the field.
She could barely make out the figures in the distance. Uncle Robin was sitting and reading something, with cousin Morgan looking over his shoulders. Aunt Lucy was… Aunt Lucy was looking right at her, Lucina should have known she could never sneak up on her. And the fourth figure…
That had to be Aunt Aversa.
She didn't look that much like Uncle Robin, admittedly. Not as much as Aunt Lucy looked like father. But Lucina didn't look that much like Cynthia, no matter what anyone else said, so that made sense.
Lucina took a breath, focused, and ran. She had to make a good first impression, before someone could tell Aunt Aversa she'd been bad and wrecked what was probably a very expensive seat. Lucy and Robin might just laugh and say Morgan had done something worse, but Lucina knew that someone as distinguished as Aunt Aversa would have objections.
She'd closed half the distance when Aunt Aversa turned to look at her. Lucina strained her ears to hear whatever she was about to say. Lucina was sure it would be worth the hearing. Any second now would come the words that would set the tone for the whole visit.
"Ugh. Your friend brought his little brat along."
"And the little brat can just…"
Aversa never forgot those words. Not remarkable in and of themselves, but memorable all the same.
After all, they were the last ones the man would ever say. And he was the first person she ever killed.
Beyond that, of course, he didn't matter. Just a bit of street trash who crossed the wrong person and paid the right price.
She learned more from him in death than he ever taught anyone in life. How it felt to kill a man. The secret paths of blood. It was a sloppy, brutal little death, not half as good as her later work, but it gave Aversa some talent to show father.
She might have waited for the display, of course. Kept practicing on lowborn trash and gutter scum until she knew how to do things properly. But the damned Exalt had to invade, and that forced the issue.
It was funny how many of Ylisse's supposedly hardened knights would believe that a little girl was sobbing for her mother. Oh, a few still tried to purge the 'Grima-tainted monster!', but only a few. Most came closer. Listened to her sobbing. Promised to help somehow, or begged her to stop crying, or just thought about the cost of war. And then they all collapsed, bleeding from every orifice. Before she'd turned thirteen, Aversa had killed more men than some major battles. It was amazing what you could do with an innocent face and a little blood magic.
The war killed far more than her share of the bounty, of course. Teachers and students, friends of her father's, servants, the royal family. All torn apart by the fools from the North or their own people. Plegia was in chaos, and the closest thing to a relief was knowing the Ylisseans were suffering almost as much. She'd seen it from a great distance, the arrow through the throat of their king. The rout. The retreat. Even clutching at her side in a ditch, it was beautiful. A gift from Grima to his most loyal servant, to prepare her for the harsh road ahead.
And Grima help her. It was harsh. Even with Father's position, Plegia was a bitter and broken land, nowhere near its height. Father was left to run the Grimaleal without any proper assistance, save Aversa.
He sometimes praised her, in those days. Perhaps he knew Robin was gone for good. Perhaps he'd seen what his daughter, his brilliant, efficient, dutiful daughter, had done in his name and was willing to accept it. Perhaps he just realized he had no-one else left.
Whatever it was, Aversa was grateful. In those early days, she stood at father's right hand and looked down at the rubble and the rabble. Everything was clear to Aversa in those days. There were three things of value in the world. Grima, the rightful god of all, the being who sat at the heart of the world and would judge it one day in fire. Father, Validar, the man whose veins held the blood of Grima and whose hands held a book of the god's truth. And Aversa. The girl he'd saved, saved from mortal peril and, better, from her own lowly station. She would be the bride of a god, and his hand in the world.
Everything else? Everything else was worthless trash, like Robin and his mother. Even father hadn't realized that fully, but Aversa knew. It was a secret between her and her god. For all his virtues, father was still too sentimental.
It would explain why he spared Gangrel, perhaps. A lowborn prince of the gutters, with the nerve to claim a title, that he was the long lost child of the royal family, the rightful heir here to restore Plegia from her sorrows. Aversa thought of a way for him to remove a few of them immediately. After all, why let a puppet take the throne when you could have it yourself?
But for some reason, father had to let the king of the worms make his claims in peace. Aversa knew it was sentiment. Perhaps he still missed mother, like a fool. Another piece of gutter trash, who stole her gutter trash child and left father missing them both, hoping he could replace them with whatever detritus he could scrounge.
Or perhaps he just felt a degree of remove would be best. At any rate, he sent Aversa to monitor the young man. To… control him.
It wasn't difficult. She was an attractive young woman, and he was a low minded young man. A few words, a slip of the dress… it didn't take much in the way of sorcery to own his soul. Aversa could have done it in her sleep.
She wished she had, most nights. The man was a pig. Aversa never bothered to judge a man's tastes, Grima knew that humans in general were all so low and vile not to be worth making distinctions, but his proclivities were… vulgar. To an extreme.
At least he was a useful pig. Father had been right on that. His enthusiasm, his low cunning, his slow burning rage and grand ambitions, they all kept Plegia in line where a more subtle hand wouldn't. He left Aversa free to run an inquisition, to ensure all Plegians knew their god and knew their place.
She wasn't enough of a fool to assume that every soul in the country truly believed, would be ready for the sacrifice when god returned, but most were, and those who weren't could be kept in check by their neighbors and their fears.
And that was her life. For every lash it gave her, she had the strength to pass three to her lessers. The Exalt's crusade was a blessing in disguise, leaving Plegia ripe for her god's return. If anyone was ready for the day, if anyone knew what to expect, it would be Aversa.
And then her god returned.
It turned out no-one knew what to expect.
The really embarrassing thing about it was that Morgan knew exactly what to expect.
If this was some exciting battlefield scenario, rife with unknowns and dangers, then she could reasonably be excused. Even father himself had trouble with new situations before he adapted, and he'd (sort of, kind of, don't bring it up if you don't have to) been a god during the worst of it, and Morgan's father for all of it (which was much better). A new situation would mean briefly looking a little bad, followed by looking really good after she figured it out.
But this was Aunt Aversa, and even with a few years of absence, Morgan had a pretty decent idea how she would act, react, and even think. She should have had the whole situation on lockdown.
Judging from the yelling in the next room, she did not even have the situation hastily tied up in a sack and left at a crossroads.
The Lucina who wasn't her mother looked up at Morgan.
"Um… you said you had a game?"
Morgan nodded.
The name of the game was "Don't leave a younger version of mother emotionally traumatized".
Unfortunately, it didn't scale very well as you added players.
Morgan looked around the room for an alternative. Sparring indoors was out if her parents still wanted a house afterwards. All the board games were Dad Games, which Morgan had learned from harsh experience didn't play well with most people who were not, well, tacticians. Keeping track of grain supplies during Feroxi wars of succession wasn't everyone's idea of a good time. The more she looked, the harder it was to find something suitable for a small child.
Fortunately, old reliable was right in front of her.
Morgan grabbed from father's library. None of the valuable books, and nothing more dangerous than a collection of basic wind spells, but there was plenty even under those conditions. She spread them on the floor in front of Lucina and smiled.
"Have you ever played Tome Stackers?"
"No…"
Morgan frowned. From the tone of the 'no', even if Lucina the younger had never played, she had heard of it. Almost certainly from grandpa. Morgan adjusted her approach.
"Well, this isn't Tome Stackers. It's… Book Builders."
Lucina did not look convinced. Morgan decided it would be best to press on.
"Championship edition. Deluxe."
Lucina nodded.
"How do you play?"
"You just take these books, and you s… build them into a castle. Be careful with the wind tomes, because they can blow everything apart. The bigger you build, the more points you score. I'll be back in just a bit to see how you did."
Lucina looked down at the books skeptically.
"That sounds a lot like Tome Stackers…"
"Completely different. Trust me."
Lucina nodded, and Morgan exhaled in relief. Still too young to have learned that lesson, thank Naga.
"Be good, and I'll tell Chrom how much you've been learning. I'm already impressed by how mature you are."
Lucina puffed out and Morgan slipped through the door. Hard to believe mother had ever been that small. Or that easy to slip something past. Or that…
"I'LL CUT OUT YOUR LYING HEART!"
Calm.
Morgan shook her head. That was unfair. Mother was calm lots of times! Most of the time! More often than anyone had reason to expect!
...Just not around Aunt Aversa.
Morgan took a few steps to the center of the room and cleared her throat.
"Did everyone start playing terrifying death threats without me? I mean, I'm not saying I can compete with Owain, but…"
Lucina looked down.
"Your aunt and I were just having a… discussion, Morgan. It may have been more heated than I would have liked."
Aversa smirked.
"And the princess always gets what she likes. I'm sure Robin even pretends he's satisfied with you. He never was good at turning anyone down. He can't tell you how he really feels, not without putting his neck in front of your father's sword. I could, of course. You remember my time with the hierophant? You called him Grima, but to me he was always..."
"Don't you dare speak his name."
"Oh, if you insist, I could forget all about my darling baby brother for the moment. There are so many other things you don't know that he was generous enough to tell me about. You know, I never even told you how your father died. I'm sure everyone in this room is eager to hear about it."
Lucina's hand was on Falchion, and her eyes were as cold as Naga's breath in the dead of winter.
Aversa turned towards Morgan and shook her head.
"Of course this is what happens when I try to be generous. I knew Naga's brood would never trust me, but I hoped some of them could restrain their bloodlust. They'll be turning on you next, of course."
"Not going to happen."
Aversa gave Morgan a condescending smile.
"Of course not. I'm sure your family alone is exempt from all the rules of human interaction."
"No, we just had this scheduled out. Mother and I are going to betray father next, then she's going to conspire with grandma and grandpa to get rid of me. It's like you haven't even looked at the charts! They're up in the kitchen."
Lucina looked horrified.
"Morgan! We would never even think about…"
She slowly turned to face Robin.
"She was making a joke, wasn't she."
"If you are 'making a joke' your death will be as long as your life is short."
The man nodded. Aversa looked him over.
Oh, delightful. He was confident. Almost glowing. Like he had seen something that convinced him his life was worth something. Like he deserved to talk with someone as important as Aversa without being skewered for it.
Aversa had made a demonstration already that day. It would be tiresome to make another, and ruin a few perfectly good plans for the afternoon, but she was afraid she would have no other choice. A shame. She had so little time to herself these days, and her one day away from G
That was the problem with allowing a gutter rat on the throne. Well, the problem other than the obvious problems like having a gutter rat on the throne and sleeping with said gutter rat. If a person like that was king, naturally the little people would think they had could be almost as important. That they mattered. It was her job to show them they didn't.
At least, that would be her job soon. For now, she had the far more painful duty of listening to one of the common guardsmen prattle.
"Swear on my mother's soul, Your Holiness. Your father's returned from Ylisse, and… begging your pardon, but he insisted you come quickly. This is more important than both our lives."
Aversa locked her teeth together and followed the wretched little man. Odd that Validar had returned so quickly. Presumably, all he'd brought was the head of the damned Exalt and perhaps, if she was lucky, her miserable brother's as well. Ylisse was an anthill, a miniscule little diversion from the real prize, but the ants had been biting far too much lately.
Finally, they reached a door. The guard nodded and opened it.
"She's here, your…"
And then he started grasping at his throat. Aversa watched in fascination as he… well. She was quite familiar with dark magic, in all its beautiful forms. She'd seen men and women die in bliss and agony, blood pouring from their eyes or drifting off so gently that they seemed to only sleep. She'd seen so many die that they all blended together into a harmony of screams.
She hadn't seen anyone die quite like the man in front of her.
Aversa turned to look in the doorway. It almost felt odd how calm she was. Dying was for her lessers. She would be spared. She would live on in glory.
A figure in the darkness looked back at her. She could see her father next to it, broken, battered, and more than half dead. The figure's head tilted at her approach.
"Hello, sister."
Aversa stood still.
It wasn't fair. All these years, just to get out of Robin's shadow, and now here he was, stealing everything away in one moment. That little brat…
Not quite so little any more. Aversa had to admit it. He looked like one of the crowd of toy soldiers playing with that little prince. Aversa only saw the man from a distance, but the figure claiming to be her brother looked like his twin.
Aversa smiled. Well. That was simple enough. He was a Ylissean spy. The bold little killer in front of her was playing on her dear father's need for his absent son. He was here to complete some little vendetta of the Exalt's, kill all witnesses, and vanish into the night.
More courage than she expected from Naga's brood! She almost felt sorry for how badly he was going to die. Well. Better to have a dead spy than a living brother.
Aversa lifted her hands and clapped, a gesture borrowed from the pig on the throne.
"I'm flattered. If I was as much of a fool as your Ylissean friends, I might be convinced. But I saw you with the Exalt. You may know of him, but I'm sure my dear, sweet brother is long dead. At least you'll have that right soon enough."
The man claiming to be her brother smiled. He had far, far too many teeth.
"You still think I can die! I forgot how naive you were."
The smiled clicked away.
"You'll learn."
Aversa's smile was still in place, if a little less solid.
"Hardly a way to address your sister. I'm sure my brother would have more respect."
"Does a king respect the common dregs on the street? Would a wyvern respect a worm? A few little familiar ties, and you expect a god to fall to your level."
Aversa tried to keep her smile. The voice had a little more force behind it than she would expect of a Ylissean. And the talk of worms was well and good, but she'd hardly expect one of those simpering fools to the north to admit the truth like that. They may act on it, but they'd never admit it.
"Do you expect me to believe my darling baby brother would speak to me in that tone?"
Validar turned his head, slowly.
"He expects you to fall before our master."
Aversa's knees snapped into position. Spy or not, father said to respect the man. Whatever he really was, her father said she should kneel to him. She didn't really have a choice.
Robin, or whoever he really was, smiled again. All the rows of teeth flashed and slid in the back of his mouth, vanishing whenever you tried to count them.
"Good. At least the failures know their place."
He looked down, as if he was daring her to respond. Aversa said nothing. Her father wanted her silent. Her father had his Robin back. If Aversa failed him, if she wasn't a perfect daughter, it would be so easy to cast her aside, back into the refuse.
And Robin… something was wrong with his eyes.
Aversa always secretly thought she would rise to be greater than her brother, that whatever ambitions her father had for him would be nothing before her achievements. She was more holy, more in touch with the will of god. She was to be his right hand, after all.
But whenever she looked into the eyes of the man in front of her, Aversa couldn't imagine she was worthy of praise. Of devotion. Let alone of love.
Aversa was the high inquisitor of Plegia. Aversa was the consort of the king. Aversa was the chosen of the god of endings.
Compared to her brother, Aversa was nothing. And she never would be any better.
She was worthless. She was a failure. Why did she ever think that she meant anything? They'd all know soon enough. Then they would hate her, and…
"Wow. What smells so good?"
Sumia snapped out of her mope and turned to face the visitor.
"Oh, hello Morgan. I was just… having some trouble."
Morgan looked across the room to where Sumia had been wrestling with the evening's main course. Well, what would have been the main course, if she hadn't ruined everything.
Morgan's eyes bulged.
"Is that food?"
"Well, it was."
"And that's for us?"
Sumia slowly nodded. She was going to disappoint her granddaughter. And everything was going wrong, and she was going to lose everything.
On some level, on several levels, she knew it was ridiculous. She'd been queen of Ylisse for years now without major complaint. She had four daughters and a granddaughter, and none of them had talked about how she ruined their lives. Her husband had said he was the luckiest man in the world often enough that any outside observer would be fairly sure he meant it.
But the voice in her head was shouting all the same. Look at the young woman in front of you. Brilliant. Adorable. Successful at everything she tries, just like her mother. How could you have anything to do with that?
Sumia cleared her throat to drown out the voice.
"I was trying to make something nice…"
But now Morgan was going to say it looked more like animal food, or something left out for Risen.
Morgan opened her mouth and Sumia gritted her teeth. She wouldn't cry. Things were ruined enough without making them worse.
"And you did. I was about to say it seemed more like it was a meal for royalty and/or gods, but hey! That's us!"
"I'm just glad you like it."
Sumia smiled. Take that, voice! Did it have anything to say to that?
It didn't. And in the silence, a much more practical voice had room to ask questions.
"Morgan, I thought dinner wasn't for another hour."
"Oh, it isn't."
Morgan made the announcement casually. The question was answered, and as far as she was concerned there was no need for any followup. Sumia almost nodded.
Fortunately, years of experience stopped her.
"Then why are you here?"
"That's a very good question."
Sumia didn't say anything. After a second, Morgan tried to look away, then slumped.
"And that isn't a good enough answer, is it?"
"If you don't want to say anything, that's fine."
Morgan shook her head.
"I shouldn't get in the habit of lying to family, even by omission. I mean, I shouldn't do it more than I already do."
"When have you lied to us?"
Morgan smiled.
"As far as you know, never! Err… and I'd like to keep it that way. Have you been listening in on any of the arguments going on?"
"That's eavesdropping."
"I know, but you might have been too busy with something else to do it right."
Morgan was still smiling, and Sumia wondered again how the young woman in front of her was her granddaughter. This time, in a less positive light.
Sumia sighed. She really shouldn't judge like that, anyway. After all, she was lucky enough to be a grandmother while she was still young enough to enjoy it. She didn't deserve what she had, so it was ridiculous to ask for more.
"I was trying to make dinner for everyone."
"And succeeding. Which is way better than any of the rest of us are doing. Err… that needs more context, doesn't it?"
Sumia nodded.
"If it's not too much trouble…"
"Nope! It's only talking, and I've got a lot of experience at that. Unfortunately, it turns out I have less experience keeping the peace between mother, father, and aunt Aversa. I don't think anyone's going to murder anyone else for the next few minutes, but I thought it might be nice to have some help. You know, just to make sure."
Sumia looked back at the meat pie she'd been preparing. It probably wouldn't be much worse if she left it on its own for a few minutes. Still…
"Are you sure you want my help? I'm sure you and Lucina have things more under control than I could."
Morgan winced.
"Mother's… not in the best shape for this. And neither is grandpa."
"How are they feeling?"
Sumia tried to keep down a panic. Her daughter and her husband never mentioned when they were sick! They always thought they could just press through it, just because they thought she would worry. She knew this would happen, and right in the middle of the dinner that Robin had put so much effort into setting up. She didn't even bring a healing staff, and Lissa was off half a continent away, but maybe, if she could get to the stables without tripping...
Morgan interrupted her train of thought.
"Stabby."
"Oh."
"I know. We probably should do something. I can deal with mother if you can keep grandpa from doing anything he'll still feel really good about tomorrow."
"I don't think he'd ever want to…"
"You haven't heard what Aunt Aversa has been saying. This is one of those it takes at least a week to regret it kind of mistakes, at minimum. It's probably longer by now, so we really should hurry."
Sumia looked down at the pie. It could use time to cool…
"Great! Come on!"
Sumia looked up and noticed Morgan's arm locked around hers. She looked down at her feet. She noticed they were skimming along the ground.
At least she hadn't tripped yet.
"Alright…"
Morgan rushed into the next room with Sumia behind her.
"Ha! Boy, that was a great story about pegasuses, grandma! You really should tell everyone. Well, everyone except mother. It might be embarrassing if she was in the room."
"What?"
Morgan winked.
"Good thinking. I didn't hear any of it!"
Morgan let go of Sumia's arm and walked over to Lucina.
"I need some help judging the Tome Stackers finals anyway."
"Morgan, I thought…"
"I know. That's why the final round is book builders instead. Don't worry. I would never teach your younger self bad habits in the hopes I could slip them by you in the present. I know too much about how time travel works to try that again."
"Again?"
Lucina followed Morgan out of the room, and all eyes turned to Sumia. She'd had nightmares like this. Not as often recently, and she usually was back at flight training in her underwear, but everyone was looking at her just like that.
Robin took a step back.
"I'm sure it was a good story, but if you'd feel more comfortable not telling it…"
"Oh, no."
Sumia winced. She hadn't meant to say that. But it would be impolite to turn them down. Almost as impolite as dragging her into things in the first place.
"You see, um, a pegasus… I saw a pegasus that…"
Chrom took several steps closer to Sumia.
"Maybe you could tell me the story first?"
"That would be perfect!"
Chrom winked.
"And, if we did it in the kitchen, I might be able to make sure the pie came out alright."
"You'd do that?"
Chrom smiled.
"I married you for a first chance at your cooking. I'd certainly be willing to help you with this."
Sumia looked back at Robin and Aversa.
They wouldn't get into too much trouble on their own, would they?
After all, whatever else they were, they were family.
Aversa could almost see herself loving her brother in those days.
He was cruel, of course. Short tempered. Impatient. Murderous when given the slightest provocation.
In other words, he was delightfully human, especially for a god, and much better company than Gangrel. He taught her dark secrets of the world, and the hidden arts of the dead. In return, she brought him blood and helped arrange his return to glory. If things had been a little different, they could have been quite the happy family. Aversa allowed herself those little dreams from time to time.
Gangrel would seize the Fire Emblem from the Exalt's foolish corpse, or from her brother, or perhaps even from her pathetic little sister, wheezing out a last defiant breath. He'd bring it before all of Plegia, laughing his idiotic laugh, and talk of his grand plans for unity among nations.
Then Aversa would stab him in the ribs and watch the life drain from his body. It was amazing how naive the man was. How he seemed to trust her. He'd learn his mistake in the end. And not a second sooner.
Aversa would lift the Emblem, and tell the people their new truth. Their god walked among them, and they would be given the most perfect redemption they could dream of. They would be an offering, their blood to his blood, their flesh his flesh. The people would cheer for their redemption as they died, and Aversa would see her god reborn. She would sit as his right hand, father at his left, and they would watch this whole damned world burn.
Perhaps Grima would share his immortality. Aversa never had liked the idea of aging that well in the first place, and every day she liked it less.
That would be it, in the end. A perfect life and a long one, alongside the people she cared about. There was only one problem.
Rohin didn't love father. And that meant Aversa could never love him.
If he only hated her, that would be acceptable. Reasonable. Aversa was almost unworthy of what she had already, and a god would do well to resent the fact he could never find better. But Validar had raised her from the pit. Validar had spent his whole life helping Aversa and Robin achieve what they were meant to achieve. Validar was the greatest mortal man ever born.
And Robin hated to even look at him.
When he spoke to the man, it was terse and cutting. He took every opportunity to harm him, short of death.
At first, Aversa assumed it was simply the manner of gods to men. He needed them, so he would tolerate them until he was again strong enough to again roam the world without collapsing, but a god would treat even the best of the ranks of mankind like a man would treat a gnat, or like Aversa would treat any other human being. It was his right, and his duty. Everything made sense.
At first, everything made sense.
Then came the day Grima praised her. The day she chased off the prince's little army and dealt with the Exalt.
It wasn't much praise, not by anyone else's standards. A few words about how she played the part she was meant to play, in spite of that 'damned woman's meddling. A judgement of near-adequacy, nothing more.
But they were kinder words than Grima had ever given her father. Every day, he tormented the poor man. Mocked him. Cursed him. Cursed the heavens that he needed to use such a wretched little thing.
Father never minded, of course. Father knew his place at the knee of his god, and felt nothing but pride in his part to bring the end of all things. He bowed and scraped and smiled, smiled like he had before mother left.
Smiled when he was insulted. Smiled when his god spit in his face. Smiled when his god tore him in two only to restore him. He even felt proud of the insults. He told Aversa that Grima made him a representation for mankind. Out of all the evils in the world, he would be remembered.
Aversa tried to feel happy for him. But she knew better. It wasn't a god's righteous wrath against the fallen race of man. It was a son's hatred for his father. Even the greatest being in the world could be petty, letting a few old scars, a few dead allies, turn him against his most faithful servant.
She still served him, of course. She followed his words, helped him bring about all that was written, pledged to destroy his enemies. But Aversa never loved her god, because he never loved his father.
She loved him more than Gangrel, at least. The day the fool died was almost redeemed by that fact. So the Ylisseans won a victory. So the threads of fate were tangled so that it would take all her effort to bring everything back on track.
At least the laughing bastard was dead and gone.
Grima muttered and cursed after that, from the shadows. Cursed the short war, and the thousand plans that were now far off schedule, cursed Aversa for failing to grasp the Fire Emblem.
Of course, there was pain in those days. It was never in her best interests to displease father, but his wrath was nothing to the wrath of a god.
Pain and profit, as Grima pushed his pawns across the board. Gave them the throne. Gave them a place where they could have the most influence, best spread his will.
And where they would least interfere with Robin the younger, currently acting as Ylisse's little puppet, "until the time was right."
Father smiled at that. So proud that his fate was sealed, so happy to have every t crossed and every i dotted for his grand destiny. Aversa… Aversa was less satisfied.
"Afraid I'll break you, little brother? I thought a god would have more important things to worry about than a few frail mortals."
Father turned, and Aversa's blood turned to ice. She feared her god, of course, she was a good servant no matter how her mouth betrayed her. But she feared her father's hatred far more.
"Do not speak above your station! Grima gave us his will. Ours is to obey."
Aversa flinched as if she'd been hit. It took a moment to notice she hadn't. When she opened her eyes, she saw her father's arm in Grima's hand, and he was squeezing.
Father was looking in Grima's eyes, pleading.
"My Lord, I was moving to correct my…"
"You were going to strike my property. Do not act above your station."
Grima tilted his neck a few degrees further than it should have been able to move.
"And 'my'? Nothing is yours. Your life is mine. My blood flows in your veins, my soul animates your worthless flesh, and every second you survive is a second you would have perished, left to your own device."
Aversa flinched again, worse than before. Father had been correct. Father knew she had acted out, and only had her best interests at heart. But he suffered in her stead, because the god he loved, the god he sacrificed everything to resurrect, hated the only person who deserved his love.
The worst thing that could happen, had happened. Aversa had met with victory, and it was more bitter than any defeat. Aversa met the greatest good she could imagine, and it spit on everything that she called holy.
All that she could do was hate.
Fortunately, she was quite good at it.
Robin sighed.
It would be so much easier to deal with Aversa if he could hate her. Gods knew she deserved it.
Hate her, forget her, move on with life. He had family enough without her, after all. Mother, wife, daughter, and a very full set of in-laws, all worth the knowing.
But here he was, alone with the woman who had done as much to make his life a living hell in the past few years as anyone, and trying to make small talk.
"I heard that the King's Men are putting the finishing touches on a new play."
"Fascinating."
Trying and failing, if Aversa's expression was anything to go by. But Robin pressed on all the same. If he abandoned small talk, the conversation would get personal. And so far this evening, personal conversations brought out the knives, in a literal and metaphorical sense.
"It's about our battle with Grima. I've seen a few accounts of it before, and they've generally been at least mildly entertaining. You might like to see it."
"Of course you'd love it. More shameless ego stroking from the rabble you adore."
Robin managed to smile.
"Most of the entertainment has always been how much they get wrong. Once, they even revealed that I was Walhart's long younger brother."
"Did they?"
"Well, they had to explain my rightful claim to Valm somehow. And if I wasn't the heir to Valm, how in the name of all the gods could they expect the audience to believe my ability to command their wyverns with song?"
Gods mother hated that play.
Robin was glad that someone at least had the foresight to burn Morgan's copy of the playbill. Ylisse would not have survived another production. Especially not with her planned… "improvements."
Aversa smirked without an ounce of mirth.
"And how many of them drifted far enough to have me as anything other than the villain?"
Robin winced. He knew he'd forgotten something important. Nothing to do now but try to salvage what he could from the rubble.
"A few don't mention you at all. Most of the ones that do kill you off before the end. I've even seen you die with a little dignity in a production somewhere outside of Ferox."
"Of course. Do they cheer and wave flags?"
Robin tried to look apologetic.
Tried.
"Sometimes. If they care about you at all. Gangrel and Walhart's deaths are the crowd pleasers. Grima's fall is the grand finale. You have to fall in the middle, where there's less room for a reaction."
"Not even important enough to hate? I'm touched, brother. Bringing me here just for another twist of the knife. It's almost like having father back with us. I'm sure he'd be proud of you."
Robin looked down at his hand. The old birthmark was still gone. The scars left by his father's ribs were still there.
The bad memories of both were still as clear as the day they happened, and Robin knew they'd stay that way for a long, long time.
"I have my doubts."
"Oh, yes. I always forget. You're the sterling hero, so perfect that no-one would ever believe you were related to anyone in Plegia. I'm touched someone of your stature would dare descend to speak with a monster like me. Perhaps we can visit a shrine to your greatness. There are so many, after all."
"Are you trying to get someone to kill you?"
"What did you say, little man? Is this your idea of a joke? I'm sure even a depraved goddess like Naga has rules about killing a guest. Not that it ever stopped me."
Robin shook his head.
"I wasn't joking."
"Then get it over with. You killed father. I doubt one more relative would be much stain on a patricide's conscience, especially not a poor, adopted wretch without a drop of common blood in her veins."
Robin nodded.
"That would be easier for both of us, wouldn't it?"
Aversa smirked again.
"So much easier, and all it would cost you would be a little of your precious reputation."
She scowled.
"But I'm not even that important to you, am I?"
"If you're trying to make it sound like a joke, you're not doing a very good job. I expected better from someone claiming to have been a tactician."
Robin went halfway through a chuckle before it died in his throat.
"I thought things were going well. I know… your old life was gone, and that can't be easy. But I heard you'd carved out your own life. Your home looked well kept. A bit more modest than a palace, but much easier to maintain.
"You'd know."
Robin looked around the room. Books covered every surface, despite all his efforts to clean for guests. Well. Maybe not that easy to maintain.
He shrugged.
"I admit it didn't seem to be perfect, but a life like that isn't worth dying to protest."
Aversa's smirk returned with a trace of humor.
"And I was afraid that you were the brains of the family."
Robin winced. Of course. He should have seen it earlier. It didn't make him feel much better to know none of the other Shepherds would have guessed even this late.
But he'd guessed all the same. It was enough to work with for now.
"It can't be easy to pick up a conscience."
Aversa's mouth didn't say a word, but her eyes covered their place as perfectly as Robin could ask.
As if you knew my pain. As if the golden boy ever took a step out of line. As if I could ever be like you, even if I wanted to be.
As if there was anything you could say that would change anything..
For a while, for a long while, Robin agreed with the last point. But, like it or not, he had to say something.
"I could have been so much worse."
Aversa still didn't respond. As expected.
Robin looked down. No point in holding back.
"If it wasn't for Chrom, and mother, and Lucina, and gods only know how many others through the ears, I would have been. You knew Grima."
Aversa rolled her eyes.
"I know how your little friends talk about him. You're an 'innocent victim', nothing like…"
"I was in his head. I know what he was, and what I am, and we weren't nearly as far apart as I would like. I could have been what father wanted. And you were left with him, so it's not much of a surprise you were."
"Letting me off the hook? How generous."
Robin stared at Aversa.
"I didn't say that. I said there was a reason. I said I could have done what you did. I didn't say any of it was right. Every bit of guilt you feel, every night you spend shivering because you know you should be in the pit with Validar, you earned."
"Of course. How could I think you would ever let me forget?"
"You seem to remember well enough on your own. Gods, that's not the point. What matters is this. We can't take back what we did. You can't forget who you are, for good and ill. But you can try to be better."
Aversa frowned.
"Easy…"
"No. It's not. It's nowhere close to easy, not on any level. Dying? That's the easy way out. And I'm not letting you off with that if I have a choice. But in the end, it's worth the effort."
"Is that all? A few platitudes to make up for a ruined life in the service to a monster?"
"A few platitudes, being able to sleep soundly knowing the people around you won't stab you as soon as look at you, being able to pour out your soul without too much fear, a family that gives a damn about you, and a thousand more things I don't have time to mention. It's going to be the hardest thing you've ever done, but I think you can do it."
"And why do you think that?"
"Well, because Henry did it. Tharja did it."
"A few commoners…"
"Common? Really? Gods, now that's a terrifying thought. One of each is enough to give me nightmares already. But they're good people and good friends, despite everything. Even family, in Henry's case. If you marched up to Chrom today and told him about how sorry you were for what you did to... "
"He'd have my head on the mantle. You could see it in his eyes."
"But not in his hands. Actions count for something, don't they?"
Aversa didn't say anything for a few seconds. Then she sighed.
"When I die, little brother, the blood is on your hands."
"Then I'll just have to make sure you don't. In case you forgot, I'm a miracle worker."
Aversa smiled. Just a little. A faint tic of the lips. But for once, it looked sincere.
"Hmm."
"Welcome to the new family. Think of it this way. It can't go worse than last time."
In the end, Aversa only had one thing left. One thing the world hadn't taken from her.
She was at the bottom.
No matter what else happened, her life couldn't get worse.
It all started well enough. The Ylisseans stumbled right into the trap that she set, the table was prepared, and Grima had given her the greatest warriors to ever claw their way out of a shallow grave. She could see the end, and it was beautiful.
Then everything broke. Her brother broke her toys before leaving her bleeding in the desert. He killed father without a moment's hesitation. And then Grima left her to die to his friends without even looking back. He didn't need her. Didn't care for her, or father, or anyone else.
But even then, she had one advantage over her dear brother. She was right. He fought for his friends or his childish ideals, or something else that should have broken years ago. She fought for the man who saved her life and the rightful god of all life. She could have died almost happy with that. She almost did.
The gods denied her that. Grima's most faithful servant was denied the most simple pleasure, something he'd granted so many before her with much less cause. She had to live to see that everything she lived for was a lie, everything she did was for nothing, and everyone she loved hated her, and always had.
And the worthless fool father had always favored over her took pity on her.
Her god died, of course. What else could it do? Even gods weren't immune to whatever fate had decided that Aversa must suffer. She scratched and fought as much as she could, cursed her destiny. Tried to die.
Tried very hard to die, at times.
She scratched and fought as much as she could, of course. She cursed her destiny. Tried to die.
Tried very hard to die, at times.
It didn't work. Cowardice stayed her hand, and Robin's damn weakness (or as he insisted she call it, 'compassion') kept back the hands of his friends.
She left them. Would have fled if they let her. But when Robin died killing Grima (of course her god died. Not even the gods were immune to the fates pursuing her.), his friends insisted on more of his damned pity. Found a place for her, talked about the first family she lost as if she even remembered them, let alone cared.
They acted like she was a common human being, and didn't even realize how much they insulted her every time.
Time passed, and all the dead Aversa thought buried or (better still) under her command came before her every night. Every cruelty performed for god, country, and above all her wonderful father was forced into the light, mocking her for being such a fool as to believe she had an excuse.
The neighbors kept their distance. Fear was as likely as hatred. Neither mattered. Oh, she encouraged both as much as she could, but they didn't matter. She never gave them a chance to get close. She'd been hurt too much for anything else. Time passed. Aversa kept living, and the world kept turning.
And one day, out of nowhere, a messenger found her. Told her that her brother wished to see her.
She almost killed the man in shock, but she didn't need another ghost.
It was almost certainly a trap. Or a lie. Or…
But it might be her death. Aversa could at least hope for that.
And if it didn't end her life, well, who knew? It might even make it worth saving.
(Author's notes: Been a while, I admit. But I promised something longer last time, and here we are. Hope it didn't disappoint too much.
It's now been more than a year and more than 200,000 words since this started, and I can't say I expected to still be going to either milestone. I doubt I would have without your support. I mean, it's sappy and everything, but it's true. I'm especially grateful for the reviews. Not meaning to insult anyone in particular, but it was a surprise how many reviews I've gotten actually have, you know, a review to them. Actual commentary on what worked and (honest, I appreciate this a lot) what didn't. Seriously, thanks.
Moving back to the chapter at hand, I have to admit, I really don't like Aversa that much.
As a villain, she's fine, but when she joins your party, she costs Validar the one tiny bit of depth he had (and he needed every bit he could scrounge) and gets a sob story... then resumes being just as horrible a person as she was on the enemy side, only with less murder. Err... not counting people in the outrealms, I mean. Or Einherjar. Or streetpass battles...
Let's move on.
What I'm getting at is that every other villain in spotpass expresses their regret at what they did on some level. Aversa doesn't. She's awful enough to disgust Gangrel, which is saying something.
But, you know, she's sort of kind of almost from a certain point of view family for Robin, and I figured there might be something there. I only hope that I was right on that count.
So, that was the latest update. Hope you like it, thanks for reading, remember to tip your waiter, and so on. )