Severa's first memory of betrayal came when she was sixteen.
Stood atop a hill Severa surveyed the terrain. Rolling fields of green extended out in front of her, bathed in the midday sun. Her command post was a small thing, a single tent with a wooden table sporting a large map outside. Crudely carved figurines dotted the table, the units at her command.
She looked over uncomfortably at the man stood beside her. Stahl was easygoing, his olive-coloured hair looked like it had never seen a comb in his life. But she could see from the polish on his viridian plate armour that he took care of important things. He'd volunteered for the odd assignment of being sergeant for a teenager with no military experience and comfortably deferred to her as if they'd been comrades for years.
It felt strange, she had no right to command a man who was a veteran of two wars and twenty years her elder at least, but Stahl himself had assured her that he had no problem with the arrangement.
"The soldiers are tired of Robin beating every other commander up and down the battlefield. Some have even started trading for the right to be on his side," he'd explained. "If you're half as good as he says you'll be a breath of fresh air."
She'd tried not to smile at that.
Not once in hundreds of games had she beaten her father.
But decisive losses had become minor, routs had given way to strategic defeats. On one occasion she'd managed to force a draw as the dice had favoured her.
The grin from her father at that tie was as much of a reward as she'd needed. The praise for her execution and cunning, the icing on the cake.
Throwing herself into the games was the only way to keep the sadness, the void at bay. Thoughts of that day sat at the edge of her consciousness, spectres searching for a crack to break in and consume her.
Every second spent studying a game was a second where she didn't have to remember, moments spent in the now rather than in the past.
She'd not realised that they would lead to this.
A real war game where she had the command, expert troops who were willing to listen to her despite her youth.
It was a small, but elite crew. They didn't have the whole Ylissean army at their disposal but the tactician had managed to convince around two hundred soldiers that their weekend would be well spent on this activity. Severa suspected that a request from her father was heard as a command from the Exalt.
They were still playing to scale. A squad of ten pikemen here represented a battalion of a thousand in the game. But it was still scale enough to be daunting.
She'd considered copying her father's robes today, in part to bolster her own confidence but also to encourage the idea that she was qualified, but instead she'd opted for the familiarity of her breeches and tan tunic, choosing for comfort when making decisions that could alter the tide of battle.
The young tactician examined her group, six squads of infantry, two of light cavalry, a few heavy cavaliers and even a squad of mages were at her disposal. Among the light cavalry was Stahl's daughter, a tomboyish girl of Severa's age called Kjelle.
With cropped dark hair and a spear she clearly knew how to wield, the cavalryman had wasted no time in seeking out her commanding officer.
"My father says you're a genius," she'd opened as Severa was poring over the maps at her table.
"I'm sure he does and I'm sure he'd also tell you to stop bothering me and go back to your unit," Severa had responded as she annotated a potential ambush location.
Her reply earned a snort, "If dad could order me around that easily I wouldn't be here."
"Then perhaps you should start listening to him and go back to your unit," Severa had countered.
That had brought a laugh, "I don't listen to people I don't respect and I don't respect people who aren't stronger than me."
"In the time it took you to draw your weapon I could cut your throat open three times. And if you ever disrespect my sergeant while you are under my command, I'll have you tied to a pegasus and thrown off a cliff."
Kjelle had paused at that. Probably at the rather odd defense Severa had made of the young soldier's own father.
"I like you," the cavalier had finally responded. "We should spar. I'd like to see you try to cut my throat."
That had earned a grin from the redhead in return.
Stahl regained her attention with a hand to her shoulder, pointing out the first of her scouts returning.
Three pegasus knights had been assigned to each army. Whilst technically they similarly represented a troop Severa had split them apart immediately and given strict orders not to engage.
Pegasus knights were very powerful shock troops, possibly Ylisse's most elite unit, the impact of their charges, enhanced by gravity, were devastating. But even lacking practical experience as she did, Severa saw their true value.
Information was the lifeblood of an army, the faster she saw enemy movements, the faster her orders were relayed to her soldiers, the better they'd perform. Information was the key to speed and speed was the key to victory.
And flight was the key to everything. From the air a pegasus knight could see in minutes what might take a scout on the ground hours to report. They could take orders to a unit at a critical time, changing a response from sluggish to lightning fast.
Each of her knights was worth more than half her footsoldiers and that's why any commander worth their salt prioritised trying to bring them down, archers and sometimes even wind mages at the ready to take away that crucial advantage.
Her father was brilliant and had more experience with pegasus knights in the field than any commander living. He'd married one after all. He knew their value and knew every trick to bring them down, which is why Severa had been so clear that hers were not to go anywhere near enemies that they saw.
The girl who smoothly landed in front of them had seemed rather irritated by that. Grey-brown hair bunched into pigtails spilling in the wind, wing commander Sumia's daughter didn't want to be reporting on heroic deeds when she could be performing them.
As she dismounted, the bubbly girl almost got her tunic caught on the saddle but managed to free it in the nick of time. The blue and white of her tunic and amour suited her, the uniform of the pegasus knights, a comfortable fit. Cynthia briefly checked on her mount before walking briskly to the command post, pulling out notes that had been stuffed down the neck of her armour.
"It's as you said Sev..uhh commander," she corrected, "the enemy is advancing, they're trying to make for Lottem Point.
Severa nodded, pointedly ignoring the slip, it's what she would have done as well. The move would be more of a push from his deployment zone, but whoever could claim the Point would have a decisive advantage, with the slopes of the hill conferring a better firing position for archers and the river Norlia covering the Eastern flank.
Her own approach would have to be swift but careful. The Point conferred a benefit if you reached the top, but the climb would be tiring and simply circling the hill and charging the enemy command post was always an option.
"What did you make of Eala Ridge, here?" Severa asked, pointing to a small cliff that overlooked Western flank, "would we be able to get our forces up there?"
Cynthia examined her notes briefly before nodding, "It's impossible to get up or down if you were to travel in a straight line between it and Lottem Point, but starting from here, it would simple enough to walk up the Ridge as it forms."
Excellent. Everything was as expected, "Stahl, get a message to squad six, I want archers on that Ridge. If they catch a whiff of infantry coming to attack them, they're to retreat, but otherwise, nothing gets through Falcon Pass without the business end of their arrows."
Her sergeant nodded at her request, quickly summoning the messengers to relay the orders.
"Good, I want cavalry squad one riding to the Pass as well, with luck they'll be fast enough to disrupt the enemy's climb and if father has predicted that they'll be able to fall back under the cover of the archers on the ridge."
Falcon Pass, which lay between the Ridge and the Point would be a key battleground. Perhaps the key to the whole battle.
Severa could see it.
The remainder of her forces would be split, four of her remaining infantry squads and the heavy cavalry would be committed to the Point, with a squad of infantry, light cavalry and her mages held in reserve. The mages would be particularly important, they were vulnerable, but deployed correctly, they could turn a battle on their own.
She'd seek to use them to nullify her father's own mages and then use what remained to her advantage down the line.
A glance back at Cynthia showed that the girl was raring to go. It always felt odd thinking of someone her own age as a girl, but the excitement in the brunette's eyes gave that impression.
"Cynthia, back on your pegasus as quickly as possible, I need troop movements and remember, no matter what,"
"Do not engage," Cynthia completed with a roll of her eyes. "What's the point in all my training if I never fight anything! I never heard of any hero that scouted the enemy and returned without a charge!"
Severa sighed, exasperated, "A single knight charging can kill two or three enemies, maybe a few more if they're skilled. A scout like you can save entire squadrons just by quickly and accurately reporting where they are."
Cynthia frowned as her commander continued, "Who's more heroic, the soldier who kills five people or the one who follows their orders and saves their friends?"
That made the frown deepen, "The second, I guess," the brunette replied tentatively.
"You're that hero Cynthia, you will be that hero. But you need to learn how first. Lances, riding, they can all be taught in the practice yard. There are precious few opportunities to really understand how to scout and predict enemy movement. Don't waste this chance."
"Do you mean it?" her scout asked quietly?
"Mean what?"
"That I can be a hero?"
Severa smiled easily, "Yes Cynthia, but a real hero does what's right, even if it's hard. Even if it's not fun." The same words had come from her mother's mouth at bedtime. The amazing men and women she spoke about did what was right, even if it cost them.
Her soldier nodded, steeling herself, "I'll make you proud Severa."
"I know, now hurry."
That was all she needed for Cynthia to rush back to her mount and take off into the air.
That girl had good material. She needed refining, but Severa could already see from her enthusiasm and attention to detail that she was special. It was the same passionate charisma that Morgan and Owain had, bound in the shell of someone who truly wanted to help others.
Severa watched as the pegasus began to fade into a spec on the horizon, her soldiers moving out in their carefully organised divisions.
It was peaceful, calming in a way to see the order she had created.
Now all she could do was wait.
Things were going badly.
The pegasus knight continued her report but Severa could already tell where the pieces were placed.
Her cavalry had been rebuffed and had retreated through Falcon Pass. They were alive only because the archers she'd positioned had managed to heroically stall her father's counterstroke and had given a hiding to any advances aimed at that passage since.
The battle atop Lottem Point was teetering on the edge of disaster. Her choice to commit to an attack through the Pass and cover it with archers had allowed for her troops to reach the summit first. But exhausted as they were, they couldn't take advantage before her father's superior force attacked. As things stood, she was holding by a thread.
"Wait. Say that again," she interrupted.
"Enemy mages were spotted on the banks of the River, commander," the knight repeated without hesitation.
The trainee tactician frowned slightly. That didn't make sense. Why would they attack from the Eastern side of the point? That might have made sense for infantry, but mages?
"You're sure about this report?"
"Yes commander."
Severa placed the token on her map. The enemy was committing an infantry unit to the Pass, combined with the mages on the riverbank, it made a little sense. Perhaps her father was willing to risk the infantry to enable them to encircle her forces. Perhaps the mages were positioned knowing she'd have to commit her troops on the point to a defense there.
But there was a weakness.
"We're committing the reserves, Stahl, messages to the remaining squads. The second cavalry is to intercept the mages on the bank, our mages get to Lottem point as quickly as possible with the remainder of the infantry."
Stahl nodded, quickly getting word out to various messengers who took horses and ran.
"Lia, fly back to the archers on the ridge and tell them to hold no matter what."
The knight executed a quick bow before remounting.
If her reserves let the point hold, if her cavalry intercepted the mages, if her archers hurt the infantry in the pass.
If every dice landed right.
She had a chance.
"What do you mean mages?" she shouted at Cynthia.
"I told you your map's wrong, the infantry in the pass are mages!" Cynthia yelled back.
The only things that kept Severa's hands from shaking was that they were clutching the table in front of her.
"That can't be possible!"
"I saw the fire myself! The archers were ready to shoot but the entire unit got covered in flame!"
"Then what the hell are the mages on the Eastern flank?"
"Infantry!"
This couldn't be happening. Her scouts had been explicit, they were experienced soldiers, they'd never make a mistake like that.
Which meant..
She'd misheard. She'd failed again. She wasn't good enough. She'd lost the battle. She'd lost the princess. She..
A hand gently clutched her shoulder. Stahl's voice.
"You didn't have the correct information. This wasn't your fault."
She looked up at the man with that messy hair. It was genuine. She could breathe.
Air entered her lungs.
The defeated commander sat down before putting her feet up on the map, to Stahl's amusement and Cynthia's horror.
"Sever..commander what are you doing?"
Severa smiled. "With our archers on the Ridge routed and our forces on the Point pinned, I expect checkmate to be coming in the next half hour."
Checkmate came with the sound of hoofbeats.
"Well, well, look at what we have here," the lead cavalryman spoke up. "The enemy commander looking like she's expecting us and what's this?" She dismounted, striding over to Stahl and grabbing his face by the chin. "What a handsome sergeant, I think I'll have him as my concubine," she said, bursting into an earthy laugh. "If the men of this camp are as pretty as you, I'll be spoiled for choice."
Stahl smirked, "None as handsome as me unfortunately and I suspect that if I'm taken, you'll only have need for one concubine."
Red hair bounced with Sully's belly laugh before she leaned in to give her husband a kiss. Her crimson armour still gleamed; she'd clearly been in reserve for most of the battle.
Breaking the embrace, the cavalier turned to Severa. "That was well fought commander, there are lieutenants in the army that didn't last anywhere near as long." The deference even from an 'enemy' was a little jarring, but Severa appreciated the sentiment at the very least.
"Thank you very much Lady Soiree," Severa responded with a bow, "I assume my father will be over shortly?"
"None of that title business Severa," Sully corrected. "With the way you took charge today you've earned the right to call me by name. Our Kjelle could do a lot to learn from you, that oaf is always thinking with her muscles."
The trainee commander had the decency to look away even though she enjoyed the boorish cavalier being brought down a peg.
"Your father will be along shortly; I suspect he wants to make sure everyone disengages cleanly," she continued offhandedly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to have my way with your sergeant."
"Concubine!" Sully shouted as if he wasn't a single pace from her, "Come!"
They walked away, carrying with them the sounds of laughter.
Moonlight beat her wings as the evening air swept past them, pleasantly cool on what had otherwise been a warm day.
The midnight black pegasus was Severa's favourite. Most guests made over Dawnbreak, the dazzling white mare her mother most frequently used in battle, but the dark mount had quickly become the young knight's preferred choice. Where Dawnbreak gave the air of knowing how valued she was, Moonlight always seemed to want to work hard, to prove she was just as good.
As her steed calmly floated through the sky, over rolling hills of green punctuated with the yellow of wheat ready for harvest, she felt her father adjust his position behind her. He was a strong rider himself; his wife had insisted that he learn when they were first going out, but he preferred to leave the task of flying to his daughters when possible. Typically, he claimed, he was better placed firing spells from the back of a pegasus rather than actively trying to handle the mount.
It suited Severa, the slight movements of her knees were enough to focus on. Better than having nothing to do but think, remember.
"How did you do it?" she found herself asking.
"Do what?" he replied, although her intent was clear.
"My scouts, they reported that your mages were near the river and that infantry were approaching my archers on the Ridge," it still baffled her even now.
She could feel his stare into her back, "You made excellent use of the Pegasus knights you were given. My own noticed them immediately."
Her hands played with Moonlight's reins a little, "You knew I'd see their value though."
"I counted on it. The 'mages' you saw were my pikemen wearing hats, the infantry, my mages equipped with half the pikemen's spears."
Severa couldn't help but laugh. That was devious.
"Creativity. Use everything you're given, even how talented you know your enemy is." She felt her face heat even as he said the words.
The knight couldn't tell whether her father had changed. If perhaps, he'd always been this way and she'd been too scared to see it.
"You did yourself proud today my daughter. You pushed me to that trick with your prowess. Next time I'll need to be twice as good."
Perhaps it was something else, someone had talked to him maybe.
"There's going to be a next time?" she questioned.
"Of course. Your sister will get her turn first, but the soldiers were quite taken with you."
Ah.
She tried not to let the disappointment cloud her tone, "I'll be excited for it then. You won't beat me next time."
Where she had impressed Morgan would dazzle.
She was good.
But she wasn't enough.
"I think this is the first time I've seen you smile in months," Morgan said. She sat on her bedroom chair as Severa examined herself in the mirror.
Morgan's room was similar to hers, a small box of wooden walls punctuated with a few furnishings. Her desk, a deep blue, stood out less that Severa's but her bed covers woven with colourful unicorns made up for the difference.
In a lucky twist of fate for the younger girl she'd won the toss to determine where the only full-length standing mirror in the house would live. It was generally a privilege that Morgan enjoyed but sometimes it meant that her room would be invaded by her mother or sister when they were looking to try on new clothes.
Their father hadn't changed his style in years. So, at the very least, the feathery haired girl was spared that intrusion.
"It was fun," she replied as she examined her tunic. There was a hole in the right sleeve that would need mending, "All the soldiers were really kind to me."
"I know how hard it's been, having to see her almost every day," the younger sister ventured.
"We've been over this Morgan. I wasn't good enough for her so she cut me loose. That's all there is to it."
Morgan shook her head in disagreement, "That doesn't make sense! She really liked you! Anyone could see that! You aren't telling me everything!"
The older girl sighed, they'd been through this, "She said that she had to marry for Ylisse and that meant she couldn't be with me. Even though I'm the heiress of the most prominent noble House in the country." She turned, staring her sister directly in the eye, "That means I was not good enough."
Morgan frowned, "I'm going to ask about it."
"Don't you dare!"
Morgan looked abashed at the response, "Fine. It's just," she hesitated. "Nobody works as hard as you do and she obviously cared for you. It just doesn't sit well."
Severa left the obvious unsaid. Working hard wasn't the same as being good enough. It was just a step towards it. Her sister couldn't understand precisely because she was always perfect.
"Anyway, how are things going with you and a certain prince?" the older girl asked, trying to pivot away from the topic.
It was time for Morgan to concede a rare blush as she struggled not to look embarrassed. "Owain's nice. We get along," the snowy haired girl paused, wringing her hands, "I like him."
Severa rolled her eyes, "Of course you like him, he's just about the only person in the world who can keep up with you! I'm asking if anything's happened."
Her sister shook her head, "No. I really don't want to mess this up and when I'm with him we just get caught up in the moment. I get frazzled too easily."
Well, at the very least she managed to breathe when she spoke to him. Severa had almost blacked out the first time the princess looked at her.
"It'll come," the redhead found herself saying, "he'd have to blind to not see how amazing you are." It was hard not to meet Morgan's sincerity with her own. The younger girl had that charm about her.
"Thanks, Sev."
Severa turned back to the mirror examining her outfit further, arms stretched to their fullest. The tunic felt a little tight around them and flexing, Severa felt that she'd built a little more muscle there. Perhaps buying a new one would be more appropriate.
"How was it with father?" her sister inquired.
The older girl spun to face Morgan again, "He walloped me up and down the battlefield. I barely held on and his coup de gras was brutal."
Her sister looked excited, tails of their father's exploits were her favourite topic, "Well, what was it?"
"He disguised his mages as pikemen! My scouts reported infantry on my left flank and then that infantry sprouted fireballs that obliterated the western wing whilst I sent horses to fight pikes wearing blue hats!"
Morgan's laugh reminded her of her own when she'd been told about the ruse. "That's amazing! I wish I was half as smart!"
Reminded of her own laughter, Severa cast her mind back to that moment.
"Did you say something to father, Morgan?" she asked offhandedly.
"Say something?" her sister's confusion was unfeigned. Catching Morgan in a lie was not difficult, she couldn't keep a straight face if she was hiding something.
"He's been different with me recently," the older girl remarked softly. "He's kind. He complimented me and said I did well." A pause punctuated her discomfort, "He never used to do that."
Morgan frowned slightly, "He's always been like that. He's always told me when I've done a good job, even if he's had to say what I've done wrong."
It was strange hearing it. As strange as hearing the kind words from her father's mouth. She'd associated him with fear for so long.
Her sister continued, "I don't think he changed, but perhaps you did?"
Maybe. She wasn't the same girl who'd been terrified of her father before the war. She was different, of that there was no doubt.
But the answer didn't feel right. His attitude had changed, something had prompted it. But what it was, she couldn't understand.
"Besides, does the why matter?"
Severa broke from her thoughts to look at her sister? "What do you mean?"
"He was hard on you before and he isn't now. Does it matter why? If it's better now then why worry?"
It was a refreshing perspective. "You're right sis," she replied, even as she kept wondering.
"Do you think I'll get a turn?" her sister asked.
The redhead nodded the affirmative, "He said you're next in line before I get a rematch."
Excitement wafted off Morgan's expression so thick that the twintailed girl could taste it. If her sister loved one thing more than learning it was challenging her father with that selfsame wisdom. "I won't let him trick me, I'll have riders to confirm outfits and…"
Severa listened idly as Morgan began detailing her plans, each more elaborate than the last, seeing traps and pitfalls that her older sister had never even considered.
Where she had impressed.
Morgan would dazzle.
Her sister was perfect.
Severa hated that.
Mounted on Moonlight, Severa made straight for the castle stables. By now the Pegasus Knights on guard were used to her arrival each morning and waved greetings at her as she flew over the castle walls.
They sensed that she might be one of their own in the future, as comfortable as she was in the air, some even going as far as to treat her like a younger sister. It translated to waves and greetings from some, reminders to eat, bathe and sleep from others and many inquiries about when she was formally applying to their ranks.
The redhead didn't mind the attention. Their jokes about her and Inigo were getting bothersome though.
As she landed by the stable, Moonlight slowing from a gallop to a walk, she spied the prince waiting for her, as was his ritual.
He wore a dark shirt and grey breeches as he leaned casually by the stable door, waiting for assent to fall in step beside her. Severa didn't like the combination on him. He was handsome enough to pull off almost anything, but darker colours didn't go with that smiling face. It felt less false now; he'd maintained the façade so long that she was beginning to question if the old Inigo ever existed.
A flick of her head prompted him to run up and match her pace as they walked to the training yard; the stablehands not needing instructions on how they were to ensure that Moonlight was rubbed down thoroughly and well-watered after the long flight.
"Your landing was particularly amazing today Severa," her companion began unprompted. "You looked so in control that it set my heart aflutter," he said, clutching his hands to his chest for emphasis.
"Inigo, yesterday you said that my landing was unbelievable," she replied with exasperation, "clearly that means I'm getting worse."
The prince looked mortified, "Oh Severa, your landing yesterday was unbelievable because of the incredible angle that you arrived from, your landing today was amazing because of how authoritative you looked. But both were utterly captivating," he eyed her with a grin, "just like you."
In spite of herself a smile came to her lips. That one was good.
"You say that to anything with a skirt and some things with trousers," she replied, unwilling to reward Inigo for his compliment any further. "I once caught you trying it with Noire! The girl was so terrified she could barely speak!"
Running his hands through his hair, the prince had the decency to look at least somewhat embarrassed, "It's not my fault she looked incredible in her archer's uniform. I'd never seen her look so comfortable."
He was right in his own way. The Noire that had bullseyed ten targets in a row didn't seem like the nervous girl that Severa had come to like. There was confidence, maybe even a little anger there that she hadn't thought the Plegian girl capable of.
"So, you're saying that a pretty girl is irresistible to you?" she questioned innocently.
"Absolutely," he responded confidently.
"And I'm pretty?" she continued.
He sensed a trap, "Of course, the most beautiful girl I've ever met." An easy compliment, she had him off his game now.
Turning and taking him by the shoulders, she stared into those deep brown eyes, "Then would you," she leaned slightly upwards, "please," her head tilted to the side, "just," he was frozen, "stop flirting with me."
She turned away, leaving the stammering prince in her wake.
"What are we starting with?" Severa asked Inigo a few minutes later as they neared the training yard. It had taken a bit for him to start moving, a little longer for the uncharacteristic blush to fade from his face and longer still for his tongue to start wagging again.
"Swordplay this morning. Uncle Robin wants us to practice our magic when we're tired," his smile held even if he didn't sound too enthusiastic about today's itinerary.
It made sense, almost all of them had gone beyond casting basic spells and whilst using Elfire in an open yard was fine, an Arcwind, let alone a Thoron was out of the question. So, absent a trip beyond the castle, now the best method of training was refining technique and putting that technique under pressure.
The weapon training was becoming more frequent. More parents had seen the benefits of sending their children to the castle and a large number didn't have a strong aptitude for magic. Rather than send them away however, her father and the Exalt had set about ensuring they had training in everything from basic tactics to martial weapons.
It was a smart decision. The next generation of Ylisse's officers would have better instruction than their predecessors and with luck, if they joined different units those lessons would disseminate across the army.
It also allowed them to mix and match that practice with those of the magically gifted. Ylisse's new mages would be no easy meat even without a tome.
The adults had been more concerned about that recently; the readiness of Ylisse's army. There were rumblings among merchants of activity in Plegia. Rumours, albeit unconfirmed, of a new drive for soldiers and increased activity among the Grimleal made people wary.
Whilst they weren't saying anything openly for fear of causing a panic, she knew that the tactician and the Exalt were quietly bolstering the reserves and sending missives to retired soldiers to make ready. Stockpiles of grain were already mounting in the castle under the guise of redistribution.
Realistically it wasn't something that should have concerned her, a youth of fifteen. But she was painfully aware of the burden teenagers her age had taken on during the war with Valm and her own parents' expectations would be far higher.
That worry was superseded, however. What occupied her now was the young lady stood in the courtyard ahead of her.
To say that Lucina flowed with a blade did her injustice. A person flowed like a river. Lucina was one. There were currents and whirls. Eddies to trap and swirls that surged and sprang. With a shirt of grey and black trousers that mirrored her brother, the princess made for a breathtaking sight, her loose hair spilling behind her as she danced from form to flawless form.
She came to a halt, the grey of her top clinging to her lean frame with the sweat of her exertion.
Severa stared.
"I can barely touch her," the voice of the prince standing beside the redhead. "I swear when we duel, she's twice as fast."
The young swordswoman wasn't surprised. The two of them had been kept apart in practice; either because they were the best trained among the teenagers and thus the best able to lead lessons, or because her father was trying to be considerate of their feelings. But she'd heard tell of Lucina's prowess, from Morgan initially, but then from Cynthia and even Kjelle who was about as tight-lipped with praise as a girl could be.
It wasn't fair.
Lucina didn't work as hard. She didn't endure as much pressure; she didn't have as much expectation. Her life was her own.
She didn't even have the decency to look Severa in the eye anymore.
"I'm better," the words escaped Severa's mouth before she knew they were on her tongue.
The prince looked at her, eyebrow raised.
"Is that so?" her father interjected, a devious smirk on his face as he walked to stand beside her.
Lucina lowered her blade.
Now she met the redhead's eyes.
"Yes." Not a boast. A statement of fact.
"Twenty-three. Twenty-four."
She counted slowly as she touched her toes.
Her right hamstring was a little tight, but it would hold. Carefully, Severa came out of the stretch, standing to her full height.
Experimentally bobbing on her toes, she hopped from left to right.
She felt good.
She felt warm.
She was ready.
Nodding her assent to her father, the tactician got Lucina's attention and the combatants drew to the main square. The other students were assembled, word had got out about the match quickly and absolutely everyone wanted to see.
The front rows were abuzz with chatter, a low hum of excited students, with practice swords at their hips, excitedly debating over who they thought would win. Among them were Cynthia and Morgan. Stood near the front, the pair looked ready to yell encouragement at a moment's notice.
The swordswoman blocked them out. There was nothing here apart from the blade in her hand and the opponent in front of her.
The woman she'd loved.
Severa shoved the stray thought away.
There was nothing.
She was calm.
She would win.
A crack of wood marked the start of the match as lathe blade clashed with lathe blade.
Typically, swordsmen would poke, prod, trying to find a weakness; habits, tendencies to exploit.
There was none of that here.
Severa didn't know Lucina's fighting style.
But she knew Lucina.
Every moment she'd spent thinking on that night, the smiles, the dancing, the lips.
Every moment since she'd been cast aside, watching, longing.
They built her image of the princess.
When The Hawk Glides swung, aimed at her neck, the knight caught the blade, shoving the attack aside with contempt.
She'd make Lucina pay.
Their dance was fierce. The young Exalt's style was polished. It wasn't the pinpoint precision of Cordelia, but the ease with which she transitioned between the forms spoke to hard practice with the blade. It felt regal in a way, her movements carried a confidence. Her opponent's sword would be there because the young Exalt demanded that it be.
It contrasted the redhead's own blend of speed and power. Years of listening to Basilio, fighting her mother created a more workmanlike method. Lucina's dancing blade met a brick wall. Each of Severa's strikes and parries made with a calculated efficiency, minimising movement whilst reducing risk. The illusory Lucina in front of her moving as predicted. And with each swing, each spin, the illusion began to slow.
The princess would tire. The royal worked; she knew the value of training. She was conscientious and dedicated. But she hadn't endured the pain Severa had. Her mother hadn't beaten her for failure. She didn't know what true work was.
Instead, she knew how to be kind.
How to care about a confused girl she barely knew.
How to make someone feel wanted and loved with a few words.
The Wolf's Jaw went wide to Lucina's left.
Severa dived into a roll to avoid the counterstrike that swung at where her head was but a moment ago.
Rising, blade at the ready she glared at the princess. Where had that come from? Emotion didn't belong with her. There was nothing. Just her opponent.
Lucina closed.
Her foe's blade struck.
She let the princess pressure her. Deflecting what she needed to, avoiding everything else.
She parried, remembering that musical laughter.
She swung, that sparkle in her eye.
There was no focus for Severa.
Not in front of this girl.
The girl she had loved.
The girl who had betrayed her.
The knight clawed like a woman possessed at that feeling.
Lucina had hurt her.
She would make Lucina hurt.
Severa drunk in that anger, the rage gave her the focus she'd lost.
The Crashing Wave was beaten roughly aside. The redhead swept into the Wasp Stings, taking her opponent off balance.
She'd been cast aside.
The Hatchet Swings beat at Lucina's guard.
She'd been insulted.
The Tiger's Claw grazed a leg.
She was Severa of House Luna.
A counterattack went wide to her left.
She would not be tossed aside.
Lucina neared the edge of the arena.
Like trash to be discarded.
Severa pursued.
Her heart was not a toy.
Their blades clashed.
A deadlock.
Severa pressured, her strength gradually overpowering the princess. Her blade nearing the Exalt's neck.
She stared dead into those eyes. Those eyes that hadn't had the decency to look at her once.
There was fear.
That was good.
But there was concern.
It wasn't a fear of what would happen to her.
It was a fear of what was happening to her friend.
Those eyes, mark so clear in the daylight, were filled with compassion.
What was she doing?
The strength in her arms gave away.
Lucina yelled as she shoved with all her might.
The princess' sword swung.
Severa's ribs cracked.
Her knees gave way as she fell.
A blade dropped to the floor.
Her head was being cradled.
In soft, warm arms.
Lucina looked down onto her, those eyes still filled with that kindness, that worry.
"Lucy, I'm sorry."
"Sev don't speak."
"I tried to hate you," she croaked. "But I just can't."
"I'm glad," a smile blossomed on her princess' face. "Please, can we just be friends?"
"Yes, I'd love nothing more," Severa lied.
They could never just be friends.
Severa released the power within, channelling it through the deep red tome in her hand. Fire leapt forward, a blazing arc curving around the first target and into the second behind it. That would serve her well in combat.
She panted with the exertion, breathing hard as she came to a rest from her stance. Directing a spell was difficult for the trainees at the best of times and after the morning's exertion, not to mention the healing, Severa felt tiredness in her bones.
As static as spellcasting was, it required strength in its own right. Every bit of energy that was channelled through the tome came from the caster themselves. It was often that magicians would return from battle panting harder than the heavy infantry.
Healing was just as bad. It took some power from the cleric involved but much of the strength needed for the spell came from the subject. Healing people who had been gravely wounded was iffy. Their wounds could close but there was the risk that they would die of exhaustion instead.
Having been subjected to the rather intense healing needed to fix a cracked rib Severa had already been worse for wear when they'd begun the day's physical training. Now she was nearing her limit.
Noire and Morgan's presence helped a little. They'd quietly been taking a few more turns each to give her longer to rest. The two probably hoped that nobody noticed, but it was an obvious, not to mention welcome, favour.
Her father looked over their training group. He didn't tend to lead most classes but today he'd stayed with everyone for the full day, taking keen interest in his daughters' progression. Their mother had even arrived, probably because her duties elsewhere had ended early, or simply because she enjoyed watching them train.
Severa was under no illusions. The tactician knew that the Morgan and Noire were protecting the exhausted knight. But camaraderie was almost as important to the tactician as strength or intelligence. He'd gone into battle with his best friend and wife enough times to understand that trust and faith could often thread a needle where raw skill would fall short. So just this once, cheating was allowed.
They had proved to be a remarkable team. Her own aptitude for teaching made it easy for the others to understand complex actions. Morgan had proven, unsurprisingly given how strongly she took after her father, to be a superlative mage. The younger girl's innovation and talent meant that where Severa could explain a teacher's technique, Morgan could refine it to a mirror shine.
And Noire. Noire was a remarkable copycat. If Morgan cast a spell once then its duplicate would show in seconds.
It was an amazing talent. Noire complained that she didn't know what she was doing; but careful, yet persistent, prodding had revealed that she had spent much of her time watching and copying her mother.
Together the three made it easy for the other students to learn. Severa could simplify the difficult concepts, Morgan helped the others with their technique and Noire could provide a perfect demonstration of anything in seconds. Apart they had talent, combined, they were formidable
Of course, it was the tactician who had noticed that synergy. And Robin was loathe to leave an opportunity untaken.
It suited the redhead. As much as the other two were flashier in their own way, the other students at least seemed to appreciate her efforts. The gruff Brady was particularly kind. The man did look like he'd been assaulted by an angry fence post and sounded like afterwards he'd then tried to eat the thing, but he always had a kind word for her even if she was short with him.
Mostly though, she enjoyed the time because she just liked Noire. The shy girl's demeanour spoke of a life that felt eerily similar to her own. What little she spoke of home gave the sense that it wasn't the happiest place. Tharja constantly working and forcing her to assist, with the only moments of reprieve when Uncle Robin appeared. Much as with his daughters, he'd sat the raven-haired girl down to play chess and all manner of other games. Noire spoke of him as if he'd hung the moon, claiming that her mother's good mood after the visits would last nearly a week.
The older girl wanted to help Noire. The Plegian deserved the support that Severa herself had never been offered. And for her part, the archer always made an effort to speak to her friend, even if simply opening her mouth was hard.
It was only a little. But it meant the world.
A bolt of electricity streaked from Morgan's tome, smashing into the first target and then remarkably, passing clean through and hitting the second.
Severa was stunned, "How did you do that?"
"It's about giving the thunder tome a little extra power. Too much and you just fry the first dummy, too little and you can't make the distance," her sister said calmly as if that precision was easy. "Then it's all about direction, which is a fair bit harder to handle."
"Can," Noire stammered, "Can I have a go?"
The snowy haired girl handed off her tome and stood next to Severa, watching.
Noire's stance mirrored Morgan's perfectly, were it not for the difference in hair colour, an observer might well have been fooled.
A crack of lightning flashed from the tome and drove straight through the first target to hit the second. A perfect replica in every way.
"Your turn Severa." The girl wheeled to find her father with a spare tome next to her.
She was exhausted. She had nothing left. There was no way she could do it.
She took the tome from the tactician. She would not disappoint him.
As she prepared her stance, he stood by her.
"Feel how tired you are," he started.
What?
"Feel the muscles ache. The wound on your ribs."
But those were distractions.
"Feel the breeze on your skin."
This wasn't how you cast magic.
"Feel every part of you that you ignore."
What was happening?
"Feel your anger, feel your sorrow, feel your heartache."
She felt them.
"Take them all."
She took them.
"You have it in you, my daughter."
She had it.
"Go."
A pain welled in her. A bubbling, vicious pain. It needed to get out. It needed to get out.
Her face burned. Four points of agony. Her eyes were aflame.
She had to let it out.
She pushed, everything out of her and into the tome.
Lightning burst from her.
But it wasn't just the lightning of a thunder spell.
Clad in a burning blue flame it smashed the first target and burned the second to charr.
The shockwave hit Severa as the magic faded.
What just happened?
"That is Ignis, my daughter. It is my power and now it belongs to you."
The shock began to fade.
Calm filled the air.
It was just another thing to learn.
And then the second bolt hit.
A burst electricity wreathed in blue fire evaporated the remains of the second target.
Both father and daughter turned to the source.
A stunned Noire held a yellow tome, the light of Ignis fading from her hand. She had already begun apologising.
As she looked over the scene from the smoking target to her sister's confused expression Severa would remember one thing from that day for the rest of her life.
The horror on her mother's face.
Notes:
Hey everyone.
That chapter took a little longer just because I had a holiday between when I completed the draft and when I finished review.
I hope the mock battle was easy enough to follow and exciting enough to keep attention. Also I hope the ending was clear enough as well. My writing style feels relatively similar here and I honestly feel like even though this was difficult to write in the moment, that it came together okay!
Chapter 6 is in planning right now. I'll probably start the first draft in the next few days.
Reviews:
Guest: Thank you for the kind words. I hope you keep reading and keep enjoying the story.
The Chosen Storyteller: I'm not planning on significantly changing the story so hopefully that problem won't exist. It's more a point of writing style really. I'm trying to adapt and improve as things go whilst retaining my own voice. I don't imagine I'll do much writing after finishing this, but it would still be nice to feel like I'm better at the end!
Robin's change in attitude is something I won't comment on other than to say that Severa has noticed it! Perhaps you can infer more with chapter 5.
I will note though, if it's not obvious. There is no discrimination based on gender/sexuality/anything in my Ylisse. You can marry anyone you want. That isn't something I have any experience with personally and I don't think I could do that story justice. There are other spanners for our protagonists, but that's not one of them.
I never knew there was any dislike of Morgan to begin with. I really love her as a character and she'll continue to be important to me and the story.
Lucina and Severa's ups and downs are something I can't comment on though!
TheGiantRock: As ever I'm glad you're enjoying the story and thank you for finding the time to write a review! The balance of pressure is something that's really important to the story, so I'm happy it's landing for you.
As to your question. I know every major event of this story and have done for years now. I know how it ends and how each segment of it starts and finishes. I play a lot of the rest by ear. The connective tissue between the events are things I usually plan out ahead of a chapter, so I'll imagine the scenes I want to see and the relationships and themes I want to explore and work from there.
Additionally motivations on some characters change or get more colour the more I think about them and how they've evolved as I've written the story. I didn't know, for example, that Lucina and Severa would kiss at Basilio's funeral, but as I wrote the scene I realised that they absolutely had to and it would be completely out of character if they didn't.