Chapter XX: Marth

The river of time always favors its original course. That is what Lady Naga said before using what remained of her power to send my companions and me back in time.

And now, the city of my birth aflame, branches of fire licking the sky, I know that she was right. Alter one event, endure the consequences of five unintended events. Or so it feels. With each change, minute or decisive, the world rages against defiance of fate. Mother and the Shepherds won their alliance with Regna Ferox only for the cruel apathy of destiny to see to it that the victory is short lived.

But I refuse. I challenge my fate. The fate of all who call this world home.

If I lose hope, then I lose everything. History can be rewritten. There are no records of Southtown's destruction during this period. I can only assume that the portal, and the fell servants of Grima who followed, caused that disaster. No… I am to blame. If I had not appeared there, if I had not…

This line of thought accomplishes nothing. Southtown is gone. If that is a sacrifice which leads to the salvation of mankind, then so be it. It is my duty to not allow that sacrifice to be in vain. The timeline is already vastly different from my own. Mother defeated Lon'ri. Though Plegia has invaded earlier than expected, Ylisse still carries the might of Ferox with them.

I have hope.

And I have my blade.

Dashing through streets both familiar and foreign, I cut down Plegian soldiers on my way to the palace. While I draw breath, that dark future shall not come to pass. Emmeryn, I will save you. Even if I alone must slay scores of enemies, the Exalt will live, Validar will not drain her essence, and Grima will not be revived.

Ylisstol may fall, but it can be retaken. All is lost if Validar acquires Emmeryn's life force. I can sense his presence, that foul stench of Grima's Truth. What better time to enact his plot than during the chaos of invasion? Of course, none of this should be happening now, while Plegia assaults Ylisstol. The attempt on the Exalt's life occurred separately and before war was declared. But I cannot afford to dwell on the foul connotations of such deviations at present. My fingernails scrape Falchion's handle, hands bundled into a white-knuckled resolve.

The few troops Ylisse has stem the tide of the Plegian wave at the palace gates. Ylisse's Royal Guard are elite warriors, the finest in all Archanea, but they cannot hold for long. Lady Phila's Air Corp circles overhead, trading blows with opposing wyvern riders. I do not see Father among them, and I pray that he is safe. Phila and her pegasus knights are loyal, unflinchingly so, but they will not throw their lives away while they still have merit. The more of the Royal Guard that survives this battle, the more furious our riposte shall be when we pay Plegia back tenfold.

Sparing those brave souls a last look, I duck under arrows and bolts of magic and sprint towards the concealed fissure in the palace walls only I and Mother know about, careful that no one follows. Inside the walls the aura of Grima's Truth multiples, raising the hairs on my neck. Validar must be close. All the more reason to be swift.

Eerie stillness descends over the castle courtyard. As a veteran soldier might say, it is quiet, too quiet. I enter the palace through a low window, shattering the glass with Falchion's pommel. No one awaits on the other side. Brushing a shard from my cloak, I look right and then left. Nothing. Just darkness. Not even the dim glow of candles or a lantern. The tremor in my stomach does not abate, churning fiercer and more volatile. This timeline's unreliability leaves me questioning every decision, every step. Future members of the Shepherds were to join during the Exalt's assassination attempt. But now… It is all so unclear. Regardless, I press on into the midnight halls of the palace.

Instinct, the sixth sense of Grima's Truth I possess as the bearer of Naga's Mark, guides me. Its noxious power grows nearly overwhelming the closer I draw. Can Validar sense me as well? I do not believe so. If nothing else, the element of surprise should still favor me.

I round a corner, passing a toppled bust of some ancient person of import I cannot name. My childhood lessons on such history were cut quite short. But it matters not. The fact the bust has been disturbed tells me someone has been this way—and in a hurry. My suspicious are confirmed when voices ahead drift into earshot.

Slowing, I slide along the wall and listen, quieting even my own breaths.

"Woah, hey now, listen mate, I came here to nick a few valuables from the palace, not kill the Exalt!"

Another voice flares up to silence the protests of the first. The woman at odds with the idea of murdering the Exalt mutters outside my range of hearing after it's made clear to her that this is the job, like it or not. Heavy footfalls, the kind clad in armor, pad away, eventually melting into the surrounding silence.

"Not the friendliest fellow," the woman says, sighing. She must be alone now, talking to herself I presume. "Well, no way I'm taking part in killing the Exalt. Thieving's one thing. That's another. Time to split while I still can."

A woman of… questionable repute grouped with Validar's men? Who isn't keen on seeing harm come to Exalt Emmeryn? It's an origin story familiar to me. Though I never met Lady Gaia personally, tales of her exploits filled my childhood the same as with other Shepherds. However, Mother is not here to recruit her. If Gaia leaves now, there is little to suggest she will yet join forces with the Shepherds.

I breathe deeply, the kind of breath I take before flinging myself into a swarm of Risen. It falls to me in Mother's absence to ensure the Shepherd's are not deprived Gaia's considerable skill. And if she will aid me in saving Emmeryn, my chances of success double. I prepare to round the corner and reveal myself, calmly and quietly as to not alarm Gaia.

"You can stop slinking around over there, you know." Her voice drifts lazily, and it's obvious she's speaking to me. "It's amazing none of these blokes have noticed you yet."

My hand glides to Falchion before I remember who it is addressing me. She's not the sort to harm someone for no reason, and given how easily I have apparently been detected, Gaia could have disposed of me without saying a word. I slip into the dim light flitting through the hall's windows.

Gaia leans against the wall, twirling a dagger artfully around her fingers. I can barely make out the orange of her hair, a band of ribbon tied around her forehead and ending in a knot maintaining a high ponytail. The rest of her is rather predictably cloaked in shadow. Thieves are fond of mystique it would seem.

I clear my throat lightly, calling upon the voice of Marth. "If you knew I was here, then you must have known I'd hear you talking to yourself as well."

Her dagger spins into her palm as she stows it within her cloak. "You don't seem too broken up about getting busted," Gaia says, tilting her head. "But nah, I only sensed you just now. All the lads have gone ahead, so you can't be with Validar's crew. If you heard me, then you know I'm not really either."

She's right; I should act more cautious. I'm not supposed to know anything about her other than what I just overheard. "If you're not a threat to the Exalt, I have no quarrel with you. Better to be caught by a friend than a foe." My hand hovers above Falchion for show. "Assuming you truly aren't a foe."

"Easy there, Mask." Gaia raises her hands, dagger nowhere to be seen. "The Exalt's a real nice lady. I got no beef with her or you. Judging from that reaction, though, you're here to stop Validar?"

I want Gaia's assistance. No reason to be coy with this. "Yes. Ylisstol is under attack and the royal guard is occupied defending the city. If I don't act, no one will."

Her appraising gaze falls over me, and she makes a brief and low hum before speaking. "So you're not with the guard? Not that you seem to be, what with covering your face and all… Regardless, why don't we go our separate ways?"

Gaia pushes off the wall, hand rising in a two-fingered salute as she begins to saunter away. "I have a proposition," I say, moving to block her path. "If you don't want the Exalt to be harmed, then why don't you help me?"

Her brows go up, and she blinks several times. Then steadily, her expression morphs into smooth incredulity. "Against Validar and those creeps? Just the two of us? Sorry, but I don't exactly have a death wish."

For the most part, I've naturally taken to wearing a mask. At this moment, however, I do wish Gaia could see the fullness of my displeasure. My lips purse before I speak. "And you could live with that? Walking away while the Exalt is in danger?"

To my surprise, Gaia laughs, a breathy chuckle. "You realize you're talking to a thief, right? We aren't exactly known for our high moral standards." She pauses, seeming to assess me. "Of course, if you can sweeten the deal, we might have something to talk about."

"Sweeten the deal?" How Gaia came to join the Shepherds is well known to me. Or rather the peculiar nature of her obsession that let to it. But I am not in the habit of carrying candies or treats on my person—no, such things have long disappeared in my time. This will require coin.

"I can't see much of you, but you don't look happy, Mask." Gaia smirks, the only word fit to describe the uneven grin she sports. "Did you expect charity? I said the Exalt's nice, not that I work for free."

I struggle not to clench my fists. This is the Lady Gaia, famed Shepherd and hero of Ylisse? Haggling for payment to save the Exalt's life? Did I expect too much? Will she truly only fight if I compensate her?

My face burns under the mask, livid heat and fury. "Does one require payment to do what is right?" I growl. "You disappoint me."

Gaia recoils slightly, her easy confidence fading as a quivered lip. "Everyone's gotta eat. I ain't getting paid for this job obviously, so is it really wrong to ask for my slice of the pie here?"

Yes, I want to reply, want to spit it at her. But we're strangers not five minutes acquainted. I know nothing of Gaia save her sweet tooth and the fact she served with my mother and father. I swallow that rising Exalted pride in my throat, that self-righteous anger.

"If you assist me, I will see that you are rewarded."

"Promises aren't worth much in my line of work."

Blowing a hissing sigh through bared teeth, I grasp the coin pouch on my belt and toss it at Gaia's feet. Meager, honestly, but I've only scraped together a paltry sum thus far. "There will be more after the Exalt is safe."

She plucks it from the floor and holds the pouch in her palm the way only one accustomed to the weight of coins does. "You have a deal, Mask. The name's Gaia." She extends her hand to seal the business deal.

The urge to simply brush past almost stays my hand, but we shake. There are far more important things at present than a pettiness of mine I wish I did not possess. "Let's go," I say, releasing her hand. "We have wasted enough time already. Exalt Emmeryn's life hangs in the balance."

"Not one for levity are you, Mask?" Gaia matches my pace as we hurry down darkened halls. "Or sharing your name."

"You may call me Marth." I've said it to so many people that it almost feels like the truth.

Gaia says nothing more, only watching my mask with an unsettling shrewdness. All people of Archanea know the name Marth. In hindsight, such a grandiose pseudonym might have been ill-advised. But after Lady Tiki mistook me for her, any other name seemed lacking. My face flushes at the memory. Perhaps I ought to cut my hair.

Silly thoughts. Emmeryn is my priority. Without her, all is for naught. Naga's words still ring in my mind:

"This world is lost forever to the darkness of Grima. But there are other worlds, worlds which you can save. Go forth, protect all you hold dear, and remember, my child, that Emmeryn is the key to everything."

I was never able to ask her to explain. Grima and his Risen were too close, about to destroy us all. But by Naga's grace, I will not fail.

Gaia and I slip through shadows, balancing speed and stealth. We have no plan, no understanding of each other's strengths and weaknesses, and no chance of winning a head on attack. Strike fast and true, retrieve the Exalt, run—that is our one option. Gaia knows it as well as I. A glance passes between us, laden with anxiety. Validar is close. Very close.

His sickening rasp coils throughout the air, and the night is somehow darker for it. "Emmeryn, you are nearly the fool my mad dog of a king is," he says, the words slithering. "Naive. Weak. Serving as food for Him is an honor you hardly deserve."

"If seeking peace above war is a weakness, then I shall gladly embrace it." Her voice is strong, flowing, rich in conviction. But I hear fear. I know the sound all too well. "Validar, I know of you. Of your god. My father spoke hate against the Grimleal, slaughtered innocents and fanatics alike in the name of Naga. He was wrong. Just as you are wrong. Violence begets only violence."

I'd wished to meet my aunt for the first time under peaceful circumstances, to feel her legendary serenity without worry. Grima has taken yet another thing from me. I nod to Gaia, signaling for us to take positions just outside Emmeryn's chambers. I am sorry, Aunt Emmeryn; violence and steel are sometimes the only response.

"How ever do your people listen to inane prattle like that?" His voice is venom. Latent contempt. "I'd so much rather you beg for your life. At least there is some entertainment in that."

Malevolence. I sense it rising. We must act. I unsheathe Falchion, holding it with a two-handed grip. Gaia readies her dagger. She and I burst into the room, bowling over a pair of unsuspecting men. Validar turns, a wicked snarl curling his lips even in surprise. My blade slices through his robes, leaving behind a thin red line. I cannot risk another blow, and rush towards Emmeryn. Dressed in only her nightgown, she is still a splendid sight. Or would be, if she were not on the verge of being murdered.

She doesn't resist as I grab her wrist and tug. Validar hisses orders to his men, and several attempt to bar us. Gaia dispatches one with a savagely efficient stab to the throat. Some of his blood lands on Emmeryn's gown, eliciting a gasp from the Exalt. I push her behind me, bringing Falchion's pommel down onto a hooded assassin. Two more men take the places of the ones who fell. Gaia shifts in line with my shoulder, muttering a curse.

"Don't stop moving now, Mask," she says, grunting as she parries a swing. "I'd personally like to live to enjoy my reward for this."

Break through. No choice. We all die if we don't escape here and now. But there are more enemies than I thought. A mass of bodies to shove aside. Too many. Far too many.

There's a yelp. The man nearest the door flies backwards into the darkness. Terrible crunching and his scream silenced follows. An elongated snout emerges from around the doorway, a fur-covered head and lengthy ears as well. Of course. Of course!

Another future Shepherd arrived during Emmeyn's assassination. The last taguel. Not the one I know, but her father, Pan. With so much already in doubt, I failed to consider he would still come to repay the debt of his people.

Gaia stiffens. "What in the hell is that?"

"A friend," I reply, smiling in spite of myself. "This is our chance. Move!"

Panic descends over Validar's men. The unknown is certainly terrifying, and it must be doubly so when equipped with massive teeth and claws. Pan rends armor and flesh alike, great paws sending the assailants careening across the room. With both Validar and his contingent occupied, Gaia and I escort Emmeryn to the hall amid the confusion.

"Man-spawn." The guttural voice echoes in ways it should not, and if not for some familiarity already, I would not have known it came from Pan. "Take your leader and flee. I shall hold them off."

Emmeryn objects before I am able. "No," she says, firm in a way that may bend but not break. "I owe all of you my life. None of us will be left behind."

"Yeah, well, we ain't made it out alive yet, your Highness," Gaia drawls, laconic. "Hey, bunny thing, care to give us a lift?"

Pan's fur rises, inflating his pelt to over twice its size. "I am a taguel. We do not permit man-spawn to ride upon our backs as if we are beasts of burden."

He releases his anger on a nearby mercenary, shredding mail and opening a wide gash in the man's chest. As a group of four, we bundle down the corridor, dodging arrows and malignant bolts of purple magic. The dark magic narrowly misses, dissipating into mist ahead. Its wake exacts a toll, a lingering weight in the legs, meekness. Anathema, I've heard it called. "An offering." Of our vitality, no less.

It's obvious that the three humans are slowing Pan down. His irritated growls are evidence enough. Despite Gaia's suggestion that Pan ferry us out of danger, I have my doubts that even he could support all three of us, let alone prevent anyone from tumbling. I grimace. There's no alternative—the last of the powder. It will take us to safety but only once.

"Everyone," I say, careful not to let my stride falter. "I have a way to remove us from this place. If you trust me."

Emmeryn nods, her loose golden hair a shower of ringlets. Her faith both heartens and concerns me. Gaia casts an exaggerated glare at our pursuers. "Trust isn't my expertise, but dying sounds a lot worse."

"Just get on with it, man-spawn." Pan's furry ears twitch, for what reason I cannot say.

Still running, I locate the dust within my satchel. It will not work if we don't stand still. Pan rumbles as my boots slide across the marble floor, yanking Gaia's cloak and stopping her as well. Emmeryn stares at me rather than Validar's men. At me. Not the mask. It is… chilling.

"Huddle close." I fling the powder into the air, watching it float with impatient agony. My companions meld into transparent, ethereal forms. Trees replace polished walls. The shouts and swears of the enemy evaporate, crackling fire and chittering nocturnal creatures replacing them. I count all four of us. It feels as if my breath can finally leave my lungs.

"Naga's pearly ass, we're alive!"

I expect the Exalt to give some sort of reprimand—or at least an apologetic murmur from Gaia—at the vulgarity. Emmeryn merely smiles. "Praise Naga, indeed, friends. I am forever indebted to your bravery."

"You are not injured, are you, Lady Emmeryn?" I ask, pacing around the area, checking for Plegians. It seems I transported us far enough outside the walls that we are safe for the time being.

The Exalt shakes her head. "No, and it is thanks to you." She takes in each of us in turn. "All of you. May I have your names?"

"Gaia." The thief bows in a manner most assuredly not genteel. "I would love to stick around, Your Highness, but I think it's best I get my payment and hit the road."

Ah. She eyes me, expectant. I make no false show of searching for coin. When it becomes clear that what I gave her was all I had to offer, Gaia sets her jaw in a scowl. "So much for honor and pretty speeches, huh?"

"You were promised a reward for your service?" Emmeryn turns her gaze on Gaia, warm and pleasant. "Though I did not hire you, I will see to it that you receive your due. Please, if you would give me your company but a little longer, something will be arranged."

This placates Gaia, who's white teeth and charm to Emmeryn and scorn to me. I suppose it is not scorn undeserved. Breaking vows should shame me. But the Exalt is safe, and I cannot bring myself to regret any part of it.

"Brave taguel, I cannot begin to express my gratitude." Emmeryn stands before a now more human-looking Pan, clad in lilac leather around the chest and waist. The same material protects his shoulders and shins. Otherwise, Pan is mixture of fur patches and bare skin.

He scoffs. "So you know what we are called?"

"Yes, though you are the first I've met." Emmeryn offers a sincere smile.

"The last as well. No more remain of my kind. Man-spawn slaughtered my people and destroyed our warren." Pan states it as bitter fact, a generational anguish coursing through his voice.

Emmeryn's smile disappears. Pain clouds her regal visage. "I am so sorry. I cannot fathom who would commit such an act of unforgivable cruelty."

The man who attempted to take your life, Exalt Emmeryn. No, that is unfair. I come from a place where there is nothing but cruelty. I am too accustomed to death, to praying for the best and receiving only the worst.

"The wind has more weight than your apology, man-spawn." Pan spits into the dirt. "But you seem sincere, empathetic even. I have never felt that before, not from your kind."

She reaches to touch Pan's arm. The taguel recoils but relents. "I know I have only words. All of Ylisse thanks you for your actions this night. Perhaps mankind could learn from taguel. I hope it is not too late to give me the chance."

Pan returns her gaze with flinty eyes. Wounds such as these are not mended in a night. It is a start, however. Sometimes, that is all changes requires. He dips his chin, curt, and sniffs the air. Hackles raise, eyes flash red.

"More man-spawn. They approach from the north. I smell steel among them; they are no farmers."

I lift Falchion. "Can you tell how many? Do we have time to escape?"

He sniffs again. "A dozen, perhaps more. With horses and pegasi. Even I cannot outspeed a pegasus should they spot us."

Hardly more than a scouting party but beyond our ability to defeat. But… A dozen? From the north? The Shepherds are already late. Could it be Mother? No, the risk is too great.

"We need to leave now, then," I say, offering my hand to the Exalt. "Come, milady. We haven't time to waste."

Gaia steps between us. "Not to be that girl, but… I need my money. And I sure as hell ain't following you across the godsdamned countryside just waiting for a payday."

"You can't make any money if you're dead," I say dourly. "The Exalt promised. Trust her if not me."

Pan emits a low grumble. "The masked man-spawn is right. They are very close. We should leave."

Rubbing her face, Gaia groans. "Gods, the things I do for a score."

Relieved, I beckon the others and take a few brisk steps before I realize the Exalt is not following. "Lady Emmeryn?"

Her eyes, narrowed in pain, track the trails of smoke rising from Ylisstol. "I must ask where it is we are going. For I cannot leave my city or people. What kind of leader would I be to run? Without even knowing if my own most trusted advisers are safe?"

An alive leader! You would be alive! "Be that as it may, we cannot stay here. Please, we must hurry."

"It is too late," Pan says. "They are here."

I draw Falchion, whirling on the fire speckled night. No more powder. No more running. The end of the line. I hear them before I see them. Heavy footfalls and the flapping of wings above. Illuminated by the burning city, flashes of armor and weapons crest a hill. My heart thunders. I know Pan can hear it, can smell my fear. Not for myself though. For so much more than that.

My breath hitches. I see her. I see that hair, the same as my own, the sword on her waist, the same as my own. Naga, thank you. You watch over us still. Mother and the Shepherds, here at last.

"Chrom! Liston!" Emmeryns cries, hiking her skirts to dash towards them. "I am so glad to see you unharmed. Especially… in this dire time."

The Exalt's siblings greet her in a powerful embrace. A pang in my heart. Not envy. Something less defined. Family, the one I lost, right before me. How I wish I could join them. But I would not see myself become a burden. I observe their moment in silence, thankful for the mask.

Other Shepherds express their relief to see Emmeryn alive and well, Lady Freya first among them. Lady Robin as well, and the rest follow suit. The two pegasus riders guide their mounts to the ground. Sir Sumner and Sir Michael. I frown. Sir Michael has perturbed me ever since that day in Southtown. Everything I know about him indicates he did not join the Shepherds until nearly the Plegian War. And yet there he was in Southtown, bumbling like an utter fool. At least he's riding his pegasus now. He looks a little more like the man I knew. Or would have known, had he not… It is no matter. We are all orphans. His passing hurt her more than it ever could me.

Locking away thoughts of my friend, I adopt the sideways stance with which I shield Falchion from view. Gaia and Pan keep their distance alongside me. I should take my leave soon. Emmeryn is in good hands now. The Shepherds are skilled, heroic, legendary.

I watch Vaiva bellow heartily, tossing her axe in a twirling arc, fail to catch it, and nearly impale her foot in the process.

Skilled. Heroic. Legendary. I think it again and again, almost as a mantra.

"Marth." Mother. It never gets better, no matter how many times I see her. The ache in my chest. The rage against Grima, against the murderous fiend who posed as her friend only to slay her. I bury it. I bury it deep down, under layers and layers of sediment and clay.

"I owe you yet another thanks, Marth." My mother beams at me, though strained. Her face makes me want to tell her everything, to feel her arms envelop me as she did when I was young.

"You owe me nothing. Simply keep the Exalt safe." I hate how formal I must sound. "Two others assisted me, Gaia, and the taguel, Pan. Thank them. They would prove valuable Shepherds I imagine."

She looks over my shoulder at the pair. "If you recommend them, then I would be foolish not to heed your advice." Do not praise me, Mother. Please. Please do not.

"If that is all, I must be on my way." I incline my head slightly, and prepare to turn.

Mother stops me with a hand. "Hold, Marth. Ylisstol is under attack. Help us defend the city. Lend us your strength."

That is my intention, Mother. Just… not with the Shepherds. I appear when needed, and stay no longer. I'll not frivolously insert myself into your life. Selfishly.

"Do not worry, Princess Chrom. I will do my part. You continue to do yours."

I nearly wither under her evaluating stare, the same she held as I begun my first fencing lessons. The only lessons she ever saw. "Alright. I trust you, Marth. If you know anything which may help, please tell me."

"Once, maybe. No longer. Time diverges in unpredictable ways. Just… be careful." I avert my eyes even though she cannot see them. Lady Freya and Sir Michael stand not far behind, the latter looking especially keen. He held almost the same expression in Regna Ferox. The one of a man who wants to ask too many questions.

Michael says something to Freya, who narrows her eyes. He smiles, beard rustling, and I do not need to hear Freya to feel her exasperation. His face falls a bit afterwards, as austere as he can manage.

"You seem lost in thought."

Mother glances over my person, bemused. I straighten. "A momentary lapse," I say. "I must depart. You would do well to reach the royal guard fighting within the city. Make haste."

We exchange determined nods. Duty. I bid farewell, moving to vanish without fanfare. It is a few strides when I hear footsteps behind me. Michael. His pegasus kneads the ground nearby, nickering in his direction.

"I know, Fury," he says. "This won't take long. Just need to talk to Marth here a bit."

I suppose it was inevitable, that he would eventually find the opportunity to question me. In truth, I am curious, if wary. There is much I do not understand.

"Be brief. You may have noticed the blaze in Ylisstol."

He sighs. "Yeah, no shit." Micheal musses his hair, grimacing. "You said you were too late. At the arena. Too late for what? What exactly do you know? What… What happens?"

Demanding answers is not unreasonable. The opposite, in fact. All of the Shepherd surely want to know the truth. But there's a plea in his eyes beyond just truth seeking. A hunger, a desperation. It is… personal. Whatever I am seeing on his face. Apologies, Sir Michael; I wish I could provide a balm.

"You were all victorious. That is the important thing. Focus on the here and now." I'm a hypocrite, of course. The future is all I think about. That, and how nothing has gone according to plan. The Shepherds should never have needed to fare alone in Regna Ferox. If only I'd anticipated just how many Risen prowled the land… If I hadn't taken the alternative mountain path to avoid them… No, no. This is a futile exercise.

"That's it?" Michael's jaw tenses. "Just tell me what the fuck is going on, Marth."

He knows. He knows that 'Marth' is an alias. Not that I am surprised. I wear a mask and bear the name of the Hero Queen. I would be more concerned if anyone actually believed my name is Marth. No, what concerns me is how he said it. Like he also knows what it should be instead. But that is impossible.

"I cannot."

"Can't or won't? I know there's more. I just can't remember… I just—"

Michael clutches his head, eyes shut tight. Liston bustles over from his place next to Mother, rubbing Michael's back and mumbling about headaches. Disconcerting. Very disconcerting. Is Michael unwell? Does it have anything to do with why he's been in places he shouldn't be? I do not know. And I suspect neither does he. What can't he remember? Another mystery to plague my already crowded thoughts.

I lean down level to his hunched position. "Take care of yourself. We will meet again, I am sure."

Well wishes are the best I can do for him. And noting the small group gathering around Michael—Freya, Robin, Stana—I have loitered long enough. A moment is all I need to make a quiet exit. Besides, they nor I can afford to stand around conversing while Ylisstol falls. The Shepherds will do what they can to turn the tide. Against the entire Plegian army, though, I fear they will be heading an evacuation rather than a battle. Naga, give them you guidance and strength.

I have a different mission: Validar. He yet roams free. If I can end his machinations tonight, the loss of Ylisstol is easier to bear. I doubt he's strayed far from the palace, and Grima's Truth will lead me to him regardless. Little information remains about him in my world—fragments, nightmares, a horrible truth. His power may greatly exceed mine. But this opportunity cannot be squandered. To run only risks another attempt on Emmeryn's life.

For the briefest flicker of indecision, I wonder if doing this alone was right. Mother would not have hesitated to hunt Validar down together. She'll likely have stern words for me when next we meet over my omission of the details of our escape from the palace. My lips twitch into a grin. Smiling at the idea of a scolding? Mother… Gods, I have missed you.

"Lucian?"

My boots entrench themselves in the earth. I almost do not want to turn around for fear that I may just be hearing things. But she says my name again, my name, even greater conviction this time.

"It's you! Oh thank the gods, Lucian!"

I manage to pivot just as a mess of auburn hair obscures my vision. The hazel eyes peeking up from under copper bangs gleam. I return her embrace with one arm, the other keeping Falchion's sharp edge at a fair distance.

We break apart quickly, her hands resting on my shoulders at arms length. Somber eyes rather than gleaming ones greet me now.

"Phoebe," I say, fumbling for something intelligible. "It's good to see you. When we were all separated… Well, I…"

She smiles wanly. "It's alright, Lucian. I was afraid too." Phoebe lowers her arms to her sides. "Really afraid, actually. I had no idea where anyone was. Still don't. But you're here!"

I tried to ignore it, the insidious thought that only I had arrived at the intended destination. But it kept me up at night, same as all the other worries. Seeing Phoebe now, the burden is lighter. If she made it, the others surely did as well. I am not alone.

Phoebe blinks and turns to the blazing city. "I finally made it home and… This is the welcome I get."

"Your parents are safe, Phoebe." The assurance spills forth reflexively.

"You saw them?" She snaps back to me, rapt and eager. "Where? Tell me! Are they here? Gods…"

I should have held my tongue. "They are, but it's alright. They're with the other Shepherds and—"

She's already looking in all directions, eyes straining against the night. "Then what are we doing lollygagging? We have to help them!"

My lip nestles between my teeth. Of all my friends, part of me wishes it wasn't Phoebe. "We can't," I say, pausing until I can meet her eyes under furrowed brows. "Validar is here."

Phoebe's face twists. Her lips tremble and then settle into a bitter line. "That bastard." She removes the yew bow strapped to her back, plucking the bowstring once. "Is that where you're headed now? To Validar?"

"Yes." Her gaze is like a winter night so cold that it burns skin. "Will you join me?"

"You couldn't keep me away if you tried," she says, and I believe her.

For Phoebe, it is revenge. It's the same for me, in a way. Validar, the man who started all this, who set in motion events that would take everything from us. Our childhoods. Our parents. Our world. Not this time, Validar. You cannot have it again.

Phoebe's fingers trace the wood of her bow, finding familiar cracks in the old surface.

"Lucian, let's go kill this son of a bitch."

Author's Note: Well, hello again! It's been a few months, everybody! But here I am with a new chapter, one from our favorite time traveler's POV. Just to address this first, I said a long time ago that Lucina's name would differ from the established pattern. I fully intended for that to be the case. His name was going to be Danaus, which is part of the species name for the monarch butterfly. Since Lucina has a ton of butterfly symbolism, 'Lucina' itself being a species of butterfly, I thought that I'd keep that intact. However, after some deliberation, I realized it was all a tad pretentious. Danaus doesn't fit at all, honestly. Lucian is a much better name that also more immediately lets the reader associate it with Lucina. Plus, it's literally just the last two letters swapped. So, there you have it!

Anyways, I'm glad to be back with another chapter, and I hope you all enjoyed seeing some things from the perspective of a character a little more in the know. Michael will return in the next chapter, and we'll get to see how the Shepherds deal with the surprise Plegian assault. As for our new friend at the end… she'll reappear at some point! Thank you all for reading! I am so happy that people continue to find and enjoy this story.

Review Responses-

Sigmatic- You know, I think I can freely admit at this point that I love writing pretty much all Michael and Freya scenes. Of all the characters I've written in my time, they have a dynamic that I think I'm most proud of. Sure, they're a couple of gremlins, but they're my gremlins.

Lefthra- Don't worry; Mike will get more training at some point. Though, trial by fire is a pretty effective method of learning things. Assuming he doesn't die. We all know his badass meter ain't the highest.

DestructionDragon360- Yep, things are looking pretty dire for Ylisse right now! I always found it interesting that even in the game the capital gets sacked. The war must have taken a pretty massive toll on the whole country, and the game kinda glosses over it. Also, yes, Michael and Freya are definitely the best.

Narwhal Lord- I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter! I apologize for the long wait on this one! Hopefully it didn't disappoint!

Serendipitous- Well, I kinda embarrassingly dropped off the face of the earth again, so no worries there. I should get back to the server myself and talk to everyone again. But yeah, the landmine is actually inspired by the mines in the GBA games. There's generally some kind of precedent for the things I put in the story, and since mines are in fact canon, I figured why not use one? Of course, we may or may not get to see the mine in action someday.

Inritus- Yeah, Mike is definitely a dumbass in Regna Ferox. That's intentional. If you think about it, he's spent about 75% of the story fucking up in some way or another. I like to think that each time he blows it though, he redeems himself soon after. Since that's what his character is kind of all about. Step by step, learning to be a better person. I'm glad you've enjoyed the story though!

Helloworld- This fanfiction is based on Fire Emblem Awakening. I highly recommend playing it to better understand the story. I'm flattered that you think it should be a movie!

Bridd- I used they/them pronouns with Robin because her gender was a mystery. There's actually a ton of precedent for using singular they/them, especially for nonbinary individuals. Of course, now that Robin's gender has been revealed, I don't foresee reverting back to that.