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The sunlight hurts her eyes.
It’s a dim, dull pain. Refreshing, almost, the way the morning light creeps over the trellises and illuminates tangled strands of ivy and flowers. She blinks in the morning sun, rubbing her eyes as if trying to erase the dark circles beneath.
She inhales deeply, slowly, holding her breath before an exhale.
She kneels, her joints clicking as she bends over to pick up the tin watering can beside the garden. It’s easy to lift - a few gallons of water are far lighter than what she’s used to carrying. It is strange, to not feel the weight of her sword on her hip or the tattered warmth of her cloak around her shoulders. The Valmese sun is bright, and warm, and comforting.
It hasn’t rained for a few days, so she fills the watering can from the garden pump and makes a circle around the garden perimeter, watering as she goes. She’d been meaning to learn the names of all of them - primrose, hyacinth, pansy… Something else. She watches water pool on the thirsty ground, droplets of clear, cold water soaking into the soil.
What was that other kind?
She stops at the pump halfway through her circuit to refill the watering can and bend down to get a drink herself. She still feels the pang of guilt letting water spill down her chin and into the ground. Wasted hydration, wasted life. There aren’t concerns like that, here. Water is cold and plentiful.
She cups her hands under the spigot and watches clear water run through her fingers, soaking her gloves and washing the dirt from under her fingernails.
It still feels like a miracle each time she pulls the pump. No creaking and groaning of empty pipes, no sludgy wastewater, no ash-tinged paste dredged up from a poisoned well. Tiki says it's from an aquifer, the same water that comes out in springs lower on the mountainside, trickling down into the basin where they join together into the lake.
She stares at the water flowing through her hands, pooling in the dirt.
Red dripping from her hands, pooling in the dirt. She swallows and rubs her face, splashing cool water against her flushed skin. She finishes her circuit at the trellises, stopping to rest on the wooden bench that sits beside them. The patio stones are cool on her bare feet.
She sits, the old wooden bench creaking under her weight, and she stares out - past the garden, past the meadows sloping downwards, to the dark pine forests and the basin beyond, ringed in mountains, lit in the glowing morning sun.
“It doesn’t stop being beautiful.”
Tiki’s voice is soft, almost murmured as she stands beside the bench. “Even after uncountable sunrises.”
“It really is beautiful.”
“I brought you tea,” Tiki says, sitting on the bench at her side. “It seemed like you didn’t sleep well.”
She takes the mug gratefully. It’s warm, still steaming, and it smells like lemon and honey. She sips it, slowly, staring out at the valley, watching the sun sparkle on the lake.
A hand touches the small of her back, gently, and she starts, almost splashing her tea across the patio.
“I’m sorry,” Tiki says. “I should have said something.”
“No, it’s…” She sets her mug down and rubs her face. “I’m sorry. You… You can.”
Tiki moves closer, one arm wrapped around the small of her back, pulling her closer. The warmth of her body, the green shimmer of her hair in the morning sun.
“Lucina…” Tiki says softly, resting a hand on her knee. “Did you manage to get any sleep at all?”
Lucina shakes her head, slow and slight. “No.”
It’s hard for her to even speak, after spending hours in silence. Her own name startles her, just as much as Tiki’s gentle touch. Lucina rests her head on Tiki’s shoulder and sighs. The sun creeps over the trellises, and the wind rolls through the pines.
-
It had been raining when she showed up on Tiki’s doorstep.
Valm always had a hard rainy season, weeks on end of rain-lashed land and muddy mires, and mud was soaked into every facet of Lucina’s person. Her boots, caked in it, her hair tangled and matted, her face gaunt from lack of food. She didn’t know where else to go.
No one else understood why she had to leave. She barely said two words to her father before slipping out from the castle, through the same crack in the wall she had gone through to meet him all those years ago.
Severa was gone, now. Owain and Inigo, too. Off on some journey, though Cynthia was scant with the details. Everyone else seemed to be settling in fine with their new families, their new roles. They had saved the world - why not enjoy it?
Lucina coughs, hard, her lungs raw and phlegmy. She presses a balled-up first to her lips, hoping it’s not blood. It had been a few days ago, but since then there hadn’t been any more. That’s good.
She leans forward, resting against the side of the doorframe before knocking again.
It’s hard to keep herself upright on both legs - the left still aches, worse in the rain. Her knee had never healed quite right, and she favors the right leg, as evidenced by the heavier soak of mud into her soles.
“Milady,” she says, her voice hoarse and quiet. If Tiki hadn’t heard the knocking, she certainly wouldn’t hear the voice.
“Lady Tiki,” Lucina tries again, louder, before stepping back, resting as she watches rain drip down the eaves and into the mud alongside the house. The front porch is covered, thank the gods, so Lucina can at least lower her hood and try to wring out her hair. It’s a futile attempt, though.
Lucina coughs again, her ribcage rattling and her chest burning. She doubles over, unable to stop coughing, even as the door opens and light floods into the porch, as a soft voice gasps and footsteps approach. A shadow kneels by her side, grasping her shoulder to support her.
There’s the blood. Lucina can taste it, thick and warm and coppery on her lips.
“Lucina?” Tiki’s voice is overflowing with concern. “Lucina, what’s wrong?”
Lucina swallows, hard, trying to choke back the blood. “Lady Tiki…”
For some reason, she had never expected Tiki to truly answer. The directions she had received were vague at best, fabrication at worst. The Voice had turned to a recluse after the war, leaving the duty of theologizing to the younger generations - there was a newer, younger Voice of Naga, aided by those more in tune with the world at present.
That’s how Tiki liked it - she could rest, and she could meditate, and she could finish those books she had been meaning to get to - even if she was disappointed to learn one of them had been out of print for nigh-on three centuries.
“Lucina-” Tiki says softly, her arm slipping over Lucina’s back, trying to cup under her armpit and haul her to her feet. “Come, I’ll take care of you.”
-
Rain rattles the windowframes and drips from the eaves in sheets, puddling on the ground outside. In the distance, thunder rumbles, loud but not too loud, like the purrs of a distant cumulus beast. An occasional flash of lightning splits the darkening sky.
Lucina shivers, weakly, her wet clothes leaving a muddy pool as she stands on the hardwood floor of Tiki’s anteroom.
“Are you alright?” Tiki asks again, though Lucina’s chattering teeth stop her from answering. Tiki moves slowly, gently, her hands deft as she pulls back Lucina’s cloak and undoes the clasp, pulling the mud-soaked cloth from Lucina’s shoulders and hanging it on a brass hook by the door. Water drips from the bottom hem.
Lucina wraps her arms around herself, wincing as she shifts her weight to her right foot.
“Come, come,” Tiki bids her in, past the entrance, slipping her arm around Lucina’s shoulder again to support her as she limps across the anteroom and into Tiki’s home.
It’s a spacious building, stone and stained hardwood that gives it a rustic feeling. A hearth burns warm and hot, crackling in the far wall, casting orange lights over leaf-strewn planters and hanging glass baskets overflowing with flowers. There’s a shrine, Lucina can recognize, opposite the fireplace - a likeness of Naga, an elegant carpeted space with pillows for kneeling in supplication, silver chimes hanging in the window.
Tiki guides Lucina through the room and through a narrow doorway, stopping momentarily for Lucina to cough again, leaning hard against the stone doorframe, her chest rattling painfully.
“Poor thing,” Tiki murmurs.
Lucina is dozing at the dining table, half-asleep when she’s woken by the sound of ceramic and silver. Tiki sets something in front of her, something hot and warm and fragrant, rich with salt and fat and roasted vegetables.
“Eat,” Tiki says, bowing slightly and gesturing to the food.
Lucina can’t. Her hand shakes, her throat feels thick and swollen, she can barely see through the tangle of bangs that cascade in front of her eyes like muddy water from a cliff. She breathes, hard.
Tiki sits closer, one hand gently holding Lucina’s head, brushing the hair back as the other hand brings food to her cracked lips.
It’s only a few bites before Lucina coughs, again, hacking and retching. Tiki holds her, gently, smoothing her tangled hair as Lucina slumps on the open windowsill, acid and bile dripping down the side of the house.
She manages to keep a few bites of bread down.
Tiki had been trying to learn how to bake, though her results had more often ended up as hardtack and horse-bread. Lucina takes small bites from a hard rye flatbread, nibbles washed down with water.
“There’s a guest room,” Tiki says softly, smoothing Lucina’s matted hair. “I’ll set out a change of clothes for you and you can get some rest.”
Lucina nods, swallowing hard, struggling to down another bite.
She passes out on the bed without undressing.
-
Lucina sleeps for two days, unmoving. Tiki, unwilling to disturb her, allows the rest, stopping by only to check on Lucina, to adjust her blankets and to leave fresh water and a plate of plain bread by her bedside. On the third day, there are a few tenuous bites in the food and a pool of bile on the floor. Lucina is curled up in bed, sleeping still.
On the fourth day, Lucina is strong enough to sit up, to nod when Tiki asks if she wants to bathe. Tiki supports her as the two walk from the main building to the bathhouse, across a covered walkway that takes them through the garden. The trellises are empty this time of year, the garden a mire of mud. A crow sits on the upper edge of the trellis, watching curiously as Lucina limps to the baths.
Lucina is silent, still, her eyes half-lidded and empty, her gaze distant as Tiki sits with her, slowly reaches out to touch her, asking permission before tying her hair back, unfastening the clasps of her tunic, unbuttoning her wool shirt. The fabric is stiff from dried mud, brownish stains smeared together to incomprehensibility. It’s impossible to tell if any of it had been blood.
The bathhouse is warm and breezy, open to the elements and gazing out at the mountains beyond. In the distance, clouds still lingered, dumping the last of their rain on the mountain slopes.
The water is clear and warm, pumped up from an aquifer below the mountain, heated with rune-engraved pipes. It had been a donation from one of the temples, Tiki explains to Lucina as she undresses her. A gift for the Voice of Naga.
Lucina’s body is skin and bones. Pale, translucent skin stretched across her narrow ribcage, slight breasts, concave stomach. She looks sheepish, guilty even, as Tiki gazes at her body, the notches of old scars carved into her ribs. She’s unwilling to lift her head, to meet Tiki’s gaze.
“Lucina…” Tiki says softly.
She hadn’t been eating, that much was certain. There was still muscle, there, underneath the skin, but it was lean. A body chiseled from desperation, not cultivation. Lucina hunches forward, instinctively, wrapping her arms around her stomach. More scars, notches in her shoulders, her arms. Long-healed burns, discoloring the skin. She seems to curl inwards, making herself smaller the more of her Tiki exposes.
“It’s alright,” Tiki says again, gently coaxing Lucina to rest back, to let Tiki pull her leggings down and off. More scars, a history of pain traced across every inch of skin.
Her left knee is ajar, a pale white gash just below the kneecap. Bone-rent flesh, long since healed over.
Tiki lowers Lucina into the bath slowly, princess-carrying her, Lucina wincing as the warm water laps at her skin. Her backside, first, and then her legs, her stomach, her ribcage. Warmth to wash away the days, weeks, years of mud and blood and dried black stains that smeared her skin. Tiki sits down, back against the edge of the bath, resting Lucina sideways in her lap.
Lucina closes her eyes, wincing again as water laps at her fresher wounds.
Tiki supports her back with one hand, the other holding a cloth out to gently scrub Lucina, to massage the dirt from her skin as Lucina rests her head against Tiki’s shoulder. She still seems distant, not fully there, her eyes half-lidded and drowsy. She barely registers the sensation of a rough cloth against her skin, of soap and warm water and soap in her hair, fingers tangling through knots and trying to untangle the mats.
Tiki’s fingers snag a knot and jerk Lucina’s head, jolting Lucina back to alertness. She jerks upright, eyes wide, the pain sending signals to every inch of her nervous system, run, hide, fight, and Lucina pushes back, shoving Tiki against the edge of the bath. Lucina tumbles backwards, plunging into the water, gasping for breath and flailing wildly, her arms smacking away any attempts Tiki makes to hold her up, to pull her back above the water.
Lucina gulps down bathwater, choking and sputtering until she manages to push herself to her feet, breathing hard, soaked hair hanging in front of her face, tangles of dark blue obscuring her features.
“I’m so sorry,” Tiki says, standing back, holding her hands out, a gesture of peace. “I’m sorry, Lucina. I didn’t mean to.”
Lucina shakes her head, wrapping her arms tighter around herself. Her jaw is set, teeth clenched, eyes squeezed shut as if to block out everything but the feeling of her teeth grinding together.
Gentler, then.
Tiki finishes bathing her, taking care to work gently, each motion and touch asked and confirmed first, until Lucina is almost good as new. Without the grime and dirt, the scars shine clearer.
Her hair is a more futile effort. No amount of detangling, brushing, combing, conditioning, cleaning, can untangle the knots or clear the matted tangles. Lucina sits on a stool, wrapped in a towel, hunched forwards as Tiki kneels behind her, silver blade in hand.
“Are you sure?”
Lucina nods.
Her hair comes off in knots, tresses of navy pooling around her. The bathhouse is silent save the lap of water and the slice of scissors, blades scraped together as Tiki works.
“I’m no stylist,” Tiki admits, pinning a lock of hair between her fingers and snipping. “When Anna comes by, I’ll ask for her advice. In the meantime… We can make do.”
Lucina nods.
-
Lucina doesn’t talk, and Tiki doesn’t make her. She mostly rests, which suits Tiki just fine. The few times she is up on her feet, limping around the house, it’s usually in pursuit of food or water. Her appetite returns slowly, but it returns.
Lucina spends some time sitting in the baths by herself, arms around her legs, water to her neck. The storm season endures, grey skies, wind through the walkways, the distant rumble of thunder.
She’s there nearly a week before she speaks again. They’re sitting in the main room, Tiki meditating and Lucina sitting quietly. She’s dressed in borrowed clothes, an ill-fit tunic in place of her own clothes, which had been too stained with mud and blood to be salvageable. Tiki had promised to buy her new clothes when Anna came by.
“I thought I would be happy.” Lucina’s voice is quiet, hoarse.
Tiki opens her eyes, slowly, turning her head to watch Lucina from the corner of her eyes. She doesn’t respond, not until she sees Lucina trembling, fists digging into her knees.
“I…” Lucina speaks, her voice shaking, spaces punctuated by sharp breaths, her eyes squeezing tears down her pale cheeks. “I thought I would feel happy. Or… I don’t know..” She lifts a fist to wipe the tears from one cheek. “Or relief, or something !”
Her voice is sharp, louder than any words spoken in the house for a long time. Silence follows, and the patter of rain on the rooftop.
Tiki uncurls slowly, shifting from her meditative position to face Lucina, her eyes gentle.
“Everyone else seems happy…” Lucina wipes her eyes again. “Why… Why can’t I be?”
“Happy because you saved the world?” Tiki asks.
Lucina nods. “It’s… It’s all over, isn’t it? I don’t need to fight anymore, I don’t…” She looks at Tiki, her eyes brimming with tears, her hands trembling as she shifts forwards to clasp Tiki’s hands in her own. “What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I just…”
“Live?” Tiki suggests.
“I just…” Lucina swallows hard. “I just don’t understand why I don’t… Feel anything.” She wipes her eyes again. “Am I broken? Why can’t I…”
Silence, again, while Tiki waits for Lucina to pull herself together, to wipe her tears and clear her thoughts.
“I can only feel hurt,” Lucina says at last, exhaling. “Am I broken, Lady Tiki? Is there nothing else inside me, nothing but pain? I’m safe, I’m comfortable, I’m… I’m alive , but I feel worse than I ever did, worse than any time in my life.”
Her breathing is shaky, tears threatening to come again, but she keeps them down.
“I thought I would be happy, I thought I would be relieved, I thought I would be overjoyed at all of this, that the dark future has finally been averted.”
“And instead?” Tiki asks.
“I’m just…” Lucina sighs. “I’m tired. I’m so tired.”
Tiki smiles warmly, gently squeezing Lucina’s hands. “Then stay, and rest. My home is yours, for as long as you need it to be.”
-
It’s impossible to tell where the days end or begin. Everything blurs together, a haze as Lucina is nursed back to health. It’s more than evident how little she had been caring for herself - malnourished, sick, with uncared-for wounds that plagued her still. Tiki did what she could, cleaning and dressing old gashes that had never healed, giving Lucina medicine to soothe her pain. She found a crutch for Lucina to lean on, and a brace to keep her knee set and to encourage it to heal.
Lucina slept.
Sometimes the orange glow through the window is sunrise, sometimes sunset. Sometimes it’s the dark of night outside, and other times it’s cloud-cover that plunges the mountaintop into shadow. Lucina sleeps, and sleeps, and sleeps.
Tiki tends to her, bringing her food, water, medicine, and letting her rest.
She deserves it, after all.
Lucina sits up in bed, arms wrapped around her legs, blankets pooled around her feet. She’s lost in thought, trying to parse the distant echoes of a dream that scatter from the edges of her mind. Always blood, always a deep aching despair that nestles in her chest, just below where her heart should be. Empty, aching abyss.
Lucina moves, wincing as she swings her legs over the bedside, testing her bare feet against the wooden floorboards. Her knee still ached, but its a lessened pain, a chronic throb rather than a sharp spike radiating from the base of her femur.
Lucina yawns and rubs her face with balled-up fists. Through the open window she can see daylight, blue sky and puffy white clouds above the trees. She can hear something, too. Voices, soft and friendly. Laughter, too.
She stands up, wincing again, clenching her teeth as she hobbles to her crutch and slips it under her arm. She’s dressed plainly, Tiki’s borrowed tunic covering halfway down her bare thighs.
In the main room the voices are louder, one of them identifiable as Tiki’s. She’s out front, speaking to someone, some familiar voice.
Lucina pushes the porch door open, one hand raised to block the sunlight as she limps down the porch steps.
“There she is,” a woman says cheerfully. “The woman of the hour!”
Lucina smiles sheepishly. “Hello, Anna.”
Anna stands in front of a covered wagon, the cover pulled back and a little pop-up stand set up. There’s all sorts of things - clothing, fabric, barrels, sacks of something, glass decorations and metal jewelry, crates pried open, their contents spilling out into the storefront.
It’s not just her, either - a handful of others are milling around, unloading good for Tiki. There’s another Anna there, too, in the back, consulting some scrolls and directing the merchants.
It’s a level of abundance that Lucina was still shocked to see - food was the main thing that would shock her. Dried fish and jerky, smoked and salted fillets of steak and pork, jars of preserved vegetables, fresh fruit, baked bread, pastries caked in icing and dusted with sugar. It makes Lucina’s mouth water just to look at it.
She limps down the stairs, cautious on her approach.
“Go ahead,” Tiki says. “Take anything you like.”
“Anything…” Lucina’s voice trails off as she stands in front of Anna’s cart, gazing at a glass case of pastries.
“You want one?” Anna opens the case, grinning. “For you, a special - two gold pieces for a croissant, and I’ll throw in a free-”
“Anna,” Tiki says sternly.
“Oh, just kidding,” Anna pouts. “All of this is funded through tithes to the temple of Naga, so…” She frowns. “You know, I’m not making any money on this venture.”
“A small price to pay for having a world in which to peddle your goods, perhaps,” Tiki says. She gently steps in front of Lucina and gets a pastry wrapped in wax-paper. “Here, this shouldn’t upset your stomach.”
Lucina nods and takes it gratefully, hoarsely murmuring a thank you.
It’s delicious.
Of course it is - that was a given. Everything in this world was so delicious, so rich and flavorful and real. It’s a flaky pastry filled with some sort of custard, and it tastes like salt and cream and butter and it all turns to ash in Lucina’s mouth.
She chews and swallows.
“Thank you,” she murmurs softly.
“How have you been, Sir Lucina?” Anna asks, sitting on the pop-up stand’s counter, crossing one leg over the other. “The Voice was asking about you. Something about rumors you were wandering around Chon’sin for awhile, there?”
“The Voice?” Lucina frowns. “Nah?”
Anna nods. “She says Naga is worried about you.”
“Ah…” Lucina grimaces. “I’m… Surviving, I guess.”
Tiki is speaking with one of the other merchants, talking to her about where to take a crate of provisions. She sees Lucina looking at her and smiles, softly.
“Any chance of you selling that old sword of yours?”
Lucina bursts out laughing at the audacity of the question. “Falchion?”
“I just don’t suppose you need it anymore,” Anna raises her eyebrow.
“No, I… I think I’d like to hold onto it,” Lucina says.
“Good,” Tiki says, folding her arms over her chest. “Don’t let this con-woman rope you into selling anything.”
“What about this,” Anna says, pulling out a stack of small cards. “Look! Cards -”
She spreads a few cards out on the table, upon which are drawn the likenesses of some of the heroes of the last great war. Lucina picks one up.
“Is this… Me?”
“It sure is,” Anna says. “Would you mind signing it? It really raises the value if-”
“Anna.” Tiki’s voice is stern.
“Oh, alright,” Anna picks up the cards and reshuffles them into a neat stack. “You never let me do anything.”
“Let the poor thing rest,” Tiki shoos her off.
Lucina isn’t really listening anymore - she’s staring at the counter where the cards used to be. It’s strange to think that she’s someone people even know about. Being perceived by others… Not just others, but total strangers. People who she had never met know about her from rumors, from tales of the war. Stories of exploits, adventures.
And she’s just here, just standing in her pajamas in the morning sun, trying not to cry about something as stupid as dumb little trading cards with sketches of her friends on them.
She closes her eyes and breathes in, breathes out. Trying to remember the calming exercises Tiki had taught her.
“Are you alright?” Tiki asks, gently touching her elbow.
“Y-yeah,” Lucina nods. “I…” She winces. “I just need to go sit down for a bit, I think.”
“I’ll come with you,” Tiki says, taking her arm. She turns to Anna. “Please just put the usual supplies in the larder.”
Tiki guides her back into the house, gently holding her as Lucina breaks, again. She cries into Tiki’s shoulder, even though she can’t figure out why.
Something in her is broken, then. Something that renders her unable to hold a conversation, to do any more than to sit and exist. She can feel Tiki wrap her arms around her, gently cooing.
“I-” Lucina stammers into Tiki’s shoulder. “I’m… Why… Why do I feel like this?”
“Like this?” Tiki asks, running a hand through Lucina’s short hair.
“Everything just… Makes my stomach hurt.” Lucina sniffles.
Maybe it’s memories bubbling up again. Maybe it’s the single point of contact with her old life, a single pinprick that lets all of the memories come flooding out. It’s so easy to feel numb to it, to not even think about it. It was a different world, a different time. But something about talking to Anna made it all feel so visceral and real.
Lucina sniffs again. “Is… Is Naga really worried about me?”
Tiki laughs softly, still stroking her hair. “I couldn’t say, but I know that I am, and I wouldn’t be surprised if your friends are, too.”
-
The weather turns cold and grey, the leaves turning from green to orange to red to brown, finally dropping off and fluttering off in the breeze. A crust of frost freezes over the ground. Tiki finds a warm coat for Lucina, and a new set of fleece-lined sweaters and pants for her. It grows cold on the mountaintop.
It’s a familiar feeling, to her. Huddled up in the warmth of the house, staving off the elements outside. Wind and frost and eventually snow, piling up on the roof, icicles growing down from the eaves.
There’s a knock on Lucina’s door.
“Are you alright?” Tiki’s voice is soft, gentle.
“Yeah,” Lucina sniffles. She slips out of the warmth of her bed and opens her door. “I wasn’t crying, I’m just cold.”
“Okay, good,” Tiki says, reaching a hand out to gently brush Lucina’s hair back. “Come, I’d like you to help me decorate.”
“Decorate…?” Lucina frowns, tentatively following Tiki as she leads her out into the hall.
“For the coming new year,” Tiki says, opening a door that leads down to a subterranean storeroom. She lights a metal lantern and carries it down into the basement, leading Lucina into the dark. “We have decorations here…somewhere.”
The basement is massive - a storeroom the size of the whole house above, carved out from the mountain and bolstered with wooden beams and girders. There’s no light down here, just cobwebs and crates and boxes and barrels. All sorts of supplies - this must be where Anna brings the goods that she delivers.
Lucina wraps her arms around herself. Shadows dance on the basement walls, humanoid shapes cast from the lantern. She closes her eyes and breathes.
“Here we go,” Tiki says, prying the lid off a wooden crate. Inside are, true to her intimations, a pile of decorations for the coming holiday. Paper lanterns, candles, banners, all sorts of colorful streamers and lights. Tiki carries the crate up from the basement before plunking it down on the floor of the main room. She pulls out armfuls of decorations, giving some to Lucina.
The two of them decorate in silence only broken when Tiki gives Lucina instructions or when Lucina asks her questions.
Lucina frowns at a bundle of paper in her hands. “What… Is this?”
Tiki plucks it from her hands and unfolds it. “Streamers with new-year charms written on them.” She frowns. “Have you never celebrated?”
Lucina shakes her head. “I, um… I mean, maybe when I was a kid, but…” She winces. “I didn’t realize it was in the winter. For some reason I thought it was in the spring?”
Tiki laughs - not maliciously, but kindly. “No, the new year is marked by the solstice. The day following the shortest day of the year. It’s a celebration of the days growing longer. A turning point, of sorts.”
“Oh.”
Lucina stares at the new-year charms.
“What does this one say?”
Tiki holds it up. “This character here means ‘prosperity’.”
“And this one?”
“Luck.”
“What about that one?”
“Love.”
Lucina coughs at that one, blushing. “Um, like, familial love, or-”
“Romantic love,” Tiki grins. “Luck in relationships, that sort of thing. Sometimes couples will pray on this one in hopes that they will get engaged in the coming year.” She picks up another banner. “This one is for familial love.”
-
The day of the solstice is cold, with wind scraping the snow-swept peak of the mountain. The sun is behind the horizon, lighting the mountains in a line of orange that traces the black peaks. Below, the lake is frozen solid, a sheet of whitish blue. There are some creatures that wander out on the lake - elk, Tiki calls them.
She and Lucina sit on the garden bench, both wrapped up in their winter clothes, watching as the sun creeps over the horizon.
Lucina shivers.
“It’s so c-cold,” she murmurs. “Do we really have to be out here for this?”
“It’s customary,” Tiki says. “To watch the new year dawn like this.” She scoots closer, wrapping an arm around Lucina, tugging her closer.
Somewhere, far in the distance, there’s a bang and a flash of light. Lucina instinctively bolts upright, her hand flashing to her side, groping for a sword that isn’t there.
“It’s okay,” Tiki murmurs, trying to coax her back. “Someone’s just lighting fireworks.”
Over the valley, there’s another flash of light and a burst of color. Crackles of fire and light, visible only because the sun has yet to rise over the mountains. Each burst and crackle of flame makes Lucina tense, makes her wince and curl tighter into Tiki.
“I don’t like it,” she mutters.
“It’s okay,” Tiki holds her gently. “It’s nothing to be afraid of.”
The sun creeps over the horizon at last, casting light across the valley, across the mountaintops, the snow-covered trees. It’s a beautiful morning, crisp and cold and cloudless. Lucina and Tiki share a breakfast of tea and hot cakes in the kitchen, the windows thrown open to let the morning sunlight in.
“So,” Tiki asks, putting butter on one of her cakes. “Have you given any thought to a resolution?”
“What?”
“A new year’s resolution?” Tiki asks. “Something you wanted to focus on in the coming year.”
“Oh.”
Lucina had never given such things much though. Usually her ‘resolution’ would be something like ‘try not to die’. For most of her life that had been a one, singular focus. And now, without the risk, without that sword dangling over her head…
What does one even do with time that remains?
“I…” Lucina stares at the steam swirling up from her tea. “I’m not sure.”
“Give it some thought,” Tiki says. “Come, we have a journey ahead of us.”
“What?” Lucina frowns. “A journey? What are you talking about?”
-
As they walk up the mountain trail, Tiki explains that it’s customary to visit a temple for the new year. To offer prayers, to confer hopes and dreams for the coming year. To ring in the passage of time in the presence of Naga.
It’s cold, the snow crunching under their boots as they walk. When Lucina inhales, her lungs sting from the cold. When she exhales, it’s a cloud of white.
“You’re the dragon, now,” Tiki grins.
“What?” Lucina frowns.
“Because you can…” Tiki purses her lips. “Never mind.”
Lucina keeps her hands in her coat pockets, trying to keep warm as they maybe the hike up the mountainside. Before long, they run into other pilgrims - others in warm woolen coats and cloaks, some on horseback and some on foot. Some of them are together in pairs, groups, families. A few are alone.
The temple itself is gorgeous, a majestic courtyard built into the side of the mountain, its entrance bordered with stone carvings of dragons.
They bow before the temple gates and walk into the courtyard, among the mingling people.
“Oh!” Lucina’s eyes widen. “I didn’t realize-”
“I was hoping to surprise you,” Tiki grins, taking her hand.
The temple courtyard, usually so empty and somber, is full to bursting with people. Tents and stands and carts were set up, selling food and gifts and charms and tokens. All sorts of smells wafted through the air - freshly baked bread, brewing tea, grilling meat. It was a swirl of color and presence and life.
Lucina stares at all of it, watching the endless current of life.
“It’s a New Year Market,” Tiki explains. “This is probably where they were launching fireworks from this morning.”
Some of the stalls are for food, some are for games, and all of it makes Lucina dumbstruck. She holds Tiki’s hand tightly as they weave through the crowd, passing tents and stalls, making their way up to the front of the temple.
“Happy New Year, good Voice,” Tiki says to the shrine priestess at the head of the temple.
“Hello, Tiki,” Nah says, pulling back her hood. Her green braids of hair drape over her shoulders, a bright contrast to the pink tint in her nose and cheeks. She sniffles. “It sure is a cold one, isn’t it?”
“Indeed,” Tiki says. “A beautiful morning for a festival.”
“Have you come for a blessing?”
“We have,” Tiki says, She reaches back and tugs Lucina front and center.
“Oh!” Nah’s face immediately brightens. “Lucina!”
“Hello, Nah,” Lucina says sheepishly. “How… How have you been?”
“Busy,” Nah says flatly. “Are you alright? I… Um…”
Lucina stares at the ground.
“I’ll leave you two to catch up,” Tiki says. “Besides, I think those priests over there want me to help bless people.”
“Are you going to?”
“No, I was actually eyeing those fried bread sticks-”
“Milady!” Nah scowls.
“Please, take your time,” Tiki says, bowing out and vanishing back into the crowd.
Lucina is left standing, bewildered, in front of Naga’s voice.
“You okay, Luci?”
Lucina puts her hands in her pockets and shrugs weakly.
“Come on,” Nah says. “Let’s get something to warm you up.”
-
The two sit on the temple steps, looking down at the milling throng. Lucina holds a mug of hot cocoa in her hands, tentatively giving it nervous sips. Nah is eating sweets of her own - some honey confection wrapped in waxpaper and sprinkled with nuts.
“Should you be working?” Lucina asks, cautiously sniffing her cocoa.
“The priests can handle it,” Nah says through a mouthful of candy. “Besides, Naga says you need some help.”
“Does she,” Lucina stares at her drink.
“Luci…” Nah purses her lips.
Lucina’s hands are cold and red, her knuckles chapped as she wraps her fingers tighter around her drink. She wishes she had brought gloves.
“Does… Does she…” Lucina’s voice is hoarse, inaudible. “Can you ask her something?”
“Hm?” Nah swallows. “Sure.”
“I just…” Lucina closes her eyes. “Why won’t she talk to me?”
“Uh.” Nah blinks. “Naga?”
Lucina nods. “I… I tried praying. I thought maybe… I don’t know, Lady Tiki always just seems so… so content, and serene, and I just feel terrible constantly. I try to talk to Naga, but… i don’t even know if she’s listening.”
“I…” Lucina sniffles in the cold. “I worked so hard, and… I can’t…” She winces at the gentle brush of fingertips against her.
Nah gently touches her shoulder.
“I understand,” she says quietly. “I think… I think it’s hard, knowing that this isn’t where we belong.”
Lucina nods. “Everything feels so hollow, so… I thought victory would be… I don’t know. I thought I’d be happy.” She sighs. “I can see why Severa and the others left.”
“Lucina…” Nah gazes out at the festival crowd. “Look at all these people here.”
“Yeah.” Lucina sniffles. “It’s more people than we ever saw before, huh?”
“This wouldn’t be possible without us. Without you. This is the world that you saved.”
“I know,” Lucina says. “I… I thought I’d feel better if I saw more of the world. I left home because I couldn’t just… Live there, in peace and comfort. I didn’t belong there. My father has his own family, and…” She closes her eyes. “The more I traveled, the more I realized I just… Don’t belong anywhere.”
“What about with Lady Tiki?”
“She…” Lucina rubs her eyes. “She’s very kind, to be taking care of me. But…”
“But it’s not home.”
“No, I… I guess not.”
“There isn’t a home to go back to,” Nah says simply, staring at the temple grounds. A wind rolls through the plaza, fluttering tents and swirls of snow. “I think it’s… A blessing for me to have a role to play. That Naga had intent for me beyond the war.”
“That’s why I was hoping I could talk to her. To ask her what I should do. To ask her what… What I am.”
Nah takes the hot cocoa from Lucina’s hands and takes a sip. “I think… Maybe that’s something you need to figure out for yourself.”
“Lady Tiki asked me what my new year’s resolution was,” Lucina says, taking her drink back. “Do you have one?”
“Hm? I’d really love to finish reading some of the books in the temple library,” Nah admits. “But no, I suppose I haven't given it much thought.” She crumples up her empty candy wrapper. “Did you give her an answer?”
Lucina shakes her head.
-
Who am I?
Lucina lays on her back, staring at the ceiling. Outside, the night is dark and windy. The window creaks and groans against the wind and cold leaks in through cracks in the sealing, seams where the windowframe meets the wall.
Lucina pulls her blanket tighter.
Who am I?
What am I?
She had an answer for that, once. She was Naga’s blade. She was the Future Witness, sent back to remedy the shattered timeline and to avert the dark fate that awaited the world. And she had done that.
The world had been saved.
Sometimes, in the dark night, in the cold loneliness, she had often wondered if she wasn’t meant to survive.
She hadn’t needed to - it was her father and Robin who saved the day, after all. She had diverted the timeline, but the final moments were decided not by her, but by the true denizens of this realm. The people who belonged here. The people to whom the story belonged.
She was an extra, a pawn in some sort of intertemporal chess game, and now she sits discarded by the side of the board.
If she had died, the world would continue to turn. Her father would have been victorious. Grima would have been defeated, and…
And she would have receded back into the black oblivion, Her own timeline was gone, now - a divergent timeline that is never to come to pass.
Who am I ?
She slips out of bed and walks slowly out into the living room. It’s cold, dark, and quiet, but away from the creaking window that threatened to bow inwards at any moment.
She sits on the floor and stares at the empty fireplace.
“Can’t sleep?”
Tiki’s voice is quiet, but the sound is still enough to make Lucina jump. She sits cross-legged beside Lucina, smiling gently.
“The wind,” Lucina murmurs half-heartedly.
“It can be frightening,” Tiki agrees. “Would you like me to light the fire?”
Lucina nods, hugging her legs to her chest and watching as Tiki sets out firewood and gets to work setting it ablaze. Light and warmth leap into the fireplace.
“You look tired,” Tiki says, sitting down again. “Here.” She gently guides Lucina to lay down, to rest her head in her lap. Tiki strokes her hair gently.
“Can you not sleep either?” Lucina asks, staring at the fire.
“I was worried about you. I could hear you pacing around.”
“Oh. I’m… I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Tiki runs her fingers through Lucina’s hair.
Lucina’s view of the fire is blurred as tears creep into her eyes. She tries to stifle it. Why now? Again? Tiki’s fingers brushing her hair make it worse. She can feel her chest heave as she keeps a sniffle down.
Tiki is quiet, even as Lucina’s tears spill out, dripping down her cheeks, dripping onto Tiki’s legs. She strokes Lucina’s hair, silent and comforting.
Lucina curls up tighter, crying.
“Shh,” Tiki murmurs. “It’s okay.”
“I shouldn’t be here,” Lucina sniffles. “I… I shouldn’t-”
“Why not?”
“I don’t belong here,” Lucina says. “I don’t…” She coughs, a pitiful hack that stings her lungs. She pulls away from Tiki, curling into herself.
“Where would you rather be, then?” Tiki asks.
Lucina is quiet for a while, tears silently trickling down her cheeks. The room is quiet, save the wind and the crackling of the fire.
“Dead,” Lucina finally says, hoarsely.
“Lucina…” Tiki says, reaching out for her.
“I’m sorry,” Lucina pushes herself to her feet and limps back to her bedroom.
She’s still crying when her bedroom door opens again. Tiki slips in, lifting the bedcovers and climbing in beside Lucina. She holds her close, keeping her warm as Lucina cries.
She must have fallen asleep at some point, because when she wakes up, her bed is empty and her eyes are crusted over with dried tears.
-
Who am I?
Lucina sits cross-legged on a rock in the garden, trying to ignore the cold wind that stings her cheeks.
“Like this?” she asks, sitting up straight.
“Straighter,” Tiki says. If you can fold your leg over your - oh, I guess with your knee that would be hard. Just try to be as straight as possible.”
Lucina nods.
“Okay, now breathe in,” Tiki instructs. “And… out.”
And repeat.
Lucina was terrible at meditating. Her mind would race too quickly, always diving into something or other. On a bad day, it would be memories. If left alone with her thoughts too long, she’d inevitable think about it. About blood and rust and swords and rot and-
Lucina opens her eyes.
“Lady Tiki?”
Tiki is opposite her, cross-legged as well, though her eyes are shut and she snores softly.
Lucina laughs to herself and stretches.
It’s hard to meditate properly, or at least to feel like she’s doing it right. But if nothing else, it’s pleasant enough to sit in the garden, letting the early-morning sun warm her skin, letting the wind gently roll over her. A bird calls in the distance, a few scattered chirps answered by a second.
Lucina exhales, again, trying to ignore the sting of pain deep in her chest. Sometimes sitting certain ways still hurts. She shifts, slightly, closing her eyes again.
Who am I?
She turns the question over in her head.
“You’re not meditating,” Tiki chides softly.
Lucina winces and opens her eyes. “You could tell?”
Tiki smiles. “The point of this exercise is to clear your mind. Let go of your worries, your thoughts. Try to feel yourself - your body, your limbs.”
Lucina rubs her face. “I just don’t think I’m cut out for this, Lady Tiki.”
“It takes practice,” Tiki admits, yawning and stretching. She stands up, her joints cracking as she does. She helps Lucina to her feet, helps dust off the hem of her tunic. “Let’s get you something to eat.”
-
Lucina stands in the den, a room she’s had little call to visit.
It’s where Tiki works, if you can call it working. Rather, it’s where Tiki naps when the bed is unfavorable and the couch is occupied. Lucina, donning and apron, her hair tied back with a kerchief, sweeps out the dusty corners of the office and cleans, wiping the film of accumulated dust from the edges of bookshelves, the top of Tiki’s wooden desk. There are papers scattered around, which Lucina dutifully picks up, straightens, and sets back in place.
She moves around the room slowly, with measured steps, keeping her posture straight to protect her still-pained knee. She finishes cleaning the desk and turns her attention further back, to the window that looks out on the garden. Shafts of sunlight cut through the glass, casting glowing yellow beams on the low bookcase just below.
Lucina kneels down, wincing at the pressure before settling into a more comfortable position. She wipes down the shelf, glancing at the books in passing curiosity.
Her finger ghosts weathered spines of leather and cloth. Some spines are plain, symbols penned in scratchy ink. Others are beautiful, elegant. Embossed text, gilded edges. Lucina pulls a book at random and frowns at the cover.
She thinks about what Nah had said.
“I’d really love to finish reading some of the books in the temple library,”
Lucina thumbs through the book, more out of curiosity than anything else. There are pictures here and there, diagrams. Magic instruction, maybe? The more she turns the pages, the stranger the diagrams get. Images of robed figures, circles of flame.
Hooded figures standing at the edge of the desert.
Bonfires on distant ridges.
The sky set with cinders, ashes.
“Are you interested in learning Dark Magic?” comes a voice.
“Augh!” Lucina jumps, throwing the book in the direction of the voice. Tiki, quick on the uptake, manages to snatch it out of the air and slaps it shut.
“N-no,” Lucina mutters, slumping back in relief. “Oh my gods, Lady Tiki, you scared me-”
“I’m sorry,” Tiki says, kneeling beside Lucina. “I didn’t realize you were so engrossed in the book.” She helps Lucina sit up. “If you’re interested, I think there are a few sorcerers who could-”
“Um, n-no,” Lucina shakes her head. “Sorry, I didn’t realize what it was.”
Tiki turns the book over in her hands, glancing at the spine. The worn leather is dyed purple, the spine ringed in gold. In embossed text, it reads Flux .
Tiki frowns.
“Lucina.”
Lucina pushes herself to her feet, picking up her dust-cloth and shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I should be working-”
“Lucina,” Tiki says again, standing. She sets the book down on her desk. “I have been wondering this for awhile now, after you had made some… Questionable comments.”
Lucina does her best to ignore her, focusing instead on wiping a film of dust from the windowsill.
“Do you know how to read?”
She’s still for a moment, hand frozen on the windowsill. In the reflection in the glass, she can see Tiki’s kind, concerned eyes. And her own face, cheeks tinged with red.
“I…” Lucina bows her head. “I was still young when…” She stares at the windowsill, eyes fixed on a spot of dust she had missed.
She hadn’t finished even a year of schooling.
Ylisstol was the seat of power in Archanea - it was the first target of Plegian forces. Lucina, like thousands of others, had been evacuated. It had meant to be temporary, just until the war ended.
She returned, later, when the city was almost entirely ash and bone. Grima had been roosting there, great black wings and red eyes in a burning sky.
Tiki’s touch startles Lucina from her stupor.
Lucina starts with a wince.
“It’s okay,” Tiki soothes her gently. “It’s just me.”
“I…” Lucina swallows and shakes her head. “I’m sorry-”
“You never learned?” Tiki asks again, more gently.
Lucina shakes her head, bashful, ashamed. “It never really came up.”
“That’s not so uncommon,” Tiki lies. It’s not really comforting, but Lucina appreciates the thought. “Do you want to learn?”
“I…” Lucina sighs. “I don’t know.”
“I think, perhaps,” Tiki says quietly, “It might help you feel more like you belong here.”
“Why do you say that?”
“In the past, you’ve expressed regret about your abilities. You’ve lamented being… How did you phrase it? A sword of Naga who has served its purpose.”
Tiki gently drapes an arm around Lucina, pulling her into an embrace.
“You are not a sword, beloved. You are a human, whole and wonderful as you are.” She presses her lips to Lucina’s forehead. “And I think it would behoove you to expand your horizons beyond survival for its own sake.”
Lucina nods numbly.
-
Lucina is a slow learner, something she finds great frustration in.
She struggles with focus, with attention, with memory. Her thoughts drift to and fro, a boat on the open sea buffeted on all sides by the winds of distraction. She stares at pages of parchment, willing herself to write, but the letters don’t come.
Tiki, in her infinite patience, doesn’t seem to mind, even when Lucina does. Even when her frustration bubbles over into snapped pencils and angry tears, Tiki maintains her gentle, even tone of comfort and guidance.
They start simple, and Lucina is able to write her own name with relative ease.
After a time, she can write other words. Tiki’s name, for one.
Lake, sky, tree.
Home.
Something about that last word seems to lodge in Lucina’s throat like a shard of iron, a lump against her chest that makes it hard to breathe. She stares at the words on parchment, not so different from the ink-smeared scribblings of a child. A spot of water hits the parchment where the lines of the H intersect.
And then another one.
Lucina drops her pencil, hands shaking.
Tiki is there, even before Lucina makes a sound. She puts her arms around Lucina, cooing gently as Lucina cries.
She had told Nah this wasn’t home, and it wasn’t. It isn’t. It’s someone else’s space, a life she’s crammed herself into the corner of. She cries, wet and sticky and gross on Tiki’s shoulder, and Tiki smooths back her hair and whispers soft comforts to her.
-
Lucina sits on the kitchen counter, holding out her hand, wincing as Tiki wipes her palm out with some sort of soothing gel.
Tiki hadn’t even asked. She had knelt, picking up the bloodied silver blade of the knife gently and depositing it in the sink before tending to Lucina’s wound. A gash across her palm, from the crease between her pointer and middle fingers to the edge of her wrist. A shallow wound, messier than it was painful or threatening.
“It was an accident,” Lucina murmurs, wincing again as Tiki wraps a cloth bandage around her palm.
“I know,” Tiki says quietly. Red soaks into the fabric.
How far Lucina had fallen from her days as a master swordsman if she couldn’t even chop vegetables without sustaining an injury. Or, perhaps, it’s the imprecision of her joints - the aching pain of bone and sinew.
It didn’t hurt, though. Lucina stares at the red soaking through, dripping down her palm. Tiki wraps another layer of bandages.
-
When Lucina feels well enough for it, they hike down the valley towards the lake below. Tiki brings a lunch - hard bread, wax-wrapped cheese, and dried fruit. They sit at the edge of the lake on a granite boulder and watch the wind rippling the water’s surface. In the far distance, there’s a boat - white sails over the water.
Neither of them talk much, which suits Tiki just fine.
“Do you swim?” Tiki asks nonchalantly as she finishes a piece of bread.
Lucina nods, chewing and swallowing before speaking. “A little bit. I never did it for fun, though. Is that really a thing people do here?”
Tiki nods and stands up, stretching. “I’ve been assured that it’s good exercise, especially if you have… Oh, what did he say…” she trails off, thinking. “Well, at any rate, I have it on good authority that swimming would likely do you some good. Help build strength without putting too much pressure on your body.”
She leaves a pile of discarded clothes on the boulder, undressing while Lucina stares at the water. It’s clear, clean, blue. It reflects the sky above, the rippling motion distorting the jagged green edges of the surrounding mountains, the white candy-puffs of clouds above.
Tiki slips off the boulder and into the water elegantly, with barely a splash. She disappears below the surface and pops up again, treading water.
“L-Lady Tiki!” Lucina snaps out of it, shaking her head. “Is that-” she swivels her head back and forth. “Is that improprietous?!”
“So,” Tiki lays on her back in the water, staring up at the sky. “You ARE learning some vocabulary.”
Lucina tries not to stare. She’s not naked, thank the gods, but she might as well be, considering how little her scarlet swimsuit covers up. Lucina’s face flushes and she pulls her legs up, wrapping her arms around them and staring at her own knees.
“Come, Lucina,” Tiki stands up and wrings water out of her hair. “The water is beautiful - it’s the first truly warm day of spring.”
“I didn’t-” Lucina stammers, trying to get something out about her lack of clothing before Tiki climbs back up the boulder and drags her into the water herself. “I’m-”
Lucina relents, at last, if only to stop Tiki from pulling her into the water like some sort of accursed charybdis. She undresses slowly, sheepishly, peeling off layers until she’s left in her underclothes - a pair of plain shorts and a loose-fitting ribless corset.
She slides down into the water with all the elegance of a fish on a dock.
Tiki laughs playfully, swimming up to Lucina’s side and standing up. “There, isn’t that just lovely?”
Lucina wraps her arms around herself and stands in the waist-high water, staring.
“You look like you’re expecting something to pop up and grab you,” Tiki says, gently draping a wet arm around her.
“I…” Lucina’s face tints pink. “It’s hard to overcome the habit of caution.”
Tiki is sympathetic to that - she gently smooths back Lucina’s hair and nods. “Well, you have me to keep you safe.”
Lucina unwinds, slowly, but it’d be an overreaction to call it relaxation. She can’t help but tense her shoulders, curl herself inwards, minimize her presence even as Tiki coaxes her out further into the water, to swim and play and truly enjoy herself.
Lucina relents, if only for the sake of her host - the two of them swim, chat, and - to be precise, it is Tiki who plays, and Lucina who tolerates with a sort of pleased resignation. There’s only so much resistance she can put up to someone like Tiki.
It’s impossible to know how much time has passed even as the sun arcs across the blue sky.
Lucina and Tiki lay on the sandy shore of the lake, a distance down from where they had started, tired and wet and drying out in the afternoon sun. Lucina is asleep in moments.
Tiki lays beside her, propped up on one elbow, smiling gently.
It’s nice to see Lucina play, even if it’s not her idea. She glances at Lucina, looking over her body.
It’s still a mess - a mesh of cross-hatched scars, faded bruises, discolored skin from burns or magic. Some of the scars are new - thin red lines traced on her arms, her legs. Her body is still tense, curled up even in sleep, but the lean and sinewy limbs have some added softness to them. Places where the muscle is fading, where the soft fat of comfort and peace seeps in. Not just loose pale skin over broken bones, but something almost resembling a girl.
Lucina, in her sleep, curls against Tiki, breathing softly.
Tiki smiles and wraps her arms around Lucina, holding her gently as she rests.
-
They make it back to Tiki’s home just before sunset, when the flares of evening are fading away in streaks of fire against the mountainous horizon. Exhausted, damp, sweat-soaked, sunburnt, and still brushing sand from their clothes, the two of them stumble inside the bathhouse to rinse off and dry themselves before heading back in.
Lucina doesn’t even realize she had fallen asleep until the morning sun slips through the open window and spurs her eyes to open.
She sits upright with a start, swiveling her head around. Her heart pounds hard, the shock of waking in an unfamiliar place enough to rattle her. She’s still fully dressed, and in the split seconds between waking and consciousness her brain has sifted through all of the likely scenarios. She grasps for her sword, patting around her, reaching for-
It’s not until she hears Tiki’s murmured protests that she’s shaken back to reality.
“Stop that,” Tiki yawns, sitting up and gently swatting Lucina’s hand away.
Lucina makes the two of them breakfast.
-
“I love you.”
Lucina doesn’t mean to say it, it just sort of… Comes out. She snaps her mouth shut, as if the sheer force of her lips could somehow suck the words back inside, get the air back inside her chest before they had a chance to slip free.
It was Anna’s idea to have a party - a summer solstice festival of sorts, a celebration before the sweltering summer months made this sort of organizing less appealing. She - and several of her cousins - had done most of the organizing, coordinating. And, of course, set up not just one, but four donation boxes dotted around the festival grounds.
They had managed to convert the mountaintop temple into something else entirely - the stone plaza of the temple was filled with lights, colors, music, stalls, kitchens, tables. All of the color and beauty of the world, crammed into a single space.
Lucina didn’t care for it.
The lights, the color, the stimulation was all too much. Tiki had specifically requested no fireworks, but that sort of request is lost in the chaos and complexity of organization.
Too many people, too much sound. The low, resonant pulse of distant explosions still makes Lucina wince, makes her curl into herself.
Tiki gently holds her.
The fireworks are beautiful, if nothing else.
There’s no beauty in Lucina’s memory - the dull thump of distant explosions, the roar of flame-cannon, the crackle of lightning through the air. Sizzling flesh like festival skewers, bloodied meat carved hacked bodies. Lucina doubles over and coughs up the contents of her stomach on the temple wall.
Tiki takes her home.
The two of them sit together, away from the noise, the light, the overwhelming presence of the present. Somewhere between two extremes - between the light, the noise, the discomfort of the modern, and the barren wasteland of Lucina’s memory.
They sit together and look out over the lake, watching stars as they sparkle in the black night above.
It’s so clear, and so beautiful. Starlight streaks purple and green above the distant treetops.
“I love you.”
The words feel strange, thick and sluggish on Lucina’s tongue.
It’s strange because she had thought it would have felt different. It should have felt momentous, shocking, even blasphemous. Who was she, a mere mortal, to confess her feelings to the Voice of Naga? She thought it would be scary, would be shameful.
But it isn’t any of those things.
It’s natural, like finding an old cloak that still fits. Like waking up one morning and noticing how long you’ve been sharing a bed together. Like watering flowers, the simple motions of daily care turning into something else.
“I love you, too.”
Lucina winces at the touch before realizing that Tiki is holding her face, gently tipping her chin up. She stares through a shimmer of tears, blinking back to try and focus her vision. She reaches up, taking Tiki’s face in her hands.
Her lips are soft.
-
My dearest Severa,
I hear you’re back in Ylisse. I’m sure you have lots to get to, considering how long you’ve been gone - give your best to your mother and your younger self. My folks, too, if you run into them.
If you haven’t heard, I’m actually out in Valm now. Tiki and I are living together in a house in the Divine Dragon Grounds. I bet it’s a surprise to hear from me at all, but I’ve been learning to read and write! You’ll have to forgive any errors in spelling or grammar - I am still learning, though I did ask Tiki to proofread this letter for me.
There’s so much I need to tell you - so much that’s happened since you left on your grand adventure. And, of course, I have so many questions for you about your travels. Where did you go, what did you see? Did you meet any cute girls? I hope wherever it was, you found lots of pretty clothing to wear. Do mercenaries have a hair products budget?
I would love very dearly to see you again. I’ve requested Anna include a copy of directions to get here with this letter, if you find the time to visit. I miss you very much.
On a more somber note, I wanted to apologize for my behavior before you left. I know we did not exactly part on good terms, and I am wholly to blame. I was blinded by my own pain and grief, and I let my friendships with those I hold so dear to fall into ruin.
I think I understand now the burden I still carry. There are wounds which have touched me too deeply, wounds from which I will never heal. Even now, I will wake in the night, short of breath, heart pounding, pillow drenched in sweat. Time heals much, but some burdens are not lifted, not in a thousand years. But I should not allow that pain to cloud what time I still have left to me.
I remember once when we talked about the future - what we would do when we saved the world. I must confess: at the time, I was lying - to you, to myself. I saw no future, I saw no happiness. There was the singular, ruthless present, and nothing beyond but darkness. Even now, I can see only a little beyond each step.
But I will no longer let that fear, that grief poison the wells of love that I have left to me. And so I will remain here, and I will carry the love I have held to all these years in my heart. Even if I cannot join you in the world that we saved, I will remain.
When you left, I was a shadow, a shell. If I am to be blunt, I wanted little more than to die. All that stayed my hand was this doubt inside my chest. The doubt that I recognize now to be love. Despite the years of pain and grief, the love has endured. And I am sorry for hurting your feelings, or making you feel unworthy. I love you dearly, deeply. I would not have made it this far without all of you - it was for you that I saved this world, and I recognize that now.
So I want you to live, and I want you to be whole and happy for many years to come. Enjoy the world, and do not fret over my state. I am content here, even if happiness may be fleeting. I am safe, and comfortable. I will be here whenever you miss me.
Yours, as always
Lucina
P.S. On a lighter note, Tiki has been teaching me all sorts of things. Not just reading and writing, but mathematics, history, geography, religion. Gardening, woodworking, metalworking. Do you remember the forge we found, and how we tried to fix those iron swords? I think we were doing it wrong (ha ha).
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Lucina folds the letter and tucks it inside an envelope, sealing it with wax and dropping it in the pile of mail Anna’s wagon has accumulated. Anna and Tiki are arguing about something, as usual - something about ‘intellectual property rights’, whatever that may be.
Lucina picks up a piece of honey candy from the cart and sits on the front steps to enjoy her snack.
Overhead, the sun shines brightly on a new day.