Severa remembered the crash as weapons toppled over her.
She extracted herself from the mess, pushing away a spear that had fallen precariously near her cheek.
"Awareness, Severa," her mother stood tall, lathe blade in hand as she looked down on her student. "Not just of your opponent, but of everything." She gestured around her, "You should know the layout of this yard by now."
Grudgingly Severa nodded.
It was necessary.
This lecture was important.
That her mother believe she'd made a mistake was important.
They were deep in their session for the day, breathing heavy, a thin sheen of sweat tinting their faces.
Severa had been exposing that weakness on her left as obviously as she dared. Enough to hopefully convince her mother that a habit had formed. That last attack had been the result. Her dive out of bounds counted as a loss, but it was worth less than a loss by clean strike.
The chides, the patronising advice, she had endured them for months. Day after day since Morgan left. All in service to one purpose.
She would win this time.
Slowly Severa checked the stand, the weapons were in disarray but they could be sorted later.
A gentle gust caught her as she returned to the starting mark, taking with it small shingles that had carved off the grey stone of the training yard.
Their home cast a shadow over them at this time of day. The fading hours of daylight threatening to cut training short for the evening.
But that wouldn't happen, they had time for one more duel.
Severa raised her blade.
In her mind she pictured her mother. What had once been a simple image was now lifelike in its detail. Every mannerism, every tick, every unconscious habit, filed deeply away in Severa's mind.
An image built from a lifetime of battles and now months of singular practice as her mother had poured all her grief, her sadness into the seventeen-year-old knight's training.
The illusion shrugged slightly before adopting its stance even as her opponent did the same.
The smug glint in its eye indicated that it thought the outcome of the next battle was obvious.
Severa betrayed no hint of emotion, no indication of her plan.
There was just her sword and her opponent. Her body, her mind, they only existed as extensions of the blade.
The illusion attacked hard from the left, The Hatchet Swings, attempting to overwhelm the younger swordswoman.
The backstep was easy as Severa launched her counterattack. Adder in the Grass, a complex form, feigning an attack before twisting into a thrust.
The image grimaced as its parry found air and its dodge almost caught a graze. Her mother only frowned.
Still not perfect.
Severa pressed her attack, sweeping from form to form, style to style. Lucina's forms tended to be best in this situation but every so often she'd throw in a hint of Gerome or Kjelle, adding power where it wasn't expected.
The image's eyes were focused now, a deep concentration held as it defended but twisted and turned to avoid being cornered.
This was not going to be easy.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Severa's offensive abated. Consciously she began to attack from her right more often. The Crashing Waves became The Wolf's Jaw, each attack a mite slower than it should have been, each reset of her stance as late as she dared.
It was as fine a balance as she'd ever managed, counterattacks almost grazed her and a thrust came precariously close to stabbing her thigh.
But it worked.
More attacks came at her left, Swan in Flight aimed at her neck, The Tiger's Claw at her calf.
She had it.
The illusion swept in, The Fox Leaps.
She had her!
With a roar Severa unlocked the cage of her emotions.
The first thing she felt was fury. Her rage at her opponent for standing against her. Her anger at her mother for being so cruel.
The second thing she felt was agony. Agony as burning ice filled her veins. As every capillary scorched cold with the fires of Ignis.
The last thing she felt was ecstasy. Ecstasy as she revelled in the sense of her muscles becoming stronger, her vision sharper, her reactions faster.
She had never been alive before this. Nobody was truly alive without Ignis.
A blue flame wreathed her sword as Cut the Silk smashed into her mother's blade, the sheer force wrenching the blade from its wielder's hands.
The illusion betrayed shock for a moment and a foot leapt out in a desperate kick.
Fool.
A sword swung down.
A kneecap shattered.
Her mother buckled.
Finish her.
Severa held her blade aloft. The flames of Ignis roared.
Finish her!
She had won.
Finish her!
She would repay all that cruelty in kind.
Finish her!
She screamed, screamed her outrage.
Finish her!
Her mother looked up at her.
Finish her!
Tears filled the old knight's eyes.
KILL HER!
Severa's blade dropped.
A rib shattered.
The freezing fires of Ignis left her.
"Mother?"
"Mother!?" the panic in her voice rose.
She dove to the ground, scrabbling at her mother's waist, trying to find the healing staff there.
Slowly the older redhead's eyes opened.
"My baby," she wept. "What have I done to you?"
The healing staff had worked.
Well enough, anyway.
Her mother lay on the sofa in the living room, wrapped in a pink blanket, head propped up against the armrest. Severa sat next to her, still in her tan training clothes.
The young woman's inexperience with healing reared its ugly head. The rib had healed, just about, but it had taken almost everything she had just to do that. It would certainly require a healer to complete the work and the knee was another matter entirely.
Absent her father and sister, there was nobody to send for help and Severa wasn't willing to leave Cordelia alone for the moment.
So instead, she sat, watching on in dismay as her teacher slipped in and out of consciousness.
A draught of some herbs she'd mixed in with warm water sat in a glass next to them. They wouldn't heal bones but they'd help with the pain. That would either let her mother rest easier or give her the energy to stay awake for more than a few moments. It was often hard to tell with pain, people reacted differently.
She'd never seen the older woman in this state. There had been hints, a story here and there of a battle plan not quite working out the way it should have. But her mother had seemed infallible, unbeatable, for so long that this sight still felt impossible.
Ignis terrified her.
But what scared the redhead more was recognising that the voice telling her to win, telling her to kill.
It was her own.
The power, the rage, the passion. It tantalised her even now, knowing that she might be able to feel that way again. But it called on her wildest, rawest emotions.
She felt them more strongly when she called the blue fire. She didn't know if it was the effect of the skill or simply that for years, she'd never been able to act on those emotions.
But the reality was stark. A small part of her had wanted to end her mother's life in that moment.
She wanted to vomit.
"Severa?" she was jostled from her thoughts by a voice from the couch.
Her mother shifted upwards, wincing slightly as the movement pressured her knee. Her eyes maintained their focus as she did though. That was progress.
"Mother," Severa replied, attempting to remain calm, in control.
Cordelia frowned, "I think you can put a stop to that now Sev." The twintailed girl blinked, her mother had never once abbreviated her name.
"I don't understand mother?"
Not a frown this time, just a sad smile, "I don't suppose you would. Another one of my failures."
Severa was dumbstruck, what was happening?
"I suppose," the knight continued, "that your training is complete," she gestured out with her hand, prompting her daughter to take it.
Severa scoffed, "I only just beat you and that was with Ignis!" this wasn't her mother, it was someone else in her mother's body.
"Is my training blade nearby?" her mother asked.
"It's still outside," Severa replied. She'd not reset the yard yet; she'd not been willing to leave her mother's side.
"Go pick it up for me."
Reluctantly, at her mother's urging, Severa found the bundle of lathes still tightly wound together in the corner of the yard.
She reached down, taking hold of the hilt before pulling, anticipating the item's weight.
A weight that wasn't there.
What?
"What on earth is happening?" she asked as she walked back to her seat. "The blade, it doesn't have mass. How?"
Her mother's outstretched hand took the bundle of lathes from hers. Feeling around, they found what they were looking for. A small broach, less than the size of a coin attached to one of the bindings.
She removed it and obviously adjusted as if the object had weight again, slowly placing the training sword at the foot of her makeshift bed.
The broach had a carving of feathers on it, its dull silvery colour gave the impression that it might have been iron, or maybe very old steel. Her mother held it up and it softly reflected the light of some of the magical torches in their home.
"This is a trinket I found during the Plegian campaign, it only works on relatively small and light objects. It makes whatever it's attached to weightless for the wielder." A slight grimace, "I don't truly understand the magic behind it, but the object still has weight, a swing will be as strong, but the wielder just doesn't notice it.
The grimace faded and instead was replaced by an expression that could charitably be described as deathly serious. "I have been using this with you for the past few years, ever since the first time you almost beat me."
This wasn't real.
"I never thought you'd surpass that advantage," even as she said it, there was a hint of a long-forgotten smile on her mother's face.
Severa tried to say something, anything. A croak was all that she could manage.
"From now on we'll train not as student and teacher, but as equals." A wince, "well, at least when my rib has healed."
Her mother paused slightly, as if talking about her rib brought back what had just happened, "That was good, finishing me that way. I was going to sweep you given the chance."
It wasn't good. Wanting to hurt your own mother wasn't good.
"I trained," Cordelia paused, tears welling in her eyes, "Severa I trained you so well. Too well. To do that at your age."
She tried to compose herself.
It didn't come.
"I'm so sorry," was all the older woman could manage, words becoming incoherent as her injury hampered her breath.
Severa moved before she knew it. Circling her mother in a hug as tightly as she dared give.
"I'm sorry."
They cried together.
Practice was ending for the day. Students were flitting here and there across the training ground, putting away all manner of fake weapons and tomes into boxes that the servants had provided.
The raised balcony overlooking the grounds was filled with parents looking to take their children home, or some just curious about the progress. Most were finely dressed, many children in the class were of the nobility, but here and there the clothing of a commoner marked them out. The classes couldn't accept everyone but the royal family had been adamant that anyone with talent and training be allowed in.
Instruction was somewhat hard to come by, especially for commoners, but every so often the son of a soldier or a daughter of a cobbler with uncommon skill with a blade or magic would appear and they would always find a warm welcome.
At least that had been true until recently. There were fewer instructors now. Lucina and Severa were supervising more classes, stretching themselves thinly among the recruits. Promising children were being turned away not because they lacked skill but because there weren't enough people to teach them.
The army was mobilising, the secret was out and in the streets of Ylisstol. The most skilled instructors had been stripped away from the castle, needed elsewhere for training new soldiers and working the rust off old hands. It was to be a major deployment, conscription wasn't yet in place, but recruitment was being pushed incredibly heavily.
Whatever was going on in Plegia must have been terrifying to illicit such a response. An army of this size hadn't even been raised in the second war when the Plegians had Ylisse on the back foot.
For all she despised her father, he was still a superlative tactician. He'd have weighed the chance of panicking the populace against the need for a deployment this vast. For him to conclude that the situation was this dire brought the significance of her own problems into stark relief.
It was why she was staying at the castle longer, training harder. There was a chance that her father would decide she was needed on the front lines, despite her age. He knew she had a good sense of command, even if it was inferior to him and Morgan. If she was to go, she had to make sure that the remaining students were confident enough to be able to train themselves and should the worst happen, lead the country as best they could.
Her sister had disappeared with their father. She didn't attend training any longer, she never returned home.
It should have hurt as much as Lucina, as much as Robin.
But Severa felt numb. She didn't have time to miss the snowy haired girl with how hard work had become.
Perhaps throwing herself into practice was her response. A way to prevent her from stopping, dwelling, on what had happened.
A few of the late starts were still going at it, including Inigo. Whilst he wasn't always the earliest to appear he did tend to train later than anyone else. Shirtless, he worked the forms with his companions, flowing from stance to stance of the fifth Ylissean kata.
He'd attracted a small crowd of onlookers, female and male students alike thirstily looking on as his muscles strained under the stress of the exercise.
Severa was there to supervise, of course, it was her duty to look after each of her students. Clad in her usual shirt and breeches, she was flanked by Noire and Kjelle who were similarly dressed. The three commented on each of the students, the two less experienced girls making observations on the each of the participants, with the redhead correcting, or simply providing colour to their opinions.
"Brady needs to keep his grip tighter; you can see it come loose sometimes when on the longer swings," Noire opined. Her teacher nodded; she'd noticed but it was something that he was already trying to develop. The gruff man had much more talent with a healing staff than a blade, including bonking opponents on the head with it but he was coming along nicely here. He'd never be a frontline officer, but no bandit would take him for easy meat either.
Her father had always said that a healer was worth ten soldiers in the field, a healer who didn't require defending was worth a hundred. She meant to ensure that the healers she trained were worth more.
"Inigo's near perfect as always," Kjelle noted. She gave a snort, "If he was even a little more serious, he might beat his sister more than one time out of ten. Heck he might even have stood a chance against me."
The rematch between the two had come recently. The prince had tried the same tactic from their prior match, dodging around, taunting Kjelle.
It had gone badly for him.
Kjelle wasn't immune to her temper, but she'd figured something out that helped.
"I focused on how I'd feel after beating him," she'd said afterwards. "I figure, I like working towards a goal when I train, so why should a fight be any different?"
It was a surprisingly deep thought for the short-haired girl and it had paid dividends as she'd cautiously poked and prodded at her opponent for most of the fight.
The simple fact that he was covering a greater distance as he evaded eventually caught up to the prince and Kjelle had been merciless when she finally pounced, giving the grey-haired boy a beating he wouldn't soon forget.
A gaggle of panicked healers had flocked to him as he fell, making sure there wasn't a mark on his pretty face, shooting Kjelle furious glares. But the prince took his loss in good humour, with a bow, a handshake and then a litany of questions for Severa.
It was why he was practicing the Fifth now. Inigo's defense was near perfect, his counterattacks were among the best she'd seen. But sometimes you needed your opponent to play your game, not just react to theirs. The Fifth kata focused on sweeping attacks with forward motion. Inigo tended to avoid these forms to begin with, so even if he tried to attack it often came away as slow and forced.
"I swear, all this attention he's been getting recently must be going to his head," the cavalier continued. "He's been flirting with anything with legs for months now. He tried it with me. With me! Over that tea I agreed to!" Severa rolled her eyes. "I don't think he's got a genuine bone in his body."
Severa stopped agreeing right there. The prince wa..
"That's not true!" a voice interrupted her thoughts.
The upset tone didn't feel right, coming from Noire's mouth. But her eyes held a sense of outrage that the redhead hadn't thought the archer capable of.
"Inigo is one of the nicest, most wonderful people here!" she said empathically, before shrinking back in on herself as if the wind had been taken out of her sails.
The somewhat surprised looks from her companions seemed to prompt her to go on. "When I found out about fa.. uncl…Robin, I tried to confront my mother about it," Noire clutched herself as if bracing against a bad memory. "It didn't go well. We screamed and screamed at each other. I ended up living in a barn nearby to avoid her."
Severa's face was a mix of shock and guilt, "I didn't know. You never told me."
"I didn't want to burden you with it Sev. You were already going through so much," Noire protested.
How could she have missed it? How could she not have asked? She knew Tharja wasn't a kind parent. She should have known something would happen.
She'd been caught up in her own world. Selfishly thinking that she was doing a good job, simply by not blaming Noire for what had happened.
It disgusted her.
"Inigo," Noire continued, "he noticed. One day he was waiting for me at the palace gates. He had a letter from the Queen! It demanded that we take a day off in the city together!"
Of course, he had. Of course, he'd known.
Noire's pace slowed slightly, as she cast her mind back, "He was amazing, he took me for tea first, of course, but not to any of the usual places you might find him. There was a small vendor in the new city selling it from a wagon. I didn't recognise where he was from but I could taste spice in the tea!"
Now that was strange, who on earth put spice in tea?
"He took me to a fair nearby and we played games, I even managed to win at the archery!" that at the very least was unsurprising.
"He, he was the perfect gentleman. He never got angry when I got flustered or upset when I needed to sit down and rest. And we talked. We talked the entire day about, well, everything," Noire didn't elaborate, but the meaning was obvious enough.
Noire paused, her voice becoming very soft. "If he'd tried to kiss me at the end. I would have let him." Another pause. "I wanted to," she corrected.
Kjelle frowned, "He was just trying to mess around with you."
"No," Severa interrupted before Noire. "He's not like that," she continued as she gave the man in question an evaluating stare. "He's frivolous, he flirts, he's an idiot sometimes," Severa evaluated. "Okay; a lot of the time. But he's a good person."
Severa took a moment to think briefly even as the archer nodded along with her before continuing. "Most pertinently. He'd never ever use someone's sadness as a tool for his own gain."
"He's wonderful," Noire emphasised, "I, I wanted him. It wasn't the other way around."
Kjelle's frown deepened, "I'll apologise to him later. I won't say about what," she reassured Noire as the girl began frantically denying the need to say anything.
The red-haired girl continued to examine her pupil. Had she been wrong about him? His transformation had been so abrupt.
Perhaps he'd simply become who that shy boy she'd known was always meant to be? Found a way to express how he really felt?
"Halt!" she shouted even as the question rolled through her mind.
Her students came to a stop, wearily letting swords fall to the ground or lie slack in their hands.
"That was good work today everyone. Brady, keep an eye on your grip. Andra, give more time to your swings from left to right, some felt off from my view." She continued, making sure to give an individual working point to each person before they left, so that nobody would feel isolated.
"Inigo, keep up your practice on the fifth, you still don't look comfortable even if your forms are correct," she said finally. "In fact, walk with me, I've a few tips about that."
She gave Noire and Kjelle a pointed look that the two of them understood well enough to not follow as she fell in step with the prince. He would be looking to put his sword away, move on to the cloakrooms and then probably head for a bath.
"You need to think less," she opened.
He gave her an easy smile, "Oh? I thought you were of the opinion I don't think at all?"
"No, you do think. Just about nothing good," Severa jabbed back. Inigo's flirting had stopped but he'd replaced it with a dry sarcasm that she often found vexing.
"That's fair," he chuckled. "I need to think less, I'll work on it."
"No, you idiot, take this seriously," that prompted a change in the grey-haired man's expression. He was all business now. "When you fight, I can see you thinking about each move and the next, maybe three or four in advance," she started. "I could even see it during the kata. You don't look comfortable because you think about what the next move is before you go to it."
"I see," he looked at her quizzically.
The teacher rolled her eyes. "Show me the fifth kata again."
Without hesitation he drew, assuming the first form.
"Begin."
The methodical movements began, each form was precisely as the prince had been taught, there wasn't fault with any of it.
But she could still see the cogs turning, the moment of hesitation as he moved. A few years, maybe even a few months ago it might have been imperceptible to her. But now it felt obvious.
As he came to a halt after completing one cycle, Severa scanned the area. The lagging students had vacated the grounds, with most of the parents having left to meet them. Kjelle and Noire were probably getting changed and would likely wait for their teacher before they went for a bath.
"You still don't have it. You're still thinking," she said.
He gave her a smile, but she could see the frustration in his eyes, "I'm afraid my teacher, that this is the best I can offer."
She sighed. This was going to be painful.
"Dance with me."
"What? Now?" he flushed. "Why?"
"Yes now. Nobody's watching, it's just us. And who cares why. You're my student, do as I say."
"There's no music. I've not practiced. I.." that was odd. He was never this nervous.
"It's just me Inigo."
"Yes," he replied as he gathered himself. "Just you."
"Take the lead and sound a beat for me. I'll follow." She hoped she sounded confident, Lucina had showed her some steps in the past few months, in quiet moments here and there between sessions. But the swordswoman was far from an expert. Mainly she was playing off a hunch.
"Alright," his smile reappeared. "We'll start with something easy."
He took his position, returning his sword to the ground nearby and Severa grabbed his outstretched right arm with her left, their hands instinctively reaching round to the small of each other's back.
The prince began humming a tune. It sounded a little like A Pegasus Escaped the Barn. Her mother used to sing it to her when she was young.
Once he knew she was comfortable with the beat, he began.
Two steps in, one out, one to the left, two to the right, one left, one out and again.
It was simple, too simple for them, but once Inigo knew she was able to keep pace he increased the complexity.
First twirls, then a separate set of steps. He even lifted her as if she were light as a feather.
She found herself grinning like an idiot, singing the same tune even as he did, revelling in the flow of the dance.
But almost as much she found herself absorbed with his face, his soft brown eyes. As they danced, his expression changed. His usual smile faded into something else. It had emotion she could feel. In it she could see something she'd thought lost. A sadness buried away, a vulnerability he never showed. As his cheek touched hers, she held that openness in her fingertips.
Inigo slowed and came to a halt at the end of the fourth verse, stepping back and slowly letting her go.
The prince caught his breath, his smile returned to his face, the walls rebuilding, "How was that my teacher?"
It wasn't him.
She knew.
It just wasn't him.
"That wasn't for me," she replied to the false Inigo. "Tell me, how did you incorporate the twirls into the first pattern?"
"Oh, I just did, it seemed obvious enough," he replied casually.
She gave a smile of her own, one of triumph. "Think of the sword as your partner and the kata as a dance. Make yourself feel the way you did just now and you'll be untouchable."
His eyes widened.
"Thank you Severa," she prompted.
"Yes," he hesitated, "ah, thank you my teacher."
"Put away the rest of the things, we'll speak in the morning."
She had her answer.
The pegasus knight flew to her western flank on its pristine white wings. On its next activation it might be able to get at her mages. There was an arcwind tome among them, but that was meant as insurance rather than a first resort.
Severa eyed the knight with her flowing brown hair and pink armour. Not all of the pieces were painted but many had been lovingly decorated to better resemble what they were meant to represent.
It had been surprising in a way to find out that around half the figures in the study had belonged to her mother. Cordelia had always been interested in the games, asking after Severa and Morgan's performance, but she had never seemed like one to own models herself.
In truth, her mother was remarkably creative, a trait Severa had never witnessed until a few weeks ago. She had several knickknacks dotted around the house that the younger lady had always assumed were purchased but were handcrafted. The desk tidy holding the various quills and stationery was one of hers, an emblem of Ylisse carved into the dark wood.
"How are things between you and the princess?" her mother asked. "I heard that she took you on a date. An all-day long affair." There was a hint of delight in the older woman's eyes over that.
Another surprise was how her mother had begun treating her. The older knight seemed to regard here as an equal or sorts. There weren't specific training times anymore and Severa was trusted to set her own schedule. The only commitment required was to be home in time for dinner and games. She even, sometimes, engaged in a little gossip.
"It wasn't a date," Severa replied shortly.
The younger redhead had found it refreshing, even as she piled in more time at the castle. As much instruction, as much personal work as the young knight could manage. She worked through the day, came home, ate and chatted with her mother, worked on tactics and then went to bed thinking of tomorrow's schedule. As much as she could, to keep the memories, the thoughts about the empty room next to her away.
"That's a shame. Your Aunt Olivia and I were so excited when we saw the two of you together in Ferox. She had even begun talking to Chrom about arranging something more formal."
Severa glanced up at her mother. That was odd. Lucina claimed she couldn't because of her responsibilities. But both her parents had approved of their relationship?
Her mother looked on impassively. She didn't know any of the details. This was just fun chit-chat to her, or possibly a distraction.
It wouldn't matter for what the younger Luna had up her sleeve.
A nod indicated that it was her turn and with that Severa leapt into action. A lancer of hers rode to one of her mother's infantrymen. Their battle would be a stalemate, but the red painted cavalryman was in possession of the lunge ability, allowing him to swap places with his opponent.
The result wasn't immediately devastating but it had granted her a clear advantage.
Her mother was left with two options, kill the horse, leaving her infantryman vulnerable for an attack or move her infantryman, leaving a cavalry piece deep within her lines. Both options worked well for her younger opponent. The infantryman was a core piece, with abilities that allowed it to strengthen its allies, a key brick in the wall that her mother had built. Equally a free cavalryman could hit healers on the back lines easily, making the mortar holding those bricks together that bit weaker.
She hoped that she was able to match her mother in smugness at the very least.
"That was very well done," was the response she got. Praise from the older woman had become a lot freer in their recent weeks together, yet it still made the younger girl's heart soar each time she received it.
Cordelia examined the board before sitting back in her chair. "I think I'm willing to give this one to you," she leant forward to tap the cavalry for emphasis, "Even if I deal with this situation, the resources I'd expend doing so tilt the game too heavily in your favour."
Concessions were a lot more frequent now as well, and much more gracious. It made more sense a lot of the time to reset the board rather than play through sequences where they both knew the results.
"Your father once did something very similar," she continued. "It made me feel a little nostalgic."
That shouldn't have been surprising, after all the teaching she'd received. But it still felt odd.
Her father had always felt effortless in his destruction of her during their games. Sometimes a toss didn't go his way, but he never gambled too much unless he was certain of victory.
Unless, of course, the wager he was making was simply a bluff designed to force you into a safe play.
She had never dreamed of reaching that level of prowess. Even with all their games she had never managed to beat him. No matter how much the rules or the terrain might have favoured her, he'd sat at the pinnacle of an untouchable peak that even now she struggled to fathom.
"Is it possible? To beat him?" the younger girl asked.
"Why don't we play another round," her mother replied, avoiding the question. "I've got a special scenario for you."
Severa didn't push the issue. Speaking about her father was still a raw topic for both of them. Instead, she examined the scenario with an inquisitive eye.
It took a little setup but the layout was interesting. She was positioned as a defensive force, stationed across three rooms in the North of the map. A civilian lay in the central room, if they fell then it would count as an instant loss.
Three entrances to her deployment area would need to be defended. A narrow set of stairs in the centre, a small entrance in the West and a wide set of stairs to the South and East.
Enemies were deployed in the corridor to the South, the room to the West and in what looked to be gardens at the bottom of the map.
Despite the higher enemy numbers Severa considered that she had a very powerful advantage on this map. Cordelia would have to either rout the defending force or kill the civilian in a set amount of time and the limited entrances would allow Severa to defend from chokepoints to prevent any one side from being overwhelmed.
All in all, it felt a little odd. Usually, her mother set up maps that were more even in both numbers and terrain.
They began as her mother opened by moving her forces that primarily comprised of mages and berserkers forward. The way she set up made it obvious that she was planning to pressure both larger entrances and have a nominal force in the center to tie up units and prevent flanking.
Severa unsurprisingly moved her own swordsmen and knights to the chokes, positioning healers a safe distance behind and giving magical support where she thought they might fall. She positioned one pegasus knight deep, near her civilian in case something managed to break through, or a reserve was needed somewhere on the line.
The result was a rather pedestrian affair. In the time given, her mother struggled desperately to overcome the defense, eventually overcommitting her forces in the West and eating a devastating counterattack.
By the sixth turn things were looking grim for the attackers, but oddly her mother hadn't conceded. Instead, she regarded the game intensely as if it was still in contention.
That was when the older woman reached across the board and placed three pieces inside the room with Severa's civilian.
"What's this?" the younger girl asked.
"They're my reinforcements."
"You never declared them; you also can't deploy them in a position behind your own lines without stairs."
Her mother gave a chuckle, "Oh you seem to be under a misapprehension Severa. We set up a game and you assumed we were playing by the same rules as normal. You never asked me if anything had changed."
"That," Severa tried to compose herself. This made no sense. "That's not fair!"
"It doesn't have to be."
"But how do I defend against this?"
Her mother grinned, "You don't."
The younger Luna looked at the board, then at her mother's face. "Well then what was the point of this!" she shouted. "If you're tired of playing just tell me, don't waste my time!"
Severa began packing up the board, furiously grabbing at pieces that she wanted very badly to hurl at that haughty face, "This is just ridiculous, we're meant to be learning from each other, not springing stupid gotchas. I thought you were more mature than a five-year-old mother."
"It's how you beat him."
Beat who? What was her mother talking about?
"It's how you beat your father."
The younger girl cocked her head, "Eh?"
"It was near the beginning of the Plegian war," there was a sadness in the older knight's tone. "We got wind from spies that an attack was planned on the Exalt, your Aunt Emmeryn."
Wait, that wasn't what the histories said. They claimed that she'd died peacefully in her sleep at the outse…
Oh.
"Robin set the defenses, including," she slowly picked up the pegasus knight that Severa had placed near the throne, "a pegasus knight to guard the Exalt, just in case."
No.
It couldn't be?
"The enemy hid that they had a limited ability to teleport their forces. They waited until we were committed to the defense and then three assassins appeared in the Exalt's quarters."
With a flick of her finger the Exalt clattered to the table.
"I beat them, I killed them all," tears welled in her mother's eyes, "but not before a dagger took her in the neck. She was dead before she hit the floor."
The old knight's hands quivered even as the tears fell. "When he found out your father panicked and ordered too many troops to try to save her. We withdrew too quickly and left your Uncle Chrom defending an enemy advance alone."
Not tears of sadness, tears of rage. "He took an ensorcelled spear to his leg because I was too weak. He still can't walk properly because I let his sister die."
"It's not…"
"I know it's not my fault. I know intellectually that there is nothing I could do. But I was helpless Severa. Helpless because I wasn't good enough to fight them."
The younger knight didn't reply, she knew that feeling.
With effort the older woman regained her composure, speaking softly, hands unclenching.
"It's the only time your father ever made a tactical error. He's incredible, he's prescient and creative in ways that we could only dream of. But he's not omniscient."
Severa would always remember that stare. That look her mother gave her.
"Sit him down across the table from you. Make him believe that he knows the game, knows the rules, knows every factor."
Her mother picked up an assassin. "Then change the game."
"Do you miss him?" she asked, surprised at herself even as she voiced her thoughts.
"All the time."
"Do you still love him?"
A nod. "I don't think I could ever stop.
"Does he love you?" Severa knew the answer to this question.
"No. Only one woman ever held his heart and she's long gone."
"I.. I'm sorry."
A forlorn smile came across her mother's face. "I picked up the pieces and he gave me you and Morgan. There is nothing to be sorry about."
But her mother's shoulders slumped slightly, "And then he took my baby away."
The tears began again. Sniffles held tight within began to break through.
"I'm still here mum."
Her mum looked up, disbelief on her face.
"I'll always be here."
Severa walked the corridors of the castle. Flanked by Cynthia and Lucina, they were making their way from their strategy lesson to the training yard for afternoon practice.
The Western wing of the castle was usually reserved for guests, typically visiting nobility, the occasional wealthy merchant or sometimes, even influential mercenaries. The rooms were lavishly decorated, with silk sheets on the beds and golden decorations all over the corridors.
It was important that the royal family impressed its most important visitors. A guest who stood in awe was more likely to agree with you after all.
But almost all the rooms were empty now. Nobles had returned to their lands to muster troops; merchants didn't need to petition the Exalt when they had very simple instructions to stockpile everything they could.
Tactics lessons were drying up. As their advisors and teachers had been cut away, various weapons, the axe, the bow had dropped out of rotation first. The sword only remained due to her own proficiency along with the princess'. Tactics might have stood the strain had they not been deprived of Morgan. But her sister's absence meant that there was nobody beyond her who could assist the few, inexperienced teachers that they had left.
The result were perfunctory classes, designed around reinforcing what they already knew rather than teaching anything of value.
Better than nothing, but not by much. Severa was half convinced that she could have taught better, but the redhead knew that the strain would take her concentration. If war was coming, it was unlikely that any of the students would be commanders, but if they knew how to wield a spear, they'd be effective in the infantry and a sword would allow them to be more effective skirmishers.
She hoped that it wouldn't come to that. She hoped that peace could be reached before fighting began and that it never got bad enough that her children would be called upon.
It felt strange, feeling possessive of a group of youths that were of her own age.
But she'd taught every one of them, memorised their names, helped through their struggles. They were hers and she would make sure they were as ready as they could be for what might come.
Including, especially, the one to her left.
Cynthia had never needed quite as much attention as the others. Not that her bubbly personality didn't attract it, but because the pegasus knights in the royal bodyguard saw her as a niece or younger sister. Where they were confident that Severa would eventually join them, that Cynthia would was a formality. So, she had a small cadre of experienced warriors privately tutoring her after class in everything she would need to know.
The silver haired girl was a demon with a lance, possibly the best of all of them, and she could fly circles around anyone. Gerome was the only one of their group that could match her in the air.
Unfortunately for all her proficiency, she didn't have a good head for even basic strategy, so she needed a firm hand to ensure that the young pegasus knight didn't go haring off to seek glorious battle.
But despite that, she was an attentive student. And more importantly, she cared. Often, speaking to her reminded Severa of Morgan. There was that same innocence about the pegasus knight. The positivity was infectious, but mostly it helped with the pain.
"What are we going to be working on today?" the lively girl asked.
"That's up to Lucy. I'll be dealing with the drills today, so whether you spar, learn something new or anything else will be up to her," Severa replied. The two of them played lessons fairly lose these days. With so many parents being away, the right kind of class often depended on the mood in the air. It was hard to teach new things to people who were worried about their families.
Mainly though, they were able to improvise because of how much they trusted each other. Often, she felt she could anticipate Lucy's thoughts before the princess expressed them. The contact, being so close, it still hurt. But knowing that princess needed her, counted on her, dulled the edge just enough.
"I think we'll join in with your drills to start," the older girl replied. "From there I'm hoping my group can work on more defensive technique today. I favour offense so strongly that sometimes I think the others are taking after me."
The redhead nodded. It was a valid concern. She was better balanced that Lucina, but neither of them liked fighting on the back foot. It was a shame Inigo wasn't a little older really, he would have been the perfect complement as a teacher.
"That is definitely something to worry about."
Severa froze.
Her father followed his voice around the corner.
"Daughter, exactly the person I was looking for."
Cynthia was in front of her in a flash.
"What do you want?" the young pegasus knight demanded.
Her father gave her younger companion a wry grin, "Is it so strange for a father to want to see his beloved daughter?"
"His beloved," Cynthia spluttered. "You haven't spoken to her in months!"
"Cynthia, please." Lucina interrupted, "Despite what might have happened, Uncle Robin a guest of the royal family. While he is here, you will show him the respect his station demands."
Cynthia gave the older girl a sullen stare, missing the calculated insult the princess had given. Robin was deserving of respect because of his station, not because of his deeds. Silently Severa thanked the princess for what little support she could offer.
"It's okay Cynthia," Severa finally managed to edge in. "Father, I am at your command." If he was speaking to her now, during lessons, it would technically be in his role as Grand Tactician. Much as she didn't want to go with him, to not would be to defy a direct order and whilst upsetting him would be nice, it wasn't worth the rumours that might spread.
"Excellent," he replied with that slimy smile, "my office is just this way."
It was a strange feeling, walking into her father's office. Structurally, with the stone walls, the elaborate desk, it couldn't have been any different. But closer inspection made it feel more familiar. Maps seemingly randomly strewn across the walls represented in depth tactical analysis of the Plegian border. The notes strewn across the table, manifests for grain and iron.
He was planning for the war, it looked like he'd been planning for a long while.
She stood by the guest chair opposite his, waiting for him to sit and give his assent for her to do the same. She'd never paid him such formality before, but that rigidity was all that was holding her from unleashing on this traitor.
"Sit, please. When we're alone you're my daughter first."
She bowed insolently before taking a seat.
It was eerily nostalgic in some ways, her father peering over the table at her. It always felt like those eyes could take the measure of someone with ease. Right now, they bored into her, searching for something.
"How bad is it?" she asked first. If only to break the stare.
He frowned slightly, shifting a report that was near him, "Bad. The Plegian army is significant, but we think they're a distraction."
That was interesting, an army as a distraction was odd, "What are they trying to divert attention away from?" An obvious question, but absent an obvious answer.
"Grima."
"The dragon god? I thought he was just a symbol for the Grimleal?" Her tone echoed her confusion.
"He's as real as Naga," came the reply. "But for the past thousand years he's been sealed away, at the hands of the first Exalt."
"I do know the legend father," she replied irritably. "I always just assumed it was just that, a legend, nothing more."
The tactician gave her an apologetic look, "That level of scepticism is something I sought to get in your head, but in this case has probably done a little harm." He pointed to one of the reports, "In theory, Grima should be sealed away, unable to escape his prison without the Fire Emblem, which we have in our possession. But if this report is right, the Grimleal have found a way to bypass that restriction. How exactly, is unclear. There's simply too much chatter about 'The Day of Return,' among them to make it a rumour."
Severa nodded slowly. She still couldn't quite believe what she was being told, but her father and the Exalt were taking it seriously enough to mobilise the entire kingdom.
"If Grima is revived," he continued, "I don't think the world, let alone Ylisse, will last long."
"And what does this have to do with me?" she asked finally, aware that she'd directed the discussion, but also that her father had let her.
"I need you to come stay with Morgan and me."
And there it was. All of that to try to make her abandon her mother. Lies about threats to the nation, about the urgency of what he was doing, all to get her to join him.
"So this is your game? Tell me the world is in danger to make me leave mum?"
A white eyebrow raised, "It's not a game Severa. You haven't been using Ignis. I don't know what's happening but you need to learn. You can't if you stay with your mother."
"No."
"Severa."
"I said no."
"Severa this is an order."
A fist slammed on the table, "I said no!"
The anger, the rage that she kept held tightly under lock and key burst from her.
"How dare you! How dare you try to take me away from my home. How dare you abuse your station like that! After everything you've done!
You cheated on mum. You never loved her and you turned me into a weapon to deal with your grief. You sad, disgusting old man."
A flash of anger crossed his face. It was dismissed in a moment. "I love your mother. I still love her."
"Don't lie to me. She told me everything. How you were in love with Aunt Emmeryn. How you turned my life into a way to assuage your guilt. I was never anything but a tool to you. A tool so that your precious Exalted family would have a protector after you were gone!" She was panting.
Her father regarded her flatly, appraisingly. Almost as if he was waiting to see if she had another move, another thing to say.
Finally, he spoke again. "Is that what you believe?"
"She told me herself," Severa confirmed.
"And tell me, did your mother tell you about how she was in love with the Exalt?"
"She… what?"
"Your mother and your 'uncle' Chrom were in love with each other."
Lucina's words rang in her ears, "Father would never say it, but I think he was in love with someone else. Aunt Sumia perhaps."
His tone was level, but his voice had a sadness, a pain to it. "She was devastated when she found out he was marrying Olivia. She came to me, cried for days."
He shifted, as if discomforted by his own words. "Lucina, Inigo, they're your mother's children in her eyes. The ones she really wanted, with the man she really loved. But she had me and you instead."
He leaned forward slightly, "So instead she trained you, to be the perfect bodyguard for Lucina. The perfect match for Lucina. So she could have the family she always desired."
It wasn't. It couldn't be true.
"Think back my daughter. Who was harsher on you? Who hurt you? Of the two of us, who really turned you into a weapon?"
Could it?
She got up. A mechanical movement. Her feet could barely hold her.
"I have to go."
"Think on what I've told you. There is always a home with me and your sister."
It was a cool day. A light breeze blew through the kitchen as Severa set the table, the smell of a lamb stew wafting from a pot ready for serving.
She didn't cook often; in truth it wasn't a strong point. But she knew at least some basics and it had been a while.
She hadn't trained late for once, opting instead to come home, eat and then work out from there. It was sometimes a little easier when she wanted to practice alone.
And safer. Ignis was still dangerous.
It had been weeks. Weeks since she'd spoken with her father. She'd held her tongue. Talking about him would probably upset her mum.
But it ate at her.
His emotion had seemed so real. His story was so plausible. There had to be truth to it. His words echoed in her head.
"Who hurt you?"
Words of a liar. A man who had hurt her. But a question that she couldn't bring herself to ignore.
Gently she'd probed, prodded, trying to get any more information from the older knight. Any hint of what things were like during the Plegian War, or perhaps just after.
It was too much. Any memories of that time were too tied up in grief. She couldn't bear to make her mum go through it again.
And so, she was left to wonder. Had the Exalt been special to Cordelia? Had they loved each other?
If it was true, what would that mean for her?
A knock came from the front door. Knowing the older knight would still be away for a few minutes, Severa took the pot off the fire and doused the flames. It was already well cooked enough.
She opened the door.
And immediately fell to one knee.
"My Exalt," she spoke into the floor, "I am at your command."
The Exalt ran a hand through his short blue hair, giving her an abashed look that she'd come to recognise from her mum's friends each time they spoke to her.
"Rise Severa, I thought I told you to call me Uncle Chrom!" he said as a smile crept over his face. "Sometimes I think Cordelia did too good a job of training you."
"I still have a lot to learn," she replied as she rose, adding in "Uncle Chrom," as an afterthought.
"All of us do, it's a good attitude to have," another smile, perhaps that's where Inigo got it from, "one I hear you've been imparting onto the other students."
"I'm doing my best," was all she managed.
"You should be proud Severa, that place is still able to teach in no small part thanks to you. Those skills will save lives, I'm sure of it," he replied earnestly.
That got a blush and a croaked, "Thank you" in response.
"Would you be able to tell me where your mother is? If I had to guess she's by the stables?"
An affirmative nod confirmed his guess before Severa insisted that he come inside and sat him down in the lounge.
He'd wanted to go see Cordelia at the stables, but at the younger girl's insistence stayed put while she brought her mum to him.
The two sat down and unfortunately for the curious teenager, insisted on privacy.
She was tempted to eavesdrop, but she respected the Exalt. Both his station and as a person. So instead, she knocked politely, interrupting only once to bring them both food.
It had to be about the war. Her mind jumped back to the last time a leader had graced their house. Basilio had come to personally ask her parents to fight Valm.
Severa had a feeling it might be the same now. For all he'd smiled, she felt a tension coming from the blue haired man.
But within the hour he'd eaten and then insisted that he needed to leave, moaning that he had to meet a dignitary early the next morning.
That was almost certainly a lie to make the younger girl feel better. Almost no dignitaries were left in Ylisstol and his time would be better spent preparing for war.
"What did he want?" she asked after her evening training. She'd managed to slice a target clean in two with a burst of Ignis at the right moment.
"Chrom?"
"The Exalt, yes," she confirmed.
"He's going to war soon. Perhaps in the next few days," her mother paused. "He's anxious. More so than he was with Valm, more so than before he was the Exalt." Another pause. "It was like he was trying to wish me a final farewell."
"It's that bad?"
"I think so," the older knight replied cautiously.
Perhaps her father hadn't been lying to get her to stay with him.
"But they can handle it right?" the younger Luna asked.
"Absolutely," came a confident response. "In any case, we should clean up and get to bed. We both need to be up early."
Severa nodded an affirmative before heading up to her room.
Her mum stayed at the bottom of the stairs, watching on.
Moonlight landed, slowing to a stop just outside the stable.
Severa dismounted, surprised to find the doors already open.
She ventured in.
Cordelia silently checked the loaded saddlebags on Dawnbreak. The white mare patiently allowing for straps to be tightened.
"You're leaving."
Her mother adjusted the strap one more time, "You're to fly to the castle in the morning. You'll be staying there while I'm away."
"You're leaving me."
The older knight finally looked away from her task. The cold focus, the one Severa had trained with for years painted her mother's face.
"I have to Severa."
"No, you don't."
"I have to protect…"
"Them?" Severa interrupted. A part of her didn't want her to carry on. But another part needed to. It needed to know. "Your beloved Chrom?"
"No, I need to." The façade broke, her mother's face giving way to shock, "What did you just say?"
Her father had told the truth. That expression gave everything away. "Your beloved Chrom! You seemed fine with staying until he showed up yesterday and now, you're getting ready to leave?" The younger girl's anger swelled, "When father told me, I didn't want it to be true. I believed, I really believed that you loved me. That I was important to you. But the moment, the second Chrom's in trouble and you're ready to go off again."
"Severa that's not true! I love you! I love your father."
"Stop lying to me!" she screamed. "Stop lying to me! I've never been anything but a pawn in your sick game with father. You trained me, you destroyed my childhood so what? I could be the perfect bride for Lucina? So you could marry me off and finally have the daughter, the family you really wanted?"
"No Severa, I trained you so you could protect…"
"The princess?" She interrupted. "Who tortures a child from the age of four so that they can guard a princess? What insane person beats a teenager until they bleed?"
"No Severa, I just wanted what was.."
"You wanted what was best for you! You've always wanted what's best for you! You've used me as a tool my entire life and now that I'm not going to end up with your precious Lucina you toss me aside!"
"Please Severa, please listen," her mother begged.
"I'm done listening to you and your stupid lies! Go fly off to be with Chrom. I never, ever want to speak to you again."
She turned and stormed away back to the house, to her room.
She held back tears. She wouldn't cry over her parents. Not anymore.
They didn't deserve her.
They had never deserved her.
Notes
Phew this one took a while. I'm really sorry it took so long everyone!
Broadly what happens is that I have a scope for each of my chapters and as I write I get more into scenes and think of more details so each time the scope creeps ever so slightly.
And this time there was a very long debate in my head about certain parts of chapter structure.
I know that this might feel like a bit of a downer as a chapter and for what it's worth, it's meant to be one. I promise there's going to be at least a little more levity in the future! (Even if I do enjoy writing drama a bunch!)
As always comments/reviews are amazingly helpful, so please post about anything you find interesting and I'll take the time to reply.
Reviews
The Chosen Storyteller: Thanks again for the review as always! I never really intended for a parallel from the way the fandom sees Cordelia to how Tharja sees Robin. I've always just felt that the M Robin relationship is the healthiest for her within the games. That and the fact that Tharja's crush can be requited makes it feel different to me. I just tried to imagine how I'd feel if I was married to someone who tolerated a relationship that was that unhealthy with a friend.
Lucina and Severa's shopping trip is some of the most fun I've had writing, (rivalled by a few lines in this chapter) so I'm really glad to see that you enjoyed it.
And I feel like my introduction is probably a little misplaced. This world is very very different to Awakening, as hopefully the events of this chapter will make clear. It cleaves closer to the Future Past in terms of timeline, but it really is its own thing and I always intended it to be. Hopefully this chapter will have seen some loose ends about the timeline tie up, so perhaps it'll be less confusing from now on.