Chapter Text
Lissa’s pretty sure her true, unfiltered high school experience began the day she tried to ask out Lon’qu Murong.
She wasn’t even being that serious; not really, at least. She just sort of figured she should get out there, try to talk to some boys, just see how it goes. After all, she’s gotta start dating eventually, right? That’s what her dad used to say, at least. And she’s not all that inclined to believe her dad, but she’s still inclined to do what he says, unfortunately.
Anyways. She didn’t think it was a big deal. All she did was say she thinks he’s pretty cool, and hey maybe we should go see a movie some time, like maybe a romantic comedy or something because I’m trying to ask you out on a date, get it?
Okay. So maybe she came on a little strong. But it wasn’t anything worth freaking out over. Or, you know… passing out in the middle of the hallway over.
But everyone’s different! She shouldn’t judge. That was probably about some issues Lon’qu’s got and definitely, definitely not about her specifically.
Doesn’t stop her from stressing out about it once she sits down with Maribelle for lunch, though. “He didn’t even say anything!” she shouts, after at least ten seconds of straight groaning. “Just, bam. Right onto the floor. Without a word.”
“Well, he probably just doesn’t understand how to handle a lady of your sort,” Maribelle says, her voice sympathetic. She’s politely making her way through her homemade lunch, careful not to let any food stain her dress—she’s pretty sure Maribelle said this kind is called a JSK? She never asked what it stood for.
Lissa turns her head to look at her—she’s splayed herself over the lunch table in a way that’s maybe a tad bit dramatic, in clear contrast to Maribelle’s perfect posture—and narrows her eyes a little. “What kind of sort?”
“The good sort, I assure you.”
Lissa’s not sure if she should believe her, but Maribelle usually doesn’t hold back when she wants to scold her, right? So she will. She tries to return to her lunch, but it doesn’t take long until she closes her eyes and sees Lon’qu’s face again, pale and terrified. She flops onto the table again with a groan.
Maribelle sighs, but the look in her eyes is as soft as ever. “Really, dear, there was hardly anything wrong with your approach. At least, not from what you’ve described to me.” Lissa presses her lips together. Maribelle knows about romance stuff like this, right? She knows more than Lissa, at least, even if she’s never had a boyfriend before. So she can trust her. “If he didn’t respond positively, then he simply wasn’t the one. That’s all there is to it.”
Lissa stares at her as she pops a strawberry slice into her mouth, almost elegantly, her manicured fingers hardly even stained red, and then she frowns. “I don’t know. It’s just… they always make it look so easy on TV. I thought I could just find a guy I kinda liked and go for it, and it would all work out, you know?”
“Did you kind of like him, or was he just the most convenient option?” Maribelle asks, making Lissa still. “They say love is fickle, but that’s a myth. Liking is fickle. Love comes on strong and stays for quite a while.”
She lays a comforting hand on her shoulder, and all at once Lissa feels an odd chill run through her. There wasn’t a breeze just now, was there? She hardly has time to think about it before Maribelle stares at her—no, right through her—and says, “Learn to distinguish between the two, darling.”
She thinks about that moment for a long time afterwards, wondering if there’s an easy way to know. Some way she just doesn’t know about.
She never figures it out. Well, she does, but not by lying on her bed and staring at the ceiling until long past midnight. No, she’s always learned better through experience, and this is no exception.
Maribelle always keeps a careful eye on her, so it isn’t a surprise when she notices Lissa hissing in pain throughout the school day. “Dear, is something wrong?” she asks the second they’ve left school and stepped into her home. It’s Friday, and Maribelle had insisted she come over and try over a new blend of tea she was obsessed with. Something about chamomile with spiced greens…? Anyways.
“I’m doing… alright,” Lissa lies—not her strong suit. It’s never been. The way she avoids Maribelle’s eyes and leans against the door a little must be very telling, she’s sure. “Why do you ask?” Her body presses against the door at the wrong angle, and she lets out a sharp squeak, standing upright again to take the pressure off of her arm.
“Because of that,” Maribelle sighs. She holds out a gentle, but expectant, hand. “Let me see you, darling.” Lissa fiddles with the sleeve of her jacket for a moment, but gives in, holding out her arm for Maribelle to inspect.
She expects a bit of pain, but Maribelle is incredibly gentle as she lifts the sleeve again to reveal the bruised skin underneath. She also expects Maribelle to at least let out a gasp of shock, but… she doesn’t. When Lissa’s looks back up, she finds her looking disappointed at worst. “I suspected as much,” she admits. “You’re an awful liar, darling.”
“It’s really not that bad,” Lissa sighs, and she has to stop herself from continuing with, “Not as bad as I used to get when Dad was around.” Instead, she swallows and says, “I was just… embarrassed.” It isn’t a lie. Admitting how she got this, is… well. “I was making pasta,” she admits, head ducked down. “And… yeah.”
“Making pasta, indeed…,” Maribelle murmurs, staring down at the harsh burn licking across her forearm. “You never were the most skilled cook.”
Lissa wants to object, but instead what comes out is a choked, “I know.” For some reason, those words hit harder coming from Maribelle than they would anyone else.
Maribelle’s eyes travel to her face, much softer than before, and then she’s resting a hand between her shoulder blades and quickly guiding her through the house. “Here, darling.” They’re in front of the couch before she knows it. “Sit, please.” She does, albeit a little shakily, and Maribelle rushes out of the room, her tea party heels click-click-clacking against the hardwood floor.
When she walks back in, she’s holding a bright red first aid kid kit under one arm, with a glass of water in her other hand. “Here.” She hands the water to Lissa and smiles. “I’ve set up the tea kettle, but you should still be staying hydrated.” Lissa nods and takes a sip, busying herself with the glass while Maribelle opens the kit and fishes out an ice pack and some ointment. “Is this the only one?”
“Um,” she watches Maribelle’s hands graze against different medical supplies, thoughtful in every action. Why is she blanking now? This should really be a simple question. “Yeah, it’s just that one. I didn’t light the kitchen on fire.” This time. “Oh, but I did knock my,” she quickly checks her lefts and rights, “left hip into the counter when I pulled away from the burner, and that’s really been bothering me, too. I’ve got this huge bruise...”
“Then we’ll begin there,” she sighs, reaching across Lissa’s body to lift up the hem of her shirt. Lissa immediately flushes. She’s not normally so close to Maribelle; not so close to her perfectly curled hair or her deep brown eyes with extra long lashes or her floral perfume, with just a hint of strawberries…
She hisses when the cold ice pack hits her skin. She’d almost forgotten about her injuries. Disappointment hits her in waves, and she can’t place her finger on the reason why. “My apologies, dearest,” Maribelle says, her voice barely above a whisper. She doesn’t need to speak any louder with how close they are.
“It’s fine,” Lissa whispers back, and then she acts before she can think, leaning in. Maribelle’s lips meet hers, and it’s unexpected (even though she was the one to go for it), but not bad. In fact, it’s nice. And it’s not long before she feels Maribelle reciprocate, kissing a little harder and gently cupping her face.
After a moment, they pull back, almost simultaneously. Lissa smiles, and soon that smile turns into a laugh. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to.
And Maribelle, true to her nature, shakes her head and smiles. “Let’s have you patched up, then.”
That first kiss, that moment of joy and affection and realization and relief, was so easy that Lissa figures the rest of the relationship will follow suit in much the same way.
She couldn’t be any more wrong.
As much as Lissa wants to tell people, as much as she wants to tell the entire world how much she loves her girlfriend, she can’t. Maribelle actually brings it up before she does. Her father was never too keen on “those people,” and as much as Lissa wants to believe Chrom and Emmeryn wouldn’t agree... it’s just not worth the risk. No matter how stifling it feels.
But it’s not worth giving up on Maribelle. Nothing could convince her to back down now. So they meet in secret, mostly at Maribelle’s house, but sometimes in hidden corners around school, or on dates in neighboring towns. They’re careful, of course, but Lissa refuses to let anything stop them from going out on dates, even if they sometimes have to pretend those dates are just friendly outings.
“Just gals being pals,” she jokes, and Maribelle laughs, daintily masking the sound behind a gloved hand. It makes both of them feel a little better.
They go on like this for months, until it’s Lissa’s sophomore year is about to begin and they’re quickly approaching their first anniversary. Lissa’s already started working on her gift: a set of handmade bracelets. The most important one has both of their names on it in pastel letter beads. She has trouble keeping her hands steady as she works on it, and she has to hide it in a spare pillow case shoved into her closet, but she’s sure it’ll be worth it.
Sometimes, Lissa’s not sure how Emm does it. That is, take care of two children and Lucina and Owain.
...Okay, but all jokes aside, Lucina and Owain are the children. Although she and Chrom definitely have their moments.
Lucina’s their half-sister, on their father’s side. Her mother passed away about a year-and-a-half ago, and they’ve been taking care of her ever since, mostly because no one on her mother’s side wanted anything to do with her. Lissa guesses it’s because she was the product of an affair. Lucina might know this too; she’s remarkably mature for her young age.
Owain is a different story. He’s a cousin on their mother’s side. His parents, in Lissa’s honest opinion, probably shouldn’t have had a kid. They love to travel, more than they love him. So while they’re out and about (which is often ), they trust Owain with them. He’s become a household regular, and they’ve heard every story about his parents’ “amazing adventures” far too many times.
He is also, unfortunately, the member of the house with the most non-existent sense of privacy. So when he barges into Lissa’s room while she’s doing some last minute summer homework and starts trying to climb onto her desk, begging for her attention, it’s hardly a surprise. “What is it?” she sighs, putting on a smile (it’s not a real challenge; he may be annoying sometimes, but he’s a cute bugger).
Owain stops himself from using one of her desk drawers as a stepping stool and lowers himself to the ground. “Guess what I did today!”
It isn’t hard to guess, but Lissa pretends like she’s solving the world’s most intricate and darkly shrouded mystery. “Hmmmmmmm…,” she keeps humming for quite a while, “did you go to your first day of school?” Lucina and Owain are both starting kindergarten, and Owain was practically bounding with excitement as he got ready this morning. He spent almost half an hour deciding if he wanted to wear his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt or his Zelda shirt. At least it wasn’t as big of an ordeal as back-to-school shopping was (can it be called “back-to-school” shopping when he’s only just started?).
So of course, Owain nods exuberantly and starts going into a long story about all the different people he met in class, and what activities they did, and how nice his teacher, Priam, is. Lissa pulls him into her lap as he goes on, listening to him babble with genuine interest.
...Well, okay, maybe she spaces out a little every now and again, but she catches the important points, like when Owain talks about how pretty his new friend Inigo is. “He’s the dashing prince in all the books Emm reads to me!”
Lissa laughs a little. Owain can be so dramatic with his descriptions. “Is he?”
“Yeah! We’re gonna get married someday, I decided!”
Lissa freezes. Huh. She wants to be worried, and maybe she should tell him to be careful with who he says that too, but for now she’s feeling an odd sort of kinship with Owain that she hasn’t experienced before. “Do you know what getting married means, Owain?” she asks, just to be sure.
“Yeah, obviously!” He seems overly proud of himself, like this was some kind of test he just aced. “It’s where you decide to hug and kiss and stay together until the end of forever!”
Lissa can’t help but laugh a little, despite her shock. Well, he’s not wrong. “Okay. I just wanted to make sure. She lowers him off of her lap and onto the ground. “I gotta get back to my homework, but feel free to tell me about your friend Inigo whenever you want! It’ll be…,” she thinks of a good way to word this, “our special secret mission to get you two married. So don’t tell anyone else, okay?” For now, at least.
Owain absolutely beams, just like she knew she would. “Got it!” He dashes out of the room with newfound enthusiasm, and Lissa collapses back into her chair.
She still doesn’t feel worried, she finds. And maybe, she thinks with a smile… maybe she doesn’t need to.
She’s in the middle of lunch with Maribelle as usual when a banana yellow flyer glides over her shoulder and onto the table. Next to her, Maribelle scoffs, “Have people no basic decency these days?” but Lissa picks it up and reads it over.
“Ylisse High Gay-Straight Alliance,” it reads in big block letters. “LGBTQ students and straight allies join forces on campus to fight discrimination and hate! Meetings are after school on Tuesdays and Fridays in Mr. Viktorov’s classroom. Come and support your fellow students! First meeting is on November 4th. There will be free cupcakes, so please come!! :)”
“Huh,” she says. That sounds… kind of perfect, actually. She’s surprised something like this didn’t exist before.
She’s sliding the flyer across the table to Maribelle as a voice sounds behind her. “Interested, Princess?” Lissa yelps and spins around in her seat to face Gaius, who’s grinning behind her. “I gave one to your brother, so I figured, fair’s fair.”
“You gave one to Chrom…?” she echoes, feeling sort of weightless. Next to her, she sees Maribelle glaring daggers at Gaius—she doesn’t blame her, he’s a serial flirt—but she ignores it for now. “What did he say?”
Gaius takes a heart-shaped sucker out of his mouth, building the suspense until Lissa can hardly even bear it… and then he shrugs. “That’s for you to find out.” He starts to turn around. “See you there?”
“Uh…” She turns towards Maribelle, eyes wide and hopeful. Maribelle still looks a bit irritated, but she sighs and nods. “Yeah, totally! We’ll both be there!”
Gaius nods and waves at her over his shoulder. “Cool. Now Bubbles can’t tell me I was slacking off.”
Maribelle narrows her eyes at his retreating form. “Bubbles…?” She sighs. “Well, no matter. So long as he isn’t the one in charge.”
Lissa, on the other hand, is beaming. “This is great, Maribelle! If Chrom’s there, then I know I can finally tell him,” she can’t say it out loud, not at school, “well. You know!”
“I suppose so.” Maribelle sets the flyer aside with a small smile. “And you would be ready to do that?”
She nods, her pigtails bouncing with the motion. “I think so!”
The smile that spreads across Maribelle’s face is gentle, like the first bloom of springtime, or something cheesy like that. “Then I’m outspoken in my support.”
Lissa can’t help but let out a giggle at that. The way Maribelle talks is just too much sometimes. “I knew you would be!”
Her laughter catches in her throat when a gloved hand finds hers underneath the table. She looks up to find her girlfriend giving her a look of complete, unabashed fondness; a look she rarely ever sees in public. “Anything for you, darling.”