Cynthia: Hero of the underinformed

In the land of Ylisse, there was a young princess named Lucina. She had a loving and courageous father, a beautiful and caring mother, and two sisters. Her younger sister was named Cynthia, and she was a nuisance. Her older sister was also named Cynthia, and she was a secret. She was also Lucina's favorite.

Lucina had only found out about her older sister at a family gathering when Uncle Robin had a bit too much punch. Well, she'd only found out about Cynthia being her sister. Lucina had admired the pegasus knight since she could walk. After that, she'd pressed the information to her heart, and used it carefully to find more time with her hero. She had idly wondered a time or two how her sister could be so much older than she was (almost as old as mom and dad, which didn't make much sense), but it didn't seem worth asking. If she did, Cynthia might go away. And it was hard to imagine an answer that would make up for that.

That morning, Lucina was sitting on the castle roof, looking out at the skies. She wasn't sure her older sister would visit, even if she'd promised, (Cynthia was unreliable. Well, both of them were, but with one it was an irritation and with the other it was tragedy. Nothing the younger could do hurt Lucina as much as missing out on time with the elder) but with reports of mercenary movement through the capital and a knight with white armor and dark blue hair gave her hope. Three hours of her heart stopping at every gull and egret took it away.

When she saw the wings of a pegasus, she was tempted to ignore it, write it off as just another messenger, if it wasn't a bird. Then she saw the blue, darker than the sky, and the gleaming white armor. Lucina started to cheer, then stopped herself. Technically, dad didn't want her on the roof. It wasn't the best idea to draw too much attention.

"Dadadadada...DAH! Once again, our hero has arrived to mentor her trusty sidekick!"

"Cynthia!"

"Lucy!"

The girl embraced her older sister and smiled.

"I bet you've been out being a hero and you still had time to come here!"

"Hero! It's our job to do the impossible. Anything I missed?"

"Aunt Maribelle took me an' Brady an' Morgan an' Mark an' Lin to see a concert. This scary looking guy played the violin."

"Ohhh."

"He was impressive. Everybody else started crying."

"Did he look a little like Brady?"

"Yes! Did you see him too? I didn't see you there. Was there another concert before this one? I bet there was! That's why Maribelle was glaring! It must have been better last time."

"That's not… quite it."

Lucina hadn't thought so either. But the alternative seemed to be a step too far. It was silly anyway. Just because there were two Cynthias, and the violinist looked like Brady, and Robin always had Morgan in the house and she looked just like Lin with more years (and a weird birthmark), and there was that woman who came to yell at Cordelia every year… that didn't mean anything odd was going on. Or at least it didn't mean she should ask any obnoxious questions.

Instead, she brushed the ground with her feet, and tried not to think too hard about it. What else could she talk about

"Oh, Kjelle had her birthday party. I got into a fight."

One way to put it. Another was rolling brawl. Another was a giant headache for everyone. She hadn't meant for it to get out of hand, but Inigo made Noire cry, and then she said something, and Kjelle said something, and then things kept going and she had a black eye and her fists were kind of bloody and the whole thing was a mess, and the big knight had to pick her up by her neck and… wait. The knight looked a little like Kjelle. It was hard to tell under the scars, but she did. It kept coming up!

"Lucy! What do heroes do?"

Lucina looked up. She'd gone a little farther off track than she meant to.

"Win?"

Cynthia tried to glare. Most of the other knights were much better at it, but the effort was there. It was the "Yes, but that's not what I was thinking of and you should know better" classic.

"I meant stop petty squabbles! Heroes have to stand together, like the Shepherds!"

Lucina nodded and some old questions rolled around her mind. Cynthia was in the great wars. The stories agreed that a blue haired pegasus knight had been in several major battles in the Valm campaign. But… that was just two years after Plegia. When mom and dad got married. She wasn't a math whiz like Laurent (Or Lin), but that didn't match up at all.

"Right. You know best."

"Yup! Just lean on your older sister."

Cynthia's glare was gone faster than it came. She felt even more proud than an older sister should most of the time. Even when Cynthia the lesser was doing something right (needless to say with her caring and excessively patient big sister's help), it wasn't like it was a surprise that Lucina could teach her. Older meant more experience. More time making mistakes. But Cynthia almost seemed surprised every time she gave Lucina a lesson.

"Cynthia? Do you… I have a question, milady."

Lucina winced. She always did that when she tensed up! And with Cynthia, too!

"Go on. But be less formal. We're family!"

"It's a bit awkward."

"Ohhhh. Who do you like? Is it Gerome? I bet it's Gerome! You and… err…"

"No."

"Mark? I bet he's…"

"No. It wasn't about that at all. It was a question about you."

"Oh. Nope! Too busy with hero work right now!"

"It… wasn't that either."

"I can't tell you about that! Heroes don't gossip."

Lucina shook her head.

"It didn't have anything to do with… relationships. Well, not that kind. I just noticed that…"

No point in hiding. Uncle Robin always said that half measures were worse than doing nothing at all.

"Well, Brady had that violinist, and Severa has that mercenary, and there was a knight at Kjelle's party and there's you, and that seems weird! Every one of us born between me and Lin has a double. Are they all… siblings too?"

Cynthia winced.

"Sort of?"

"If you don't want to say anything then that's fine! I don't need to know anything else!"

Lucina's tongue tripped over itself as she sputtered out her response. She hadn't meant to do this! Now Cynthia would go away and dad would find out she'd been on the roof and then she'd be stuck learning politics or diplomacy or something boring like that, and she'd never be a hero. Never get a chance for rescuing villages and warfare and all the things that dad and Cynthia got to do.

And she'd never see her favorite sister again, which was even worse.

Cynthia looked at Lucina and flailed her hands.

"Whoa, whoa whoa! I didn't mean that! I just was surprised. I didn't think you'd want to know about that yet."

Cynthia rubbed her head.

"I guess I didn't think much about how you'd want to know about it. Maybe I thought dad would tell you when you were old enough."

"Tell me what?"

Cynthia paced back and forth for a few seconds, and almost tripped. This close to the edge of the roof, Lucina almost panicked. But really. Cynthia had survived wars and all the terrors the world could bring. A little fall couldn't stop her.

"Err… how much do you know about Grima, other than what I've said?"

"Dragon? Uncle Robin killed it? Really big, really mean? Dad and Robin don't like to talk about it?"

"Yeah. That's… all… true. Um, I guess some of that's Robin's to tell. But I guess… do you know about time travel?"

"I read one of mother's books about it! I think the main character killed his own grandfather and he had to… Mother made me stop reading there."

"Oh. Was it one of Sumia's… special books?"

"I found it in a box under the bed."

Cynthia nodded.

"Oh. Yeah. Those… you might not want to read those until you're older. But you know about time travel. Uh… it's real. And we're from the future."

Lucina didn't say anything. Her eyes covered the gap.

"It's not like that. I mean, it wasn't the future you're getting! It was… a lot worse. Grima killed almost everyone. Dad, mom, Aunt Maribelle, Aunt Lissa..."

Cynthia paused. Lucina looked lost in thought. After a few more seconds, she spoke up.

"And me."

"What?"

"Well, there's no other me. And I'm not as big a hero as you are, and…"

"Err… No."

"Oh. You think I could be as big a hero as you are?"

Lucina smiled.

"I'm sure I could never match up to your example, but…"

"You already did, Lucy."

Lucina looked up in shock.

"What?"

"There was a you too."

"Oh, and I died saving you, and that inspired you to be a hero and lead everybody?"

Cynthia scratched her head.

"Not exactly. She… was kind of the leader. You were. You got us all here! I mean, the other you. The you that I grew up with."

"Really?"

"Yup! She was…"

Cynthia paused.

"I shouldn't be telling you any of this."

"Why not?"

"You're not her. I mean, she wanted to be sure you weren't her. You'll just try to be you instead of you. Her. Something."

"I'm sorry?"

Cynthia sighed and slumped.

"Lucy, I mean the older Lucy, you were, she was our leader. Going back was her idea. All of this was her idea. And she thought that we shouldn't… we were supposed to leave the past the same. Only we got separated and then she had to work alone and then things got out of hand and I kind of mixed up someone else for dad and…"

Cynthia shook her head.

"Well, we saved the world! Lucy kind of… left when we were done."

"Left, or left?"

Lucina's voice stumbled a little. There were so many questions. None of them came easily. She… her father, dead? Another sister? The whole world burned? It felt impossible. But she could see that Cynthia believed it. And Cynthia, in her experience, was all but infallible.

"Err… left. As far as any of us know. Mom saw her say goodbye to you, but that's the last anyone knew."

"What did she say?"

Cynthia thought. After a few seconds, she spoke.

"Yours will be a brighter future."

"That's all?"

"Yeah. But… but I thought I kind of could… make sure it happened. So that you could have the childhood she wanted, I guess."

"And Cynthia?"

"I was planning on it, but she's kind of… well, not hero material."

"But you are! I'm sure you could…"

"No! I mean, no. Besides, it's more fun if it's just you and me, right? I mean, for the hero stuff. "

Lucina decided she'd pressed too far already, and nodded.

"Yeah."

"That's the spirit! So, what do you want to do next?"

"Can we go flying?"

"Sounds good!"

With a kick, the pegasus launched into the sky, and Lucina looked down at the castle, the countryside, and the green land that would one day be hers. She sighed. No words came, so her thanks were silent. But everything she had was a gift. So many people gave so much, just so that she could be happy.

The least she could do was be grateful.

Owain: Lunatic in a Minor Key

The Dark Avenger of Destiny was no stranger to challenge and terror. In his life so far, he faced foes living and dead, mortal and divine! Nothing had broken him, nothing had slowed his quest for justice! But now, long after his greatest victory over the forces of DESTINY ITSELF, he found an enemy that matched his mettle, a force that might mean the end of everything he had accomplished.

To put it less dramatically, Owain of Ylisse was about to beg his parents for a room. But he would never dream of putting it less dramatically.

It wasn't as bad as it could have been. Yes, Severa had said they needed some "time apart". But by her standards, that bordered on a love note. And it wouldn't be long. Just time to catch his breath. Make new plans. Put things back in order.

He knocked on the door.

"Mother! The wayward scion of the royal house returns! By the sacred sword of Sigurd…!"

"Owain! It's good to see you."

"Aye! Even in the darkest of times…"

Your father and I are going out of town for a while and your… brother needs someone to look after him. "

"But, I mean, that is…"

"Thank you soooo much. Bye!"

Lissa left the room in a rush. Owain's father followed her.

"Father! What conflagaration could vex…"

"Nya ha ha! Good to see you, son! Got to go. Take care!"

And they were gone. Owain stepped past the threshold into the den of terror, and found nothing. A nice, messy cottage in sight of the royal palace. Books open on every table, a few frogs hopping around, staves leaning at odd angles. He'd never seen it like this before, but it felt… right.

"DIE, EVILDOER!"

Someone stabbed Owain in the leg with a wooden practice sword. He turned and looked into his own face.

Well, what had been his face, once. The pint sized terror at his knee was eighteen years and far more near death experiences short of Owain the elder's life experience, but the same enthusiasm, the same white hair, the same energy. Owain hadn't seen his doppleganger since his birth, and was ill prepared for how… weird the experience would be. He went for the obvious.

"You stabbed me!"

"OWAIN DARK ANSWERS TO NO MAN! I AM VENGEANCE INCARNATE, THE DARKSWORD OF THE SOUL, THE GREAT ENIGMA! AVENGER MODE… ACTIVATE!"

"What are you doing?!"

Owain the lesser smiled.

"I'm Owain! The blood of heroes flows through my veins!"

"Why did that make you stab me?"

"You might be a fiendish double. I will live up to the first Owain, the great hero!"

"I'm Owain! HERO FROM THE FUTURE!"

Owain the lesser looked his older twin. His gaze rose and fell for several moments. Finally, he spoke.

"No you aren't."

Owain the elder had no response for thirty seconds. Then an answer came to him.

"Am so!"

He should have, on the whole, kept waiting a little longer.

"Nuh-uh. Owain Dark is eleventy feet tall and has glowing eyes an' breaths fire an' isn't afraid of anything."

"He wouldn't like being stabbed either. I mean, I don't like being stabbed!"

"Dad doesn't complain."

"Father is nearly impervious to pain! He didn't cry out when he was stabbed to death."

"The REAL Owain would know that dad wouldn't die. He'd just come back, 'cause he's the best. Other than Owain."

"I'm Owain!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"Nuh-uh infinity."

Owain the elder shook his head. He was used to losing arguments. He was even used to losing arguments with small children. Losing an argument with himself, however, was a new low.

"Well, Lissa said I was in charge so there."

"If you're in charge you gotta make me a sandwich."

"Owain the Dark needs not make such frivolities! Mutton and, err, not ale… you're a little kid…"

Owain the elder stumbled into making a sandwich. His life was not going at all as he planned.

The next few days were more of the same. Owain had years of experience fighting bandits, armies, monsters, the undead. He knew thirty ways to kill a man, and thirty more to incapacitate. None of that helped him. None of that came close to helping him.

"OWAIN, AWAY!"

"TASTE VENGEANCE, FIEND! BURNING BLADE!"

"MY SWORD HAND HUNGERS!"

Owain wondered if this was what everyone around him felt all the time.

"GASP! The… thingy! It's all… what would Owain say? It's that thing."

Owain the elder shook his head. His insanity was much better rehearsed.

"MY SWORD HAND HUNGERS MY SWORD HAND HUNGERS MY SWORD HAND HUNGERS…"

Also, he could shut up for more than five seconds at a stretch. Owain the lesser hadn't mastered the art. When someone knocked at the door, Owain dashed at the chance for escape.

He ripped the door open.

"Mother! Father! Lo, for I stood long against the forces conspiring to corrupt my past self, but…"

It wasn't his parents.

"Hey Owain! How's my destined battle partner?"

"Morgan?"

"Yup! Figured you'd be here. Aunt Cynthia said she'd seen someone brooding on the roof when she did a flyover, and since I know Gerome isn't here, it had to be you."

Cousin (once removed) Morgan. Naga's gift to time paradoxes. Owain knew from experience that his normal attempts at combat banter would fall apart even faster than usual. There was no point in even trying.

"Yes. It's me."

A small blue haired boy poked his head out from behind Morgan.

"That's just what an imposter would say!"

Then he looked up.

"Oooh! It's Owain! It's Owain!"

Owain turned back to Morgan.

"Who is this?"

"My little brother, Mark. He's a big fan of yours."

"You have a little brother?"

"Twin brother. Mom and dad asked me to take care of him while they spent some time with me. The other one, obviously."

"I see."

Mark smiled.

"Of course you do! Owain sees everything with piercing eyes like a hawk! The undefeated champion of the world, the guardian of the night..."

Owain stared. It was uncommon enough for someone to take his act seriously. Full on hero worship was new.

"Indeed! By the mighty Missletainn, legendary demon blade of the ancients, it is I! OWAIN!"

A small voice emerged from the house behind him.

"He's lying."

"Ignore him."

"He's a dumb liar who lies. And is dumb."

Owain the elder prepared a response. It would be swift and decisive, like a blade through the falling cherry blossoms. The answer to finally lay his young double's doubts to rest. He thought on the answer longer than any adult should spend arguing with a five year old.

Mark took much less time to riposte.

"NUH-UH!"

"How do you know he's Owain, huh?"

"'cause my older sister said he was an' he looks like mom said Owain looks."

Mark stepped into the doorway to continue the argument. Owain was left outside with Morgan.

"So, uh. Long time."

"Yup."

"How's Lucina?"

"Good. She's just as good a mom as I knew she would be. Was. Is? I can't remember the right verb tenses. Ha ha."

"Ha."

"Well, I thought it was funny. But you don't. Guess I wouldn't either if I was in your position."

Morgan smiled. As always.

"So, Severa tossed you out on the streets, huh?"

"How did you know that?"

"Well, you just told me. Sorry about that! Boy, I bet she was furious. That must have been really funny to watch. She really gets mad sometimes. Like the one time when you got her the wrong kind of flowers, and then you..."

Morgan bent over with laughter.

"With the snake and she said…"

"Yes. I remember."

"Even mom laughed by the end of it. Sooo funny! You should have seen how red you both were."

"Yes."

"So, what else have you been doing? I bet you're going to say you had an epic adventure of burning justice, right?"

"Why do I even bother?"

"It's destiny, Owain! We're going to mess with each other for all time. Remember? Partners for all eternity?"

"I'm sorry I made that up."

"I'm not. You are the best at making stuff up."

Inside the house, Owain the lesser and Mark were still arguing, and from the sounds of it, they had escalated.

"Say! That! Isn't! Owain!"

Scuffling. A wind tome cracking open. Punches.

"Say! It! Is! OW!"

Books falling from a table. Frogs croaking.

"So, is that Owain in there?"

"I thought mom would raise him right. He's completely out of control."

"He didn't listen to your stories?"

"And he stabbed me in the leg."

"Lots of people stabbed you. He's missing out more with the stories."

"You spend more time with the family than I do. This is pretty much how it always goes, right?"

"Nope! Morgan the younger is pretty much the best little sister I could ask for. I'm such a thoughtful, caring person."

"What about Lucina… no. You're going to say she's great too."

"Kind of the best mom a girl could have. Also, I think Mark is setting little Owain on fire."

"Oh."

"We probably should go inside and help at some point."

"Indeed!"

Neither of them moved.

"Aaagh!"

"Ha! If Owain is so dumb, why are you on fire?"

"Because that's not Owain! And you're dumb!"

Morgan settled her head against her hands and leaned against the wall.

"Mark is totally going to win."

Owain almost nodded. The little snot was asking for a bruising. Then he thought again. Owain the lesser may have been, well, lesser, but the same blood of heroes flowed in his veins as in his own! If the lad would just accept training from a proper mentor, who knew what he could achieve? It was shameful, what he'd been thinking. He was OWAIN, hero! If he let one obnoxious snot stop him from encouraging the path of greatness, then what made him better than Gerome or, Naga help him, Laurent? Well, everything. But that wasn't the point.

"Nay! For the blood of heroes flows in the vein of yonder irritation, despite the veil before the eyes of mortal man!"

"So, I'd be able to see it?"

"Huh?"

Morgan's voice picked up a sing-song lilt.

"Guess who's a goddess?"

"What?"

She dropped the inflection.

"Well, sort of. I mean, dad was Grima. And I kinda have the only divine blood left? I've got a cult somewhere."

"Fiendish blood of purest villainy. It would avail you not against AVENGER MODE!"

"Also a castle in the outrealms said I was above the gods or something. That was a really good family vacation."

Owain twisted towards his cousin.

"What? Seriously? You went to Castle Apotheosis without me?"

"Oh! That was the name! Thanks, Owain. I totally forgot!"

"Unfaiiir! That place is the ultimate destiny of heroes! The greatest height for champions of legend. And you didn't even know the name?"

"I forget a lot. Oh! It had a gift shop! I totally got something for you!"

Morgan ruffled through a pack on the ground. She dropped several swords, an axe, beaten and battered tomes, and a shield in brilliant gold before she reached a crumpled piece of clothing.

"Here we go. The Anna at the counter said it was called a 'T-Shirt'. It seemed like a great gift for you."

It unfurled into a shirt with a stylized print of the house Ylisse crest. On the back, it had a simple text.

"House Ylisse. The blood of champions flows in their veins!"

Owain looked over the shirt.

"I wrote your name on the wall too."

Owain nodded. He was about to respond when Mark yelled from inside the house.

"It isn't my fault! Owain did it!"

"Nuh uh! You stacked the books up to jump on my head an'..."

"Nuh-uh! You were the one who had to read it!"

A third voice moaned.

Owain the lesser and Mark screamed.

"We should go inside now."

A fourth voice, like the third. It howled from rotting lungs. Nothing with a pulse could make that noise.

Owain kicked down the door and ran. Owain the lesser and Mark were backing away from the wall. Two Risen, undead soldiers with axes the size of a man. Owain didn't even think. His sword fell on its own. An arm hit the ground. A foot hit a corpse's chest, staggering it. Sword again, and the risen faded into mist. Then Owain looked at the wall. Or, more accurately, he looked at where the wall should have been. Instead, there was nothing. The house looked into a barren wasteland. It looked like home. It looked like the world he ran from years ago.

Owain walked to the other side of the wall. The east side was still there. He walked back. The west side was gone with nothing but a ruined future and distant screams.

Morgan shoved her way into the room.

"Okay, that's kind of weird."

"Kind of?"

Morgan shrugged. It was a classic "I've seen weirder" shrug, bordering on "not that I'm bored, but I'm bored."

"There were Risen coming out of it!"

"Oh. That's a little weirder. We should probably make a wall of bookcases and say we didn't see anything when your mom asks."

"That's… not a bad idea."

It was. It was a very bad idea.

"Really?"

"The blood of the first exalt flows in both our veins, Morgan, drawing us forward to greatness!"

"Or bookcase shoving."

"Or… you killed the mood again."

"Oh yeah."

Owain rammed the shelf with all his might. The very forces of the universe stood against him, but he defied them before, and he would defy them again. The very forces of a bookshelf could hardly stall him!

The walls fell into a makeshift barricade. Owain looked on his work and smiled. Owain the lesser stared in shock.

"Wow."

"By the juggled axe of Kieron! OWAIN THE DARK AVENGER stood against the undying hordes and felled them. For my past will not be abandoned, no matter my efforts. THE BLOOD OF HEROES will always flow to conflict and victory, but at a terrible price."

Morgan nodded.

"See? Owain isn't just a ridiculous lunatic with delusions of everything!"

"Wow."

Mark started clapping. It was almost loud enough to drown out the pounding behind the bookcase. The increasing pounding. The dead were flowing behind the wall, and it wouldn't be long before the bookshelves fell. It wasn't the time to bask in adulation and/or watch your younger self eat crow. It was the time to save the world from the fruits of your own family's insanity.

Owain looked to the tables. Mostly, the room was just a mess from being attacked by the undead after being attacked by small boys. But one table was hovering. Not what children or Risen did to books. He looked to the book, then to Morgan. Morgan winced and turned to the kids.

"Who opened the book?"

Mark and Owain the lesser pointed at each other and started yelling. Morgan and Owain the greater glared until the babble died down.

"Well, Owain the Dark Avenger would normally wreck bloody vengeance on whoever lied to him, but I think I can keep him calm. Just… one of you did open the book."

"...Yes."

"Don't do that. Great uncle Henry is crazy. Umm… could someone…"

An army punched through the bookcase and grabbed Morgan's arm. Owain dived for the book and slammed it shut. The wall screamed and snapped back in place. The arm fell to the ground and the world snapped back to what passed for normal.

Several decapitated body parts sat on the floor. Morgan turned to Owain the lesser and Mark..

"Remember, if you're asked, it was like this when we got here, and you didn't see anything. Also, go to Owain's room and think about what you did."

Mark and Owain shuffled off with a few glances at the floor. Morgan and Owain stayed back.

"So, that could have been worse."

"OWAIN THE DESTROYER has seen a thousand greater foes fall before the might of AVENGER MODE."

"Like your sword hand? I hear it's been causing you a lot of trouble since Severa left. Seen a lot of difficult fights."

"Restraining my sword hand is… hey!"

Morgan smiled innocently.

"What?"

Owain looked at Morgan. You never could tell.

"Right. Justice never sleeps."

Morgan slapped her head.

"Oh, there was something else I was going to tell you!"

"What?"

"I saw Severa yesterday. She said she was sorry."

"No she didn't."

"Welllll, she said she was sorry and wanted to see you again in the way that she says she loves her family. You have to know what she means."

"What did she really say?"

"Let me think. 'Ugh, what is that idiot boyfriend of mine thinking, I need to see him yesterday, if he doesn't get here soon, he can sleep outside for the next MONTH.' Or something like that. I was thinking about tome stackers."

"And I'm stuck here. Curse cruel fate, separating lovers and heroes…"

"I could cover for you."

"You mean that?"

"I can play you like a violin. A younger version of you can't be much harder to deal with. Go on. And tell me next time I see you if you crash and burn!"

Owain left the house before Morgan finished the sentence.

It was a fell task. A fell task indeed. Owain Dark had seen his share of nightmares, but this forced him to the limits beyond which a lesser man would fall. But in the end, he had triumphed over the fiendish grip of, well, minor relationship difficulties, a week at his parents, and a small child.

(Well, and the undead invading from a hell dimension. But the undead were much less trouble.)

Owain was victorious. And in the bright light of… sunset, he knew that his life would continue its path towards glory. For he was OWAIN THE AVENGER.

Nah: Noble Lady of Ylisse

"But really. All that matters is what House Licht has to say on the matter."

Nah smiled. It wasn't a novelty anymore. It hadn't been a novelty for centuries. But it was still nice to be respected like this. Kings and Emperors would stop everything to listen to what she had to say. Her father's noble house went, in her time, from a forgotten little also-ran to, well, House Licht, most respected family in the world. And now the Exalt needed her to settle an international issue.

"It's not terribly complicated. Our friendship with Plegia goes back to before my birth. Valm has been an aggressor more than once, and has not been trustworthy in past trade dealings. We favor Plegia."

Everyone nodded. And it was settled. She leaned back in her chair. The model of serenity. Ageless and beautiful and composed, the rock of Ylisse.

And then what looked like a teenage girl bounced into the room, over the diplomats and nobles, and onto Nah's chair. She then proceeded to repeatedly drum on the most respected head in Ylisse with open hands.

"How's my favorite daughter?"

"I was talking to the exalt, mom!"

"But I'm booorrrrrrreeeeddddd."

Nah looked around the room in desperate hope. No-one else would even make eye contact with her. Which made sense. When you've spent your entire life treating someone as the voice of wisdom, watching them flail around helpless while someone who looks less than half their age pokes them with a stick isn't good for anyone's dignity.

"Mom, this is important!"

"It's always important. Come on! You know you want to play!"

Nah winced. She didn't.

"Why is it important we do anything right now? Can't it wait?"

"Nah!"

Nah sighed. It was a long time since anyone made that stupid joke. She thought she could leave it behind. But then, there was her mother. Again.

"Is that my name, or are you just saying no?"

"Both."

Nah sighed again.

"I'm sorry, everyone. But I need to discuss things. With my mother."

Someone coughed.

"THAT'S your mother?"

Nah winced again. She'd tried to project an air of dignity, and that did involve family stories. Not LYING, per se. But there were things you emphasized and things you didn't. Ancient dragon who fought in a war for the salvation of humanity? Yes. That you brought up. Terminally immature, horrible with naming things, and prone to fits of… well, insanity?

That you kept quiet.

"I have to speak with… my mother outside. I'm sorry to interrupt such an important discussion…"

The Exalt herself stood up.

"If the ancient divine dragon wishes to speak with her daughter, that must be of greater import than any trade dispute. Go in peace, milady."

Nah nodded.

"Thank you, your majesty."

"I've been given your council. My father, and his mother, and her father, and many more before them owe no small portion of their success and the peace of the realm to your wisdom. If you need a moment's refresh at the original wellspring, then it would be a poor ruler indeed who would refuse it."

"Thank you."

Nah walked outside, circled, poked, and prodded by Nowi.

"What was so important that I had to be interrupted in the middle of a meeting with the Exalt."

"You do those all the time."

"Because they're always important, mom. I have to be a mature and responsible adult. Something you never seemed to figure out how to do."

"And you forgot how to play outside. I saw you were done in there! Come on!"

Nah sighed.

"I was done with one thing. And why now?"

Nowi smiled.

"Because it's about time!"

"And why me? You have another daughter. The voice is sleeping, you could bother her. Or, I don't know, ask one of the other dragons? We aren't a dying species, mother."

"But they're not you."

"Which means they aren't busy. You have more in common with them than me anyway. You went to war. The ghost of Plegia, the Voice, my older sister who you had to give the same name as me, they all have more free time than I do, and they have stories that I don't."

"Oh."

Nah grimaced.

"I didn't mean that! I know you love me and I do… we're family. It's just…"

It's just she was a second run? That she knew she'd never be a replacement for her older sister, that she couldn't share the same jokes?

There wasn't a good way to put it. Any of it. Nah tried again.

"I just know you could find someone who knew dad better."

"Why?"

"Because I don't! I live on his family name. His face is on the family crest, but I can't remember anything about him and talking to you just makes everything worse!"

"But we spent bunches of time playing together! Bunches."

"I've lived for centuries. I've had to juggle a thousand claims, see the entire world. A few weeks I can almost remember with father before he… and I was born so late! What did you think I'd remember? Why do you keep rubbing it in my face?"

Nowi's face clenched. She didn't seem well suited to crying at the best of times, and this was worse than the usual.

"I just thought…"

"Don't cry. You're… I couldn't take it if you cried. Not right now. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It's okay."

Oh, gods. She was sobbing already. Nah checked a sigh. In a few minutes, she'd be crying too. The rock of Ylisse, the woman who might well be the only reason it was even a country, sobbing like a little girl over something that happened centuries ago.

Crying over something she hardly remembered.

It was several minutes before either of them could talk again. Nowi could speak first. A lifetime of crying had prepared her better than Nah's centuries of repression.

"He loved you."

Nah sniffed.

"I know. I know. I didn't… he didn't stay long enough for me to see it. But I know."

Nowi tried to smile.

"They're never around long."

"I know. Why do you think I spend so much time trying to help Ylisse? People… I buried my husband, my daughters and sons, almost everyone I've known but you. Humans just die. At least nations stay longer. I can keep them alive."

"Maybe."

"I can! Three centuries ago they couldn't find an heir. Over the last century, every house but Licht lost its status to one thing or another! I did that. I couldn't keep dad, or Marcus, or… or Nagi. I couldn't do anything for them. But I did this! I built something."

Nowi shook her head.

"Not that. You're super! I just meant it isn't alive."

"It's not dead!"

"It can't joke or rampage or eat stew with you either. It's just like an old rock. It's great! But it isn't as great as having someone you can be friends with."

"Well, it's all I have!"

"Nope!"

"Nope."

"You have me, and I have you. And your sister. And friends. They might go away, but that's better than never having them."

"Of course it is. Of course you'd say that. You just skim over life, running through all the paces and never letting it touch you. I sunk."

"Oh. So you're the only one that hurts."

"I didn't say that!"

Nowi smiled. Nah slid back. Her smile was never like that. For as long as she knew her, mother's smile was open and inviting. Maybe too light, maybe too easy a smile. And sometimes it broke and she just went and cried for minutes or hours or even days (once, when father died). But the smile came back, with an innocent stupidity.

This smile wasn't nice.

"Do you know you were the first, Nah?"

"The first what?"

"The first manakete with a human father."

"I… didn't think about it. I mean, I had a sister…"

"You think I didn't know? That I thought your father would last? I loved him. I went in knowing how it would hurt. I knew he would die, and I'd be left alone again. I didn't know if you'd come, or if you'd last like me instead of going away like him."

"What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry I was used to it when I came?"

"Do you know why I didn't let you meet your grandparents? Because they were dead for centuries before you were born. Because everyone went away."

"I didn't think about it."

The smile faded back to its peaceful pattern.

"Nope! Because I could deal with it. But I knew you'd be luckier. Because you'd have a sister, and parents, and friends. Maybe not as many as everyone else, but you'd have them."

"I can take care of myself."

"I know. But sometimes you need to remember to have fun. And that there's people around to help you up!"

Nah smiled.

"That's why you came here?"

"And your sister was sleeping."

Kjelle: Restless Knight

Kjelle sat in the corner of a tavern and stripped the armor from her left arm.

Blood welled up. Typical. It hadn't even been a real fight. A few bandits on the road here got smart, then they got stupid. Then she got stupid, and she got her arm sliced before she put them all down. Five on one? She used to handle five on one in her sleep.

She ripped a strip of cloth off her undershirt and tied it into a bandage. Good enough. She slipped her left gauntlet back on.

"Hey, baby! You can't stop the show just when it's getting good!"

Ugh.

He was just a drunk. Kjelle picked up her cup and ignored him. It was swill, but it was cheap swill. She could get used to cheap swill pretty easy.

"HEY! Are you ignoring me?"

"Yes."

The man broke a bottle on the table.

"I think maybe you should stop. Me and my friends don't take kindly to people ignoring us."

Kjelle sighed.

"You should get used to disappointment."

He charged. Kjelle leaned an inch to the left, grabbed his arm with her right, and twisted the bottle into his deltoid muscles. He screamed in pain and fell to the floor. Kjelle returned to her drink.

"You stabbed him!"

"He did most of the work. Now, if you want to join him on the floor, I'd be willing to take all you weaklings on, together or one at a time. If you don't, then get lost. I'll let you take him to a cleric if you want."

The men dragged their friend out the door with a curse. In the corner of the room, a young woman looked on in awe. When the men were gone, she rushed to Kjelle's side.

"That was amazing!"

"Not really. They were drunks who never held a sword in their lives."

Amazing was more than a decade ago, when she fought armies of the dead on the back of a dragon god. That was a fight.

"But they attacked you first!"

"A handful of thugs aren't a match for a knight."

"You're a knight?"

"The best in the world. Why?"

"We need a knight! Bandits are coming for our village. They take everything we have, burn our fields, and kill anyone who fights back."

"Picking on the weak, fighting people who can't fight back? They make me sick already."

"I've been given all the money we have to hire a knight. If you could, I know it's not much, but it's all we have."

Kjelle looked into her hands. A handful of gold. Not enough to repair her armor, let alone hire a decent mercenary.

"Keep it."

"But we're asking you to risk your life!"

"And if I was a mercenary, that would matter. But a knight can't turn down people in need."

The scars on her face, arms, and everywhere else testified to that. Playing the hero meant playing the sucker a lot of the time.

"I don't know what to say, I mean you'll do it, I mean if we had more money…"

"Just say 'thank you', and we can get going. And make sure no-one gets in my way. I'll have enough trouble without any idiots and weaklings slowing me down."

"Thank you!"

"Fine. Now let's get going. "

Kjelle followed her new guide out the door. She only stopped to toss a few coins on the bar counter for her drinks. They weren't good barkeepers, but she wasn't much of a customer, so it all came out in the wash.

"We even brought a horse for you! I mean, if you're a knight, that is, I mean…"

"It's fine. I can ride."

Not in combat, and not well, but the horse didn't have an ounce of fight, and it was faster than walking.

The ride was uneventful. A week through backwood villages and farmland without a sign of conflict. The usual bandits were rare enough to start, and the rare peasants whose need overcame their conscience scattered when they saw her armor. No wonder a knight impressed them. Most of the villagers didn't reach the level of pawn.

There wasn't much to differentiate the town they were headed for from the other patches of habitation in the wilderness. A few more houses. Lights. Something that could pass for a town square. None of it matched Ylisstol, but some of the little touches implied civilization. The most obvious sign of all was a smell of fear that you didn't need to be a manakete to pick up. Kjelle hated places like this. Places so beaten down that they couldn't look anymore. It reminded her too much of home. Too much of where she grew up. She fought half of her life to avoid that fate, and now she was spending the rest of her life saving the people who didn't even try.

"I found a knight!"

The villagers peeked out their doors and windows. After a minute, a man emerged from the largest hut.

"A knight?"

Kjelle nodded.

"Better than any man."

"A single knight? You were sent to hire an army!"

"With the money you offered, you'd be lucky to get one incompetent sellsword. Instead you got me. You weren't ever going to get anything better. Just tell me when they're coming."

The woman who hired her smiled.

"So you can prepare? I've heard the stories! You'll teach us to defend ourselves, run us through drills, assemble traps…"

"Do I look like a nursery teacher? I don't want a bunch of amateurs getting into everything. If I'm going to solve your stupid problems, just hide and don't get in my way."

"You can't do it alone!"

"Watch me."

"But…"

"But nothing! If you could fight on your own, you wouldn't need me. You need me, and I can't abandon people in need if I want to call myself a knight. So tell me when they're coming."

"In the morning. When the sun rises."

"Good. I'll wait for them."

The old man who seemed to run the town coughed.

"We have a room for you. If you need it."

"Thank you. I don't."

Kjelle leaned against a wall and closed her eyes. Not a good sleep, but it would be enough for a night. Better sleep might try to keep her at sunrise, and that would make the whole fight a chore.

She opened her eyes to the sun and the distant sound of horses. She checked the chain on her heavy axe. Stable. Her lance was free of dents and rust. Her armor? Well, she knew that was perfect.

Before long, bandits entered the main square. Eight, counting the ones trying to hide in the peripherals to set up an ambush on anyone who stood up to them. Kjelle looked at the weapons. Cheap mass produced crap. The scars were self applied to look tough, the horses would run off at the first sign of trouble, and most damning of all, not a one of them had a halfway decent set of armor. This wouldn't be much of a fight.

"Well, look what we got here. The little villagers bought themselves a bodyguard. A hero. You know what we do to heroes?"

"No. But I know you've never met a knight."

The leader of the bandits slapped his cheek and faked shock.

"Oh, no! A knight! Never thought I'd see one this far from Ylisse. Mostly because those stupid honorable dastards wouldn't last five minutes without creature comforts. So, how you think we haven't met any knights?"

"You're still alive."

"Say that again. It'll make it better when I run you through the village beaten and bloody, on your hands and knees, before I show them what happens to anyone who tries to mess with the Sunken Valley Bandits."

"Why waste breath? You heard me already. I'll get to the point."

Kjelle pointed her lance at the chief bandit.

"I challenge you to honorable combat. One on one, quarter given when asked. I win, you leave these people alone forever. If I lose, I leave."

"Lookit the little baby knight. Wants her precious fair fight, so she can run away when she gets a little boo-boo."

"I want to be clear. You're refusing me?"

"Yeah. Why? You gonna cry? You shocked?"

"No. But I thought you might want to live."

Kjelle threw a spear through the man's heart, pinning him to the ground. One of his henchmen charged her. She pulled an axe and removed his head before he noticed she had a second weapon in reserve, and the followthrough took down a third bandit. A quick lance charge killed a fourth, and by the time the bandits knew they were in a fight, half their number were dead.

The right time to ask again.

"Leave, and you live. I won't ask again."

"You'll regret this! We know people, and we have resources! If you think you'll get away with this…"

"Was that 'I will leave quietly' or 'please, Kjelle, kill me'? I'm fine either way."

"We're leaving. And fine, we've got plenty of other places to go for. But you? You're dead."

"Is that supposed to be a threat?"

"No. A promise."

They left. Kjelle didn't bother to watch. They were scared, and they wouldn't be back until she was dead. Maybe not even then.

She burned the bodies (as much out of habit as anything else), and walked into the largest building in the town.

"You don't need to worry any more."

"That's amazing. I saw what you did."

Fear in his eyes. As usual.

"It was nothing. You need to learn to stand up for yourselves some day."

"We'd be happy to have you, if you'd teach us."

They wouldn't. It was nothing but words. Even if she wanted to take the offer, the whole town would be terrified.

"I can't. Find someone else."

She didn't want to. It wasn't her kind of town. Her kind of people. She didn't need more hangers on, or people around only out of fear. She needed mentors, or better, equals. But she'd had bad luck on that front. They left or she did.

Mother, dead. Father dead. Alone for two years training under an old knight until he was stabbed in the back and left to rot. And when she met her sister again, it wasn't long until she left. Vanished into the ether. She tried to stay, but watching her own birth, or close to? That was insane. She was just casting a shadow over her own… self? It wasn't worth it. Lucina had been right. Her mother and father were dead. Best to let the local versions live their own lives. If it meant leaving friends and the only decent sparring partner she had behind, so be it.

"Please. At least for a night!"

The mayor (or whatever they called him) was afraid, but he feared Kjelle less than bandit reprisal. Smart of him. Not brilliant, but at least he cared for the town more than he cared about his own safety.

"Fine. One night."

"You can have my room. I won't need it."

Kjelle nodded and muttered something halfway between thanks and I'm fine on my own.

The day was wasted on drinks supplied by every farmer in the town and armor repair. Scratches were cleaned, paint was refreshed, dents were hammered out. People were ignored. They didn't know what her life was like, and she didn't care about theirs. It didn't leave much to talk about.

At sundown she walked into her room and tried for the sleep of the just. It didn't come, but exhaustion sleep had its own appeal.

She woke up to the sounds of armor on the roof. Before she could dress and pick up a weapon, someone was in her room, pointing a blade at her throat.

Kjelle rolled back and grabbed a piece of armor plating. Shoulder guard. It blocked the sword blow and Kjelle kicked her attacker. The enemy's armor blunted Kjelle's attack, but it bought her time to scramble. Armoring up was a ten minute process at the best of times, and this was closer to the worst.

She grabbed her lance and ducked as her opponent threw an axe at her head. Her lance glinted in the moonlight.

Her opponent sighed.

"Stop fighting and die, you little turd! Some of us have things to do."

Kjelle recognized the voice. The better part of a decade wasn't enough to kill the memories.

"Severa?"

The sword fell.

"Kjelle?"

"It's me."

The woman who attacked her lit a match.

"I guess it is. Same stupid perfect abs. And you have to look good with scars too. UGH."

"Why are you trying to kill me?"

"Why did you kill four people this morning? Gawds, Kjelle. I thought you wanted to be a knight or something stupid. Now you're killing people and getting mercenaries to hunt you down. If you didn't have someone dumb enough to care about you…"

"I'd have probably killed them too."

"Probably. Most of the people trying to be mercenaries make you want to puke. So, why are you killing people?"

" They were bandits terrorizing a town. I offered them a chance to retreat. It's not my fault they didn't take it."

Severa leaned against the wall.

"Great. Just typical."

"Bandits always try to blame someone else."

"I meant you! You always charged in like this. You got into fights without asking what would happen if you lost, and then you don't do anything afterwards to clean up if you won. You always thought being honorable made everything okay!"

"Someone has to look after the weak and helpless."

"Great. And who looks after them once you're gone?"

Kjelle opened her mouth. Severa held up a finger.

"No, wait. Who looks after you? Ugh!"

"I can take care of myself."

"All those scars really prove it. Gawds you're lucky they look so good on you."

"They're badges of honor."

"They're badges of you being too dumb to know when to stop! You know your parents ask me about you every time I see them? Not that I care."

"They're better off without me."

"That must be why your stupid little sisters ask me about their hero every time I see them. You know how many stupid stories about you I've had to make up? Lucina wants to be you when she grows up!"

"She said that?"

"Yes! Only now I'm going to have to tell her that you're an idiot who wants to get herself killed."

"You're one to talk."

"Hey! Who almost got killed tonight?"

"At least I didn't get fooled by bandits."

"What?"

"You let lowlife scum buy you. At least I kept my honor. You're nothing better than a hired thug. You just look a little better."

"Hey, I work hard at that!"

"Fine. You look a lot better."

"Thank you. Not enough people appreciate the effort it takes to keep from getting all grubby and covered in blood. Not that you know."

"Because I don't work for bandits."

"It's not like they held up a sign saying they were bandits, Kjelle."

"They were pretty obvious. Did all the money get in your way?"

"At least I can afford my own rooms. You need to pay attention to yourself. Look at the bags under your eyes! Even you can't make those look good."

"It's not important."

"It's going to get you stabbed to death like an idiot! And I don't want to see you die!"

"And I don't want to see you working for dishonorable scum, so I guess neither of us is going to be happy!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

Severa sighed.

After a minute, she spoke.

"Now we're both idiots. Look, I don't know why you went off on your own and haven't talked to any of us in years. I'm sure it seemed like a good reason, but we all miss you. Sully misses you, Chrom misses you, Owain misses you, Lissa misses you, Robin misses you, mom misses you…"

"They're better off."

"I'm not! I miss you, Kjelle, alright? You ran off without telling anyone, and I had to explain it to everyone when all I knew was that my best friend was gone for some stupid reason! I've missed you every stupid day since you left! You were the most important person in my life."

Kjelle blinked.

"You mean that?"

"Yes. Don't make me say it again!"

Kjelle tilted her head.

"Wellll, I guess you need someone around to make sure you don't work for bandits again. And SOMEONE needs to keep you from getting soft."

"Someone who needs to learn how to negotiate for a better deal so she doesn't go broke protecting peasants and ruin our budget?"

Kjelle smiled.

"Sounds like a plan. I guess I'll have you'll have to introduce me to your parents again."

"Ugh. Mom loves your dad too much already. Having you in the family will just make everything worse."

(Author's Note: It seems to be a custom to put a note at the bottom of your first chapter. Well, tradition is the democracy of the dead, and respecting it seems prudent. Be a shame to lose out on the one thing arguing for you once you're gone.

First, standard issue thanks for reading and hopes that you enjoyed. Boilerplate, but sincere and polite. Moving slightly closer to the specifics, in case it wasn't clear enough already there's no guarantees any one story is in continuity with the others. Figure Chrom marrying Sully in the last one and Sumia in the first was enough of an indicator, but you never know.

First batch is post-Grima. The rest won't be.

Individual story notes

Cynthia: 'Lin' is the younger Morgan. Kid's named Linfan in the European non-English version, and the Avatar is implied to have been friends with Lyn, even if they can't remember it. I figured that, while the other second generation characters would have their own lives enough that their iterations in the main timeline could share a name without causing too much trouble, Morgan's tendency to spend all her time with her dear old dad would mean giving her younger iteration the same name would be confusing for everyone.

Owain: Owain always seemed the least suited to run into a younger version of himself. Just enough self awareness to realize how insane the whole thing was, and an ego fragile enough to shatter at his own blows. And that's pretty much how this came together. Morgan was just the best person to push Owain over the edge.

Nah: The usual for dragons in Fire Emblem is to pretty much ditch society for centuries at a time. Which, if you want to keep them distant and mysterious, is probably the right call. On the other hand, when someone's half human and born into the nobility, well, that leaves ducking out less of an option. Especially with someone as serious-minded as Nah. Thus, this.

Kjelle: What can I say? I like the contrast at work with Kjelle. On the one hand, she's a knight, and she takes it seriously. Defender of the weak, bulwark against those who seek to exploit them, fighting and dying for the common man. On the other, she really doesn't like the weak. At all. Put them together, and you have a nice internal conflict.

As for the ending, well, Harvest Scramble. )