Lucina winced as Falchion's heavy, studded scabbard slipped out of her grip and fell to the stone floor. The resulting thud -amplified as all noises seemed to be in the early dawn hours, must have been loud enough to wake the entire castle. She froze, expecting Sir Libra or Miss Olivia -or worse, Lady Maribelle, to burst in and foil her escape. After a long minute, she relaxed.

The princess jerked back, jarring her aching shoulder, as the door to her room cracked open. Her mother, grey-brown hair still up in a lazy sleeping braid, poked her head into the dreary closet Lucina had been assigned for her recovery.

"Oh, you're awake! Quick, come with me, and do try to be a bit quieter, dear. Don't want to bring the wardens down on us."

"Mother, you're injured," Lucina hissed as she tried to belt on her sword one-handed.

Queen Sumia darted into the room and helped her daughter finish dressing. The princess tried to be humiliated that -in her current state, she was unable to even lace her boots properly. She couldn't. Any embarrassment was smothered by the pure joy of being able to be doted upon by her mother.

"Is that good? Oh, it's not too tight, is it?"

Lucina took her mother's hand and smiled. "It's fine, mother. And, don't just ignore what I said. You are injured. What are you doing up this early?"

"Please, do go on and lecture me about my injuries," Sumia said dryly. "From the way Chrom tells it, you were thrown much farther than I was. And, I was able to dress myself this morning."

The princess raised an eyebrow. Instead of her usual pegasus rider's skirt and wool leggings, her mother wore only stiff work trousers. She also appeared to be draped in one of Chrom's blue tunics; over-large on her slender frame.

"My job is to protect you and father," Lucina said, attempting -and failing, to sound stern. "You had a broken rib yesterday. Master Libra's orders were to sleep and give his treatments time to work."

Sumia moved to her daughter's uninjured side and slipped her hand under Lucina's arm, guiding her gently out into the passageway. The princess didn't resist. She closed the door carefully behind them.

"Yes, dear, I know all about your mission," the queen whispered as they crept, arm in arm, down the hall. "But, in the years you spent running around this time, before taking off your disguise, did you never think that -as your mother, my job would be to protect you? Even if we happen to be close to the same age now."

"And this is you protecting me?"

They came to an intersection in the hallway. Sumia made to turn left, then, after some consideration, led Lucina down the opposite path.

"I believe Maribelle prescribed you bed rest as well," her mother chuckled. "But, we both know you were going crazy trapped in that little room. You're just like your father."

"Yes, clearly he's the one I inherited this behavior from."

"I've been thrown off of a pegasus before; it comes with the territory. The bruises go away in a few weeks. You, however, didn't have a single bone in your shoulder that wasn't bruised, broken or on the outside."

"Mother, you make it sound as if you slipped off of a pony. You were above the castle."

Sumia reached across and snagged the end of one of Lucina's bandages that had become unwound. She deftly flicked it around the princess' bicep and re-affixed the pin to be more secure.

"And, Cherche was nice enough to catch me," she said. "Oh, this way."

The pair briefly passed through a spacious, battle-scarred vestibule before they emerged into the crisp morning air. Lucina's heart sank as she surveyed what was left of the royal Rosannian gardens.

Despite being far from any area of tactical importance, the garden was a wide, open-aired space within the high walls of the Glass Keep; which made it the inevitable site of a battle. Ylissian pegasus knights had targeted this area -along with half-a-dozen others like it, as a possible place to drop troops behind enemy lines. The Valmese had deployed units to plug these clear holes in their defense. The bodies of both sides had been cleared away, so it was impossible to tell who had used fire magic, but the aftermath of a spell was evident.

Two stone paths -blackened and cracked from the heat, ran parallel down either side of the long, rectangular courtyard. In between the walkways, what must have been a veritable jungle of lovingly-maintained flowers from all across the Valm continent was now little more than ash and broken planters. Dozens of twisted, metal trellises had been collected in a pile by the entranceway. The entire garden must have once enjoyed the shade of hundreds of hanging vines.

"It's good to finally breathe fresh air," Lucina said, hoping her mother didn't detect the sorrow in her voice.

Sumia patted her daughter's good shoulder. She continued leading them down the least-damaged of the paths, stopping briefly before a section of the garden flanked by two statues. Only carved, sandaled feet were left to hint to Lucina that they had once depicted people.

"This used to be one of the only places in the world where the Seahorse Rose was grown," the queen said sadly. She reached down and rooted around in the debris with her fingers, only coming up with a few charred twigs. "They grew intertwined; in pairs.

"Virion took a few cuttings with him when he fled. Your aunt, Emmeryn, was able to get them to flourish in the garden back home. How she managed it only Naga knows. I've sent a letter back to Ylisstol with one of the Plegian captains requesting some of those roses be returned here."

"I think I remember those flowers," Lucina said. "You- erm, my mother would always complain how fickle they were. I didn't know they were from Rosanne, or that it was Sir Virion who brought them to the Halidom."

"Yes… he wanted something to remind him of home."

"Have you heard from him since the trial?" the princess asked.

Sumia dusted the soot from her fingers on her trousers, careful not to dirty her borrowed tunic. She took her daughter's arm again and continued their walk.

"No. But, unlike your father and most of the other Shepherds, Virion knew exactly what returning to Rosanne would mean for him. It's Cherche I'm most worried about. If not for Robin, I think she might have killed that high judge. Hopefully, her mission will give her time to cool off."

"I don't think Lady Cherche is the only one we need to keep a eye on," Lucina said, nodding to the one other person sharing the garden with them this early.

Princess Say'ri stood alone atop the surrounding wall, facing south. From what the other Shepherds had said, she hadn't so much as moved from that spot since Cherche had flown off to reconnoiter the Mila Tree.

"I hope Panne and your friend Yarne are wrong about the source of that water," Sumia whispered. "I don't want to think what she'll do if the Valmese have caused any harm to the Tree."

The pair made no attempt to greet the other woman as they passed below her section of wall; leaving her to her vigil. They were coming to the end of the flower beds. The rest of the space in the courtyard was given over to a series of small ponds filled with dull, muddy water. Oddly, next to each pool was a small brass gong hanging in a wooden frame. A few of the instruments had been spared from the destruction.

"I'm not the most pious of people," her mother continued. "But, even I know about the importance of the Mila Tree to Naga's faithful. My parents always used to talk about making the pilgrimage to speak with the Voice."

"Yarne is never wrong about this sort of thing. And, once Cherche returns to confirm it, we won't be able to stop Lady Say'ri from going; alone if she has to. Trust me."

Sumia glanced at her daughter. "You… know something of how she feels, don't you?" she asked.

"I don't know how you managed to keep her here for this long," Lucina said quickly. Her mother's question had come too close to the thread of her own thoughts for comfort.

"It was all your father," the queen said, giving her an understanding look before allowing the subject to be changed. "Honestly, I have no idea what he said to stop her. She'd actually drawn her blade on Robin when he suggested sending Cherche to scout the Tree instead of her. Then, Chrom took her aside to speak in private. She returned angry, but accepting of our plan."

"Father can be diplomatic when he needs to be. But, I wouldn't hold Lady Say'ri's actions with Sir Robin against her. Your tactician has that effect on people."

Sumia chuckled. "Yes, Robin is something of an acquired taste." Seeing her daughter's surprise, she continued, "Dear, you've been with us long enough to have heard the story. Your father came back to Ylisstol after patrol one day speaking of earthquakes, amnesiacs, undead creatures and a masked man arriving to save the day." Her mother nudged her gently and winked.

"Robin has the habit of making every person he meets suspicious of him. I think it's because he insists on wearing that coat. But, I guess if everyone is already wary of you for not knowing your own past, there's no reason to change your wardrobe to please them. None of the other Shepherds -myself included, would have believed a word he said if it wasn't for Chrom and Lissa," she finished.

Lucina was about to respond when she felt Sumia's arm tense as she winced in sudden pain.

"Mother! Please. You were right; this walk was just what I needed, but you are still injured. Let's go back to the infirmary where you can lie down."

The queen smiled back tiredly. "It has nothing to do with my ribs, dear. Only… well, hopefully you won't have to deal with this if you decide to have children of your own. Everyone told me how painful giving birth would be, but failed to mention that there was a chance making milk could also be very, very uncomfortable."

She pulled at the tunic in an attempt to make it sit more comfortably around her chest. "I'm an ocean away from you -the younger version of you, but my body just won't stop. And, as I'm sure you can imagine, a military campaign isn't the most ideal place to get regular relief. No, don't worry, they haven't invented a spell yet that can soothe all these little 'joys' of motherhood. Besides, we can't turn back now, I've got something you must see."

She gave her daughter's arm a soft tug and pulled her over to one of the ponds. Lucina fought to keep her blush down at the direction of the conversation. Sumia released her grip and crouched down in a patch of grass that had managed to survive. She fiddled with the gong that was dedicated to this pool; re-tying the frayed cord it hung from.

"Are you… okay with being here in Valm while your daughter is back in Ylisstol?" Lucina asked awkwardly.

"We have good days and bad days," her mother said nonchalantly from where she worked. "At least twice, your father and I have talked about returning home briefly. There's just never been a good time, and little Lucy has a whole regiment of nurses and nannies to make sure she's in perfect health. They even send us letters regularly. And, having you here helps, too."

Lucina felt a pit form in her stomach. "I… that's not-" She took a deep breath. Her shoulder ached. "I'm not your daughter. Not your real daughter. My mother was a different Sumia. I stayed away as long as I did because I didn't want you to see me as some kind of extension of your actual child. I'm not trying to replace her or-"

Sumia stood up and faced the woman her daughter might one day become. There was only love in her eyes as she place a hand on Lucina's cheek. "Dear, you don't have children of your own, so I won't be offended by that remark," she said. "And -I'm not sure if you're aware, but some parents possess the ability to have more than one child and love them all equally."

Lucina opened her mouth to speak, but her mother talked over her. "Yes, you're right, and there's a great, big, complicated reason why you aren't really my daughter. I know, because Miriel has tried to explain it to all of us 'new parents' several times. But -and be honest with me, can you really look me in the eyes and tell me I'm not your mother? That I'm not allowed to love you like you were my child?"

Lucina hung her head, unable to meet Sumia's gaze. "No," she mumbled, for the first time in over a decade feeling like a child being told off by their parent.

Her mother fixed the princess' collar and gently combed a few knots from her dark-blue hair with her fingers. "Oh, sweetheart," Sumia said. "I can't even imagine what you and the others had to live through to come back to us; but you are back. There's time now for you to be happy. There's time for you to be my daughter. Which is why…"

The queen stepped back proudly to reveal the fixed gong. Seeing Lucina's confused look, she sighed and reached over to tap Falchion's hilt.

"Go on, dear, give it a ring. The battle didn't destroy everything in this garden."

Feeling somewhat foolish, and hoping the noise wouldn't bother Princess Say'ri, Lucina unbuckled her sword and scabbard -a much easier task with one hand than affixing them to her belt had been. Holding the weapon by its sheath, she reeled back and -careful not to jostle her shoulder, gave the brass disc a strike with the pommel of Falchion. A loud clang reverberated around the courtyard.

Lucina couldn't stifle a laugh of surprised joy as the murky pond before them boiled into a riot of colors. The dull brown of its muddy bottom vanished under a rainbow of wriggling shapes, each one a different, vibrant hue. The waters became a living stained-glass window for a brief, chaotic moment, before settling back into slumbering placidity.

The princess turned to her mother, wide eyed. "What was that?" she asked.

"A Rosannian tradition Virion mentioned to me once or twice. Loud noises stir them up like that."

"They?"

Sumia was just as delighted as her daughter. Although, her's was the triumphant happiness of a parent cheering up their troubled child. In answer to Lucina's question, she merely pointed down. Following her mother's gesture, the princess nearly jumped back in surprise. She stopped herself at the last minute, not wanting to crush any of the dozen-or-so multicolored frogs that were milling about around her boots.

Crouching down slowly, Lucina placed Falchion to one side and scooped up one of the curious creatures: a grumpy looking, violet specimen that fit neatly in her palm. It didn't try to escape her hand, only glared balefully at her with its milky eyes.

"Are they all the same species?" the princess asked excitedly. "How do they get to be so… so bright?"

Her mother only shrugged. "You'll have to find one of the pond's tenders and ask them." Her satisfied smile faltered. "You… didn't have much color in your time, did you?"

Lucina had lowered her hand back to the ground to allow the frog to hop away. She quickly reached for another. This one, an almost metallic gold. They were all so vibrant; so beautiful.

"No," the princess said softly, not wanting to scare the little animal currently trying to nibble her fingers. "Not like this. Nothing natural. It was hard for anything to thrive without the sun."

Sumia had shooed enough of the amphibians away to form a path she could use to reach her daughter without risk of squishing any of them. She put a hand on her uninjured shoulder.

"You talk about not wanting to come between Chrom and I and the baby back home," her mother said carefully. "I'll admit, having two Lucinas is one more thing I wasn't expecting when I became a mother. But… as strange as it is for me and your father, we've never asked what it must be like for you; knowing that there's another you in this time."

"I… don't know how I feel. When we were young, you would always tell us how special we were; how unique. What every parent tells their children, I suppose." Lucina let the frog leap from hand into the water, the splash causing a brief stir of color. "I don't think I ever believed it, not really; even though I grew up more privileged than most. I was a princess living in a palace, after all. It's hard not to look back now and see how lucky I was.

"But now, someone else is going to live -is currently living, that life. The life I've held so close all this time. She'll get the memories of you and father that have kept me fighting for so long, and I'm… jealous." She chuckled helplessly. "I'm jealous of myself. I know she'll take it all for granted, and -if we're able to succeed against Grima, she won't have to watch it all fall apart."

"Which means, you'll never be the same as my Lucy," the queen said thoughtfully.

"N-No," the princess said, trying not to sound hurt by this Sumia's words. "As I said, I'm not your real daughter. I- Ouch!" Lucina jumped away and protected her side from another of her mothers sharp pinches. "What did you do that for?"

"Lucina!" Hearing her mother use her full name caused the princess to flinch involuntarily. Even the frogs knew better than to move at the queen's irritated tone. "Would you stop jumping to conclusions and listen to me. You're not the girl I gave birth to back in Ylisstol. You traveled back from the future to the present-"

"I traveled from the present to the past," Lucina interrupted sullenly. Her mother drew herself up and placed hands on hips, raising a single eyebrow. The princess reacted almost instinctively and said, "Sorry, mother."

"You traveled from your present to my present specifically to stop the thing that killed your parents," Sumia continued sternly. "I have complete faith that you'll succeed. Which means my baby won't lose her parents. She won't live the same life you did. All those moments and struggles that have turned you into the beautiful, capable woman you've become will be your own, and she'll have her own path. She will learn and grow from experiences that will be -by your own doing, different than yours. She will be different. She'll be her own person. Unique; just like you."

"I…" Lucina turned away and wiped at her eyes. "You're just as frustrating as I remember my mother being."

Sumia grabbed her daughter's arm and hugged it tightly. Lucina tensed, ready for another pinch, but when it didn't come, she relaxed into her mother's embrace. The moment ended when the queen winced and pulled back, rubbing ruefully at her chest.

"I've been thinking," Sumia said after an awkward silence. "We need to come up with a new name for the baby. She can't stay as 'Lucina'. I think you have a rightful claim to that name, and it's just confusing."

"Shouldn't you be having this conversation with father?"

"Nonsense. If he wanted his opinions heard he should have woken up earlier. Maybe my future self told you this, but I've always been fond of the name 'Cynthia'. What do you think?"

Lucina couldn't help but snort. "I don't think that will work."

"Why not?" her mother pouted. "It's a good name!"

Lucina considered for a moment, then told her. Every pond in the garden erupted into flowing colors as mother and daughter laughed and laughed.