Chapter 27: Bloodlines

Her messengers found Emmeryn at the tide pool. They viewed the place as odd, and a far cry from the usual throne room. That much was clear with how the messengers paused at the stairs, and looked askance at the rock Emmeryn perched on. Regardless of the change in scenery, they still read their reports.

Emmeryn tilted her head up to the sky, as though she could see the trails of smoke the letters described. Gangrel was carrying out his raids in earnest now; torching what settlements he could, bleeding the coastal towns of Ylisse as often as possible. And at each scorched town he left his message, nailed to blackened timbers and ruins of buildings.

The Emblem. He demanded the Emblem, threatened more carnage for the Emblem; his words could be wheedling or blood fueled, but they all meant the same thing.

"He still doesn't believe that we don't carry it." Emmeryn whispered, taking her gaze from the sky to focus on the tide pool instead.

"To be fair your Grace… That's one hell of an artifact to lose. How did your ancestors misplace it?" Flavia was blunt, but Emmeryn only found that refreshing. The Feroxi leader had returned from another patrol, and trudged through the sand. Sections of the coast stayed safe under her watch… But with the threat from Plegia, the Feroxi ships had to see to their own borders as well. They were getting stretched thin, and the strain showed in how direct Flavia was. And how she glowered past the tide pools, at the open sea.

"Going by our own history… It seems as though we sacrificed it, during the Drowning. I think that's the reason our kingdom survived, while Plegia sank beneath the hungry waves." Emmeryn said, thinking back to the songs. Those stories had never been specific about the Emblem's fate, but it was telling that it only showed up during the time of the first Exalt.

"Huh, and so Gangrel feels a bit slighted by something that happened centuries ago, and wants an eye for an eye? Or at least burning what was spared, while his homelands sank."

"I… Cannot claim to know his mind. But I wonder if there's an extra motive behind even that."

"What would that- ah, Walhart." Flavia caught on. "Chrom said he overheard something about that. Seems the warlord is using Gangrel to soften our forces up, so he can swoop in and capture whatever is left."

Emmeryn nodded.

"He hopes that with enough of Ylisse under his grip, that will reveal the treasure… Wherever it may be." Emmeryn doubted that method would lead to much; going by her snort, Flavia thought the same.

"Well, I have a few reports of my own to give." Flavia said. "Courtesy of Raimi, and her sailing the borders. Chrom's ship has been spotted, speeding towards the capital… But from the other direction, we've also seen a ship with black sails. Something that very much matches Gangrel's flagship. And there were hints of a fleet behind it." Flavia frowned. "And mast for mast… They have us outnumbered. We'll be in poor shape when they close with us… And it WILL be 'when.' They're making a straight line to the capital, even if their progress is slow."

"Any other ships to worry about?"

"Some refugees… And my scouts report that they keep seeing one single sail skiff. Doesn't look Plegian or Ylisse… Or Feroxi for that matter. And it doesn't sail like someone afraid of pirates or storms; it keeps sticking to the same spots, like it's searching for something."

"But you don't know what?" Flavia grimaced.

"No. The woman piloting it never stops to talk, and my ships have never been able to close with her. She's always dancing out of our hailing reach. But at least she doesn't look like she's out to make trouble. Just another riddle prodding at us."

"I see…"

"Seeing is fine. But do you have a plan?" Flavia pressed.

Emmeryn didn't answer at once. Instead she knelt by the edge of the tide pool, dipping her hand into the waters.

'You might not call to me the same way you do Chrom, but…' But the fact was, the reports came in a few days later than she'd expected. The fleets of Plegia had been slowed, through a combination of ill weather and uncooperative wind. 'But you've listened to me. And I can only hope you'll grant me another miracle, if you feel generous enough.'

"How far away are they? That is, Chrom and Gangrel."

"Both a day away, if that."

She wondered if the waves lapped over her hand a bit more eagerly, trying to seek out her touch. She couldn't linger on that for long, pulling herself upright to turn to Flavia.

"Flavia… If you could prepare an escort, I would be grateful and honored to have the Feroxi at my back." The Khan raised an eyebrow at that half request.

"Of course… But if you don't mind me asking, for what?"

"We need to ready ourselves, to meet Gangrel. And to attempt parley with him."

-o-o-o-

Her wounds and mending skin no longer ached in the sea breeze, and when she examined her hands there was barely a trace of burn scars.

'I might not need to cripple that stupid girl after all…' Though she'd still savor getting Robin back under her blade. Chances were, she wouldn't have to wait much longer. As her flesh mended, her magic was freed up. No longer busy with healing, instead she could try to mold the currents around them.

…The keyword being try. Her magic seemed sluggish, out of practice when it came to commanding the ocean. There was something in the water that still stubbornly held their ships back from full speed. If she opened her ears enough, she could hear a faint, silver chiming; something that came from an unpracticed throat. Whatever magic was being rallied against them wouldn't stand for long, when Aversa had full access to her powers.

'And it won't be long now.'

Aversa kept a calm watch, eyes resting on the waves and waiting for a telltale ripple. The rest of the crew had slunk away to their quarters, not willing to risk Gangrel's temper and exhausted from battling an unwilling current.

'A shame, they don't understand or appreciate the power around them. And they're blind on how to tap such strength.' But then, that meant she could savor the melding of navy waves and night sky by herself. She also didn't have to explain herself when a new splash disturbed the sea, and she slid down the side of the ship to meet what was underneath the waves.

A scale flecked face stared up at her. It blinked black ringed eyes that were more suited to staring through ocean depths, and focused on her.

Aversa dipped her head respectfully to the Mer, keeping her voice low.

"My thanks to your lord, for sending you here. I trust you have what I require-?" In answer, the Mer produced several glass vials. They were old work, likely salvaged from a wreck… But the content in those vials was fresh and red, and still warm when Aversa took the vials into her hands.

"I continue to understand our agreement. Two for my own spell work… One to contact his excellency, when I find more information." The Mer didn't answer, only flicking the fins over its ears once to show it had heard. Then it dipped into the ocean, speeding back to underwater realm.

Since she had her treasures, Aversa didn't dwell on the sudden departure. Something seemed to have startled the creature, with how quickly it had dove.

Aversa pulled herself onto the ship… To see Gangrel, prowling the deck. His eyes snapped onto her when she swung over the gunwales.

"…What were you doing?" He growled, bearing down on her. Aversa didn't flinch from his glare, or his heavy footfalls.

"Securing my own power, milord. You need someone to still sing spells and call storms, I trust?" His answer was a grumble. But since his sword stayed at his side instead of buried in her heart, the information must have satisfied him. "Though you do seem a touch curious about it… Perhaps you want to partake?"

She held up a glass vial, swirling the blood. Gangrel froze when she lifted the vial, narrowing his eyes on it. He considered it for only a moment, and then spat in distaste.

"We'll reach Ylisse, IF you do your job. I'm not that desperate." Not yet, it seemed. Aversa shrugged her shoulders at that, before uncorking the vial and swallowing the contents. The magic burned down her throat, headier than any wine.

"Suit yourself… But the offer remains open, if you wish to taste greater power."

-o-o-o-

The more the days stretched by, the more Lucina became convinced that it had to be some odd coincidence, like Tharja said. And the more she doubted any help would come from the Mer.

Sometimes she glimpsed Tharja, peering through the bars and narrowing her eyes on Morgan. But she seldom spoke to them, likely still trying to make up her mind on the captives.

"Why do you keep looking at me like that?" Morgan found himself saying, on one of her visits. She'd hesitated after throwing some food through the bars, and Morgan pounced on the opportunity to talk. "Do I have something weird on my face?"

"No, you look weird enough without anything else on you. But besides that, there's something else about you." Tharja grumbled. "Not that I can tell right away… And Validar will probably chop my hands off or something if I try hexing you. So instead. I just get to stare at you. Like this."

"…You said you know him?" Lucina tried, after Tharja lapsed into silence and an unnerving, long look at Morgan. She deigned to give them a nod, still scowling at Morgan's face.

"Wh-where exactly…?" Morgan asked, only for Tharja to shake her head. "Is having holes in your memory a common thing for mer people?

"It is if you've been scrambled up by one of those storms-" Tharja answered, only to cut herself off. Understanding flickered across her features. "Huh; guess I didn't need any hexes on you. Just needed to get you to ramble."

"So… How do you know me?" Morgan pressed.

"Like I said, storms. I saw you when I was in the grip of one of those storms. And when I needed to go sling some spells at the air breathers."

Morgan stared up at Tharja, trying to place her face. He froze at the last of her words, and if he wasn't backed up against rock, likely would have flinched from Tharja.

"Y-you made w-war? Why?"

"Why else? Because his excellency decided they're an abomination, an affront to water breathers, their ships are an intrusion and insult that can't stand, blah blah blah." Tharja rolled her eyes as she imitated Validar's grave tones.

"…But after all that ranting, he neglected to tell me that riding a storm would tear away a lot of my will. Or leave me more like a puppet on his strings." She lost the imitation, settling for flat anger instead. "But according to Validar, that's supposed to be ANOTHER gift from Grima. Personally, I'd be fine with some Mer blood for spell work and call that a good present."

"Grima…" Something about that name pushed a shudder through Lucina. Morgan didn't like the half memories he was getting either, with how his sides trembled.

"I…I remember struggling against something. You're telling me that was you?" But despite their violent past, Tharja held her place and gave them a steady look.

"That's what I've been saying. Don't get the wrong idea, kid; it wasn't my idea to waste magic on air breathers, or tear into you, but try telling that to His High Darkness. Actually, don't try telling him; I like swimming free more than getting locked in a nice cozy cell like yours."

She considered them again, before giving out a long suffering sigh.

"Look… Sharing uncomfortable truths is fine, but I guess I owe you some kind of heart to heart as well. And I'm not great at talking to kids, either." Lucina glowered at that, but Tharja ignored her look. "Point is, I got a few scars from facing your little brother. But he also knocked some sense back into me, and I like that better than being slave to a storm. So I guess I also owe you for that much… Eventually." She'd turned her back on them as she spoke, and drifted off before Morgan could even get a "wait-!" out.

He sank back to the floor, looking dejected.

"Another mystery, huh?" He muttered to himself, before frowning over at Lucina. "S-sorry, I don't remember a lot either; just that… When you found me, I'd been fighting SOMETHING, and it had me scared."

"We keep fighting against these Mer… And it makes me wonder if they really will help us." Tharja wasn't exactly a cheery presence, and Henry was unnerving in his own way. They also hadn't offered up any details on Robin, and seemed distracted; they were planning something, Lucina knew. But what she didn't know was if, or how that would help her and Morgan.

Morgan could only hang his head, letting silence draw out.

"…Hey, Luci?" Morgan spoke up. He'd finished shoveling their meager rations up from the floor. Looking at Morgan's hands, Lucina picked out sea fruit of some variety, bruised and mashed up; she was surprised their food wasn't half-rotten as well. But keeping them alive and free of poisoning was apparently a priority. Morgan handed one of the fruits to her before continuing. "What all do you remember? About Mother, I mean?"

She blinked at that.

"I-I just… I've been trying to think and remember. It's not like we have much else to do." Lucina knew he could barely swim as well. He may have had his bleeding staunched, but his movement was still hampered. He couldn't swim towards the bars, or do much more than tread water. It didn't leave him with many options to pass time. "So I've been trying to think of Mother and Father… But I've just got vague details. So I was wondering if you had anything?"

"What I told our jailors." Lucina said. "But… Apart from that I think… I remember going to the… The shore with her? And she taught us to swim?" The memories played hazy in her head; images of holding her mother's hands and watching the waves roll in along the coastline. Then splashing through the waves, wading into deeper water and learning how to float.

"How does that…?" Morgan's voice brought her back, to see his brow furrowed in confusion. "How does that work? You'd think we wouldn't need to be taught how to swim, or at least not where the land is so near-"

He cut off with a wince.

"N-no. That's not right either, I-" He looked ready to smash his head into something, to try and order his thoughts. But thankfully a voice stopped Morgan short.

"Hey, you guys didn't die while I was gone right-?" She found Henry staring down, into their hole of a cell. "Oh, good."

"You've returned." Lucina murmured.

"Yeah, and it turns out there IS one way we can figure this thing out, if there's a connection between you and our Robin." Henry reached beyond the view of the cell door, bringing out a pair of daggers. They seemed almost carved from volcanic glass, with the dark quality of the blades. "We can do a little divining, using your blood as the catalyst- aw c'mon don't make a fuss. That's how spells work for me."

Morgan didn't seem convinced, judging by how his tail had coiled around him and he hunched against the rocks. Lucina knew her own face was scrunched up in disbelief.

"It's just a little blood." Henry tried, and Morgan's frown deepened. The jailor looked to Lucina. A part of her wanted to flinch away from the offer, and ignore Henry. But the rest of her dwelled on those hazy memories. And reminded her about how little she knew.

'You're done feeling powerless, and ignorant.'

"…We've already bled a lot. So much as I don't enjoy the prospect, shedding a bit more wouldn't be too huge of a sacrifice." She rested a hand on Morgan's shoulder. "And… I want to know more about our mother. If that's what it takes to find out about her, then I will."

She swam up to the entrance of the cell, accepting the knives Henry passed through the bars. Beyond the cage she glimpsed their other captor, still drifting nearby after she'd fetched Henry. Tharja watched them curiously, and Lucina swore she saw something close to respect in her gaze.

"You at least SOUND like you could be related to Robin." Tharja admitted. "She had that same determined attitude, when she left all of this behind."

"H-how did you know her?" Morgan pressed. Lucina sank back down and handed one of the blades to him. In the wane light of the cell, Lucina saw the knife shake in his hands. The blade went from shadow to glinting as it shivered in Morgan's grip.

"Well… I'd listen to her. She talked to me whenever she got sick of Validar's high and mighty act. Henry was more of a barely funny annoyance-"

"HEY!"

"But she seemed to like him, too. Enough that we made for some company. With her gone, it's been a boring few months."

'Months.' Whoever this Robin was, she clearly hadn't been gone long. Not long enough to have children. Doubt weighed down on Lucina's shoulders.

'But…' Lucina stared down at the knife, curiously light in her hands. 'But there's still a chance this might tell me something.'

Resolve tightened her grip around the handle. She slashed the blade across her arm, giving a small hiss of pain. Red clouded the water, before a hollow chamber in the knife eagerly drank it up. Morgan braced himself when Lucina tensed from the pain, slashing his own arm.

"Hh!" He choked out. "Please tell me that's enough?"

In answer Henry stuck his arm through the bars. Lucina gathered the knives and passed them back.

"It's plenty; you might be kinda weird and confused, but you've got some power charging your blood. Makes it easy to cast spells!" Henry tilted his head as he spoke, and Lucina heard something besides his voice.

Already the waters hummed with magic, like the slash of the knives also plucked some sort of invisible chord. Henry matched his voice to the hum, and weaved his fingers in a circle. The blood followed the motion, forming into a strange spell frame. A circle of glowing red hung in the water, drifting between cell door, prisoners, and guards.

Within the spell, an image rippled into focus. Lucina picked out pale hair, running link strands of moonlight over the shoulders of a woman. She wore robes of black and violet, and stood against a blue ocean melting into equally vivid sky. It was strange to see her hair and clothing laying flat instead of drifting in the currents… But she yanked at something in Lucina's heart. And she remembered seeing that face; not just in vague memories, but also staring down at her on a ship.

Like before, her skin twitched and glowed in patches, trying to send out a message; a single word.

"Mother-?" She choked out. Morgan gave a soft noise, and almost reached for her… Only to wince and draw his hand back, rubbing at his neck. Lucina wondered if her own breath was coming harder.

The spell snapped out like a popped bubble, leaving Henry to blink at the empty space. Tharja was still staring at the remains of the spell. Despite the lack of gills and fins, it was clear she'd recognized the face. Lucina wished she could get the image back, to have something solid to watch for a moment longer. Maybe it would ease the strange pressure closing around her.

"…Well, that proves it." Henry said in the silence. "You are related to Robin. Blood doesn't lie when it makes a connection like that- wait, what's wrong with them?"

Breathing had turned into a struggle. Lucina sank to the floor of the cell as her tail gave up whatever strength it had.

"I… I can't swim any longer." Lucina whispered, her voice ragged. "What's-?"

"Oh… This spell is definitely doing something to you. Trying to make a connection between you and Robin, maybe?" Henry tried. Tharja gave a frustrated huff.

"…I should've seen this coming, if we mingled blood, saltwater, and magic together. There was bound to be some sort of resonance. Henry, we're going to have to hurry this up, if they stay like this. And if Robin did make to the air world… It might not be long until their bodies try to mimic her."

"Huh! Guess that bond is more potent than I thought." Morgan's sides fluttered, pressing against the water as he tried to claw in air. Around Lucina the water felt more and more like a set of weights pressing on her.

"I…" Lucina didn't want to plead, but she didn't have much of an option… Or much strength to say anything.

"Hey, no worries. We already stuck our necks out for Robin once. Might as well do the same for her kids. She'd give us a lot of grief if we didn't."

"Just try not to drown in the meantime." Tharja said, tracing glyphs in the water, and enacting some sort ward around them. Lucina managed a clean breath, though her body felt limited to only that. "Can't really save your necks if you do that."

-o-o-o-

A black mood hung over Gangrel's ship, along with the black weather. And there seemed to be a hum to the slowing, sluggish currents… Something sounded suspiciously like Aversa's own songs. But Aversa said nothing about it, not ready to aggravate Gangrel.

At least not yet. Particularly when the messengers from Walhart were doing that job. A letter had come, along with another wyvern rider… Who had then excused themselves once Gangrel snatched the letter from their hands.

Gangrel didn't look at the wyvern. The rider could slam into the waves for all he cared, from the way he stalked across the deck and barged into the cabin. Aversa had long since grown use to such entrances, not even flinching.

"What does he expect from me!?" Gangrel snarled, throwing his sword down and tearing off the wax seal.

Aversa noted the way his blood drained out of his face, before he shredded the letter in a rage. Even with the destruction, Aversa saw a few fragments of letters fluttering across her section of the table.

"…So from what I can piece together, he expects you to use that Levin sword of yours against Ylisse…"

"Or else use it to open my own throat, as it will be the most merciful outcome for me. The arrogance of that man-!" Gangrel seethed.

He slammed his fist down on the table… And rattled the same blade. It slipped loose from where Gangrel had slammed the sword into the table. Aversa wondered if there wasn't a hint of spark, picking up on Gangrel's stormy mood.

'He has the potential…'

"Well my lord… Might you be interested in my offer now?" Aversa kept her voice sly, knowing that would grab his interest far quicker than any pleading. It had been what kept her alive as a curiosity and tool, when so many others had their heads separated from their shoulders.

Gangrel gave a grumble in reaction. But he also lifted his gaze to her, which would be the closest Aversa would get to an affirmative.

"You saw that I received this." The candles of the cabin glinted off the glass sides of the vial she drew from her dress. A red liquid shifted inside it.

"…A vial of blood for your rituals no doubt. And your…Odd tastes." He clearly hadn't forgotten her drinking it. "Why should that interest me?"

"Oh, the fact it isn't human blood for one thing. Tell me, my lord… What do you know of the legends of the Mer?"

"THAT'S what you have to tell me!?" Gangrel spat out. "You want to waste my time with nonsense-"

He stilled when Aversa pressed her thumb to the jagged edge of the Levin sword. A drop of blood welled from her finger, running red across the metal… And this time there was more than a flicker of magic. A spark of lightning spat from the blade and shot an inch past Gangrel's face. It crashed against the metal of the windows, dissipating with a slam of the thunder.

"It's far from nonsense, my lord." Aversa's voice was muted from the rumble… But it had the effect of stopping Gangrel dead in his rant. "Why do you think I can read the wind and waves, when other mages are so blind?"

He stilled, staring at Aversa in disbelief.

"…You're telling me that those stories-"

"Are not just stories. That blade you carry is a relic of the sea and bygone days, and those who were banished beneath the waves. And I carry much of the same power in my own blood, thanks to these vials." Aversa tapped the glass again.

"These are my rewards, for serving those with might far beyond anything Walhart can muster. So I shall extend this offer again and ask… Do you desire such power?" Gangrel's eyes narrowed, ready to throw her and her vials off the side of the ship. But then he glanced at the shredded letter.

He hesitated for only a moment. But in that moment, Aversa could see something shift in his face.

"…That bastard princeling is closing in on us. Odds are he'll be at Ylisstol right as we reach it, along with his high and mighty sister… And I'm ready to knock them down from their lofty perches." Gangrel snarled. "So I suppose I have no choice but to say… Yes. I'll take it."