The Second Key

"Absolutely not."

"Ike…"

"No!" Ike slammed his fist against the wall so loudly that Leif had to have heard from one hallway farther. "I can't believe we're even discussing this."

Lucina sighed and leaned against the balcony banister for support. She had barely managed to excuse herself from Leif's study and drag Ike into the guest quarters before the storm had broken loose. So far, the cushioned chairs had survived his outburst, but he had glared at the pillows more than once and likely relished the image of white downs scattered all across the room, cowering at the mercilessness of his boots.

Another fist met the wall, and the exquisite white peacock seated on a bar to the right – doubtlessly another attempt of Leif's to boast for his guests – ruffled its feathers.

Lucina couldn't claim to feel at ease either. The sun stroking her face helped a little. Here too, the balcony opened to the south, where the lake glistered at the castle's foot. In fact, Lucina had yet to find a single window facing in the direction of Tellius. It almost felt like a game, a hunt for the secret pastry jar, and she would have to open all the shutters until finally – aha! – the mountain view would greet her. At present however, she had greater worries.

"She sold you to Roy," Ike said. "Over nothing. Validar is bad enough as is, but you want her to watch your back along the way?"

"At the moment, I just want to talk. Nineteen months are a long time. And Leif seems to trust her."

"How can you be so content with this?"

"Believe me, I was as shocked to see her as you were." Lucina took a deep breath, but her tongue still threatened to stumble over her words. "But if Validar is only half as dangerous as Ursula, I want to consider all our options. That includes Cordelia."

"You would do anything for your Naga, wouldn't you?" Ike's words dripped with disgust.

"I won't apologize for my choice. What would you have me do instead, fight the Black Knight emptyhanded?"

"Emptyhanded or not, it's the last thing I want you to do."

Lucina startled backwards. Her rear foot struck the balustrade. "But I thought…"

"I said I would tag along. But I didn't sign up for this."

"Don't you want to free your homeland? The dream you would do anything for?"

"You still don't get it, do you?"

"Then explain it to me!"

"I…" Ike stared at Lucina for a long moment. His jaw worked. The breeze cut through her sleeves. Then he turned away. "You know what, forget it."

With that, he stomped towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Lucina made a few half-hearted steps to hold him back.

"I'm gonna check on that Ares-guy. Maybe I'll hack down a couple of Leif's trees while I'm at it. Since my word's clearly no match for your Naga's, maybe I can at least get my sword skills back to a decent level. Though I guess it won't make much of a difference when Cordelia rams a knife into your back."

"Ike, wait!"

But the door had already closed behind him.

Lucina slumped against the balustrade. Although the sun warmed her side, she couldn't stifle the urge to rub her arms. The abused skin still responded with a series of pangs shaking her all the way to the fingertips. Why was nothing ever easy?

Why did it have to be Cordelia?

She had stiffened, and a flicker in her eyes then had betrayed recognition. But she had afterwards treated Lucina and Ike with the same air of indifference as Leif's assortment of chairs. The hands folded behind her back, did they still carry the blood of Lucina's guards? Tiki's blood?

Lucina pushed herself upright. She would simply say no. She would invent a reason to tell Leif why Cordelia could not accompany them. A larger group would attract too much attention, Validar had his spies everywhere, yes. That would spare them all the embarrassment, and Cordelia could continue her work with Leif. Maybe the view far away from the coast and the cliff lines of Talys was changing her for the better. In which case, could Lucina drag her back onto the battlefield with a good conscience, especially if the maker of the Black Knight was involved?

The Black Knight. He now had a name – Zelgius. Naga's champion.

Following a sudden impulse, Lucina pulled Marth's diary out of her bag. Had he known? Had Naga told him about the nature of his predecessor?

She seated herself on the balustrade and held her face into the sun. The ivies wound all the way to the balcony and brushed her shoulder with loving fingertips. Not even the steady hammering of Ares' boots on the cobblestone below could taint the illusion. Since Lucina had set out to hunt rebels in Gran over two years ago, she had never been as far from the battlefield as here. A breeze carried the smell of spruce needles.

And Lucina began to read.

Naga has answered my prayers. How dreamlike the feeling still is. Caeda says I'm beaming without sense, and I confess, I have to hold myself back so as to not embrace her and kiss her every other moment. Naga's champion – the title alone rests like a second crown on my head, yet at the same time, it has no weight at all. I will strive to complete the five credos with new vigor and honor the faith she places in me. Naga's champion – with her help, the great dream is drawing ever closer to reach. True peace for Archanea. I can already hear the windchimes, and they are heralding the peace. Caeda, let me kiss you again!

Lucina paused. The mention of windchimes struck her as odd, but she failed to narrow down the feeling. In these lines, Marth had sounded so certain. If he had known about Zelgius, it hadn't deterred him in the slightest. But a mere handful of pages later, the tone of Marth's writing changed, and the cracks revealed themselves.

Give up all earthly attachments – Naga, why do you test me such? How can I give up anything when my beloved Caeda is expecting? I want to sing and spin her in my arms and forget the great dream in favor of this small reality. A child for the two of us. Selfishness draws me to her side, but the other voice draws me from home to complete Naga's task. The Fire Emblem shimmers in a darker hue of gold.

Weak, wretched is the man who writes these lines. Caeda deserve the true peace. I want our child to skip stones by the riverside and to hold a brush in their hand instead of a sword. But how can they when Eliwood blames me for Hector's death and the shadows in Tellius grow ever deeper? The child will know but the sword, too soon when the shadows draw closer, too soon likewise when I should pass Falchion and the burden to them. A price must be paid. The price of Naga's champion.

Take me then. I shall be willing, if it is true. Just once I want to see our child, weak, wretched man that I am. May Naga's grace return to this plain, and may that be my apology.

The sun had shifted behind a castle tower, and Lucina wrapped her cape tighter around her arms. Her father had been willing to up everything for the good of Archanea – and for her. But he had acted too late to save Caeda or himself. His death hadn't brought Archanea true peace, only hardship for a young girl who longed for the words "I love you".

A senseless war had taken Marth instead, a war conceived on the day he had delayed riding against Ostia's dragon. Eliwood had blamed him for Hector's death.

Like Lucina blamed Cordelia for Tiki's death.

She closed the book. Less than a moment later she had passed the cramped stone walls of her quarter and the hallways beyond, and the silent prayer of apology she sent in Ike's direction was with the gods.

Chances were, she would amble about the castle for hours and not find a trace of currant-colored hair. The training ground offered a solid starting point, but she avoided the farther corners of the yard for fear of running into Ike. Her search led her to the outer ring, where people carried benches and barrels into the street; preparations for the feast Leif had mentioned. With a pinch of regret she thought back to the many untouched pastries on Leif's silver plate. The smell of stew and cooking fat wafted across the street from every direction, a hotchpotch of roasted geese, mushrooms dripping with butter, and bread from countless ovens. Before sundown, the smell would only grow stronger.

But Lucina left them all behind, and after a few exchanges with the townsfolk, she wound up at an old tower. It may have once belonged to the outer wall, but Leonster Castle had since expanded, and the hunched thing didn't match with Leif's eye for fine craftsmanship. The tower likely predated his rule. Now, the symbol above the entrance labeled the building as a house of Naga.

How strange. Lucina had made no conscious effort to find this place. Had she not asked the passers-by for clues to Cordelia's whereabouts? Cordelia held no particular love for Naga or any other god. Her Pheraen instructors in Talys had made sure of that.

Had then intuition guided her? Lucina couldn't say for sure. But she longed for the familiar air of Naga's halls, and Sara, Leif's messenger, had invited her, right? With a surety that wasn't quite her own, Lucina entered the tower.

Sara had described the shrine as humble, and indeed the insides of the tower housed little more splendor than the crumbling outside promised. Sunbeams entered from arrow slits high above, and glass shards hung overhead to spread the light into the deeper corners. A handful of people covered in rags and dust huddled there. The whimpers of a child echoed through the chamber. And overlooking the miserable scene was a painted dragon all in gold. A dark, shapeless creature writhed under its claws. The golden dragon had ripped off its head.

"Your Highness! I'm so glad you're here."

With effort, Lucina tore her eyes from the painting. Cordelia didn't sit among the few figures who had lit five-story candles, but Sara ambled towards her with a wide smile. An apron protected her dress, and she wielded an oversized soup ladle.

"I knew you would come," Sara said. "I hope the sight is not too disappointing for you. There are few of us in Leonster, not enough to refurbish this tower. I asked Lord Leif for more funds, but he always seems to have a hundred other plans on his mind."

Lucina glanced at the painting, shifted her weight. "I'm afraid I won't be staying long."

"Oh, that's alright. Have you eaten, Your Highness? The soup is nearly ready."

Sara waved Lucina to the back of the tower where, sure enough, an entire cauldron of soup bubbled over a fire. Sara tiptoed, almost dunked her hair into the broth, and gave it a few more turns with her ladle. And if not for the painting above, this might have been the strangest sight today.

"Is it too much to ask for your help with the bowls?" Sara asked and gestured at an open cabinet where a mountain of cooking utensils stacked on top of Naga's wax candles.

Lucina, perplexed out of her mind, bowed down and fished out of the mess whatever bowl-adjacent thing she came across.

"I wasn't aware of any rituals to honor Naga that involved soup," she said.

"A necessary evil in these troublesome times." Sara nodded towards the cluster of people near the door. "They are refugees from Tellius who have fled from Grima's shadows."

Lucina swallowed; the next bowl she lifted seemed heavier. "I see."

"More and more of them come since they started dismantling the Black Wall. Leonster doesn't have the means to provide for all these hopeless souls, but a few of them always wash up here. I'm doing the best that I can, as I believe Naga would have wanted when she devised the second credo. Can you give me that bowl there?"

Lucina did as requested, and Sara filled the bowl with soup. Steam curled upwards when she handed over the food. The heat spread through the wood into Lucina's hands.

"It's a small sanctuary in a dark world," Sara said, her gaze lost as though she wanted to count the dust particles drifting overhead. "But it can be a home. For some of us."

"I know what you mean."

Lucina held up a second bowl, and although Sara fussed about how unfitting it was for a queen, she handed out soup among the refugees. The clatter of spoons and the smell of fat and parsley succeeded where everything else failed and roused the huddled figures from their corner. Since the end of the Pheraen Empire, a few travel-worn villagers from Tellius had set up camp in Altea, but here, with the border only a few hours away, the terror had yet to release its claws from the people's faces. From what they had fled they could not or would not say, but a few whispered of shadows.

And for all the peace Lucina had brought Altea and Pherae, it still wasn't enough. Perhaps human hands were never enough.

"How kind you are," an old man said when Lucina placed a bowl into his hands. Or maybe it was the light that made him look old. His hairline had retreated far from his temples, and when his fingers brushed hers, it was the touch of a skeleton. Only the eyes in his narrow face showed a spark of liveliness. "Then you are the champion of Naga?"

Lucina nodded. What had Tellius done to this man to leave him so thin and hollowed out?

"I was just recently set free," the man answered. "The skies have changed, haven't they? Ah, but thank you for the soup."

"I should do more."

The man took her hand with a smile. "You have done so much already, lonely child. How good to have finally met you. In light or shadow, may our paths cross again."

Lucina recognized the last words as a Dualistic phrase. For so long, the people had suffered under the Black Knight, all of them deceived by a champion who should have fought for them. A bowl of soup could never heal wounds and scars that ran so deep.

After watching the man disappear among the other refugees, Lucina turned to Sara and the next steaming bowl in her hands. "Does Leif come here often?"

"Lord Leif? Oh no!" Sara rattled with her ladle. "The only thing he has faith in is his own intellect. He would be a wonderful man if he weren't such a heretic. But it's difficult to deny what he has done for Leonster. For its people. No hopeless soul was too small for him… And he has that way of talking. That way of talking that almost makes you forget that there's darkness in this world."

Something about Sara's tone struck Lucina as odd. The haziness in her eyes… "You love him. Don't you?"

Sara froze. The soup sloshed from the bowl she was holding. "No," she said after a long moment. "I don't see myself capable of that kind of love."

"Because of the fifth credo?"

"My life belongs to Naga, Your Highness. There is little else to it."

"You said Naga rescued you from a dark place of mind. I'm worried I might still be… stuck in that place."

Sara dropped the ladle into the cauldron. The refugees had all returned to their corner, and for the moment the rattle of spoons replaced all whimpers.

"We should light a candle," Sara said.

The few faithful had abandoned the tower after having pocketed their share of the soup, and the repurposed alcove for prayers was abandoned. Only a handful of candles stood there, and fewer still flickered to share a little warmth with the tower. Sara sat on the bare floor and gestured Lucina to join her. With a great reverence, Sara lifted a five-story candle to one of the flames until the spark caught hold, and another small light battled the dimness.

"Your Highness," Sara began, "is it presumptuous of me to say that I envy you? Naga chose you above all others. Her protection surely envelops you at all times."

Lucina rubbed her arms. She couldn't bring herself to light a candle for herself. "It doesn't work that way."

"No, I know that. But this tower, these walls – they mean safety. When I look at these small lights, it is difficult to remember the evil out there."

The flames reflected in Sara's eyes, a mind burning. There was a story here. When Lucina had welcomed soldiers back into Lycia's palace after they had fought in the name of her empire, they had worn similar expressions. They had left too much of themselves in the dust of the battlefield. Once Lucina had sought to take all their stories with her, to remember their dreams, realize them. With Marth's diary and the Binding Shield waiting for her uphill, where was the point anymore? Where would she take these stories?

Still she sat with Sara while her candle's uppermost story burned down. And when Sara spoke, perhaps she was intending these words for Naga alone.

"It was maybe four years ago," she whispered. "I cannot say for sure. I was careless. The kitchen asked for porcino mushrooms for an important festivity, but the forests here aren't dense enough to grow them, so I wandered north. It was a long walk, I should have realized I wouldn't be back before sundown, but I only had the mushrooms in mind. I must have come too close to the border. Sometimes bandits cross over from Tellius. Sometimes a hunter's daughter goes missing. There were five of them, five men, and I walked directly into them. I still remember. One of them had a chain with bones from small birds. It tingled when he moved."

Sara stared into the candlelight. The flames dried the tears she might have shed otherwise. "They left me there when they were finished. I was certain I would die in that forest with the smell of porcino all around. It was Sir Ares who brought me back to the castle. I owe him my life, and I owe Lord Leif for his care afterwards, and another woman would have taken his kindness into her heart to let it grow. But when I look at him, I feel nothing."

"So you turned to Naga for guidance," Lucina said.

A flight into prayers. And with five-story candles, this flight at least promised a hint of light and warmth.

"Many people in Tellius have experienced far worse." Sara caressed the flame of her candle without flinching from the heat. "Now that the Black Wall is being pulled down, I cannot say how many bandits or acolytes of Validar are crossing the border alongside the refugees. Maybe the Black Knight will come too. Then towers and sanctuaries like this will fall. How many will share my pain then?"

"None if I can complete my task."

Sara rose to her feet, but her eyes struggled to tear themselves from the candles. "If I could in any way offer my life to Naga to end the evil that threatens our homes, I would. And if the death of one heretic brought a little light to this realm, I would be the first one to wield the knife. What else is there for me? Since that day, I have been asking myself that question. But Naga chose you above all others. Maybe that's why I envy you."

"I won't forget what you told me," Lucina said and stood. "I promise."

"Then I'm glad. It's as I said before: we are all expecting great things from you."

Sara leaned forward as if to embrace her, her breath tickled Lucina's cheek, and in a strange voice she whispered, "You know the price for a miracle."

A price willingly given.

Lucina may not have lit a candle, nor had she prayed for guidance, but she knew where her path headed. And perhaps, once she had garnered the confidence, she would embrace its end with open arms.

Sara accompanied her to the door, but Lucina paused before crossing the threshold. From the plaza near the outer gate drifted the song and laughter of a great many people.

"I was wondering," Lucina said, "do you know by any chance where I might find Cordelia?"

"We don't talk often. But if I have to guess, she will be at the feast. She always goes when there is something to celebrate."

"Perhaps you should go too?"

"I rather wouldn't, Your Highness." Sara stroked the heavy stone framing the entrance. "For me, it's warmer here."

A gust decidedly too warm for the day tore through the curtains of Leif's study. Summer's last convulsion convinced yet more people to heave their wine barrels towards the open square at the outer gate for the approaching feast. Ares had tossed both cape and sword to one of the rich armchairs but avoided the cushions himself.

"I can stay," he said.

Leif refolded the letter of his Renais contact. His ungirded tunic shifted around his bare chest. Scars and the listlessness of age had never dared to blemish his skin, and the perfect smoothness was a rare sight in a world of stalkers and prey.

"Eirika's reports about her brother's growing fascination for the south are concerning, but we have more urgent matters to address." Leif traded the letter for a goblet of wine from his desk. "Your fight waits for you in Tellius, my friend."

"Not with Validar."

"See him as your stepping stone then. What better opponent is there to prove to yourself that you are ready for the true fight? Since you seem so very deaf to all of my reassurances."

Ares glanced from Leif to the wall of shields. Each worn shape, whether circular or pointed, steel-framed or cut from conifers, had offered reassurance for a short while. But against the Black Knight, all these pathetic trophies meant nothing.

Leif picked up on Ares' silence and moved from the flowing curtains to his side. "Or is it the company that upsets you?"

One of Leif's guests, this Ike with the false Tellius headband, had approached Ares in the yard. His intrusion had ruined an otherwise decent training session. He carried himself in a strange way, always seeking comfort from the sword on his back, and yet he marched with a forcefulness unfit for both the fleeing prey and the quiet confidence of the stalker. Growling, he had unleashed his anger on invisible enemies at the training range.

Prey, Ares had decided.

"I fail to see why the Altean queen chose him as her only guard," he said.

"Ike?" Leif's lips reddened from another sip of wine. "I think he may surprise you. He is a fascinating man."

Fascinating? Young, uncontrolled, angry maybe, but not fascinating. And certainly not worthy of sparking such an expression on Leif's face.

Ares caught hold of the goblet and prized the drink out of Leif's smaller hand. The first sip was dangerously sweet. Leif raised a brow but otherwise allowed the offence. Instead he brought up his hand to squeeze Ares' shoulder, and his thumb pressed into the scarred skin near his throat in the only chokehold Ares might never run away from.

"You have no reason to worry," Leif said. "Nothing and no one in Tellius is a match to you. See that you have whetted your sword by tomorrow noon. Tell me of your success when you return. I will be waiting for your report."

The way Leif spoke, the way he underlined his words with a smile, left no more room for doubt. Beyond the balcony curtains, torches and the celebratory bonfire flared to light another one of these horrid golden feasts. A feast for dreaming nobles, not three-legged dogs. Ares might have a free evening but no intention to attend.

All these dreaming nobles expected Leif as their host, and he had never shied a public speech before. But even as the noise of festivity from outside heightened, he settled into one of his chairs, pulled up a leg onto the upholstery like a misbehaved boy and poured another goblet of wine.

"Then let's put off the thoughts of your departure for a few hours," Leif said. "Remember when I went to visit the lords of the salt islands and how I hid you in the trunk under the berth? Mother was furious."

"What did you expect? I was thirteen."

"And I was fourteen and had a duchy's independence papers to handle. Besides, I would have lost my mind at the salt lords' idiocy without your company."

"Your mother didn't see it that way."

"Yes, I know, you had just barely stumbled out of the capital ruins with your life and I was already pulling you into my games. If I hadn't stuffed half my meals into my pockets to share with you on the trip back, she might have never found out."

"I thought it was the loud talking from your cabin in the dead of night that alarmed her."

"Ah, probably. She threatened to lock us up in different wings of the castle for the rest of the year. And yet, here we still are. An empire rose and fell, an ancient bloodline vanished, Renais moved out to tame the wilderlands, and here we still are" Leif raised his wine. "To us."

Ares paused for only a heartbeat before two goldened rims met with a chink. "To us."

And he settled into the chair opposite of Leif.

Even as the sun sunk behind the walls, the air was decidedly too warm to tell the passing of time, and for a few precious hours, Ares forgot that each of his breaths only served to drag him closer to the Black Knight.

The sun sunk behind the walls, and an air of breathless anticipation had overtaken the people. Lucina followed the crowd streaming downhill. Her conversation with Sara repeated itself in the back of her mind, but it faded to a murmur the farther she went.

Logs for the feast already piled in the shadow of the outer gate, surrounded by vendors and stalls with steamed marcels and cakes decked with cream. The smell of countless flavors of food reached its pinnacle here, and a great crowd already pushed around the fire wood, growing by the minute. Many more people leaned out of upper windows. Sometimes three child faces, red with excitement stacked on top of each other to peek out of holes no bigger than arrow slits. Even the houses seemed to shove and squeeze one another and leaned forward for a better view. If the entire population of Leonster had gathered here, Lucina would have been no more surprised. Finding anyone in this throng might prove impossible.

She dove into the masses anyway. And as she did, a torch lit the wooden pile, and a wave of cheers rolled across the castle to sweep them all into the current.

It was marvelous. Not a minute went by without someone stepping on her toes or an elbow knocking into her side. She breathed the ale her neighbors flooded into their throats, felt lightheaded even before someone shoved a cup into her hand. The current of the crowd pushed her this way and that. She asked four different people for the reason behind the feast and no response matched the other.

They celebrated simply because they could.

Couples crashed into each other in affectionate kisses, groups of friends and complete strangers spun around the fire, parting and finding each other again when the music had looped them once around, and only three steps from Lucina a man lifted a woman onto a barrel above the crowd and proclaimed his undying loyalty to her. She fell into his arms, all smiles and tears.

They loved simply because they could.

The weathered woman who handed Lucina a tartlet didn't know of assassins. The boy who bumped into her and disappeared into the crowd without a look back didn't know of gods or Grima's shadows. None of them did. And if Lucina imagined true peace, she would always circle back to this image, of that boy from before perched on top of the archway, unloading an entire sack of colorful paper straps onto the crowd. When the couples and friends and complete strangers stopped and applauded.

Was this image not worth protecting? A world in which people celebrated without fear, a world where Sara might join them and replace the warmth of her candles with that of bonfires. Even if none of them recognized her now or ever would, did Lucina not owe it to them to give all that she had?

She sipped her ale, lost in this very thought, when a flash of color moved in her periphery. A trick of the light?

She tiptoed and slipped through a rare opening in the crowd in hopes of catching the specter again. An elbow shoved her towards the dancers, and there she saw it, fiery as the flames around which they all twirled: currant-colored hair.

Cordelia moved from one dance partner to the next. She didn't smile, but like so many in the crowd, she had forgotten herself and only existed as the next jump along the melody, the next spin in this spiral to drunken ecstasy.

Lucina abandoned her ale and joined the dancers. Who shared a few turns with whom as a partner no longer mattered; after a short while, the music chased them apart anyway. As such, Lucina danced her way through a handful of men and women until the drums and flutes invited the two rings to spin once more, and Lucina ended face to face with Cordelia.

Their hands hung in the air between them without touching, and only then, inches from Lucina, did Cordelia freeze. Her wide eyes reflected the glow of the feast around them.

"I just want to talk," Lucina said and waltzed clockwise as the rhythm demanded.

Cordelia stood on the spot for a moment longer. Her eyes darted past Lucina in search for escape routes. Maybe she expected Ike to corner her from the side. But then she straightened and resumed the dance, without a sound.

The first words would determine the outcome. Lucina had tossed countless options around her head while moving through the crowd, but now she cast them all aside in favor of one question.

"Have you forgiven me?"

Cordelia faltered again, raised her hand off-beat.

"I have failed to free Talys for you," Lucina continued. "Even if that had been the only thing I took from you, I couldn't have faulted you for siding with Roy. I didn't understand then. But I think I do now. No one should be forced to give up their attachments. Not for a crown. Not for a title. And certainly not for me."

The music pushed them together and apart and together again, close enough to feel the other's breath on their faces.

Cordelia chewed on her lip. When she spoke, the nearby laughter almost drowned out her voice. "Why are you like this? I'm the one who betrayed you."

"I'm not asking for the reason why you did it. I'm asking whether you have forgiven me."

A spin and a pause. "Shanna is locked away in a prison cell. Talys is free now. What does it matter whether you led the final charge or not? I heard they tore down the fences around the training camps. Someone was even crazy enough to imagine wild Pegasi at the western cliffs. Completely without reins from Pherae. Must have been some sight. Like I said: crazy talk."

"Then why are you here?"

The ensemble played the five-note cue to switch partners. Cordelia turned to disappear back into the safety of the crowd, but Lucina grabbed her arm. Someone complained from the side, but new partners were quick to find, and a gulp of ale drowned all disgruntlements. Lucina pulled Cordelia back onto position, and the dance resumed.

"Cordelia…"

"I can't go back to Talys, okay? And not for a lack of trying. They closed most ship lines to the island after the Shanna debacle. I believe you signed their terms. Gave them that bit of sovereignty they always wanted. You need a noble's favor and signet for the passage now, and I didn't feel like asking you. End of story."

Lucina nodded. She had signed the plea for temporary autonomy a little over a year ago – with the best of intentions, but when had that ever been enough?

The music washed them along the bonfire's shore.

Cordelia cast another look over Lucina's shoulder. "Is Ike here too?"

"You should know how much he hates these festivities better than I do." They spun. But despite the aftertaste of her ale, Lucina uttered her next words with absolute calm. "If he hasn't done so already, Leif will ask you to accompany us into Tellius. I want you to accept."

"After everything that's happened…"

"I won't force you to journey with us. You aren't oathbound to me; you can leave at any time." Lucina let go of Cordelia's hand and fell back into the rules of the dance. "But I do want you to come with us."

"Why?" Cordelia whispered.

"For Ike's sake."

They parted and pressed closer again, Cordelia's hand still inches from Lucina's. "Is he still…?"

"Mad at you? Yes, and he will curse me when he finds out I'm talking with you here. That's all the more reason why you should come with us. Because if you don't approach him now, this resentment will only grow until it destroys you both. I can't imagine you want that."

"What does it matter now?"

Cordelia looked sideways, but Lucina followed her movement until Cordelia had no choice but to watch and listen.

"Be there for him," Lucina said. "You owe him that much."

The music once more called the pairs to split and move along. But this time, Cordelia stayed put. After a long moment used to search Lucina's face for explanations, maybe even the warmth of friendship that might have once been, she initiated the next turn.

"What about you?" she asked.

Lucina smiled, and it was only half-forced. "I have my task from Naga."

Cordelia pulled in a trembling breath. Her eyes darted, but finally she settled on Lucina's face. "She should have lived. If anyone deserved a home to return to, she did. Tiki... I never meant for her to get mixed up in this because of what I did. She didn't deserve to die, not her. I thought… I just wanted to believe that Roy was the easy way out. It was stupid, everything I did. Everything for a dumb stretch of shingle beaches and white cliffs I still can't reach." Cordelia blinked back a tear. "If I could make my decision again…"

Lucina smiled, this time genuinely. She tiptoed and placed a kiss on Cordelia's forehead. "You don't need to lie. I may not have your forgiveness – but you have mine."

Cordelia fumbled with her next step. She still struggled to believe, maybe worried that this magic forgiveness would fade as soon as the fires of the feast went out. But then she did muster a small grin.

"You really haven't changed at all."

"Maybe not on the outside," Lucina said.

Round and round they spun. Lucina had completed her objective, and whether Cordelia accepted Leif's formal request tomorrow now lay with her alone. Further words would be pleasant chatter, shared simply because they could. But the flutes still played, the people still laughed, and one meaningless toast after the other still splashed ale froth over bystanders. None of them looked north, to where the spruce forests of Tellius cowered in the dark. Somewhere the sky fissured, and new shadows seeped through.

"Mind if we stay a little longer?" Lucina asked. "I want to enjoy this. As long as I can."

Cordelia paused for only a moment. "I don't see why not. Just… let's not talk about the past."

"Only if we don't talk about the future either."

"To the present then?"

Lucina nodded. "To the present."

They twirled for another dance, and for a few precious hours, neither of them looked beyond the walls.

Notes: I have reworked this chapter too often to count. I would say the section from Ares' POV was a last-minute addition, but in truth I have done two revisions of that part as well. Maybe not my best work, but there are some highlights in this chapter for me. I leave it to you to guess them :) Next time, the party moves into Tellius and swords cross, once in gaiety and once in bloodlust's rage.