Author's Note: This little non-canonical idea is quickly blossoming into something bigger in my mind, because it gives me an avenue to explore topics I normally wouldn't be able to investigate within my larger XC3 ficlet collection.

Just what I needed...more brainrot...

xxxx

Untold numbers of Kevesi and Agnian soldiers had lived and died on repeat. Even those who had ostensibly escaped the cycle through Homecoming had nonetheless been retained within Origin.

Theoretically, all those who had lived in Moebius's cycle — bound by the Flame Clocks, fighting to live and living to fight — had been guilty of the sins and vices common to war between nations; more so, when the 'war' had been more of a never-ending meat-grinder.

Yet there were those who differed in terms of numbers, for not all soldiers had been equal in terms of combat ability.

More to the point, the world itself had been literally and metaphorically engineered to incentivize the shedding of blood.

Thus, it was inevitable that some would glory in it; some far more than others. Yet the promise of rebirth, and starting over with a blank slate...that ensured stable, unending continuity.

Yet the question must be asked: for those who grew to relish their dreadful work in their short life...was it because they were predisposed to such viciousness already? Or was it because they were simply more susceptible to the vices common to armed conflict? Bereft of the choice and opportunity to choose something other than war, had they been doomed from the start?

Furthermore, as far as Dirk — he who had borne the titles of Brightfire, Blackblaze, and finally Moebius D — was concerned...whether it be by accident or by purpose, more and more darkness was retained as he was reborn over time: bit by bit, until his inner light had been smothered.

At what point is the world at fault? Or was he himself still blameworthy?

xxxx

Dirk sat upon his bed, arms wrapped around his knees. It was a childish action, and one that accomplished nothing other than to make him feel better; however, he didn't dare turn the lights on.

It would allow him to see old trophies, earned from competitions in youthful martial arts; posters of his favorite members from the Garfont Mercenaries; toy weapons, born from years of play fighting with acquaintances and friends (and with his siblings and parents most of all); a few old plushies in the form of a white tiger (which he swore he had outgrown. Honest). Mostly, it would allow him to see his hands.

(Hands which had cut through bodies...and necks...)

(You had gotten really damned good at it.)

Dirk hissed, trying to banish the thought from his mind. That's not me. It can't be me. I'm not that person! (...right?)

Without warning, there was frantic knocking on his door. "Dirk?" It was the voice of Mother, muffled by the door.

The boy — a mere teenager, thirteen years of age — didn't answer. He didn't want to look at his ma's face. (Didn't want to see a look of judgment, or pity, or regret...)

"...Diederik, I know you're in there. I can sense your ether."

"Go away," he petulantly retorted.

Mythra impulsively stormed through the door, her Core Crystal and ether lines glowing in the dark. "Don't take that tone with me, young man!"

Dirk jolted from her sudden entrance.

The glowing outlines of Mythra's form evoked sudden realization, even embarrassment. With a flustered huff, Mythra walked back outside, closing his bedroom door behind her. "...rewind that." With forced politeness, Mother knocked on the door. "Son. I'm coming in, okay?"

This time, Dirk didn't protest; Mythra, fortunately, didn't turn on the lights. Rather, she used her inherent senses to navigate to his bed, where she sat down besides him. The gem in her distinctive tiara gleamed in synchronicity with her Core Crystal, providing a frame of reference for where her face would be.

Mother and child sat in silence for a time; one unwilling (one wishing) for the other to depart...while the other was uncertain (doubtful, concerned...even a bit frightened?) as to what could be said to break the ice.

(The sensation of being a stranger in his own home had never been so stark.)

xxxx

Downstairs, Pyra — through the connection she intrinsically shared with Mythra, even though they had long ceased to be part of the same being — could sense her sister's growing confusion and internal frustration.

(Of the three wives, Mythra had always been the one most uncertain about motherhood; yet, Dirk's similar powerset and Nia-like rambunctiousness had made raising him...remarkably easy. There had been a simplicity with Dirk that had not been present with Glimmer and Mio, even separate from the differences between boys and girls.)

(But ever since the Rejoining...something had changed.)

That Dirk had managed to somehow hide such a vicious side to him was heart-wrenching, in a way that only a mother could feel. (And even if Pyra had not physically carried Dirk within her womb, he and Mio were as much her children as Glimmer was.)

Surprisingly, the ones with the most pertinent knowledge of what had changed...were apparently two young(?) teenagers.

Hence why they had gathered back at the kitchen table, with Noah and Mio on one side; Rex sat at the head of the table, with Pyra and Glimmer directly opposite Noah and Mio. Dunban, meanwhile, sat opposite Rex at the foot, with Noah sitting to his left. "So...you seem to have regained some memories of that other world," said the visiting swordsman with a measured tone.

"...that's putting it somewhat mildly," remarked Noah, speaking with the cadence of an adult. Compared with his boyish tone, it was rather unsettling. "There was...a lot that happened, in Aionios."

"Which is why we should really wait for Queen Nia...I mean, Mum," added Mio, as if correcting herself.

"Why are you calling Mum by her title?" asked Glimmer with a confused tilt of her head.

Pyra couldn't help but pity the wariness in Noah and Mio's faces; how else was one expected to fully integrate newfound memories after just recovering them? There was no way the process had been completely cohesive, despite how quickly it had seemingly occurred. "You seem used to referring to Nia that way...an artifact of your time in Aionios?" she asked, as a leading question.

Noah and Mio both nodded. (Pyra couldn't help but notice that his left hand was holding her right hand under the table; it was endearingly cute, in spite of the circumstances.) "Parenthood wasn't exactly something that applied to the soldiers of Keves and Agnus," admitted the black-haired boy.

Pyra watched Dunban's analytic gaze before briefly glancing towards her husband; Rex's eyes were focused solely on the Kevesi swordsman, as if gauging a prospective enemy. Even if Dirk's antagonism had been unexpected, Rex didn't seem too keen on the thought of a guest threatening his children in the slightest. Endeavoring to keep tensions low, she asked, "Noah...Mio, dear...why did you look at Dirk the way you did?"

"Yeah," chimed Glimmer. "I know he can be annoying, but..." She trailed off, suddenly seeming uncertain. "...but then when he talked back...it's like he wasn't my brother anymore."

Dunban calmly observed, "It seems the young man was not the most pleasant individual on Aionios. It reminds me of a similar situation with the second daughter of two of my friends."

Noah turned towards him, eyes widening with sudden realization; he was doubtless beginning to draw correlations and make connections between memories of Aionios with memories of this life. "Wait...you wouldn't mean your student Ashera?"

"You're quite right," said Dunban with a nod, turning towards the native Alrestians to clarify. "Ashera is the second child of Reyn and Sharla, two old comrades of mine. After the Rejoining...she slowly lost interest in the healing arts that her mother specializes in, and instead began pestering her father and older sister, Panacea, regarding combat training. They eventually asked me for help with channelling her newfound aggression in more...productive ways." Sighing at how such a mild-mannered girl had slowly become more and more gung-ho, he added, "I appreciate how capable she is with regards to my techniques, but not if it means she becomes someone else entirely."

"That sounds like her," murmured Mio.

"So you actually knew Ashera, in that other world?" asked Dunban with surprise. In response to their nod, he added, "You don't seem surprised by how I described her."

Noah grimaced, looking down at the table with a certain hesitance. "Ashera was our comrade and ally, it was true...but as far as her demeanor went, she was focused on combat to the point of fighting her own allies for fun. The greater the risk to her life, the more excited she would become by the prospect."

"How awful," said Pyra.

"...I see." Dunban sighed, looking meaningfully towards Rex. "Alas, I missed out on all of the 'fun' of that world. Do your experiences correlate with theirs?"

Rex crossed his arms, sighing heavily; he briefly glanced at Glimmer before answering, "There were a lot of lives that got recycled by Keves and Agnus, but it's not like they kept to a particular schedule as to who they would revive and when with those blasted cradles. Before I ended up serving as the world's avatar alongside Shulk and A, I never ran into Dirk, nor Mio. And the time where I met Glimmer, well...it was hard not to compare and contrast that smart-mouthed spitfire with my little baby girl."

Glimmer narrowed her eyes with suspicion. "...wait. Dad, what's that supposed to mean-?"

"As for Lady Pyra?" interrupted Dunban. "I know that you had some measure of involvement with Origin's development."

Pyra grimaced, thinking back to how often she and Mythra had been consulted on the Origin Project; many had been the days and nights, spent communicating across dimensions with Shulk and his fellows...divining the ways and means by which they could use Ontos's Core Crystal to serve as the foundation for the whole system. (On the one hand, they could only regret what came of it...but on the other, what could they have done? Anything lesser than Ontos would not have been powerful enough to bridge the divide that Origin had needed to complete its function. Perhaps, if they had still been Pneuma...but wishing for a 'what if' would not change the present.) "Unfortunately...there's not much that either I or Mythra would be able to tell you about historical events on Aionios. Our wills were focused...elsewhere." Namely, ensuring that the power of Ouroboros had been sufficiently propagated through their chosen medium...but that was another story altogether. "I wouldn't be able to tell you anything more."

Dunban nodded grimly. "...all the more reason for Noah and Mio to be clear about what exactly they saw Dirk do." When Rex gave a permissive grunt, he turned back towards the pair. "We must know what your experiences of Dirk were like. Context is necessary if we're to help the young lad."

Because he obviously needs help, thought Pyra, watching as Noah and Mio communicated without saying a single word.

Finally, Mio spoke up. "As far as my memories go...I only have our 'last' life to go by, for the most part. But we first encountered Dirk...as Moebius, transformed. He...killed...two of our comrades in front of our eyes, and delivered a fatal blow to a man named Guernica Vandham. And that...was just the beginning."

Pyra inwardly quailed at the implications. Rex had the sort of scowl that said 'I should have been there', crossed with 'How could that have happened?', with a side order of 'Vandham?'

Fortunately, before they could go any further, a familiar figure walked inside, alongside a white tiger with inquisitive blue eyes. Nia, wearing a cream-colored shawl over her body, huffed with annoyance. "Bloody advisors; can't take a hint that a family emergency is a family emergency..." Looking over towards Rex, the Queen of Agnus said, "Don't know what I'd do without Azami."

Rex shrugged. "She prefers working as your proverbial lookout than working with the guys at Garfont...did anyone get in your way?"

Nia shook her head. "Her eye's still as sharp as ever. Could do without her threatening to snipe random bystanders every five minutes, even if she's joking."

The Master Driver sighed, rubbing at his hair. "I'll make sure to talk to her."

"...my Lady, I believe I'm needed elsewhere," said the white tiger; ever since walking inside, his eyes had been fixed upon the stairs leading to the upper floors of their home.

Nia, doubtless sensing the ambient ether in the air, simply nodded. "Go on, Dromarch. Tell Mythra...that she needs to be here for this."

Dromach nodded, briefly acknowledging everyone else's presence. "Please forgive my rudeness." He bowed his head slightly before ambling up the stairs.

"He's quite the polite fellow," observed Dunban.

"That's Dromarch for you," said Pyra, watching intently as Nia moved to to the other side of the table, taking the empty seat between Mio and Rex; the Queen briefly ran her fingers along Rex's shoulder before turning towards Noah and Mio. The latter two shared an expression with Nia — of knowing, and understanding — that was impossible to ignore. "Nia...you know who Dirk used to be in Aionios, don't you?"

Nia sighed, an expression of regret and frustration flashing across her face. "Yes. Kind of hard not to know when I had Poppi passively transmitting information to me, day in and day out...also hard to ignore it when he lodges one of those spears through yer chest."

"He did what?!" exclaimed Glimmer, impulsively rising to her feet.

"I got better," said Nia, waving off her concern. "That ain't the point. We're here to share the knowledge about what we remember...so we can find a way to move forward."

"...this is gonna be a long night," grumbled Rex, kneading a hand against his temples.

On that, Pyra was in complete agreement.

xxxx

The silence had eventually become too suffocating for Mother to withstand. "Dirk..." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Mythra looking at him; he could only imagine what her expression was like. "...you know you can talk to me about anything, right?" Her tone was full of concern and sympathy. "I mean, I know I'm not an expert in teenage boys, but I know a thing or three."

"That's what Dad says," he tiredly replied.

"Well, I mean he does, but you know what I mean."

(No, I don't know what you mean, you blonde bimbo. Why don't you spell it out for the audience, so we can follow along?)

(Cruel words, meant to get under her skin.)

"...if I didn't know that wasn't you, I'd smack you," dryly remarked Mythra.

...and apparently, he had said those words out loud. A fresh spike of agony pierced him through, as he buried his face into his hands. "Ma...what's happening to me...?"

A new voice intruded upon the darkness, albeit a welcome one. "I believe that is what everyone is discussing downstairs." Dromarch slowly entered the room; he could see the large tiger's silhouette shift into a dignified pose as he sat on his haunches. "Lady Mythra, Lady Nia requests your presence. I will remain with the young lord."

Mythra looked conflicted, so Dirk answered for her. "Go on, Mother. I'll be fine with old 'March." (That it would keep her away from his wicked slips of the tongue was an added bonus.)

"...if you need us, just shout. We'll be up in a flash." Mother reached over, pecking him on the temple with a tender kiss; she then slowly walked away, affectionately rubbing Dromarch on the head before leaving.

At last, it was only Dirk and Dromarch, sitting in the dark.

"Do you mind if I get onto the bed, my lord?" asked the white tiger.

"...I'm too big for that, you know," muttered Dirk, even as he impulsively shifted to the side.

"That may be so, but even Lady Nia lied upon me as an adult." Dromarch took the invitation, hopping upon the raised bed; Dromarch crossed his paws, resting his large form upon the majority of the mattress. "I believe the last time I did this was a few years ago, during a horrible storm?"

(It had been shortly after the Rejoining...but before the first of the nightmares had started.) "I think so."

"It seems there is quite a storm raging within you, my lord. If you don't mind my saying so."

Dromarch didn't even know the half of it. "I...I don't know what's wrong with me, Dromarch."

"Trust in your father and mothers to come to a solution. After all, they love you; focus on getting a good night's rest, and leave such worries for tomorrow."

(But that was the big question, wasn't it? They loved Dirk, the son of Rex and Mythra.)

(You don't even know if you're that same little tyke anymore, do you?)

xxxx

Dromarch had cuddled with all three of Rex's children as they had grown up.

However, he had long preferred Dirk to Mio and Glimmer, simply for the fact that the boy's frame had been less soft than that of his sisters. It was a novel experience for the white tiger, who had long been used to females cuddling up to him in his many years of service to Lady Nia. Something about being a large and polite cat, alas.

Even so, as Dirk had grown, he had obliged the young lord's desires, and ceased playing the part of an oversized sleep aid; it was one of the features of adolescence, to learn how to stand on one's own feet.

However, he would still serve at a moment's notice, if the need was there. And now...Dirk desperately needed comfort.

And so — as their family discussed heavy matters downstairs among themselves and with Dunban — Dromarch let Dirk cling to his back, as one desperate for relief.

(Little did Dromarch know, that Dirk could not recall any bloody memories involving the white tiger; no wretched time, where he had clung to anyone's back for comfort. In that, there was distance, between the Dirk who lived, and the Dirk of his darkest dreams.)

(For the first time in a long while, Dirk slept without a single nightmare. If only it could always be so easy...)

xxxx

Author's Notes: I did not know when starting this that I would write a scene involving teenage Dirk utilizing Dromarch as an emotional support animal.

But you know Dromarch would totally be the emotional support animal of the family.

As for why I made Ashera the sibling of Panacea?

Simple: why not?