Yes, I Remember

by HopelessRomantic1020

When an unknown enemy drags the Lycian army's tactician to the realm of Ylisse, Lyn gives chase in an effort to save the life of the man she adores. Now stranded in an unfamiliar land, the Lady of the Plains finds herself in caught up in yet another war, once again fighting alongside her precious Robin. A rewrite/expansion of "Do You Remember?" AU. Canon-divergent slow burn.

23. Trouble in Themis

Okay, so... I have some explaining to do. I'll get to that later though. Big thanks to BrandedKing again for beta reading! Let's go!

---

The road to Themis was rocky and winding. There wasn't a cloud to be found as the sun beat down on two rows of soldiers on horseback. Between them, two luxurious carriages pulled forward—one for the Duke and one for his daughter. Over a week had passed since Maribelle and her entourage departed from the capital. While she initially accompanied her father, she had made it very clear that she wanted some time to converse with her wartime companions as well. A chipper Ricken sat at her side during much of the journey, and the two spoke about her home with much excitement.

The woman sitting across from them, however, didn't even pretend to be interested.

Clad in a hooded black cloak, Tharja massaged her temple with one hand and drummed her fingers against her knee with the other. The outside heat wouldn't have bothered her under normal circumstances, but everything else about the situation was getting to her. She knew exactly why Maribelle was so adamant on dragging her here. With that vile green-haired nuisance having claimed Robin as her own, Themis was the perfect excuse to keep her from doing anything about it.

This isn't fair… What does she have that I don't?! I'm far more alluring than that… that...!

Tharja sighed and sulked as she sank back in her seat. She couldn't care less about the fine red leather beneath her; all she cared about was him. From the moment they met at the Plegian ball, she knew Robin was something special. The way he carried himself, how kind he'd been to her… He just seemed so… normal. A far cry from the various suitors her mother tried setting her up with over the years. They all had something to gain from marrying the countess's daughter—wealth, prestige among the Grimleal, the ability to propagate their bloodline—but Robin didn't.

Lacking the ties to Plegian society they possessed, the kindness he'd shown her must have been genuine. He was never anything short of a gentleman with her. A charming, boyishly handsome gentleman. That sort of man was in shockingly short supply back home.

And she wanted—needed—more of it. She craved it. She craved him…!

"Hey, Tharja! Whatcha doin'?"

She grimaced as Ricken's plucky voice filled her ears like a screeching rooster at dawn. Tharja shot him a glare. He sat across from her with a silly look on his face, still wearing that ridiculously large hat on his head.

Why does he even wear that inside anyway?!

"Nothing. Shut up and mind your own business."

"Oh!" Maribelle's dainty gloved hand flew to her mouth. Her shock was soon replaced by a protective anger. "How rude! Ricken here was only asking a simple question about—"

"I don't care." Tharja folded her arms and stared out the window. "Just leave me alone."

For a few seconds, Maribelle's mouth hung open as she scrambled to think of a response. She eventually crossed her arms as well and turned away. A peevish scowl marred her porcelain face.

"Hmph! The things I do for the greater good! I'm beginning to wish I'd brought anyone else along, magical talent or no. Anyone would have made for better company really: Stahl, Kellam, Cordelia… Even that brutish lout, Vaike! Ugh!"

"Hey!" Ricken protested. "Teach ain't so bad when ya get to know 'im!"

"Good heavens! You're beginning to sound just like him! We'll have to scrub that tongue of yours with soap as soon as we reach the castle."

"What?! No!"

The two squabbled, but Tharja stopped paying attention entirely. It was bad enough that she'd been forced into visiting some Ylissean territory without Robin. Did she really have to babysit as well?

She huffed, blowing a loose strand of hair from her face. As much as she respected Chrom for dealing with Gangrel, she wished he'd stayed out of this entirely. Were it just Maribelle and her father asking, Tharja would have turned them down on the spot. But when Maribelle dragged the future Exalt onto the scene, it ended up putting her on the spot.

Curse you, Chrom! Curse you, Maribelle and Lyn alike! I should have hexed the lot of you when I had the chance!

She glared at the others again. They continued to talk aimlessly, oblivious to her vitriol. A wicked grin crept across her face as her sharp gray eyes locked onto Maribelle.

Perhaps I'll turn those blonde curls of hers into serpents…

All three of the wagon's inhabitants were shaken as the carriage came to an abrupt halt. Tharja's hand flew into her cloak, reaching for the tome within her pocket, but Maribelle held her hand out.

"Hold a moment," she said, glaring out the nearest window with narrowed eyes. "I do not believe we're under attack, but it would certainly appear that some rider is in dire need of a reprimand!"

A few soldiers opened the doors of the wagon, but it was the young rider himself who offered a hand and an apologetic smile. "My sincerest apologies, Lady Maribelle. We have arrived."

---

After the Schism of old, the Duchy of Themis was founded as a territory of Ylisse—the closest to Plegia, separated only by the mountains to the west. This closeness to them made it Ylisse's main source of ore, but it also made it a prime target for bandits. Yet it endured assault after assault time and time again. Its stony castle, second in size only to the capital's, sat on a hill overlooking the duchy. Beneath her pink parasol, Maribelle smiled fondly at the sight of her home in front of her. Her smile only grew as she turned to look at the sprawling landscape and town below.

While Maribelle had been graciously helped out of the carriage, no such courtesy was extended to Ricken; he grumbled as he got out on his own. When a soldier extended a hand to Tharja, she ignored him and stepped out as well. Themis was a far cry from Ylisstol, but the bright blue skies that blanketed it were nigh identical. Their surroundings were noticeably more arid than the lush capital, however, and giant mountains loomed to the west.

Mountains that separated Maribelle's home from her own.

"Gaze upon our lovely abode, friends!" Maribelle announced, gesturing all around. "And for the next two weeks, it shall be yours as well!"

"Wow…" There were stars in Ricken's eyes as he stared at the castle. "It's just as pretty as I remember it!"

"Hmm?" Tharja glanced over, her eyebrow raised. "You've been here before?"

"Yeah! A couple of times back when I was a kid."

"Right, so… Two, three days ago perhaps?"

"H-hey!" He grit his teeth, seething at her smirk. "I'm not a—"

"Both of you, please!" Maribelle cut him off with a frown. "It's not every day you get to visit Ylisse's one and only dukedom! This should be a time for merriment! Celebration!"

"I'm celebrating on the inside," Tharja deadpanned, folding her arms. "May we enter now? The sun and I have never gotten along. Any longer and I might burst into flames… or make someone else burst into flames."

A few nearby soldiers gave her suspicious glances, but Maribelle merely rolled her eyes. "Save your spells for the classroom, darling. You start bright and early at our Mages' College tomorrow morning! Now come along. I suspect Father is already back on the throne waiting for us..."

"Mages' College," Tharja repeated with disdain, already halfway to the castle entrance. "My own powers aren't even fully developed and yet you expect me to teach others? Why couldn't Miriel have come along?"

"She said she was busy!" Ricken said as he jogged to catch up. "She did teach at the college in Ylisstol before joining the Shepherds, though. I hear she tutored Exalt Emmeryn in the past too!"

"Hmph. Riveting."

It wasn't long before Maribelle led them through the halls and to the throne room. Sure enough, Duke Theodore of Themis had already made himself comfortable in his chair of choice. His neatly groomed, once-blonde hair was now almost entirely gray. He was pale and gaunt with sunken cheeks, but his eyes lit up as they laid upon his daughter's face.

"Ah, Maribelle!" he cried, rushing off of the throne to meet her in a hug. "How are you, daughter dearest?"

"I'm quite well, Father," she reported, hugging him back with a smile. Maribelle gestured to the figures behind her. "I believe you are already acquainted with my friends here?"

"But of course…" Her father stroked his chin, glancing at the odd duo. Ricken gave an awkward wave as Tharja gazed off to the side, arms folded. The Duke returned his attention to his daughter once more. "Ah, but where are my manners? You all must be exhausted from the trip. Maribelle, the maids have left your room as tidy as it was when you were here last! Guest rooms have already been prepared for your companions as well."

"Thank you, Father!"

"Thank you, Duke Themis!"

"... Hmph." Tharja nodded, still not looking at him. "Thanks."

With that, the Duke's soldiers escorted them out of the room. Theodore watched them leave with a smile, but it faded the moment they were out of his sight.

"That woman… Could she truly be the instructor Maribelle spoke so highly of?"

The question escaped his mind as pain filled his body. His muscles ached with every step he took back to the throne. When the Duke's soldiers approached him, he halted them with a single raise of the hand. He settled back into his seat with a sigh, and a cleric approached him with a staff.

"No, no," he told her softly. "I'm fine, thank you. Really…"

She opened her mouth to argue, but stopped as she heard footsteps. Theodore looked past her and saw several soldiers carrying numerous scrolls in their arms. "Good heavens… Are those all truly for me? I knew a man of my station had amassed quite the following, but…"

He sighed again as they approached him. Reluctantly, Theodore took one of them into his wrinkled hands. While he normally would have one of his men read it out loud, he suspected this was a more personal matter. He opened and read scroll after scroll silently, his face growing more glum with each one.

His suspicions were confirmed.

It was no secret that the only child of House Themis had grown into a refined young lady. Noblemen across Ylisse had pined after Maribelle for years, but she refused each and every last proposal. Even during the ride back to Themis she had expressed no interest in them… and expressed it vehemently at that.

"That girl," Theodore muttered, his head resting against his fist. "I understand how she feels, but she has a duty to her duchy. Her halidom! Can't she see that? Oh, if only Francesca were still with us…"

"The burden of nobility is a heavy one indeed," the cleric from before said, bowing her head. "Worry not, Your Grace. I am sure she will come around eventually. Shall I fetch you some elderberry tea?"

"That sounds like a godsend at this hour. Please do."

As the cleric departed for the kitchen, Theodore looked down at his weary feet. The piles upon piles of proposals that had accumulated there filled him with dread. No one would force Maribelle to get married, least of all him, but she was his only child. Had she died in the war, or had they both, what would have become of Themis? His advisors would always be around, but who was to say a more ambitious noble wouldn't try to worm their way onto the throne? He knew firsthand how cutthroat they could be.

Before long, he had a hot cup of tea in one hand and a little saucer in the other. The aroma and taste of elderberry did little for his palate, but it brought back fond memories of his wife. It was Francesca's favorite when she was pregnant with Maribelle. Some of the castle staff even joked that their daughter inherited her love of it from her—that it was in their blood.

It wouldn't have surprised him. They had much in common: their mannerisms, their diction… Even their strong sense of justice.

"Francesca… What would you have me do? I cannot force her, but what of our future?" Theodore sighed. The empty teacup and saucer were taken from him as his face fell into his hands. "Naga, give me a sign, a miracle… Someone she can truly love, who will love her back tenfold…"

---

Castle Themis's hallways were as extravagant as they were long. Luscious silk carpets sat under Ricken's feet as the guards led him and the others past numerous pillars and paintings. As they did, he couldn't help but think about Maribelle's father. Duke Theodore—Teddy, as Ricken's mother snidely called him—was rather gray and worn-down. According to the rumors he heard, however, he was no older than Chrom when his wife gave birth to Maribelle. He might've been even younger, actually...

"Uh, hey, Maribelle?" Ricken asked once they stood outside the doors to her room. "You, uh... got a sec?"

"For you? Always." She smiled at him before shooing away her guards. She waved daintily at Tharja, who merely rolled her eyes and followed them without a word. "Speak, Ricken."

"Well, um…" He rubbed his arm, avoiding those reddish-pink eyes of hers. Normally he'd meet them without even thinking. "I mean no disrespect, but…"

The corners of her mouth fell. "Yes?"

"Why is your dad so old?!" Ricken blurted. His face went as red as his hair in seconds. "Ack! No! I… I mean…!"

"Ricken! It… it's fine." Maribelle sighed, crossing her arms. She frowned and stared at the floor. "In truth, it's neither unthinkable nor unreasonable that one would come to such a conclusion. I may be seventeen years of age, but my father is only thirty-five."

"Huh?!"

"Fear and stress have aged him," she elaborated, still not looking up from the marble tiles beneath her shoes. "He never lets anyone know this, but…"

Maribelle briefly tilted her head up and glanced all around. No one else was nearby, but she leaned in close anyway. "Young as he was back then, the Crusade against Plegia still haunts him to this day. Countless innocent families across both nations were torn apart… including those of his friends and subjects. Many never forgave him. Between that, the stress of ruling, and the constant bandit raids… He's a mess."

She backed away, shutting her eyes. "Perhaps the death of my mother played a role in this as well."

Ricken was stunned. He and Maribelle were far too young to remember those dark days firsthand. He'd never stopped to consider that others, even with Ylisse heading in a new direction, still clung to the past. He never remembered seeing or hearing about Maribelle's mother as a child either.

"Oh… Oh, no," he muttered, his heart sinking. "Maribelle, I'm so sor—"

"Don't." She brusquely cut him off. With a remorseful look, her tone softened. "Please don't, Ricken. She was always rather sickly, and we were told she ultimately chose my life over hers. In any case… That was a lifetime ago. As her and Father's only child, it falls to me to rule Themis as its duchess someday."

"R-right," Ricken managed to get out, nodding. His mouth moved faster than his mind. "W-well, I think you'll be the best duchess ever!"

"Duchess and magistrate!" Maribelle corrected with a bright grin. "But… Thank you, Ricken. Truly." She grabbed his hands, eyes aglow with life. You have no idea how much it means to me that you're here right now."

"H-huh?!" His cheeks began to match his hair again. "But I haven't done anything special. I can't even teach anyone how to use a beginner-level tome…"

"Nonsense! You've been one of my most stalwart companions since the day we met, and I'll never forget how you rescued me from Gangrel's clutches that fateful day."

Ricken rubbed his arm, blushing again. "Oh, geez… That was, I mean… I had to do something, you know?"

"I know," Maribelle said, still smiling. "Not just anyone could have done what you did."

"It's true that Father has already appointed Tharja to teach, but you can certainly lend a hand as her assistant." She giggled. "Or we could simply sit in on the lesson together! I've been meaning to brush up on anima magic myself, you know."

"Oh, wow! That's… I mean… You really have the time? I thought you'd be busy with your studies and… stuff."

At this, Maribelle chuckled. "Worry not, Ricken. Father has allowed me to take the rest of today and tomorrow off. But afterwards, it's right back to class for me as well!"

"Neat!"

"Well, I'd best get settled back in," she said, turning slightly towards the door. Her eyes sparkled as she smiled back at him. "I expect to see you there as well, darling!"

With that, Maribelle entered her room and closed the door, humming to herself. Ricken couldn't help but stare after her. He met her and Lissa when they were all much younger, shortly after a run-in with other children of the nobility. It was about six or seven years ago, but he remembered it all too vividly…

---

"Where are you running, shrimp?!"

"Those little legs won't save you!"

"Ha! I think he's running out of breath!"

They were gaining on him. What started as just another round of teasing from the older boys turned into a contest to see who could shove him the hardest. It was only a matter of time before they got bored of that. The woods outside Ylisstol were scary, but they were scarier.

Much, much scarier.

Ricken reached a clearing in the forest, his legs screaming at him to stop, but it wasn't long before they caught up to him. These bigger, taller boys who made him look like a twig… and they all came from more powerful noble families to boot.

"Pathetic," the leader, an impeccably dressed blonde boy spat. He was flanked by two other boys. "Truly pathetic. Is this the best your house has to offer?"

"Just… Just leave me alone!" Ricken barked, clenching his fists. "I didn't do anything!"

"'I didn't do anything!'" one of the others cried in a whiny voice. The lot of them laughed. "You're not one of us. You don't even deserve the title of noble!"

"Sh… Shut up!"

"Aww, look at the wittle backwater baby! Gonna cry? Soil yourself, perhaps?"

"Stop it! I'm not a..."

Ricken was tearing up, but he grit his teeth as they approached him. His nails dug into his palms, and he snarled a vicious snarl at them.

… Or at least, he thought that he was him.

"Huh?" One of the older boys turned, his legs quivering a little. "Wh… What was that?! Show yourself!"

The snarls continued. Ricken backed away from the others until he hit a tree. Shining eyes from all sides peered through the darkness. Even the boys' leader couldn't help but shake a bit. He cleared his throat in a fruitless attempt to sound intimidating. "Th-th-that's enough! See here, you vicious mongrels! I am the most distinguished nobleman in all of Ylisse! The heir to the Eastern Palace will not be swayed by the likes of you!"

The beasts stepped into view, no longer hidden by shadows. Grey and black wolves with big white teeth and bloodshot eyes snarled at them again. Ricken grabbed a branch near the tree to defend himself, but the others made a run for it.

"Aiyeeeh!"

"M-Mommyyyyy!"

"Wait, you fools!" the leader cried after them, sprinting. "W-wait for meeeee!"

Ricken would've laughed had his own life not been in danger. A few of the wolves chased after the others, but the rest set their sights on him instead. He tried to make himself look as tall and threatening as possible, swinging his branch around wildly and yelling at the top of his lungs. Some of the wolves faltered, but the largest was not swayed. It stalked towards him, growling. Its ears suddenly perked up as the sound of galloping filled the air.

"Yaaaaah!"

The wolves turned towards the noise, and the one closest to Ricken narrowly avoided being trampled. Ricken hid behind the tree as his savior swung a lance at them from atop his horse. Some of the wolves fled into the woods, bleeding. Others leapt at the horse only to be kicked or slashed at. When a final one made a last-ditch effort to lunge at Ricken, the person jumped off their horse and battered it away. It whimpered as it ran off.

"Are you okay?" he asked, approaching the tree. Ricken peered out from behind it and saw a young man of about fifteen staring down at him. The blue hair that covered his head was a dead giveaway.

"Prince Chrom?! Is… Is that you?"

"You're Ricken, right? I feel like I've seen you somewhere before… Are you hurt?"

"N-no..." Ricken came out from behind the tree. "Uh… th-thank you…"

Now that he got a closer look, he could see that the prince of Ylisse had bloody scratches here and there. Chrom merely smiled at him. "You don't have to worry about the others. My friends and I made sure that the wolves didn't touch them. I'm just glad I got here in time!"

"No kidding…"

"Prince Chrom!"

"Your Highness!"

Two others on horseback rode up behind them. The first was a young man a few years older than Chrom. He had brown hair and wore silver-plated armor, along with a stern look. The other was a boyish girl with short red hair. She wore a green tunic and carried a sword.

"Where's the rest of 'em, huh?! Lemme at 'em!"

"Peace, Sully," Chrom gestured with a hand. "I think we're safe… for now. We'd best not linger here much longer."

"Well said, milord." The brown-haired man frowned at Ricken. "It's unsafe for one as young as yourself to venture out alone, Ricken."

"Huh?! You… you know who I am?"

"I make an effort to know all Ylissean nobility by name. There will be plenty of time for formalities later. We must go."

The four of them rode out of the forest, Ricken sitting behind Sully and Frederick keeping a close eye on Chrom. Sully went on and on about her courageous older brothers and how they were recently knighted, but Ricken just stared at Chrom all the while. He was tough as nails, but… tired. He almost looked ready to collapse.

It wasn't long until they reached the royal infirmary. Chrom had gotten the worst of it, but he would be fine. The tongue lashing he'd get from Emmeryn and the royal advisors would hurt far more than any claw could.

Ricken's parents were informed and on their way. As he sat on a bed, he could hear a girl around his age tearing into the boys who'd chased him nearby. They said nothing, for fear of incurring her wrath any further. Ricken briefly smirked before she walked into view: a dainty, diminutive girl with long blonde curls and a red bow. Never before did he think that a girl in a pink dress would frighten him.

"And as for YOU," she said, hands on her hips. "Running off into the woods all on your lonesome?! What were you thinking?! What if something had happened to you? What would your parents say?"

"I… I dunno! I didn't mean to, I just…" He sniffed, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "Just…"

The girl's scowl faded into a frown of remorse. "My apologies. This is no way for a proper lady to behave. It's shameful, really…"

"N-no, I understand. I wasn't thinking at all… I just wanted to get away from them."

"I can't say I blame you after all of that. I heard about how those boys treated you." She pouted, her face growing red. "Honestly, that Rufus is such a boor! It's no wonder his parents have to pay the other boys to be his friends."

"They… They do?"

"Quite! And do you want to know something else?" The girl leaned in close, grinning and almost laughing. I hear he is deathly afraid of frogs! My best friend has been thinking about slipping one into his cup during teatime."

"That doesn't seem very ladylike…"

"She is hardly a typical lady, and I'd usually frown at such behavior, but…" She winked. "I believe I can let it slide just this once. Fair is fair!"

They laughed a bit, hers considerably more haughty than his. Ricken blinked in confusion when she suddenly offered him her hand.

"Huh?"

"Lady Maribelle of House Themis, at your service." She smiled, but quickly yanked her hand away when he motioned to grab it. "Ah-ah-ah!"

"What?"

"Have you no manners? You do not shake a lady's hand—you kiss it."

"Huh?!" Ricken's eyes bulged out of his head. "R… Really?"

"Well? Are you a noble or not?"

After a few moments of deliberation, he gently took her hand by the fingers and kissed her knuckles. Maribelle giggled in response. "Well then. I suppose this makes us noble acquaintances from here on out!"

"It does?"

"Certainly! I don't let just anyone do that, I'll have you know."

"But… What about Rufus? Or the other boys?"

"Please! I wouldn't let those louts touch me with the finest handkerchief! And speaking of handkerchiefs…"

---

Ricken sighed as he leaned against that same girl's bedroom doors. From that day on, he looked up to Chrom and Maribelle both. He'd always gotten along well with them and Lissa—the latter's pranks notwithstanding—but something about Maribelle had captivated him since the beginning.

Whatever that something was had only grown with time. Her dignified demeanor, her gorgeous golden curls, her smile, the little heart-shaped buttons on her favorite outfit... and her heart itself. Maribelle could be curt at first—as many could attest to—but when she let her guard down and allowed herself to warm up to people...

She was wonderful. Beautiful, even.

Ricken's young, lovestruck mind wandered places it shouldn't have. She was the future Duchess of Themis, but his house was so destitute it had no land to call their own. They lived as glorified commoners in Ylisstol. None of his friends ever looked down on his family, but other Ylisseans talked. The nobility was especially guilty of this. Their snobbishness at the family's financial woes is what egged on those bullies all those years ago to begin with.

And here he was, impoverished and infatuated. He'd never admit it out loud, but Ricken was smitten through and through. On more than one occasion he dreamed of things far too inappropriate for a man of his station: going on romantic walks with her, holding her hand...

Even kissing her.

He flushed, shaking the thought from his head. He was nowhere near good enough for her love. As much as he wished it, it simply wasn't meant to be. Ricken pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, leaning against her door.

It was going to be a long two weeks.

---

Upon entering her room for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Maribelle leaned against the doors and breathed a sigh of relief. Everything was just as she'd left it with not a speck of dust to be found. Her luscious silk sheets couldn't be more inviting after so much travel. She took off her boots, leaving them by the door, before plopping down onto her bed face-first. Her grin grew as she absorbed the ethereal softness. She rolled onto her back, careful not to push her numerous stuffed animals off.

"Home at last…"

Maribelle almost couldn't believe she was back home after all that had happened. When she was captured by Gangrel's men near the border so long ago, she truly thought she'd never return. Not many outside the Shepherds knew, but it was only through Ricken's valor that she'd escaped his witch's clutches. The boy who was "too young" to join the Shepherds. The boy who snuck along for the ride and later snuck behind enemy lines.

The boy she'd known since childhood, whose existence and companionship she treasured to this day.

"Oh, Ricken…"

She sighed as she stared up at the ceiling, her anger building by the second. How could the other nobles treat him and his family so poorly? They'd been considerably impoverished for years, but that hardly meant they deserved all the nasty words spoken about them behind their backs. It wasn't as if the others had skeleton-free closets, after all.

"Well now!" Maribelle sat up at once. "This won't do at all! By the time I'm done spreading word of his valiant efforts, there won't be a person left in Ylisse who doesn't know Ricken's name!"

She gazed across her room, frowning pensively as her eyes landed on her desk. There were many a scroll neatly rolled up beside it, and untouched wells of ink sat atop the desk proper alongside writing quills. Maribelle's face lit up, an idea already coming to her.

"Hmph! I may not be the finest artist in the halidom, but I can certainly whip up a sketch for a more talented one to improve upon!"

---

The next day came about with little fanfare. True to Maribelle's words, Tharja was indeed awoken bright and early by one of the duke's servants. Still buried in the silky sheets, she had half a mind to curse them then and there. Keeping the consequences of such an action in mind, she grumbled and tumbled out of bed before getting ready. Washing her face, she gazed at herself in the vanity. Her hair looked the same as always, right down to her favorite golden headpiece, but she'd swapped her black robes for similar brown attire left for her by the castle staff. In truth, she almost missed having maids and the like back home… Almost.

After packing her tomes in a sizable sack, Tharja left the room and followed the servant through the castle halls. She was led into a large room with stained glass windows. Wooden desks and empty chairs sat in neat rows, and a decently sized table was in the back.

"Your students will be with you shortly. A curriculum has already been left for you on your table, but the duke has permitted you to take some liberties if it is in the students' best interests."

Tharja raised an eyebrow, a wicked smile beginning to curl across her face. "Liberties…?"

"Within reason," the servant clarified. "Theory and application of basic anima magic is what they are intended to start with; they are novices, after all. Curses, hexes and dark magic of any kind are strictly prohibited in Themis."

"Wonderful. A dukedom of killjoys."

"If that is all, I must be off. Best of luck."

Tharja watched the servant leave and soon slumped into the chair near her desk. Comfortable as it was, she couldn't help but feel that she—or Maribelle, rather—had made a huge mistake. She preferred books to people even as a child and was still honing her own skills to this day. Personal inclinations aside, what right did she have to impart knowledge unto budding mages?

As she heard a knock at the door, Tharja mentally prepared herself for her most dangerous challenge yet.

"Enter."

The doors flew open. Tharja's eyes widened as she realized her new protégés were no older than ten or twelve; some looked as young as eight. The children were all well-dressed and well-behaved as they took their seats, many greeting her politely. Tharja could only watch in utter confusion as Ricken and Maribelle followed the children in.

"Good morning, Professor Tharja!" Ricken chimed with a grin.

"What the… What is the meaning of this?!"

"Father asked me to keep an eye on you during the lecture," Maribelle said. "Nothing personal, I assure you. I've been meaning to brush up on anima magic anyway, so I figure this benefits us all in the long run!"

Many of the children whispered among themselves, their gaze focused on Tharja.

"Is that really our teacher?"

"No way!"

"She's so pretty!"

Tharja cleared her throat, shutting them up. As Ricken took his seat next to Maribelle in the back of the room, Tharja addressed the class. "Er… Yes. Good morning, younglings. Welcome to the worst day of your lives. Tell me: who among you knows how to cast a basic Fire spell?"

Not one child raised their hand. Most looked outright intimidated. Tharja sighed and drummed her fingernails against the desk. Ricken and Maribelle, meanwhile, exchanged uncomfortable glances.

"Very well. It appears we should start with something a little… lighter," she said at last, leafing through the hefty tome left for her. Tharja's eyes settled on the very first passage; she groaned internally. "'Chapter One: The History of Magic…'"

She spent the better part of an hour lecturing the children on the origins and practical applications of magic. Tharja noticed that while every student began the lesson scribbling in their notebooks, their attention waned one by one. Maribelle would nod along politely from time to time, forcing a smile, but even Ricken would occasionally doze off only to be nudged awake by her. Some of the children whispered amongst themselves and giggled; others looked half-dead.

Alright then, Tharja thought. Time for some… academic liberties.

Without warning, she slammed the book shut. Then she dropped it, letting it hit the desk with a harsh thud. Now everyone was fully alert.

"Perfect," she whispered, smirking. She addressed the room proper. "I've always preferred the company of books to people, but there are some things that are best learned through demonstration and observation. Pay close attention."

Tharja lifted her hand in front of her as if she were holding a skull. Her students gazed in awe as she effortlessly and painlessly produced a small flame in her palm. She ignored their cries of disbelief and excitement as the flame gave way to sparks, then a tiny spiral of wind, and finally ice crystals.

"Anima magic," she lectured, "takes on many forms. As with light and dark magic, only a mage of considerable experience should even think about casting a spell without using a tome or staff. Those tools were invented for a reason. Using magic without them puts strain on your body and mind."

"With that said…'' Tharja smiled, having successfully recaptured their attention. "I want everyone to get up and move their desks to either side of the room. Then I'll teach you how to light a candle using only your index finger."

Many of her students leapt from their chairs in anticipation, hurriedly doing as they were told. Some were frozen in shock or fear. Maribelle stood from her seat and walked over as well, pulling Tharja off to the side as the more eager students lost themselves to excitement. Ricken could only shake his head in response.

Kids these days…

"Tharja, with all due respect," Maribelle said once they were out of earshot, "have you gone positively mad?! Does this not seem much too dangerous for novices? What if someone gets hurt?"

"Hmph. You're a healer, aren't you?"

"That's not the point!"

The two looked back at the crowd of youngsters as their voices grew louder and more eager.

"I wanna make fire!"

"Me too!"

"My flame's gonna be way bigger than yours!"

"Whaaat? No way!"

Tharja almost smirked. For all the stuffiness of Ylissean nobility, their children were just as noisy as the commoners she often saw in the capital back home. Still… they seemed to possess a limitless desire to learn, if nothing else.

Perhaps this won't be so bad after all…

---

"Stand up straight," Tharja instructed. "Inhale, exhale… Now!"

"Woah!"

"Amazing!"

"I… I did it!" a small girl cried, marveling at the tiny flame atop her finger. "It's warm, but… it's not burning me!"

"Fear can be a powerful motivator… and a painful detriment," Tharja said, flexing her own fingers. "Well done."

Tharja gazed around the classroom. Many of the students had paired off and were now practicing what she had taught them. Maribelle stood by with a staff at the ready, but not one student had burned, electrocuted, frozen or otherwise injured anyone. She was almost proud of them.

"Hnng…!"

Almost.

Not content with sitting on the sidelines anymore, Ricken had joined the class activity. He put his hands together and thrust them forward, but only a few pitiful embers came out. "Oh, come on! I almost had it that time, I swear!"

Tharja shook her head. "I've seen what you're capable of with a wind tome, Ricken. A task like this is beneath you. Focus."

Meeting her eyes and nodding, Ricken took a deep breath. He made sure no one was standing in front of him before putting his hands out in front of him. His hands and blood grew warmer until tiny flames formed. They encircled his fingers, weaving between them but causing no pain.

"Haha! Hey, I'm doing it!"

"A considerable improvement." Tharja flashed a small smile. "Well done."

A fair distance away, Maribelle stared at the two in amazement. She knew Ricken was skilled with a tome, but wind was always his magic of choice. Seeing him produce fire from his fingertips, however small, was nothing short of impressive to her. And all under Tharja's tutelage, no less. For as much as the woman liked to keep others at arm's length, she was a surprisingly competent teacher. Patient as well.

Well, well. If this keeps up, I might have to ask Father about offering her a position here permanently…

Maribelle thought back to her friends at Castle Ylisstol, particularly the enigmatic tactician and swordswoman duo.

That might be to everyone's benefit, actually…

Before long, Tharja determined that the class had reached its maximum productivity for the day. She dismissed her students, even allowing them to leave without pushing their chairs and desks back to their initial places. Gesturing for Ricken and Maribelle to come towards the front, Tharja lifted her hands above her head. The chairs and desks obeyed her whims, floating to their original positions and staying there.

"Quite the lovely parlor trick if I do say so myself," Maribelle complimented. Walking over to her, she smiled brilliantly. "You did extremely well today, Tharja. Frankly I half-expected the entire room to go up in smoke, but it seems my fears were unfounded after all."

"I wouldn't say that. The week is still young, after all. More importantly, why did you not tell me I would be teaching children?"

"Would you have accepted my offer if you knew that you would be teaching children?"

"... Fair enough. I'll let this slide just once."

"But Tharja, you were amazing up there!" Ricken chimed in. "Er… up here. I still can't wrap my head around it all! I mean, you were doing all those cool stunts and tricks without even opening a tome! How do you even do that anyway? I get dizzy when I cast even a basic wind spell without one..."

Tharja frowned and looked off to the side, the sudden praise making her skin crawl. "Those who were raised in the dark arts from a young age possess many abilities some consider to be... unnatural. Still, I imagine anyone with enough innate magical aptitude could cast spells without the usage of tomes eventually."

"You mean I could shoot lightning out of my hands one day?" Ricken's eyes shined with hope.

She fought back a smile; his boundless optimism was almost infectious. "Perhaps... But that skill alone takes years to master. It's not your average thunder spell, after all. Its power stems from a visceral, burning hatred of humanity."

"Waah! R-really?!"

"Oh, honestly, Tharja." Maribelle rolled her eyes. "There's no need to embellish the facts."

"Yes, because the cleric on a horse knows so much more about anima magic than the actual spellcaster."

"Oh!" Maribelle huffed and turned on her heel. "How rude! I have half a mind not to invite you for tea!"

Surprising Tharja considerably, she then smiled. Was… Was she toying with her?

"I'm only kidding, my dear. Lunch and tea for three! Well, three plus Father. He'll naturally want to hear about your performance."

"Joy…"

---

Just after Tharja's lecture, Duke Themis summoned his daughter to the dining hall for a cup of tea. Lunch was almost ready, but there was something he and Maribelle had to discuss before Ricken and Tharja joined them.

"Many a nobleman has asked for your hand while you were away," he said, mixing sugar into his tea, "but none more so than Lord Rufus of the Eastern Palace. I believe he's been vying for your affection since you were both children."

"I'd rather die loveless and alone." Maribelle sipped her own tea indignantly. She groaned inwardly at the sight of her father's stunned expression. "Come now, Father. You know I can't stand him! He's simply too obnoxious! And he's exactly the sort of nobleman who flirts with everyone he sees! And I do mean everyone. Why, I once caught him making eyes at a wet-nurse!"

"That had to have been years ago! People mature with time, Maribelle. You know this better than anyone." He smiled. "I seem to recall that a certain Ylissean noblewoman once refused to go to sleep without warm milk and a bedtime story."

Maribelle's entire face went red at once. "That is completely incomparable! I couldn't have been older than seven or-"

"Nine. You were nine."

"Rufus was nearly twice that age when I saw him last." She rolled her eyes. "He was still falling over his feet for any woman in sight. Even Virion has more dignity."

Theodore nodded in apparent understanding, closing his eyes. "Ah… I see now. I am unfamiliar with this… Virion, but it appears he may be the reason why you reject these proposals before even reading them."

"Father! Perish the thought!"

"Maribelle, if not Rufus, then who? You are nearly of age. If your mother and I had more children, this would not be so dire of an issue. But she was ill, and I would not have forced that upon her even if she were not." Theodore sighed, seeing his daughter's somber expression. "... My apologies. I know this is a great burden to place upon your shoulders. But we have a duty to our people. If we should both fall, I fear Themis and its people would be compromised without a clear leader to oversee them. I have full faith in Prince Chrom's ability to lead us as Exalt, but he cannot be everywhere at once. This is why we must fulfill the roles he cannot."

"I… I understand, Father."

Maribelle stared into her tea, at a loss for words. In truth, there was someone who could lay these fears to rest. Someone she cared about more than nearly anyone. Someone that, in the future, she would be more than happy to marry. She just had no idea how one of her station would even go about conveying this. She didn't give a whit about what the other nobles would say, but marrying a future duchess… Would he even consider it? Did he even feel the same way?

"Father." Maribelle's throat was suddenly dry. Despite her nobility, she could not meet his gaze. "There may be…"

Whatever words she had to say evaporated. Boisterous music that bordered on obnoxiousness could be heard from outside. Whoever was responsible must have had quite the ensemble with them.

"Of all the…" Duke Themis rose from his chair. "It seems our guests will have to wait a little while longer for lunch. Come along, Maribelle."

---

For once, Maribelle was happy to be interrupted mid-conversation. As she and her father walked through the halls, the music outside grew louder and more pompous. They met Ricken and Tharja near the front gate of the castle. When they walked out the doors, everyone's jaw dropped. A grandiose red carpet had been rolled out in front of them. Numerous Ylissean soldiers marched alongside it with instruments in hand. They played a rousing march as a single young man on a white horse strode down the middle. He looked to be just a bit older than Maribelle, with blue eyes and blonde hair that curled into rolls on either side of his face.

"Rufus," Maribelle snarled.

"Lord Rufus!" Duke Themis perked up upon seeing him.

"Oh, great," Ricken grumbled under his breath. His fists were clenched. "What's that jerk doing here?"

Tharja raised an eyebrow at them. "Rufus?"

"Yes. That little lordling presides over Ylisse's Eastern Palace," Maribelle explained, glaring at him from afar. He was oblivious as he waved and blew kisses at the townspeople that had gathered. "Though if memory serves correctly—and mine always does—he holed himself up there shortly after I was kidnapped by Gangrel and his fellow troglodytes. Rumor has it he didn't so much as set foot outside of the castle until the Mad King's death."

"Coward," Ricken growled.

"Now, now, you two," Maribelle's father chided. "I'm certain he had his reasons. Besides, he's far from the only noble not to have taken part in the war. And if every noble had fought and died, where would that leave the Ylissean commonfolk?"

"I'm sure they'd figure it out," Tharja snarked. The others stared at her, aghast. "Joking, of course. So what's this about an eastern palace?"

"The Eastern Palace is the heart of Naga worship in Ylisse… or it used to be in any case. Father Libra and other men of the cloth reside there. Together they serve Naga and occasionally embark on pilgrimages to spread Her blessings."

"Riveting."

"What about you, Tharja?" Ricken perked up. "Got anything like that in Plegia?"

"We have Grimleal temples here and there."

"... Oh, yeah."

At last, Rufus and his steed made their way to the four. He gracefully dismounted his horse and bowed before the duke and his daughter. The former was elated. The latter… was not.

"It has been far too long, Your Grace." Rufus looked up and smiled at the duo. His grin only grew as he spotted Maribelle. "Ah, if it isn't the beauteous Lady Maribelle!" Rufus cried, stepping forward. "My lady, I-"

He froze when Maribelle slammed her parasol against her palm with a loud thwap. "One step closer and I'll be forced to maim you."

"Maribelle!" her father scolded.

"Aha… Yes, but of course." Rufus took a few steps backwards and bowed. When he rose, he immediately made eye contact with Tharja and smiled again. "And you are?"

"Not interested."

"... Pleased to meet you too."

"Lord Rufus," Duke Themis addressed him, "it is most fortuitous to see you again. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"The clergymen of the Eastern Palace wouldn't stop talking about how one of our own was spotted traveling amongst Lady Maribelle and her companions. They eagerly await his return, but I also took it upon myself to personally ensure she made it back home safely."

"So you thought us too incompetent to return to Themis on our own." Maribelle narrowed her eyes. "Wonderful."

"That is not-"

"I have to go powder my nose," she said, turning on her heel. "Father, do see to it that Rufus and his men have a place to stay and rest awhile."

The duke stared after her looking positively mortified. He faced the equally stunned Rufus with clasped hands and a nervous laugh. "Ahaha! My, that daughter of mine… Always one for jokes!"

"First I've heard of it," Tharja mumbled.

"Anyway, Lord Rufus… I shall see to it that you and your men receive a much warmer welcome indoors. Lunch shall be served soon, you know! Yes, indeed! Lunch for all!"

"I look forward to it, Your Grace," Rufus said from atop his horse. Once the Duke was well out of earshot, his pleasant expression became a garish glare. He turned his attention to Ricken and sneered. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the little backwater noble from Ylisstol. I never thought I'd see you here of all places. I assume you were a stowaway that Lady Maribelle pitied far too much to send home?"

"For your information, Maribelle invited me here. I'm not the one who showed up unannounced and unwanted with a pompous band!"

Several nearby members of Rufus's entourage gasped or looked offended, but Rufus himself laughed in a haughty manner. "Please. Only a true nobleman and hero such as I could arrive in such a dignified manner."

"Yes, because hiding away in a castle while your countrymen fight and die is the epitome of nobility and heroism."

Both of the boys turned to Tharja in shock. Ricken began to smile, but Rufus was no longer amused. "I don't know who you think you are, but you have no right to speak to an Ylissean noble like that! Especially not in such shabby attire!"

"For the record, these shabby brown robes are Ylissean-made. Not that I'd waste my fanciest finery on a fop like you." She looked him up and down, glowering. "Tch. Nobility is a joke with no punchline. No wonder I left that miserable existence behind."

"What?!"

"Huh?!"

Tharja turned on her heel and made for the castle without another word. Ricken chased after her at once, peppering her with a decade's worth of questions that would not be answered anytime soon. Rufus, meanwhile, could only stare after them in disbelief. He was only brought back to reality by his horse's neigh.

"Easy, girl. The stables beckon you… as the castle does I. It seems this day just became all the more interesting..."

---

Lunch was an awkward affair. The kitchen staff just about fainted when they were told they would be making food for not just four, but at least forty. Rufus's men sat at their own table, engaging in surprisingly polite and philosophical conversation. At the longest table in the dining hall sat Duke Themis, Maribelle, Ricken, Tharja, and Rufus. Ricken and Maribelle glared across at Rufus, who pretended not to notice with an insincere smile. Duke Themis eyed them uncomfortably, valiantly trying and failing to make conversation every now and then. Tharja sipped her tea in silence, secretly enjoying the brewing discord.

"So then," Duke Themis said sometime after their food had arrived, "is everything to your liking, Lord Rufus?"

"Oh, yes. The tea is a tad… bitter," he said, smirking at Ricken, "but it is nothing a little sugar cannot fix."

Maribelle grimaced. She loathed how he made eye contact with her the moment the word "sugar" left his lips. She abhorred how he had made such a show of his unannounced and unwelcome arrival. She detested how he and many of the other nobles mistreated Ricken from such a tender age. And she vehemently despised how brazenly he behaved in his various attempts to court her before the war. To say nothing of the drivel he tried to pass off as love letters…

Lecherous blight… If I were not a noblewoman, I would beat you senseless!

"And what of you, my dear?" Duke Themis glanced over at his daughter with eyes that pleaded her to behave. "Is everything… er… to your liking?"

Maribelle gingerly wiped her mouth with a napkin, stifling the urge to scream. "Yes, Father. Our chefs have simply outdone themselves today. I only wish my view were a tenth as pleasant."

Tharja almost choked on her tea.

"Well now," the duke said, "I'm sure we can all reconcile our differences over a fresh batch of—"

"Duke Themis!" a soldier called, bursting into the dining hall. Everyone turned towards him at once. "I bear ill news. Shadowy figures have assaulted our men near the border!"

"What?!" he scowled. "More Plegian bandits, I presume. I should've known their kind would threaten us even in times of peace!"

"I'm right here," Tharja snarled, her eyes growing dark.

"By the gods!" Rufus all but jumped from the table. "This whole time I've been sharing a table with a Plegian?!"

"And ogling one. Let's not forget that."

"Focus, all of you!" Maribelle demanded. She glanced at the soldier. "Continue, please."

"They're not ordinary bandits at all… I'm not even sure if they are Plegian. These fiends have purple skin and hellish red eyes! They ooze smoke with every breath they take!"

The description made everyone freeze. Maribelle, Ricken and Tharja all looked at each other as they came to the same conclusion.

"Risen!" they cried.

"Risen?" Duke Themis raised an eyebrow.

"Risen are what we Shepherds call living corpses, Your Grace," Ricken said.

"Living corpses? That's an oxymoron if I've ever heard one before!"

"You're an oxymoron."

"Tharja!" Ricken and Maribelle snapped.

"In light of these dire events," Duke Themis said, glaring, "I will forgive your rudeness just this once. Now explain these… Risen. Quickly."

"They're not living in the technical sense. They move around and attack anything that breathes, but they're very much dead. No pulse, no will of their own… Nothing."

Rufus shuddered. "They sound positively dreadful! How could anyone even set foot near those repugnant beasts?"

"We do it all the time!" Ricken glared at him. "You'd know if you ever left that cushy castle of yours."

"Why, you impudent little-"

"Enough folly! Our people are in danger!" Maribelle leapt to her feet at once. "Ricken and Tharja, grab as many tomes as you can carry. Rufus, rally your men and prepare for battle! I shall do the same."

"Huh? M-me?!" Rufus balked. "B-b-but… Surely someone must stay in the castle and make sure none of them reach your father!"

"My finest men shall see to that themselves," Duke Themis told him. For a moment, it almost looked like he was smirking. He turned to Maribelle with tired but trusting eyes. "Maribelle… I won't stop you. I know your mending skills are like no other. Just be careful."

"I always am," Maribelle asserted, winking. "Now, everyone! To arms!"

---

Sure enough, the westernmost lands of the duchy were teeming with Risen. People fled for their lives as the undead swarmed their homes and villages, emerging from the hills just on the outskirts of Themis. On the orders of Maribelle's father, the citizens were funneled down a fortified road leading towards the castle. Rufus led the charge on horseback, his men flanking him all the while. They speared and cut down any Risen that they could, though not without difficulty. The beasts were unskilled, but durable and numerous. Maribelle rode around, healing whoever she could. In the saddle behind her, Ricken casted spell after spell. Wind blades collided with Risen, sending rotten heads and limbs flying every which way. Tharja, meanwhile, fought on her feet.

"Gyah!" She narrowly avoided a sword swing. She roasted the Risen in front of her with a stream of fire magic. Another roared behind her. Tharja whirled around to fight, but a nearby Ricken was already on it. Ignoring Maribelle's protests, he leapt off of the horse and fired a concentrated blade of wind at the Risen. The spell split the monster in two vertically; both halves hit the ground before Ricken's feet did.

"How was that for an Elwind?"

"Reckless and sloppy, but… useful. Thanks."

"Ricken the Reckless… I like it!"

"I do not," Maribelle chided, scowling and approaching them on horseback. She could tell the fighting and fatigue was already taking its toll on his body and mind. As she healed them both, she took the time to warn Ricken about casting too many spells at once.

"Look out!" one of Rufus's men cried from afar. "More from the hills!"

Ricken and Tharja stood in front of Maribelle defensively, and the three surveyed the now-ruined village. Some of the duke's men were helping each other and Rufus's back on their feet. Others were healing whoever they could or putting out fires with ice magic. Rufus's assault had cleaned up what was left of the Risen onslaught, yet more still arrived in seemingly endless waves. But… Why?

"Blast and damnation!" The events of the day had long since worn away at Tharja's patience. "Who's responsible for this?!"

"Oh, Thaaar-jaaa~! Nya ha ha!"

… Oh, no.

Oh, no, no, NO.

Slowly, her head turned to her right. A small, scorched church filled her vision. Stained glass littered the ground on all sides. Atop the building's spire stood an all too familiar foe, balancing on one foot with impeccable, uncharacteristic grace. Even before seeing his pale hair and accursed sweater, she knew exactly who she was dealing with now.

"Tee hee! Didja miss me?"

"Damn you, Henry! Go to hell!"

"I'll take that as a yes!"

"Take it somewhere else," Tharja spat, "and take the rest of these wretched Risen with you!"

At this, Henry let out a cackle. Ricken and Maribelle exchanged uneasy expressions, but Tharja didn't take her eyes off of him for even a second.

"Ooh, I know what'll cheer you guys up! I brought a prezzy!"

Henry raised his hands together and focused. His eerie smile never faded even as a gigantic ball of flame formed overhead. In one quick motion, he sent the fireball careering towards them. Tharja, Ricken, and Maribelle's horse scattered seconds before it hit the dirt. From above, Henry's grin only grew as he saw them coughing and waving the dust away.

"Ahaha! I knew you'd like it!"

"Henry!" Tharja roared. "Get the hell down from there!"

"Okay!"

Henry leapt off of the spire, cackling again like a madman. Tharja and the others gawked as a murder of crows materialized, circling his body. When his feet were on the ground, the birds dispersed. All three of his adversaries surrounded him, battle-hardened and battle-ready, yet he felt no fear. After all, he wasn't trapped here with them—they were trapped with him.

"Henry." Tharja's voice had dropped to a murderous whisper. The sparks in her hands crackled with hatred. "When did you learn to summon Risen? More importantly… Would you stop doing it?!"

"Kee hee! No can do, Tharja!" He threw his hands up in a shrug, still grinning. "Y'see, I'm not the one making them at all!"

Maribelle glowered, a staff pointed right at him. "Then who else must we bring to justice?!'

A pillar of dark magic erupted from the ground, surrounding Henry. The others were sent sprawling backwards. Tharja was quick to regain her bearings, but her eyes widened as she heard a sinister feminine chuckle from the darkness. Then the magic dissipated as quickly as it had appeared. Standing at Henry's left was an older woman. Her long hair, silky and black as night, framed an aging pale face.

"Tharja, darling!" the woman cooed, clasping her slightly wrinkled hands together. "It's been so terribly long. You really should have written home, you know."

"Hello, Mother," Tharja greeted through grit teeth. "Even including Henry, you're the absolute last person I wanted to see again…"

"Oh, how sweet! You wanted to see me again!"

"I see the dark art of sarcasm still eludes you after all this time. How unsurprising."

"Wait, what?!" Ricken's eyes darted back and forth between them, Maribelle looking just as confused. His brow furrowed as he put two and two together. "That's your mother, Tharja?! What's she doing here?!"

The older woman looked down her nose at him, grimacing. "Goodness… That's not your boyfriend, is it? He's a little on the young side…"

"H-hey!"

"He is most certainly not her boyfriend!" Maribelle yelled, aiming her staff at her instead. "More importantly… You have committed crimes against Themis and her people. What say you in your defense?"

"Oh, heavens. Tharja, my dear, aren't you a little too old to be playing games with the village children?" Tharja's mother grinned from ear to ear. She waved a dainty hand at Maribelle. "Run along now, little girl… and take the boy with you too. The adults are speaking."

"Oh! See here, you marauding—"

"Enough!" Tharja yelled, sneering at the older woman. Henry waved back at her in an almost innocent manner. She ignored him. "You miserable excuse for a mother. It's no business of yours who I align myself with anymore."

"Oh, but it is!" She nodded with an unhinged grin. "As a countess and family matriarch, it's my duty in life to see that you marry the right man. Someone… agreeable. Malleable, even. Someone you can control and raise a family with!"

A pit formed in her stomach. Tharja could not believe what she was hearing. Before joining the Shepherds, marriage was almost all her mother had ever talked about outside of the Grimleal. Tharja herself received numerous proposals, but she turned down every last one. Some of her suitors had even gone missing altogether… not that she had anything to do with it.

But then why is she with…?

Tharja winced. Reluctantly, she glanced back at Henry. He waved again in response with that omnipresent smile of his. "... Please tell me that's not why he's here."

"Goodness, no! You're both much too young for that… Well, he is in any case." Her mother snickered. "Still, Henry here has confided in me that he certainly wouldn't mind being yours once he's of age. Isn't that right, dear?"

"Tee hee! You betcha! Tharja's the prettiest girl I've ever met, and I'm already friends with the family! Your dad makes the best liver-and-eel pie!"

"This can't be happening." Tharja stared at them and shook her head. Anger fueled by disbelief welled up within her. "This cannot be happening! You mean to tell me that you came all this way and invaded enemy territory with the living dead for a marriage proposal?! Are you out of your minds?!"

"Not just for marriage, Tharja," Henry said, holding a finger up. "Your parents really just want you back in their lives! You can stay single for as looong as you want!"

"Lies." Tharja gave her mother a flat glare. "Not happening, Mother Dearest. You don't control my life anymore."

"Mother knows best, darling," she said with a snakelike smirk. "You'll understand one day when you have children of your own."

"Also not happening." Tharja held her hands in front of her, dark spikes forming. "Leave. I'm through entertaining your delusions."

"How dare you speak to your own mother that way!" she roared, venom coating her words. She glared daggers into her daughter's eyes; the hostility was returned tenfold. "I don't know what vile monster made you abandon your noble upbringing, but I've had enough as well. Henry! Be a dear and subdue her for me, would you? I'm afraid I'm needed elsewhere."

"Sure thing, Mrs. Mom… ma'am!"

Tharja's mother disappeared in a flash of purple light. Tharja grit her teeth as Ricken and Maribelle stood their ground, thoroughly confused but no less determined. Soldiers of Themis and the Eastern Palace joined them. Together, they outnumbered Henry by dozens.

This did not deter him in the slightest. Henry let out a small chuckle before bringing his fingers to his mouth and whistling. Numerous Risen wielding various weapons emerged from every corner, boxing his foes in. Tharja and Ricken struck a few close ones down with thunder and wind magic respectively. The soldiers rushed at the undead afterwards. Henry snickered and snapped his fingers, disappearing in a cloud of smoke.

An axe-wielding Risen engaged one of Maribelle's soldiers. As Ricken readied an Elwind spell to catch the beast off-guard, a sudden blow to the stomach broke his focus. The wind spell dragged along the ground, just barely missing the soldier before he slew his enemy.

Ricken steadied himself, but his assailant was gone. The Risen were now squarely focused on attacking the soldiers. Maribelle rode around the battlefield and kept as many alive as she could manage. Rufus rode ahead to clear her path. Closer to Ricken, Tharja tore some Risen apart with lightning. When he sprinted towards her to help, Henry materialized in front of him.

"Heya!"

A searing blast of fell magic pelted Ricken in the chest. When he stopped staggering, his foe had vanished again. Ricken stood tall and held his tome, preparing to counterattack.

But Henry had other plans.

Near the ruined church, Tharja blasted a hole through a Risen's torso with a fireball. When she looked over in Ricken's direction, she saw a cloud of smoke forming behind the boy. "Ricken, move!"

He didn't react in time. Henry emerged feet-first from the cloud, kicking Ricken in the shoulders. The attack knocked him to the ground face-first. He grunted in pain, but forced himself to his feet as he regained his bearings. Just as Henry brought his hands together, intent on casting another spell, a ball of thunder magic struck him from behind.

"Aww, Tharja…" He turned, cackling. "You shouldn't have!"

"You deserve worse!"

He was ready the second time. When she sent another spell his way, he teleported. Tharja looked all around before he reappeared in front of her, a familiar tome at the ready. Putrid green globs spewed forth from it. Tharja cast one last thunder spell, but the magical adhesive coated her arms and legs. She collapsed to the ground, glued in place by the bog. Her entire body had become ten times heavier.

"Ngh… Damnit! Free me this instant!"

"Aww, Mire'd already? But I'm not done playing with all your cool new friends yet!"

An unwieldy blade of Elwind soared between the two, colliding with a nearby house. Henry turned to see Ricken, face bloodied and caked in dirt from head to toe, with an expression that could only be described as defiant. When he prepared another spell, Henry brought his hands together again and let loose his own: a torrent of Arcfire. The flames licked at Ricken as he narrowly rolled out of the way.

"Nyahaha—Yeowch!"

Henry lifted his left hand to the back of his head. When he brought it in front of his face, it was stained a beautiful red. He turned and came face to face with a very irate Maribelle. Her horse was nowhere in sight. Her teeth were grit as she clutched her staff with both hands; blood dripped from the tip. She readied her next swing.

"You invade… my home!"

She struck Henry in the side.

"You assault… my people!"

She struck him again, this time in the arm.

"You terrorize… my loved ones!" Maribelle screamed. She swung her weapon one last time, striking Henry in the jaw with enough force to break the staff entirely. "Gah!"

"Heheh… Hurts… so nice," Henry mumbled, teetering. He took his bloodied hand and dragged it across his face, leaving a crimson streak across it. Then he held both hands before him like a mantis. "But I'm not done just yet!"

He disappeared in a flash of red light this time. Maribelle glanced all around her, golden curls swaying as she grasped what remained of her staff. The sticky gunk that bound Tharja was weakening as she managed to free an arm. Far behind her, Rufus and the soldiers picked off more Risen. Maribelle's gaze finally settled on Ricken as he dusted himself off. He was short of breath, but he smiled when they locked eyes. His feet dragged him closer and closer towards her despite the pain.

They only quickened when Henry reappeared behind her. His fingertips glowed a bright purple as he lunged like a viper.

"Special delivery!"

"NO!"

Maribelle felt the wind leave her lungs as Ricken shoved her to the ground. She was back on her feet almost immediately, but she gasped when she looked back at him. His face was frozen in fear and anguish. Henry's attack had struck him right in the side of his ribs.

"RICKEN!"

As Henry withdrew his hand, Ricken sank to his knees. The pain in his side was unbearable. It was a horrid, searing, tingling sensation unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. He collapsed to the earth, groaning as numbness set in his arms and legs. Ricken barely reacted when Maribelle rushed over to cradle him.

"Monster!" she yelled at a still-smiling Henry. "What did you do to him?!"

"Aw, nothing serious. It's just a hex that mimics snake venom!"

Fear gripped Maribelle's heart. She had a very limited grasp on anima magic, let alone dark magic. But hexes… and one that acted as a poison?! She could kick herself a thousand times over for dismounting and breaking her staff so recklessly.

"No… No! Undo it now! Right now!"

"Mm… Well, okay!"

"What?!"

"On one teeny tiny condition," Henry added, a finger in the air. "Tharja has to come back with me!"

Tharja, who'd only just freed herself from her magical confines, glared in his direction. Her eyes widened when she saw an unmoving Ricken in Maribelle's arms. All around her, the flames of Themis grew louder. She could see soldiers on the ground far ahead of them. She could hear the distant cries of children who'd bore witness to unspeakable violence… children that had not been evacuated in time. She could have sworn she saw one tugging at the body of their father near a burning house. A soldier of House Themis carried them away as another called for a healer. Tharja could hardly call the dukedom close to her heart, but… She wasthe reason her mother had launched the assault in the first place. She was the one they were after.

She was responsible for this.

"Okay." Tharja sighed, throwing her tome to the ground. Some soldiers cheered off in the distance as they dispatched the last of the Risen. "Fine. You win, Henry. I'll come home."

"Tharja?!" Maribelle cried, wide-eyed.

Ricken mustered the strength to turn his head and glance up at her. Cloudy as they were, she could see the disbelief in his eyes. "Thar...ja…"

"You heard her, Henry," Tharja said. "Undo the hex. Now."

"Oh, boy! Your family's gonna be over the moon! Gimme juuuust a sec…"

Henry concentrated with what little strength he had left. He chanted some ancient words under his breath, none of which Tharja recognized. He snapped his fingers and thrust both hands in Ricken's direction. In mere seconds, feeling returned to the younger boy's body and limbs. He flexed his fingers, staring at them in shock and wonder.

"What… How…?"

"Ricken!" He gasped as Maribelle threw her arms around him. In that moment, he felt as though her strength rivaled even Vaike's. "Ricken… Don't you ever do something like that ever again!"

"But… " He slowly returned the embrace. "I couldn't just let that happen to you…"

Tharja briefly smiled at the pair before glaring over at Henry. He offered her his bloody hand.

"Weeeell?" He tilted his head, staring at her. "A deal's a deal."

"So it is." To his utter shock, Tharja smiled and grabbed it. "So it is."

The others were taken aback at what happened next. Tharja channeled all of her remaining magic into her palm. Before Henry could teleport them away, she let it all go. Henry let out a pained scream as she electrocuted him with all her might. Rufus and the soldiers gawked from a distance. Ricken and Maribelle had to cover their eyes from the intense light. Tharja, meanwhile, glared at Henry throughout it all. At last he hit the ground, twitching and smoking as jolts raced across his body.

"Is…" Maribelle panted, her heart racing. "Is he…?"

"No," Tharja said, staring down at her handiwork with a small grin. "I figured you and your people should decide what becomes of him after the atrocities he's committed here."

"But…" Ricken coughed, still in Maribelle's arms. "... What's gonna happen when he wakes up?"

"He'll wake up in a dark dungeon cell, unable to use any of his magic."

"What?! You… you can do that?"

"Henry's not the only one with a few tricks up his sleeve… though I'll admit to never having tested the hex on a living being before." Tharja's hand flew to her mouth as she coughed a couple of times. Dark red droplets painted her ghostly white skin. "... One can only hope it worked."

As Maribelle helped Ricken to his feet, her trusted steed returned to them with a familiar blue hat in its mouth. Ricken graciously accepted it and placed it on his head after shaking it free of drool. It whinnied as Maribelle petted it. She, Tharja, and Ricken surveyed the surrounding area. Most of the buildings were still standing but showed clear signs of damage. An unfortunate few had collapsed or burned to the ground entirely.

"Milady!"

The group turned to see Rufus approach on his steed. White clothes and fur alike were tarnished by dirt and blood. "I'm relieved to see you all in one piece. Truly. My men and I have never seen anything like this before… not at the eastern palace, in any case."

"Lucky you," Tharja rasped, still struggling to catch her breath. "We… should probably report back to the duke now."

"Indeed," Maribelle said. She helped Ricken mount her horse before joining him. "Father and the others must hear of this…"

Ricken coughed. He couldn't even find the energy to scowl at the unconscious enemy in their midst. "And what about… that guy?"

"For now, he goes to the dungeon. He will receive a fair trial, of course, but the odds are not in his favor."

"Must we really spare him?" Rufus argued. "He was clearly working alongside those repugnant beasts, and who knows how many they've killed today?"

"Killing in battle is one matter," Maribelle said, narrowing her eyes at him. "Killing a defenseless or surrendering enemy, no matter how vile, is another matter entirely. I have yet to take a life myself, but my friends here have… and I'm sure they would agree that it should only be done as a last resort."

Rufus opened his mouth, but no words came out. Ricken glanced over at him somberly, and Tharja averted his gaze. "... Very well then. I shall trust your judgment. Let us regroup with the others and head back to the castle."

---

When Henry awoke, it was in a place that was somehow familiar and new to him at the same time. Iron shackles bound his wrists and ankles. The stony slab he sat on did little to soothe his aching bones. His only source of light was a window in the corner of the cell, and the sun had already begun its daily descent. It was then that Henry realized he was no longer bleeding. Whoever had confined him to these cobblestone walls at least had the decency to heal his head wound, but… Where was the fun in that?

"This cell is too good for scum like you," a voice spat from behind iron bars. "His Grace Lady Maribelle is far too kind. Were it up to me, you'd be food for the buzzards."

"Ooh, I like buzzards! Did you know that—"

"I don't care. Just shut up and save your breath for later. You can at least rest knowing the duke will hear you out before sending you to the gallows. Not like that lawless dog you once called king, Plegian."

The guard sauntered off, swearing under his breath. Henry gave the cold steel around his appendages a few tugs, more out of curiosity and boredom than anything else. It had been quite some time since he'd been in this sort of predicament, and these shackles were just as sturdy as the ones he'd dealt with in the past. This time, however, he wasn't able to melt them off along with the faces of those who'd apprehended him. Whatever Tharja did to him sealed away nearly all of his magic. He could still feel slivers of it coursing through his veins, but it was nothing compared to the ocean that was usually at his fingertips.

Blowing a loose strand of hair out of his face, Henry turned his attention back to the window. Iron bars running down the middle, it was much too tiny for even a child to squeeze through. Only a small animal like a mouse or a bird could pull something like that off.

Henry fixated on the gaps between the bars. There was a wicked glint in his eye as he felt one last trick crawling up and down his sleeve.

"Hmm…"

---

Upon returning to Castle Themis, Maribelle rushed Ricken and Tharja to the medical ward. The family clerics took them in at once as she grabbed more staves from the armory. Wounded soldiers—both belonging to her house or Rufus's—offered their thanks as Maribelle began to heal them one by one. Their wounds closed before infection or heavy blood loss occurred, but the tissue underneath was still sore. Maribelle thanked them in kind and reminded them to rest before leaving to check on her friends. She herself was slightly dizzy from all the healing she'd done, but her insistence on always using staves prevented her from overexerting herself. In truth, she was more concerned about the others.

Tharja was fast asleep by the time Maribelle arrived at her cot. One of the clerics explained that she had exhausted herself from casting so many spells but was otherwise fine. The younger woman still had a multitude of questions for her. Why was her mother so insistent on bringing her home and having her marry? How personal was her relationship with that boy named Henry? Was it truly possible to stop a skilled mage from using magic entirely?

She shook the thoughts from her head. There would be plenty of time to talk to Tharja later. Her health and wellbeing were far more important right now. Quietly bidding her friend farewell, Maribelle walked further into the ward until she spotted a sleeping Ricken on a cot. He was alive, but paler than usual as chest slowly rose and fell. She knew that Themis's clerics were among the most renowned in the halidom… but the guilt weighed heavily on her all the same. Fear gripped her heart with a frigid, shadowy hand that squeezed every few seconds, reminding her just how close Ricken had been to death's door.

"This is all my fault," Maribelle whispered, passing his cot and walking back out into the hallway. "This is my doing. I'm the one who made such a big fuss over having to come home in the first place, I'm the one who reassured his parents that he would be safe… Oh, good heavens, his parents! I've failed them! I've put their only child in danger! What kind of terrible person am I?!"

"You are not."

She looked to her left. Rufus stood there with a glum look on his face. He was shaken and dirtied from battle but otherwise unharmed. "Rufus?"

"I… I was wrong about that boy," he admitted. "I treated him like vermin all these years, but he proved himself worthy of nobility the moment he moved to defend your home. Is it true that he saved your life?"

"He did." She nodded. "Twice, actually."

"Twice…?" Rufus's eyes widened considerably. "You mean…?"

Maribelle's face shone brilliantly, her heart overcome with a deep sense of pride. "When Gangrel's forces kidnapped me and dragged me across the border? It was Ricken who rescued me from their clutches. We certainly wouldn't have made it back home without the Shepherds, but he snuck behind enemy lines to free me with only a wind tome. And the way he used the pages to set up traps for our foes… Genius. Sheer genius."

She placed a hand to her heart and sighed. "I've never met a more gallant man in all my life. Not even Prince Chrom makes me feel the way he does…"

Rufus looked like he'd taken a fist to the stomach. "I… I see. In that case, you should probably speak with him at once. I believe he's asked to see you."

"Has he really?"

"I may be craven, but I am no liar when it comes to matters of the heart… not anymore at least. I see now that life is much too short for dishonesty." Rufus had stunned her into silence. He gave what might've been a genuine smile for once. "Go to him. I shall apologize formally in due time, but I believe your face would be a far more welcome sight for him at this hour."

"Rufus… Thank you."

He nodded in response before leaving. Maribelle glanced back to the door she left from. On the other side, Ricken would be expecting her. The boy who Rufus had inadvertently introduced her to all those years ago. The boy Chrom and his friends saved from wolves. The boy she always found herself staring at whenever his nose was buried in a book, or when he was helping Miriel with an experiment. The boy who'd risked death to save her… twice.

He deserves better than silence borne from cowardice.

She walked back into the ward. Most of the soldiers were asleep or chatting amongst themselves and castle staff. Maribelle smiled when she saw Ricken sitting up and yawning. His favorite hat was on a rack beside his cot.

"Hey!" he greeted, waving her over. "How… How are you feeling?"

"I could and should be asking the same of you." She pulled off one of her gloves as she walked to him. Mercifully, his forehead was no warmer than it should have been. "Ricken… I'm sorry. Had I been a bit more vigilant—"

"Stop that. You were incredible out there, Maribelle! That guy just…" He winced, sucking in air as the pain in his side flared up. "He just… got lucky, that's all."

In any other context she might have blushed at the praise. Instead, she gestured to a nearby cleric to help. Ricken politely refused the help with a small smile. "I'm fine. The ones who brought me in earlier said there'd be some lingering pain here and there. Nothing some water, medicine, and bedrest can't fix! … I hope."

"I'll make this right," Maribelle said, already starting to leave. "I'll get the most powerful staff in our inventory and—"

"No! I'm gonna be fine! Just… Please don't leave!"

His voice tugged at her heartstrings. She took his hands into her own and squeezed them, surprising them both. "I won't leave you, Ricken. Not now and not ever."

"Um…" His face reddened. "That's… good! Good, we're… on the same page then."

Maribelle felt his hands squeeze hers back. The two stayed that way for a while, the world around them fading away, before a thought crossed Ricken's mind and brought him back to reality. "Wait a minute… Where's Tharja?"

"You mean your dark-haired friend?" a passing cleric asked. "She left the ward not too long ago. I remember her asking something about ink… Maybe she's writing home?"

Ricken and Maribelle shared a glance as they recalled the Risen-summoning woman from earlier. Somehow, neither of them suspected that was the case. The cleric left to heal a particularly rowdy band of laughing knights near one of the room's exits. Maribelle stood in awkward silence, fidgeting with her curls, while Ricken stared. She hadn't even changed out of her dirty clothes before tending to everyone's wounds.

Then again… she always put others' lives before her own appearance. And even caked in dirt and the odd patch of dried blood, she looked no less radiant for it. Ricken blushed, his eyes innocently trailing over her before settling on a peculiar sight.

"Hmm? What's that?"

She followed his finger. Part of a scroll was sticking out of her satchel. The very scroll she'd planned on showing him at some point anyway. And yet, now that he was acutely aware of its existence…

Valor, Maribelle. A noblewoman never backs down from a challenge, no matter how daunting.

"I… W-well…" Maribelle's cheeks grew rosy, but she maintained eye contact and began to pull it out. "I… thought the people of Ylisse might benefit from knowing that my rescue from Gangrel's clutches was yours, so I drafted a little sketch for a more skilled artist to paint and distribute."

"Can I see it?"

"You must promise me you won't laugh."

"Maribelle—"

"Promise me right this instant!" She cracked a grin, but Ricken couldn't tell if it was out of mischievousness or nervousness. "Or it's going straight into the nearest source of fire!"

"Okay, okay! I won't laugh… I promise." He sighed. "I could never laugh at you, Maribelle. Not even when your entire head goes red like a tomato!"

"I could have gone my whole life without hearing that last part, but… Very well."

At last, she handed Ricken the paper. The ink figures were… crude, to say the least. What he assumed were people had bodies resembling sticks with circles on top to imitate heads. The shortest figure had an oversized blue triangle on top. It held a green rectangle that sent similarly colored waves at various other figures. A pink stick topped with yellow curls stood behind it.

"... Pfft. Pfftch…"

"RICKEN!"

He burst into raucous, shoulder-shaking laughter, failing to stop it even with a hand over his mouth. He only laughed harder when he saw Maribelle's face flush bright red. She almost tried to wrestle it away from him before she took a deep breath and recomposed herself. After a few moments, she couldn't help but laugh herself.

"Well now," said Theodore, walking into view. "I'm glad to see our young warrior's lungs are in good health."

Maribelle quickly snatched the drawing back and rolled it up before recomposing herself once more. "Ah… Hello, Father. How fare the rest of the men?"

"I'm afraid we have some dead to attend to, but everyone else seems to be relatively unharmed. I shall have to thank them all personally later. First, however…"

In an unprecedented display, the Duke of Themis kneeled before Ricken's cot.

"Your Grace?!"

"Father?!"

"I am sorry," he said, bowing his head. "For years, much of the Ylissean nobility has derided your house. It pains me to say that I was among them. All the wealth and status in the world means nothing if one does not have the courage to stand by their convictions. To help others even if it means risking their own life. I've never been half as brave as you were today, young Ricken."

"Your Grace… Thank you."

"I shall leave you to your rest," Theodore said, rising from the floor with a smile. "And… you have my blessing as well. In all things."

"What?"

"What?!" Maribelle repeated. Unlike Ricken, however, her cheeks grew redder by the second. "I… That is to say—"

"Oh, good heavens! It's nearly teatime! Shall I fetch you both a pot?"

"Teatime can wait, Father. Thank you."

Ricken almost looked crestfallen at the rejected tea offer. As the duke turned to leave, however, his expression became one of genuine confusion. "... Blessing? What does tha—"

"Your Grace!" a soldier cried, rushing into the room and towards the trio. "The prisoner is gone!"

"What?!" Maribelle and Theodore cried.

Ricken sat up, staring at the soldier. "The… prisoner? You mean…?"

"Ricken, wait here," Maribelle ordered before turning to her father. "We must see this for ourselves."

With the duke's most skilled soldiers alongside them, Maribelle and Theodore left the ward. Themis's prison, well-guarded but usually devoid of actual prisoners, was located off of castle grounds for security reasons. They entered the building without incident and were led to what was once Henry's cell. With a dutiful soldier bearing a torch, all could see that the cell was empty. Iron clasps and shackles sat on the floor, but there was no blood or clothing left behind. The only thing of note was a single black feather on the stone slab.

"By the gods!" Theodore's hands flew to his head. "How is this possible?!"

"He is a Plegian dark mage, Your Grace," one of the guards said. "Trickery is second nature to them."

The claw of anxiety tore at Maribelle's heart once again. Her father ordered his men to spread word to all surrounding territories and fortify their defenses, but her mind blocked it all out. This boy, Henry… He looked to be about her and Ricken's age, yet had proven himself extremely dangerous on the battlefield. Were it not for Tharja's efforts, he may very well have killed them both… and even she wasn't able to stop him completely. Now he was loose. There was no telling where he would appear next or what his true motives were. For the time being, however…

It is a noble's duty to defend their subjects and allies, she thought. I cannot allow fear to cloud my judgment. I must be brave. For Father. For Ricken. For everyone…

"I shall pen a letter to Prince Chrom at once," Maribelle announced, snapping herself free from her thoughts. "He must know of the danger we all faced today. I have no doubt he'll be willing to aid us however he can."

Theodore nodded. "Indeed. I hope you don't mind if I ask Lord Rufus and his men to stay here for a while. Given the injuries they sustained defending us—"

"They may stay as long as they wish. It is only prudent, after all."

As they exited the dungeon and were greeted with the orange glow of sunset, Theodore couldn't help but admire his daughter. At the first sign of trouble, she had been quick to give orders and ride into battle alongside the soldiers despite not being a combatant herself. And however she felt about Rufus before, she was willing to set it aside for the benefit of not just his men, but her people and Themis as a whole. As they walked back up the hill to the castle, the orange glow of sunset embraced them. And in that very moment, Theodore could have sworn that his wife was walking alongside them with a smile on her face. A tear rolled down his face.

Francesca… We could not have asked for a more capable daughter. Themis is in good hands.

---

When Maribelle returned to her chamber that evening, a sizable sack sat at the foot of her door. She could tell it had gold in it upon lifting it, but the folded piece of paper underneath held far more intrigue. Holding it up, she could see that whoever wrote it had elegant penmanship. She began to read it out loud. Her face fell more with every subsequent word.

"'To Maribelle, Ricken, and Everyone Else. As long as I stay in Ylisse, none of you are safe. My mother has shown that she will stop at nothing to capture me no matter who she hurts, and I refuse to let her endanger anyone else. Don't come looking for me. I know of a place and people I can turn to for help in this. Not even Mother Dearest is foolish enough to pick a fight with them. I'll be in touch… and thanks."

Maribelle squinted, examining some smaller words at the end. "'Also, I stole a horse. I trust this will be enough.'"

She blinked once, twice, and once again before sinking to the floor. She couldn't care less about the blatant thievery at the moment, but that Tharja had taken it upon herself to protect everyone at the cost of her own potential happiness… It moved her to her very core.

"Tharja…" She clutched the paper with both hands. A teardrop rolled down her nose. "We'll meet again. I just know we will."

After recomposing herself, Maribelle folded the note and tucked it in a jewelry box inside her quarters. Then she grabbed some paper, dipped a quill in ink, and got to work writing a letter of her own. Their fastest courier would be tasked with delivering it to Ylisstol as soon as humanly possible. The road ahead was fraught with peril for them all, but she was positive they could rely on their friends in the capital for help.

"'Dear Chrom and Lissa…'"

---

"'Sincerely, Maribelle,'" Chrom finished reading aloud at the roundtable. He squinted, looking at the very bottom of the page. "'Also, Ricken says hello.'"

It had been a full week since the assault on the duchy. A courier from Themis had arrived on their doorstep not thirty minutes prior, having traveled night and day just to deliver her message. Lissa paced beside Chrom restlessly, looking torn between rushing over to Maribelle's side and giving her assailants the beating of a lifetime. As Chrom sat with his head in his hands, Robin and Lyn exchanged looks of disbelief and anxiety. Frederick looked similarly perturbed.

"I just can't believe someone from Plegia would attack so soon after the war's end," Robin admitted, a hand in his hair. "And Tharja's gone missing too?"

"The letter said that her mother was one of the people responsible," Lyn said beside him, frowning. "I can't imagine Tharja would've wanted this to happen though… Didn't she run away from Plegia to begin with?"

"She did." Chrom closed his eyes and took a moment to think. "I don't think Tharja had a hand in the carnage. If she had any intention to betray us, why wait until after the war was over? Why not take advantage of the chaos to destroy us from within?"

"A fair point," Frederick said, stepping forward. "In any case, we cannot allow the dukedom to remain so poorly fortified. I believe it would be in everyone's best interest if we departed for Themis immediately. We can assist them in their efforts to rebuild and recover. Perhaps the attack and our presence there will prompt new recruits to help us form an army as well."

Robin nodded. "Sounds like a plan. If anything good can come out of this tragedy, this might just be it."

The group splintered off soon afterwards to inform the others of this development. There was considerable doubt over whether this was truly an incidental occurrence or the machinations of whoever currently occupied Plegia's throne after Gangrel's death. Then again, the Shepherds had not been made aware that anyone actually had claimed the throne. It was entirely possible the kingdom itself had fallen into chaos and warring factions. But official communication from Plegia itself had ceased since the war.

And the silence was deafening.

---

Just as Gangrel's death had brought about a new era for Ylisse, so too had it for Plegia. It was common knowledge here that Aversa had been the main person responsible for the coup in the capitol. Word quickly spread of her actions-and those of the Grimleal-even before Gangrel's final confrontation with the Ylisseans. As such, few were surprised when she took the throne after his demise. Fewer still were willing to voice any objections they had. Most soldiers who survived both the coup and the final battle peacefully reassimilated into the Plegian Army under the condition that they serve her now. Loyalists of dead monarchs were to be apprehended and delivered to her personally. What she did with them was anyone's guess.

With overwhelming support from Plegian nobility and common folk alike, Aversa took the reins and united the country under false pretenses of peace and prosperity for all. Gangrel had lost favor with most of Plegia due to a combination of his own actions and the Darksphere's corruption, but she knew better than to fall victim to the same fate. Now there wasn't a living soul across all four corners of Plegia who didn't know her name. She knew she would have to relinquish the throne to her father once their master was finished restoring him, but until that day came…

"More wine, Your Majesty?"

She would enjoy it to the fullest.

"Make it so," Aversa told her servant from the throne. He was a red-haired man dressed in a similar outfit to their former king. He held an elegant green bottle and filled the glass in her hand. She swirled it around, taking a moment to admire its beautiful scarlet hue. "Rosannean red wine. Perfection."

Her server bowed. Aversa smirked in response.

I really should thank the countess for letting me borrow her husband for a bit...

She frowned when she felt movement beneath her heels. With a sneer, Aversa stared down at the floor. The soldier she was using to elevate her feet buckled under her ankles. "Who told you to move?!"

"M-my apologies! I didn't mean to-"

"Would you like me to freeze you in that position permanently? I have quite the number of tools at my disposal, you know. Tomes, staves, curses…Which would you prefer?"

"N-no! I…" He trembled under her heels as she applied more pressure. "Your Majesty, please! Have mercy!"

Aversa chuckled, running a finger over the rim of her wine glass. "How I love it when they beg… Very well. You are hereby pardoned. Now do not move again!"

The soldier did his best to stay still. Aversa threw her head back and cackled. Two more soldiers stood at her sides, fanning her with large leaves harvested from desert plants. She could have used a spell to cool herself off, but this was all too satisfying. To have men and women groveling at her feet, tending to her every need, and best of all… No Gangrel around to screech at her and order her around. Now she gave the orders. If there was an issue in the town square or beyond the capital, she'd send someone else to handle it. Territorial disputes between the nobility? She'd send her finest enforcers in the Grimleal to settle things.

She reclined in her throne with a content sigh. "It's good to be queen…"

"Your Majesty!" A spindly figure familiar to her entered the room, immediately ruining her mood. "I—"

"Ah, Countess Gothel." She narrowed her eyes. The servant with the wine bottle disappeared immediately. "To what do I owe the displeasure?"

The older woman bowed her head in shame and reverence. "My deepest apologies… Your Majesty. I truly meant no harm in—"

"Silence!" Aversa snarled, leaning forward on the throne. Her voice sent a chill down everyone's spine. "Your little stunt in Themis has put the rest of the continent on high alert. In case you have the memory of an infant, Plegia lost the last war. The war that Gangrel brought upon all of us by painting such an obvious target on our collective back! Those imbecilic Ylisseans and barbaric Feroxi already have enough reason to distrust us without you launching unauthorized assaults like a buffoon!"

"B-but my daughter—!"

"I don't give two whits about your runaway heiress!" Aversa threw her hands up, flinging her wine glass to its doom. "If you wanted to ensure your legacy would last, you should have thought about that before stopping at one. My own father knew this well. What's your excuse?!"

"I…"

"Let me make this perfectly clear. From this day forth, you will not so much as leave your manor without my approval. Do you understand?"

"Queen Aversa, I beg of you—!"

"ENOUGH!"

Gothel shut her mouth, looking to the floor. "… I am truly sorry, Your Majesty. I shall accept whatever punishment you deem necessary."

"Good. I've had people killed for less, you know." Aversa accepted another wine glass from a servant, this one also resembling their former king. "In fact, I killed half of them myself. Your wealth, your prestige, your husband… The Order gave you these boons, and we can just as easily take them away. Do not cross me again. Begone."

Aversa watched her leave, the older woman walking away with clenched fists. She smirked in response; the more restless nobles needed to be put in their place from time to time.

"Your Majesty!"

Someone else ran into the room. How she hated it when they did that. Aversa merely rolled her eyes at the soldier. "Let me guess: someone in town pilfered a pastry."

"I'm afraid not. It's—"

"Move it, move it! Outta the way! Official Grimleal business here!"

She looked ahead, raising an eyebrow ever so slightly. A burly, balding man in fur garb walked through the doors and into the room. While he was shirtless, he wore two red wyvern skulls on his shoulders; leather straps held them in place. Many would argue he wasn't much to look at, but the purple stripe that ran across his nose and cheeks symbolized his high status within the Grimleal. He bowed upon reaching the throne.

"Greetings, Your Majesty. I trust you are well?"

"Well, well. If it isn't Father Algol," she said in kind, examining her glass. "I assume you're not just here to say hello?"

"Your presence has been requested on Carrion Isle." He stood up straight to meet her eye. "One of our men at headquarters believes he has made a breakthrough."

Aversa stared at her wine, sighed, and then downed the entire glass in one swig. Then she threw it without a care in the world. It shattered right next to the spot where a servant was sweeping up the first glass she tossed.

"A breakthrough, you say? This had better be worth the flight…"

---

Okay, um... Sorry. 2 years of radio silence is really bad even for me. I won't say I've been having an easy time of it, but I absolutely could have managed my free time more responsibly. I should have been more disciplined, and I'm sorry. I recognize these past few chapters have been a bit a bit different from earlier ones due to the focus on peacetime, and this one especially due to the long gap between updates, but I do plan on adhering to a more concrete writing schedule moving forward. I've responded to user reviews via PM, so now I'll respond to guest reviews!

Chicosai: Indeed! It could be quite some time before Lyn sees Elibe again. That's a good point about her asking this world's Annas about her Anna too! I doubt they would know about Elibe specifically, but it is kind of amusing to think that they might be completely unaware of their interdimensional look-alike lol.

JP I'm Italian: Lol no worries! Sometimes I doze off while reading so I get it. Robin and Lyn were definitely up to... something, but that's all I can really say about that. Hopefully they can control themselves the next time they train... Also, it was honestly so long ago that I forgot what I had in mind when writing the date scene, but I'm glad you liked it all the same! I hope this chapter at least somewhat answered your question about Tharja going with Chrom's decision haha. We'll definitely be seeing more of Donnel and Nowi later as well (along with learning more about her family), so I can't wait for that! And as for Robin's true heritage being known to the others... We'll see! Apologies for the typos as well.

Hydra1996: Haha I'm sorry! I really should have updated at least a few times by the time you commented. Sorry about that...

Guest: Here's the next chapter! Really sorry again about the wait.

Thank you all so much for reading, reviewing, and/or following along to this point. I'm sorry this took so long, and I'm sorry if this chapter wasn't quite what you had in mind for a continuation. According to what I have of Chapter 24 so far, things get... pretty interesting, to say the least. I can't say exactly when it'll be done, but I'm striving to be better about this and other aspects of my life moving forward. I'm always open to questions/comments/criticism, so don't be afraid to speak your mind. Thanks again, and see you next time!

- Hopeless