AN: Minor spoilers for Conquest and Birthright.

This actually started out as a character study for Laslow as the same Inigo who appears... will eventually appear... in my Awakening fic Until the Day I Rise. Since the only thing really connecting this to UTDIR is Laslow being Robin's son I decided to post this as its own standalone oneshot.

:: Smile ::

The halls of Macareth were wide and airy, with walls of beige stone and large windows which let in large amounts of sunlight – or as much sunlight as could be found in a kingdom with perpetually dark skies, anyway. Its serene colors reminded him of the Exalt's Castle and it was easy to see how the building would've been beautiful on any other day. Even now, with the atmosphere ruined by the aftermath of battle, Laslow found himself truly relaxing for the first time since he'd arrived in Nohr.

That probably said a lot about him given that he was currently helping mop up blood and other violently expelled bodily fluids.

He dunked his cloth into a bucket and watched as the water turned a sickly mixture of black, green, and red. While Macareth was known for its wide array of medicines, many of its medicinal herbs had other, much more dangerous properties. Lady Corrin had convinced the resident healers to use these herbs to their full potential during the battle and the Hoshidan troops had found themselves vomiting, breaking out in painful rashes, and fainting on the spot with blood pouring from various orifices as toxic mixtures exploded in their ranks.

The healers had warned that some of the more potent substances were potentially fatal and could lead to permanent, debilitating health problems, so the Nohrians had stayed back and waited for the gases to disperse before moving in and easily subduing the incapacitated soldiers.

They hadn't killed a single enemy – at least not on the spot – and their own losses were minimal.

Laslow was almost certain his father wouldn't have approved of their tactics at all.

Suddenly Macareth was a lot less relaxing.

"I'll never forget the nights I spent here before meeting up with the rest of you," Inigo shuddered as he thought back to those lonely days in a world that was familiar and unfamiliar all at once. "All alone, fighting... Killing just to stay alive."

Owain winced and briefly closed his eyes, pain flashing across his face. "That transition was hard for all of us."

"It nearly crushed me, taking my first life," Inigo looked down at his hands, remembering the shock he'd had when the bandit's blood splattered all over his fingers. Risen didn't bleed like humans did. "I remember my hands trembling, tears blinding me... I couldn't sleep for days."

"Yeah... In our time, human life was the most precious thing imaginable," Owain's hand clenched and unclenched around the hilt of his sword, a nervous habit of his that had developed shortly after his mother's death and never quite went away no matter how many times he laughed and brushed it off as his 'hungering sword hand'. "But the moment we arrived here, that all changed. We began claiming it. You can't just flip a switch, like magic, and be able to kill the very next day."

"At last the chosen heroes reunite!" Odin jumped to his feet at the sight of Laslow and struck a heroic pose. "With destiny as our ally we shall—"

"Odin," Laslow chimed in before his friend could really get going. "What are your thoughts on Lady Corrin?"

Odin blinked, stuttering to a halt. "Lady Corrin? Regrettably I've not had much opportunity to converse with her but by all accounts she is a talented warrior. A capable tactician as well, though not quite on the level of Lord Leo or… other tacticians we know."

"A skilled tactician who refuses to kill her enemies," Laslow said, remembering Corrin's orders before the battle. "Don't get me wrong, I wholeheartedly believe in the prevention of unnecessary death. But what she did today…"

Odin opened his mouth. Then he closed it and frowned.

"I keep wondering what my father would've done had he been here," Laslow said after a long moment of silence. "And I think – no, I know – he would've never entertained the thought of using medicinal herbs to… to torture them, much less herbs with potentially lifelong consequences. He'd grant our enemies a chance to surrender on fair terms and a quick death if they refuse, and once the battle was over insist that injured prisoners be treated with as much care as our own. Does that make him better or worse than Lady Corrin, who refuses to kill them?"

"Laslow…"

"I suppose I shouldn't get caught up in conjectures," Laslow sighed. "He's not here. None of them are. Still, I can't help but think 'what if'?"

"You're a strong man, Inigo, and I couldn't be prouder of you," Robin gave him a sad smile. "But no one is invincible, and you shouldn't pretend to be. If something's wrong, come to me. We'll figure it out together."

"Father..." Inigo blinked rapidly and took a deep breath. Then he ran forward and threw his arms around the man he'd looked up to his entire life. If there were stains on Robin's coat after the hug ended… well, the cloth was dark and his tears were probably more sanitary than anything the coat picked up on the battlefield. "Oh, thank you!"

Robin endured the hug for about a second before he started flailing. "Waugh! N-neck! Inigo, my neck! Too tight! C-can't breathe!"

"I-it's your own fault!" Inigo squeezed tighter, though he did lower his grip so that Robin's arms and chest bore the brunt of the hug. "I don't think you've ever said anything like that to me before! And listen—the same goes for you. Whatever the problem, I'll help. I'll be damned if I'm going to lose you twice."

"Laslow!" Selena swept aside a pile of papers and slammed a box down onto the table. "I challenge you to a game."

"You wished for a worthy companion and your thoughts turned to me," Laslow grinned. "I'm honored that such a lovely lady holds me in such high esteem."

"Shut up," Selena's teeth ground audibly as she began unpacking the box, pulling out an assortment of wooden discs and a large piece of parchment which she tossed in his direction. Laslow unfolded it to find a mockup map of a battlefield, complete with terrain markings and details of nearby towns; his grin abruptly faded.

"I need to beat Lord Leo in this at least once. You're going to help me practice," Selena said. Then she glanced around furtively and lowered her voice. "I've seen your sister playing a similar game with your father. She said you sometimes played with them too."

"Yeah, I did…" Laslow picked up one of the game pieces and absently rolled it between his fingers. There was a tome with a lightning bolt cover carved into its flat surface. "But I've never come close to beating Father. I can't even remember the last time I beat Morgan. I'm not sure how helpful I'll be to you as an opponent."

"Don't sell yourself short," Selena looked at him and her expression softened, so subtly he would've never noticed had he not known her so well. "I've seen you at work, Laslow. You're definitely his son."

Definitely his son. Laslow swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. "…Thank you."

Selena briefly squeezed his shoulder. Then she smirked and began dividing up the game pieces. "Don't thank me just yet. I'm gonna wipe the floor with you – and don't you dare hold back."

"Heh, you're on."

Selena wasn't as good as Robin or Morgan but she was no pushover either. In the end she emerged victorious, but only after suffering through heavy losses and a series of intense battles that forced her to struggle for every inch of ground. Laslow laughed as Selena celebrated her win and smiled down at his still mostly intact army, his heart feeling lighter than it had in months.

"You may think me a dandy and a fool, but a lot of people depended on me in the future. Every day, I was out there fighting Risen and risking my life. With everyone looking to me to be strong, I had no choice. I HAD to be invincible. I couldn't complain or show any weakness. Not with everyone else struggling in that damn war-torn wasteland... Even with you and Mother gone, I had to pretend I was fine. That I wasn't hurting. I had to fight every day of my sorry life and wear a smile while I did it!"

The Nohrian army was similar to Chrom's Shepherds in that status meant little when it came to the day to day workings of the camp. That didn't prevent Laslow from nearly having a heart attack when he went to requisition a new weapon from the armory and found Lord Xander catering to his needs. Fortunately he knew how to get along with Xander and was even able to slip in some lighthearted teasing as the prince ran back and forth fetching different swords for him to try.

Preparing dinner with Lady Corrin, on the other hand, was just awkward. The princess seemed lost in thought, not even acknowledging Laslow's attempts at flirting, and eventually he simply lapsed into silence.

They'd just set the soup on the fire when Corrin spoke. "The Hoshidans call me Kamui."

"That is a beautiful name," Laslow hesitantly offered when no more words seemed to be forthcoming. "A beautiful name for a beautiful woman."

Corrin's mouth twitched into something that could almost be called a smile. "The first thing Father did after my kidnapping was name me Corrin. A Nohrian name for a Nohrian princess. Laslow… What meaning do you think there is in a name?"

Laslow, who was bent over the soup pot with seasonings in hand, fumbled and almost dumped an entire container of salt inside. "I… uh…"

"Sorry, I know it isn't fair of me to dump this on you," The rhythm of Corrin's knife faltered slightly before starting up again. "Xander said you might be a good person to talk to about this. But if it makes you uncomfortable you don't have to answer."

Laslow winced, remembering the conversation with Xander where he'd accidentally let slip that he currently lived under a false name and appearance. He'd tried to play it off as a joke immediately afterwards and thought the prince had accepted it, but clearly that was not the case.

"I believe a name is how the world sees us, milady," Laslow straightened and carefully put down the containers in his arms before any more culinary mishaps could occur. "For example, I'm Laslow – a soldier of Nohr, dedicated retainer to Lord Xander, and quite the dashing gentleman if I may say so myself. But at the same time, who's to say that is all I am? A name is how the world sees and defines us but it is hardly indicative of who we really are."

Corrin hummed noncommittedly and didn't respond. Laslow took the hint and turned back to his own work.

They were doling out the soup into bowls when Corrin spoke up again, so quietly Laslow almost missed it.

"I wonder what she's like sometimes," she stared down at the bowl in her hands and smiled, a bittersweet expression. "Kamui, I mean. She must be a wonderful person if Ryoma, Hinoka, and Sakura still haven't given up on her despite everything I've done to them."

"That's really kind of you, Inigo, but do you truly realize what you're saying?" Morgan rubbed at her eyes, which looked suspiciously wet. "I mean, it could be years before I remember anything. Or decades. Heck, there's a decent chance I may never get my memories back at all. I don't want to drag you into something that could last forever."

The defeated expression on Morgan's face didn't suit her at all. Inigo reached out and bopped her on the head, grinning as she yelped and looked at him reproachfully.

"I'm already stuck with you forever, you goof. I'm your brother! We're family – memories or no. You can't keep me away."

Nightmares were a familiar presence in his life. There was once a time when he had them daily, closing his eyes to see friends and family falling and reanimating before an infinite army of Risen while the silhouette of a great dragon soared through the sky and laughed. He used to dread meeting new people because it was inevitable he would eventually dream of them screaming in pain as they were torn apart by ashen hands and bloody teeth.

In comparison, dreaming of his own death was an interesting and almost relaxing experience.

Dimly he could hear Xander shouting above the din of battle. Silently he composed a quick prayer to Naga, or whatever gods might be listening, for it to all work out somehow. Xander did not deserve to die, nor did he deserve to watch more than one sister die at his hands.

"Laslow!" Peri's voice cut through the haze beginning to drift over his thoughts. "Are you dying, Laslow? NO! You can't die!"

Laslow's response disappeared into a wet cough; blood dripped down his chin as he gingerly rolled his head to the side, wincing at the pain shooting through his chest with every breath.

This wasn't exactly how he thought he'd die, but least he wasn't alone.

Not like his father had been.

He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, taking shallow breaths as he braced for a pain that never came. Then he pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his heart thrum against his fingers.

The war was over, he silently reminded himself. The war was over. Lady Elise was alive, Lord Xander certainly wasn't trying to kill Lady Corrin and Corrin wasn't calling herself Kamui. Laslow was not bleeding out on the floor and Peri was not screaming in his ear.

He got out of bed, stumbling slightly as his feet hit the ground sooner than he was used to, and went to prepare for the day. He'd just finished pulling on his boots, fingers fumbling as they looked for laces which weren't there, when there was a knock on the door.

"Hey, hey, are you up yet? We just received a message from Southtown saying Father's on his way home – if we leave now I bet we can surprise him on the road. C'mon, are you coming?"

"Of course," Inigo pulled his shield onto his arm – it was lighter and thinner than the one he'd used in Nohr and felt almost flimsy even though he knew it worked well enough – and opened the door, smiling at the sight of Morgan bouncing up and down in the hallway. "Let's go. I can't wait to see his face."

"Um, Father? Even if our paths should part someday, I feel as if today's memories will keep me. I'll be able to live with a smile, knowing I got to share in all this with you and Mother. But if I still get lonely from time to time, I'll come knocking on your door. I hope that whenever that is, no matter how many times it happens, you'll let me in. ...That you'll be there to say 'welcome home.'"