A/N: I may have gotten a little sidetracked. No excuses though, I said I'd finish it and I will. For however many of you are still reading, please enjoy.

Chapter Fifteen: The Tide Turns

The walls of the Valmese capital were finally within view, if only as a distant monolith on the horizon. Between where I was standing and there were leagues of flatland, with a number of forts built closer to Walhart's castle. It was the only viable way to approach our target, but engaging an enemy with numerical superiority on open terrain wasn't an easy prospect.

It was early in the morning still, the Ylissean League having reached this spot last night and set up camp to prepare for the imminent battle. The march north had afforded us time to rest, and I had witnessed as the resolve of our army had hardened with each day. We had lost many men in our clashes with the Valmese, but even against an enemy with overwhelming advantages we had taken command of the war. Each and every soldier was determined that the lives lost wouldn't be in vain.

The hour was far too late for clever maneuvering or diplomacy. There would be no retreat for either side. The die was cast, for good or ill. I still believed in our inevitable triumph despite the setbacks; after all, in my time my father and his companions had won this war without me or the others who had come back. There was no reason for that to change.

Nevertheless, that was no cause to relax. If anything, I was more on guard now than ever before. If it was Destin's fate to fall before the end, the opportunities for such a thing were dwindling. It had to be soon, and I was going to stop it.

I turned and walked back into the command tent. Destin and Flavia were already there, and Chrom would be soon. The East Khan had handled Basilio's death admirably well, though she still looked around sometimes as though expecting to see the man standing behind her. Unfortunately, Say'ri seemed to be having a harder time with the guilt she felt over what had happened to Yen'fay. I could only hope that she would find some peace once we'd taken down Walhart and brought about the freedom they'd both wanted.

We didn't wait long before my father arrived, looking both resigned and determined. Little doubt he had hoped for another way; I think all of us had had our fill of death, but Walhart had left us but one path forward.

"I've had word from the pegasus knights we had scouting behind us," he said as he took his usual place at the table beside Destin. "It seems the dynasts' armies have regathered and followed us north."

That was an unpleasant surprise. With everything on the line, would they seek to do the same thing they had at Steiger and attack us to curry favor with Walhart? Our situation was bad enough without them striking us from behind.

"It's not as if we can do anything about it," Destin muttered. "We have to commit all of our forces if we want to win. No reserves, no rear guard. We need to end this now."

"And we will. One way or another." Flavia had definitely regained some of her old humor, even if it was a tad fatalistic for my taste. "Our field of battle lays before us, and all that remains is to give it our all and hope we win."

"So what's your evaluation?" Chrom asked Destin.

"Most of the area is wide open plains that give the advantage to the Valmese," Destin began, tracing his finger idly over the map. "But they've erected forts on either side. We'll advance as one up the west flank and take them as they come. Our objective is to reach the capital. The Valmese aren't big on complicated tactics; they'll charge en masse the moment they see an opportunity."

"Still, it's going to be tough, isn't it?" Flavia asked. "Outnumbered as badly as we are, and against a powerful cavalry force…"

"Yes, but we really don't have any other choice," the tactician replied. "Clever tricks and maneuvers can only get you so far in an ordered battle. As long as we have the forts to put our backs to we should be able to weather their charges. I've arranged with Anna to have special lances distributed among the troops that are designed to take down mounted enemies. It cost us, but the coin won't do us much good if we lose."

"Take down mounted enemies? You mean they're designed to kill the horses?" My father said. Destin nodded, and Chrom shifted uncomfortably. "Sumia's not going to like that."

Destin shrugged. "I've already had an earful from Sully about how it's not right to target the animals, and I'm sure I'll get more before today's done. What can I say? War is never an easy thing, and this one's more difficult than most. We do what we have to in order to win."

I don't think any of us liked the truth of that, myself least of all. Yet wasn't I the one who'd once told myself that I needed to be prepared to do anything to achieve my objective of a changed future? This was merely the same principle applied to a group rather than an individual. It didn't mean that I had to enjoy it, though.

"This whole thing puts a bad taste in my mouth," Chrom muttered, shaking his head. "The end of the world is coming and here we are slaughtering each other. But it was this or eventually be conquered for some madman's vain ambition. Curse that man." He sighed heavily. "I suppose we'd better get to it."

I was halfway to the door behind my father when I realized that Destin hadn't moved. He was still standing at the table looking down at the map, although I knew he wasn't really looking at it at all.

"Destin? Is something wrong?" I asked.

"Hmm?" He looked up, clearly surprised to find me still there. "Ah… Lucina. No, it's nothing. I'm just a little distracted this morning."

"Is that so?" I tilted my head to the side, examining him. He seemed almost nervous about something, which might be a normal reaction before an important battle – except that he'd never shown anything like it before. "You know I trust you, right Destin? And I'd like to think you trust me in turn. When I said I'd be there for you if you needed me, I meant it. We both have this problem of trying to do everything by ourselves, keeping our feelings so close to our chests that nobody knows that we're really not fine at all. If there's something on your mind, please don't be afraid to tell me about it."

His eyes widened slightly. I'd been meaning to say something like this to him for days, though this admittedly might not have been the best time to talk about it. I already knew quite well that it was my problem, even if there was a good reason for it. Both of us needed to open up more.

"It's really not that important," Destin said, turning his gaze back down. "Just… be careful out there, okay? I know you wouldn't thank me for keeping you away from the front, and that you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. I just… worry sometimes. This isn't our final battle; we still have Validar and the Grimleal to deal with even after we're done here. Our chances of succeeding and changing history are much better with you around. You and all those who came back with you are like symbols, you know? Your very presence in this time is a change, and it means that more changes are possible. So…" He subsided, looking rather embarrassed. I imagine he thought he was rambling, but it made perfect sense to me.

I took a quick two steps that placed me directly behind him, and then on sudden impulse, reached forward and wrapped my arms around him, pressing myself against his back. I couldn't have even said why I did it, save the obvious answer. It felt disturbingly nice.

"For you… I will," I murmured softly. "You be careful as well, Destin. Symbols are important, of course, but I think our strategist surviving is just as crucial. Neither of us can afford to die here, so I guess we'll just have to protect each other."

He reached up with one hand took one of mine, gently squeezing it. I swallowed hard, desperately glad that he couldn't see my face at that exact moment. "Yeah. I guess we will," he said.

I hesitate to say that it was a good thing that we had somewhere to be, but at the same time there's no telling how long we might've stood there like that otherwise. There was an enemy to be defeated and a continent to be liberated. We got a few funny looks from some of the other Shepherds when we finally caught up, but thankfully nothing more. Our focus needed to be on the battle ahead.

All that remained of our army assembled into formation and began marching forward. Normally, prudence would dictate leaving behind a portion of our force to defend the supply train and noncombatants; we didn't have that luxury. Destin had been quite certain that the Valmese wouldn't strike the rear, given Walhart's predilections and obsession with strength. I could only hope he was right.

Spread out across the plains were Walhart's army. Ranks of cavalry stood as though they were statues rather than living men. Undoubtedly the Conqueror himself was somewhere among them. He wouldn't risk missing out on this fight.

As we marched, I emptied my mind of all the thoughts and worries that normally filled it and focused myself on the imminent battle. I'd become increasingly certain that Destin had died this very day in my own timeline, and only my intervention could stop it from happening this time as well. Though it would appear that this war's outcome was far from certain, I knew quite well that the Ylissean League had won this battle in my future. I had to believe that it would happen here as well, and focus on changing the things that could be changed.

Our formation, though placing all of our forces in one solid mass, was divided into a number of individual squares with archers and spellcasters at their center. I was on the outside of one such group, with several other Shepherds scattered throughout the line. I'd been offered one of the lances Destin had mentioned at the war council, but in the end I'd chosen to stick with Falchion. It might be stubborn and close-minded of me to use only one weapon when circumstances would dictate the use of another, but it had seen me through countless trials.

A handful of the Valmese wyvern riders had separated from their own groups and attempted to chase down our own Pegasus Knights. They were promptly blasted from the sky by wind magic for their stupidity. Each foe that threw themselves forward now was one less we'd have to face later, but I rather doubted they'd continue to oblige us.

Several groups of enemy cavalry had already begun to mass just out of spell range as though preparing to charge. But it seemed to me that they had already missed their best opportunity. We would reach the first line of Valmese forts and put them to use before the enemy charged, giving us a distinct advantage. If Walhart had simply charged us off the bat with everything he had, we would've been hard pressed to survive. But the Conqueror had elected instead to simply wait for us. His men would reap the result of his failure to act.

We'd barely taken over the forts before three large groups of cavalry charged us, spaced evenly apart. I didn't have a very good view, given that my square was on the inside of the formation, but there was no mistaking that torrent of sound for anything else.

Admittedly, I'd never had to stand against such a charge before. Risen only rarely used horses, and the Plegians and Valmese we'd fought thus far had employed mounted units sparingly. The shock that went through the entire formation as the Valmese cavalry struck our lines was alien to me; it was as though the very earth had just shifted beneath our feet. The air filled at once with the sounds of battle, clashes of steel and the screams of the dying echoing all around me.

Gaps had been deliberately left between our squares large enough for a horse to ride through, based on the idea that the horses wouldn't charge directly into our lines unless they had no choice. They found no salvation in the narrow aisles, as any rider who entered was brought down in short order. To my regret, their mounts went down as well. I knew I couldn't let the deaths of so many innocent animals shake me, but it was still a tragic waste.

Within minutes the first onslaught was over, the field beneath us slick with blood. So many lives had been lost in such a short time... it was hard for me to imagine. It brought back unpleasant memories of watching the Valmese invasion fleet burn.

The next hour proceeded in a similar manner. We advanced up the west side of the field according to plan, halting each time we had to face a charge. With the outside squares of the formation facing heavy casualties, they rotated with those further in so that we'd always present a strong line to the enemy. Again and again they hammered against us, determined to flatten us with sheer overwhelming power.

They didn't succeed. As the day progressed and thousands of men and women died, we stood firm. At last, we maneuvered within striking range of where Walhart himself waited with his elite guard at the front gate of the capital. We had only to weather one final charge before we could begin to advance on him. Our formation wasn't as strong as it had once been, and in this engagement the cracks began to show.

A blast of horns brought my head around in surprise. It could only mean one thing - that Walhart was charging now, while we were still occupied with the previous attack. Our lines weren't ready for what they were about to face. I heard Destin's voice, shouting to be heard above the din, rallying the troops to regroup and prepare for the imminent charge. Some were able to follow his orders, others either didn't hear him or were too busy. The Conqueror's charge ripped through our makeshift line, riders storming past the front into the interior.

All semblance of organization had been lost. They had broken our ranks, and now the battle had devolved into chaos. I dispatched several enemies in short order, but there always seemed to be more. I had no time to think, no time to do anything but fight desperately. I looked up, realizing that yet another opponent had approached.

Crimson armored, his helm featuring protruding horns that made him look more like a demon out of legend than a man. The axe he carried would be two-handed for anyone else, yet he managed it in only one. More than anything it was his force of presence that gave me pause; it was as though he radiated sheer strength and conviction. Flavia had been right - seeing Walhart the Conqueror up close for the first time was an experience.

I had little time to appreciate that, though, as his next swing narrowly missed decapitating me. I rolled to one side and threw up Falchion in anticipation of the following strike, and nearly had it knocked out of my hands for my trouble. The force behind his blows was unlike anything I'd ever felt before, even greater than my father's. How could he swing that hard while on horseback?

Gathering myself, I ducked under Walhart's next attack and slashed at the wrist carrying his axe. If I could disarm him, he would be much easier to deal with. Perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised that my blade rang off his armored forearm without making a dent. Clearly, that was no ordinary steel he was wearing. I barely twisted around his backswing, leaping back out of his range for the moment.

Conventional fighting wasn't working. I doubted I could wound him meaningfully through that armor, and the only place that was exposed was his face. The odds of me being able to strike at his face were rather low, given his mounted position.

But I wasn't alone. I had to remember that I was part of a team, and trust in my comrades to do their part. Perhaps I couldn't defeat Walhart, but I could certainly stall him. Firmly thrusting out of my mind recollections of what had happened to other people who had tried to stall the Conqueror, I readied myself to face him again.

Unfortunately, it seemed he had guessed my intent. Walhart pushed forward aggressively, nearly running me over with his next charge. I managed to dodge his axe, but his gauntleted hand crashed into my chest, knocking me flat on my back. Rolling to one side narrowly saved me from being crushed by his horse's hooves. A desperate parry stopped his attack, but he was still pushing down on the edge of Falchion with all of his strength. My arms were quickly giving away against his ridiculous power.

All at once the crushing pressure faded. There was a commotion above, though I couldn't really make out what was going on. I'd nearly blacked out from trying to hold Walhart off, and still felt dizzy. Climbing to my feet, I found myself surrounded by friends. Lissa took a moment to heal me, clearing my head.

"...So you're good for something after all. Who knew?" Sully was saying, elbowing Virion in the ribs.

"I'll have you know that was the least of my abilities!" The nobleman replied indignantly.

"It was a damn good shot, but ol' teach could do even better! Here, give me that..."

It didn't take long to figure out what had happened. Virion had taken advantage of Walhart's stationary position and nailed him with an arrow in the cheek. It hadn't killed him, but he'd swiftly retreated inside his castle. A wound like that could easily become infected and turn fatal if not healed, and Walhart had been pretty well alone by that point. Only the last remnants of his guard giving up their lives had allowed him to escape. But his survival meant that the battle wasn't over yet.

I saw the weariness I felt mirrored in the faces around me. Would we have enough left in us to storm the castle? A difficult question.

A distant sound from behind captured my attention. All present turned to realize that we weren't alone. The entire ridgeline we had descended earlier in the day was lined thickly with soldiers. The banners flapping above them left no doubts - this was the army of the southern dynasts, come at last. Why would they come now of all times? I thought, confused. If their intention had been to attack our rear while we were occupied with Walhart, they'd missed their chance.

But even then, if they came at us now I didn't know that we'd be able to stop them. A quick sortie from the castle by Walhart's remaining men would seal our fate.

A new sound grew from the distant army, small at first but gaining in intensity with each passing moment. Wordless, but no less powerful. In only seconds it had swelled to a roar, washing over us like a tide.

They were cheering.