Flame Eyed Strangers in Awakening: OC x Lucina

The Shepherds had paused their march during the hottest part of the day, seeking what little shade the scattered rock formations provided. Robin had just finished outlining the final approach to Plegia's capital when Saibyrh approached him, speaking in low tones that nonetheless carried to Lucina's keen ears.

"You should rest while you can," the dark elven woman suggested to Robin, her melodic accent giving the words a gentle authority. "Perhaps spend a moment with your wife. Cordelia has been watching you from across the camp."

Robin's expression softened at the mention of the pegasus knight, though he hesitated. "There's still much to prepare—"

"Which will be there after a brief respite," Saibyrh countered, her unusual eyes—gold irises ringed with silver—shifting briefly toward where Lucina stood. "I'll ensure 'Marth' understands the northern approach you've planned."

Understanding dawned in Robin's expression, and he nodded, gathering his maps. "Very well. Twenty minutes, no more."

As Robin departed, Saibyrh turned fully toward Lucina, her long black and golden hair with its distinctive silver highlights catching the sunlight. Unlike her cousins, Saibyrh wore her dragon crest markings openly, the luminescent patterns trailing like delicate vines along her temples and disappearing beneath her collar.

"Walk with me," she said simply, gesturing toward a more secluded area at the camp's edge.

Lucina hesitated momentarily, then followed. Saibyrh had joined their group only recently, yet already commanded a quiet respect among the Shepherds. In the future timeline, Lucina recalled stories of the dark elven healer whose unique magic had saved countless lives during the early years of the war against Grima. She had never met her personally—Saibyrh had been killed in a Risen attack years before Lucina was born.

They reached a small outcropping that offered shade and privacy, the sounds of the camp muted by distance.

"You're avoiding him," Saibyrh stated without preamble, her direct manner reminiscent of her cousin Seraphina.

Lucina stiffened. "I don't know what you're—"

"Odyn," Saibyrh clarified, though it hadn't been necessary. "You watch him when you think no one notices, then deliberately position yourself as far from him as possible." She settled gracefully onto a sun-warmed stone. "It's creating a tension that both of you are carrying into battle. As a healer, I find such distractions... concerning."

Behind her mask, Lucina felt heat rise to her cheeks. "Our focus should be on rescuing the Exalt."

"Indeed," Saibyrh agreed. "Which is precisely why this matter should be addressed now, rather than allowing it to fester during critical moments." Her expression softened slightly. "You needn't explain yourself to me, but sometimes speaking aloud what troubles us lessens its power over our thoughts."

Perhaps it was Saibyrh's calm demeanor, or the knowledge that this woman had no connection to her conflicted history with Odyn, but Lucina found herself speaking before she could reconsider.

"He died," she said softly, the words escaping like birds freed from a long captivity. "In my future, the one I came from. Odyn died protecting me when I was fifteen."

Saibyrh's expression remained composed, though a flicker of understanding passed through her eyes. "I suspected you were not of this time. The way you speak of events yet to come, your knowledge of people you should never have met."

"Robin killed him," Lucina continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not by choice. Grima possessed him, used his body to..." She couldn't finish, the memory too painful even after years. "I watched it happen. Couldn't stop it."

"I see," Saibyrh said quietly. "And now you find yourself alongside both his killer and the man himself, both untouched by that particular tragedy."

Lucina nodded, grateful for the older woman's perceptiveness. "He was my mentor, my protector. He had sworn an oath to my father to keep me safe, and he honored that vow with his life." She swallowed hard. "I was just a child then, but I thought I loved him—the way young girls often imagine themselves in love with older figures they admire."

"And now?" Saibyrh prompted gently.

"Now I'm twenty, and he's twenty-four," Lucina said, voicing the complication that had been tormenting her. "The age difference that once seemed so vast has narrowed to almost nothing. He's no longer the battle-hardened warrior who saw me as a child to protect, but a young man who looks at me as..." She trailed off, uncertain how to describe the way Odyn's gaze had changed when it fell upon her.

"As an equal," Saibyrh supplied. "As a woman."

"Yes," Lucina admitted, the word barely audible. "And I find my childhood feelings returning, transformed into something more... adult. More real." She looked up at Saibyrh, grateful for the mask that hid much of her expression. "It's complicating everything. I came back to prevent a future, not to... not to pursue personal happiness."

Saibyrh was silent for a moment, her fingers absently tracing the dragon crest marks at her temple. When she spoke, her voice carried the weight of wisdom beyond her apparent years.

"In my culture, we believe time is not linear but cyclical. Lives intersect again and again across different turns of the wheel." Her eyes fixed on Lucina with unnerving perception. "Perhaps your connection to Odyn is not coincidental but essential—a thread that binds across timelines."

"Even if that were true," Lucina argued, "my purpose here must take precedence. Saving Emmeryn, preventing Grima's return—these things outweigh any personal considerations."

"Do they?" Saibyrh questioned. "Or is that merely what you tell yourself because acknowledging your feelings seems too complex, too frightening to navigate alongside your mission?"

The words struck too close to the truth, and Lucina found herself without an immediate response.

"You believe your focus is compromised by these feelings," Saibyrh continued. "Yet I wonder if the energy you expend avoiding him, denying yourself, creates a greater distraction than simply acknowledging what exists between you."

"It's not that simple," Lucina protested.

"Few matters of the heart are," Saibyrh agreed. "But consider this: in the future you fled, what was lacking was not skill or strength, but hope. Connection. Reasons to fight beyond mere survival." Her gaze drifted toward the camp, where Chrom stood with Sarai, their hands briefly touching. "Perhaps these bonds you see forming are not distractions from preventing that future, but the very foundations of a different path."

Lucina followed her gaze, watching as Robin returned to Cordelia's side, the tactician's hand resting briefly on his wife's shoulder before they parted to their respective duties. Nearby, Frederick listened attentively to something Seraphina was explaining, while Alek and Nowi sat together studying an ancient text.

Connections that hadn't existed in her timeline. Lives intertwined differently.

"I haven't told him," Lucina said suddenly. "About his death. About what he meant to me in that future."

"And perhaps you needn't share everything at once," Saibyrh suggested. "But avoiding him entirely serves neither your heart nor your mission." She rose gracefully. "The hardest battles are often fought within ourselves, between what we believe we should do and what our hearts know we must."

In the distance, a signal horn sounded—the scouts had returned with news from the capital.

"It seems our time for reflection has ended," Saibyrh observed. "But remember this, Lucina—yes, I know your true name, though I will honor your wish for secrecy—changing the future means making different choices, not just in matters of war and politics, but in matters of the heart as well."

As they walked back toward the gathering Shepherds, Lucina caught sight of Odyn standing with Roy, both listening intently to the scouts' report. As if sensing her gaze, Odyn looked up, their eyes meeting across the distance.

This time, Lucina didn't look away immediately. Instead, she gave him a small nod—not quite an invitation, but no longer a rejection. The surprise and cautious warmth in his returning smile sent an unexpected flutter through her chest.

Perhaps Saibyrh was right. Perhaps preventing the ruined future meant not just fighting differently, but living differently as well. The thought was both terrifying and strangely liberating.

But for now, the Exalt awaited, and duty called them all to action.

The Unwritten Path

The desert wind carried the scent of metal and magic as the Shepherds approached Plegia's capital. Dusk was settling over the landscape, painting the sand in hues of amber and crimson that uncomfortably reminded Lucina of battlefields yet to come. Or perhaps, battlefields that would never exist—if they succeeded here.

Walking several paces behind her father Chrom, she found herself instinctively scanning the formation. Frederick maintained his vigilant position near the front, while Robin consulted a map, Cordelia at his side pointing toward the distant city walls. And there, at the eastern flank where the terrain grew most treacherous, was Odyn.

He moved with effortless grace across the shifting sands, his dark longcoat billowing slightly in the breeze. The twin blades strapped to his back caught the fading sunlight, and Lucina felt a familiar ache in her chest at the sight. How many times in her youth had she watched him train with those same weapons, marveling at the lethal precision with which he wielded them?

Yet this Odyn was different—unmarked by the years of warfare that had sculpted the man she remembered. His face lacked the scar that would one day trace from temple to jaw, and his eyes still held a spark of humor that Grima's rise had long since extinguished in her timeline.

"You're staring again," came Roy's amused voice beside her.

Lucina startled, hand instinctively moving toward Falchion's hilt before she recognized her father's trusted lieutenant. "I was assessing our perimeter."

Roy made a noncommittal sound, adjusting his headband as he fell into step beside her. "If you say so. Though I can think of worse things to assess." His teasing grin faded as he followed her gaze. "He asked about you, you know."

Her heart skipped. "What do you mean?"

"Odyn. After the strategy meeting. He wanted to know if you were avoiding him intentionally or if he had somehow offended you." Roy shrugged. "I told him you're just naturally antisocial."

"Roy!" She glowered at him from behind her mask.

"What? It's what everyone assumes about the mysterious swordsman 'Marth' anyway." His expression grew more serious. "But he seemed genuinely concerned. Whatever is between you two—"

"There's nothing between us," Lucina interrupted, too quickly.

"Of course not," Roy replied, in a tone that suggested exactly the opposite. "Just as there's 'nothing' between Seraphina and Frederick, despite them constantly finding reasons to patrol together."

Before Lucina could formulate a retort, a commotion at the front of the column drew their attention. The scouts had returned, and judging by their urgent gestures, the news wasn't good.

She quickened her pace, Roy following closely as they approached the gathering leaders. Robin's expression was grim as he spoke.

"They've moved up the execution. It's scheduled for dawn."

Chrom's face paled. "That's barely twelve hours from now."

"Which means we need to move tonight," Robin confirmed, already unrolling a different map from his pack. "The main force will still approach from the north as planned, but we'll need a smaller team to infiltrate ahead of time and disrupt their preparations."

As the tactician outlined the hastily revised strategy, Lucina felt a presence at her side. She didn't need to turn to know it was Odyn—the faint scent of steel and pine that always seemed to surround him was unmistakable. She kept her eyes fixed forward, though every nerve in her body seemed suddenly, acutely aware of his proximity.

"The eastern approach has a blind spot in their patrol patterns," Odyn spoke up, pointing to a section of the map. "I noticed it when we scouted yesterday. It's a difficult climb, but for a small enough team..."

Robin nodded thoughtfully. "It could work. We'd need our most agile fighters—"

"I'll go," Lucina interrupted, surprising herself with her own eagerness.

All eyes turned to her, including Odyn's penetrating gaze. She felt her cheeks warm beneath her mask but continued, "I'm familiar with Plegian fortress architecture. And I can move quickly without being detected."

Robin studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. 'Marth,' Odyn, and Seraphina for the infiltration team. The rest of us will prepare for the main assault."

As the group dispersed to make preparations, Lucina turned to leave, only to feel a light touch on her arm. Odyn stood close—too close—his expression a mixture of curiosity and something more complex.

"So you do know how to speak to me," he said softly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile. "I was beginning to wonder if I had somehow wronged you in a past life."

The irony of his words nearly made her flinch. If only he knew how close to the truth he had wandered.

"I've been... focused on the mission," she replied stiffly.

"As have we all." His hand fell away from her arm, and she immediately missed its warmth. "Yet the others still manage conversation. Even your cryptic warnings and formal speeches would be preferable to this determined avoidance."

Lucina swallowed hard, remembering Saibyrh's words. Perhaps avoidance was creating more of a distraction than acknowledgment would.

"I apologize if I've seemed... distant," she managed, finding it difficult to meet his gaze directly. "It's not personal. There are aspects of this mission that weigh heavily on me."

Odyn studied her for a long moment, and she wondered how much he could read in what little of her face remained visible behind the mask.

"We all carry burdens," he finally said. "But they're lighter when shared." He gestured toward the equipment being prepared for their infiltration. "We'll be relying on each other tonight. I need to know if there's something between us that will compromise that trust."

The directness of his question demanded an equally direct answer. Lucina took a deep breath, making a decision.

"There's nothing that will compromise the mission," she stated firmly. Then, more softly, "But there are... complications. Things I cannot yet explain."

She expected him to press further, to demand the clarity he deserved. Instead, he surprised her with a simple nod.

"That's enough for now," he said. "When this is over—when the Exalt is safe—perhaps then we can speak more openly."

Relief and something like disappointment mingled in her chest. "Perhaps."

A call from across the camp interrupted them. Seraphina was waving, indicating the infiltration gear was ready.

"Time to prepare," Odyn said, his professional demeanor returning. But as they walked toward their third teammate, he added quietly, "You know, in my culture, we believe that souls who are meant to find each other will do so across any distance. Even across time."

The words sent a chill through Lucina that had nothing to do with the cooling desert air. Had Saibyrh spoken to him? Or was this simply one of the universe's cruel coincidences?

She had no time to dwell on it as they reached Seraphina, the elfin woman's keen eyes missing nothing of the tension between them.

"If you two are quite finished with whatever that was," she said dryly, "we have an infiltration to plan and very little time to do it."

Odyn merely smiled, unfazed by his cousin's bluntness. "Lead on, Sera. Our mysterious friend and I were just establishing a truce."

"A truce implies there was conflict," Lucina corrected automatically.

"And what would you call it?" he countered.

For the first time in days, Lucina felt a genuine smile tug at her lips. "A misunderstanding. One I hope to rectify... after we save Emmeryn."

The look of pleased surprise on Odyn's face was worth the momentary vulnerability. As they bent over the maps and began planning their approach, Lucina felt something shift between them—not a resolution, not yet, but a beginning. A choice to move forward differently, as Saibyrh had suggested.

Whether this new path would lead to salvation or heartbreak remained to be seen. But as the three of them prepared for the night's mission, Lucina allowed herself to hope that perhaps this timeline truly could be different in all the ways that mattered most.

---

The eastern wall of Plegia's fortress capital loomed above them, a dark silhouette against the star-filled sky. Moonlight had been their enemy at first, threatening to expose them to patrolling guards, but now clouds had rolled in, providing the cover they needed for the final approach.

Seraphina led the way, her elven heritage granting her superior night vision. Odyn followed close behind, with Lucina bringing up the rear, constantly scanning for any sign of pursuit. They had left their horses hidden in a ravine two miles back, proceeding on foot through increasingly rough terrain.

"There," Seraphina whispered, pointing to a section of wall where the stonework appeared slightly different—newer, perhaps from recent repairs. "That's our entry point."

Odyn nodded, already retrieving climbing equipment from his pack. "The handholds will be minimal. We'll need to create our own where necessary."

As they prepared their gear in silent efficiency, Lucina found herself watching Odyn's hands—strong and deft as they checked knots and secured ropes. Hands that in another life had taught her how to hold a sword properly, how to bind wounds, how to survive. Hands that would someday, in a timeline she was determined to erase, be turned against their will to end his life.

"Something wrong?" he asked softly, catching her stare.

She shook her head. "Just... remembering."

"Remembering what?"

The question hung between them, loaded with implications neither fully understood. Lucina hesitated, then offered, "Something that hasn't happened yet."

To her surprise, Odyn didn't dismiss the cryptic statement. Instead, his expression grew thoughtful. "Like your warnings about the Exalt's assassination attempt. You spoke as if you'd witnessed it before."

Before she could respond, Seraphina hissed a warning from several paces ahead. "Guards. Two of them, approaching the eastern corner."

They froze, pressing into the shadows of a rocky outcropping. Lucina felt Odyn shift subtly, positioning himself between her and the potential threat. The protective gesture was so achingly familiar that she almost reached for him before catching herself.

The guards passed without incident, their conversation about a recent dice game fading as they continued their patrol.

"We need to move," Seraphina whispered. "The patrol gap Robin mentioned will only last about five minutes."

They emerged from hiding and made their swift approach to the wall. Odyn went first, driving the specialized pitons Robin had designed into the mortar between stones. Seraphina followed with feline grace, barely seeming to need the handholds he created.

Lucina watched their ascent for a moment before beginning her own climb. The familiar weight of Falchion against her back was both comfort and burden—a reminder of her true identity and the future she fought to change.

Halfway up the wall, a stone shifted unexpectedly beneath her foot, sending a shower of pebbles rattling downward. She froze, heart pounding, as the small sounds seemed to echo in the night. Above her, Odyn had stopped as well, looking down with concern.

When no alarm was raised, they continued their climb, moving with even greater care. Finally, they reached the top, crouching low on the narrow walkway to avoid being silhouetted against the sky.

"The execution platform is being constructed in the central courtyard," Seraphina whispered, pointing toward a structure visible in the distance. "Guards are concentrated there and at the main gates, preparing for tomorrow."

"And the Exalt?" Lucina asked.

"Northern tower, most likely," Odyn replied, gesturing to the tallest spire rising from the fortress. "It's where they've kept political prisoners in the past."

Lucina nodded, recalling the fortress layout from her studies. In her timeline, this place had eventually become a Risen stronghold, its original purpose long forgotten in the chaos of Grima's rise. Now, seeing it intact, serving its original function, brought a strange dissonance.

"We need to confirm her location, then signal the others," she said, forcibly returning her focus to the present mission.

Seraphina pointed to a slender watchtower positioned between their current location and the northern tower. "From there, we'll have visibility to both locate the Exalt and send the signal."

They moved in synchronicity, keeping to the shadows as they navigated the wall's walkway. Guards patrolled at regular intervals, but the pattern Robin had identified held true, allowing them to advance undetected.

As they neared the watchtower, however, Lucina noticed Odyn's pace slowing, his movements becoming more deliberate. He motioned for them to halt, his expression troubled.

"Something's wrong," he whispered. "The guard rotation is too predictable, too perfect in its timing."

Seraphina's eyes narrowed as she observed the patterns. "You think it's a trap?"

"I think they're expecting something," he replied. "Whether it's us specifically or just some kind of rescue attempt."

Lucina felt a chill of recognition. In her timeline, Emmeryn's execution had proceeded without interruption—the Shepherds' rescue attempt had failed before it ever began. What if this—this trap they were now sensing—was why?

"We need to warn the others," she said urgently.

Odyn nodded. "But we still need to confirm the Exalt's location first. If we abandon the mission now, we lose our advantage of surprise, trap or no trap."

Seraphina gestured toward a covered walkway connecting the wall to the watchtower. "I can reach the tower undetected and get a visual confirmation. My eyes can see further in this darkness than either of yours."

"It's too risky alone," Odyn objected.

"Which is why I'm not suggesting alone," she countered, glancing at Lucina. "Two can move as quietly as one, but three becomes a crowd in close quarters."

Lucina understood the logic, though she was reluctant to separate. "I'll go with Seraphina. Odyn, you're the best archer among us—if we need to signal prematurely, you'll have the best chance from this position."

For a moment, she thought he might object, insist on protecting her as he always had in her memories. Instead, after a brief hesitation, he nodded.

"Be careful," he said, his eyes fixed on Lucina's mask. "Both of you."

As she turned to follow Seraphina, Lucina felt his hand catch hers briefly, a fleeting pressure that conveyed everything words could not. Then they were moving, slipping into the deeper shadows of the covered walkway.

The air was cooler here, heavy with the scent of stone and torch smoke. Seraphina moved with the silent efficiency characteristic of her people, while Lucina followed, grateful for the years of stealth training Odyn himself had once provided her.

They had nearly reached the tower when Seraphina suddenly halted, raising a hand in warning. Lucina froze, straining her ears. At first, she heard nothing beyond the distant sounds of construction and guard movements. Then—a soft metallic click, nearly imperceptible.

Seraphina's eyes widened in recognition. "Move!" she hissed, shoving Lucina backward just as the floor beneath them gave way.

Lucina felt herself falling, the darkness rushing up to meet her. She caught a glimpse of Seraphina twisting in midair, reaching for a handhold that wasn't there, and then impact stole her breath and consciousness alike.

---

Awareness returned slowly, accompanied by a throbbing pain in her temple and the taste of copper in her mouth. Lucina blinked, trying to bring her surroundings into focus. Stone walls. Iron bars. The unmistakable atmosphere of a dungeon cell.

She attempted to sit up and discovered her hands were bound behind her back. More concerning still, her mask was gone, leaving her face—and her Brand—exposed for anyone to see.

"Finally awake, are you?"

The voice from the adjacent cell belonged to Seraphina, who looked remarkably composed despite a nasty cut along her jawline and what appeared to be a dislocated shoulder.

"How long?" Lucina managed, her voice hoarse.

"Less than an hour, I'd guess," Seraphina replied. "They separated us from our weapons immediately, but seemed more interested in securing the perimeter than interrogating us. They know we're not alone."

Lucina's heart sank. "Then the entire mission is compromised."

"Not necessarily." Seraphina shifted, grimacing at the movement. "Odyn wasn't captured. If he made it out..."

"He wouldn't leave us," Lucina said with certainty.

Seraphina's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "You speak as if you know him well."

Before Lucina could formulate a response that wouldn't reveal too much, a sound from the corridor drew their attention. Footsteps approached—multiple sets, along with the jangling of keys.

"Remember," Seraphina whispered urgently, "whatever happens, the mission comes first. Emmeryn must survive."

The cell door opened, revealing two Plegian guards flanking a tall figure whose elaborate robes and headdress marked him as someone of importance. Behind them, lurking in the shadows, stood another figure whose presence made Lucina's blood run cold—a dark mage, likely one of Validar's followers.

"Well, well," said the robed official, studying Lucina with undisguised interest. "When my men reported capturing spies, I expected Ylissean soldiers, not women." His gaze lingered uncomfortably on her exposed face. "And certainly not one bearing such a... distinctive mark."

Lucina remained silent, mentally cursing the loss of her mask. The Brand of the Exalt in her left eye was unmistakable to anyone familiar with Ylissean royalty.

"Nothing to say?" The man smiled thinly. "Perhaps your companion will be more forthcoming." He turned to Seraphina. "Unusual features you have. One of the southern tribes, perhaps? Or something more... exotic?"

Seraphina met his gaze evenly, her expression betraying nothing.

The official sighed theatrically. "I had hoped we might conduct this civilly, but it seems we'll need alternative methods." He gestured to the dark mage, who stepped forward with unsettling eagerness.

"The timing of your infiltration is most interesting," the official continued. "Almost as if you knew the execution had been rescheduled. I wonder how that information reached your comrades?" He circled Lucina slowly. "And I wonder what else you might know about the plans being made beyond our walls."

The dark mage began murmuring an incantation, dark energy gathering around his fingertips. Lucina braced herself, knowing what was to come.

But before the spell could be completed, a commotion erupted in the corridor. Shouts, the clash of weapons, and then a guard came staggering into view, an arrow protruding from his shoulder.

The official spun toward the disturbance, his expression darkening. "What now?"

The answer came in the form of a familiar figure—Odyn, dual blades drawn, cutting down a second guard as he advanced. Behind him came reinforcements: Roy, Sarai, and to Lucina's surprise, Saibyrh, her distinctive healing staff glowing with accumulated magic.

"Right on time," Seraphina murmured, a smile tugging at her lips despite their situation.

The dark mage turned his spell toward the newcomers, but Odyn moved with blinding speed, one blade parrying the magical attack while the other found the mage's heart. The robed official reached for a concealed weapon, only to freeze as Sarai's arrow found its mark in his shoulder.

"The keys," Odyn demanded, pressing a blade to the man's throat.

With trembling hands, the official surrendered a ring of iron keys. Sarai collected them, quickly moving to unlock Seraphina's cell while Roy secured the corridor.

Odyn advanced to Lucina's cell, and she realized too late that her uncovered face was fully visible to him for the first time. She turned away instinctively, but not before seeing his eyes widen in shock, fixing on the Brand that marked her as Ylissean royalty.

"Hurry," Saibyrh urged as she entered to examine Seraphina's injuries. "The distraction at the main gate won't occupy them for long."

Sarai unlocked Lucina's cell, offering her a small dagger. "Sorry we don't have your sword yet. It's in the armory one level up."

Lucina accepted the weapon gratefully, using it to cut her bonds. She kept her gaze averted from Odyn, though she could feel his eyes on her, questions practically radiating from him.

"We found the Exalt," Roy reported as they gathered in the corridor. "Northern tower, as expected. But the security is heavier than anticipated."

"Their trap failed to capture all of us," Sarai added, "but they know we're here now. The element of surprise is gone."

"Then we move to the contingency plan," Odyn said, his voice steady despite the tension Lucina could sense in him. "Roy, signal Chrom and Robin to begin the main assault. The rest of us will secure the Exalt while the fortress is thrown into chaos."

As the group prepared to move out, Odyn approached Lucina, offering her something—her mask, damaged but mostly intact.

"Found this when I was tracking where they'd taken you," he said quietly. "Thought you might want it back."

Their fingers brushed as she accepted it, and despite everything, that brief contact sent a jolt through her. "Thank you," she managed, quickly securing the mask back in place, though she knew the damage was already done.

"We'll talk later," he said, his tone making it clear this was not a request but a promise. "After we get the Exalt to safety."

Lucina nodded, grateful for the reprieve, however temporary. "The mission comes first."

A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "Always duty before all else. We're more alike than you've let on... Princess."

The title was barely a whisper, but it confirmed her fears—he had recognized the Brand for what it was. Before she could respond, Saibyrh approached, placing a hand on each of their shoulders.

"The path forward is opening," the healer said, her unusual eyes seeming to see much more than just their physical presence. "But only if you both keep moving."

The double meaning wasn't lost on either of them. With a final meaningful glance, Odyn turned his attention back to the group, issuing commands with the confidence of someone born to lead.

As they prepared to ascend from the dungeons, Lucina took a moment to center herself, to remember why she had come to this time. To save Emmeryn. To prevent Grima's rise. To create a future where children need not carry the burdens she and her companions had shouldered.

But perhaps, as Saibyrh had suggested, changing the future meant more than just altering the sequence of tragic events. Perhaps it also meant allowing new possibilities to unfold—possibilities like the undeniable connection she felt to the man now leading them toward danger and, hopefully, salvation.

For now, though, duty called. And as Lucina followed the others up the winding stairs toward where her aunt was imprisoned, she pushed all other thoughts aside. There would be time for hearts and truths later—if they survived the night.

The future had never been written in stone. And tonight, they would prove it.

Unexpected Allies

Dawn broke over Plegia's capital, painting the stone structures in hues of gold and amber. The Shepherds approached from the northern ridge, weapons at the ready, the elven contingent moving with silent grace at their flanks. Chrom led the vanguard, Falchion gleaming in the early light, while Robin directed formations from just behind, Cordelia hovering above on her pegasus to relay commands.

Lucina stood beside Odyn, both still recovering from the previous night's ordeal. Her face felt strangely exposed without the mask she had worn for so long, but there was also an unexpected liberation in no longer hiding. Though she had managed to recover her damaged mask during their escape from the dungeons, the fractured blue material now hung from her belt—a reminder of a disguise she no longer needed.

"Are you certain about this?" Odyn asked quietly, his eyes briefly flicking to the Brand in her left eye, now visible to all. "Once everyone sees—"

"They already suspect," Lucina replied, adjusting her grip on her own Falchion. "And I'm tired of shadows. If we're to change fate, perhaps it begins with facing it openly."

Odyn nodded, a hint of pride in his expression. "It suits you better. The truth."

Before she could respond, Frederick signaled from the front, raising a closed fist—the sign to halt. The company froze as one, weapons half-drawn.

"What in Naga's name...?" Chrom muttered, shielding his eyes against the rising sun.

Below them, in what should have been an orderly military encampment preparing for the day's grim execution, chaos reigned. Plegian soldiers clashed with one another in the streets, while civilians fled toward the city's outer districts. At the center of the turmoil, near the very execution platform they had come to destroy, a lone dark-robed figure fought desperately against a circle of Plegian royal guards.

Robin moved forward, studying the scene with the tactician's calculating eye. "This wasn't in any of our intelligence reports. It appears to be some kind of... internal conflict."

"A coup?" Sarai suggested, her bow already nocked with an arrow.

"Or a purge," Seraphina added grimly, her shoulder now healed thanks to Saibyrh's magic but her expression still tense from their captivity.

Lucina narrowed her eyes, focusing on the embattled dark mage at the center of the conflict. There was something familiar about the stance, the way magic flowed from practiced hands—something that triggered a memory from her ruined future.

"We need to help that mage," she said suddenly, drawing surprised looks from the others.

"A Plegian dark mage?" Frederick's skepticism was evident. "This could very well be a trap meant to divide our forces."

"Or an opportunity," Robin countered thoughtfully. "Whatever's happening has already thrown their security into disarray. If we act now while they're distracted—"

"We help the mage," Chrom decided, cutting through the debate. His eyes met Lucina's, and she wondered how much he might be sensing—how much the echo of his own Brand in her eye might be speaking to him on levels beyond words. "If Plegians are fighting Plegians, then the enemy of our enemy..."

"Could still be our enemy," Frederick cautioned.

"Or could be the ally we never expected," Saibyrh interjected, her golden eyes surveying the chaos with ancient wisdom. "Fate rarely unfolds along straight lines."

Chrom nodded firmly. "Robin, adjust the strategy. We move to assist the dark mage while simultaneously pushing toward the northern tower. Frederick, take Seraphina and the cavalry around the eastern flank. Cordelia, signal Sumia and the aerial units to begin their approach."

As the Shepherds prepared to engage, Lucina felt Odyn's hand briefly touch her arm.

"Stay close," he said quietly. "We still don't know what we're walking into."

She met his gaze directly, no mask between them now. "Together, then."

Something shifted in his expression—recognition, perhaps, of words that carried more weight than their simple meaning suggested. He nodded, drawing his twin blades.

"Together."

* * *

The battle erupted with the familiar symphony of steel and magic that Lucina had known all her life. The Shepherds descended upon the city with precision, their coordinated movements a stark contrast to the chaotic skirmishes already underway between the Plegian factions.

Lucina fought alongside Odyn, their movements synchronized as if they had trained together for years—which, in a way, they had, though only she carried the memory of those sessions. They cut a path toward the central square where the dark mage still fought, now visibly weakening against the superior numbers.

"Cover me!" Lucina called, breaking into a sprint as she saw an opening.

Odyn responded instantly, his arrows finding the throats of two guards moving to intercept her. From somewhere to her left, Alek's distinctive battle cry rang out as the berserker cleaved through a line of soldiers, creating further distraction.

The dark mage had fallen to one knee, still desperately casting spells with trembling hands. As Lucina drew closer, she could see it was a woman, her hood thrown back to reveal striking features and shock-white hair streaked with purple—a distinctive trait Lucina recognized immediately.

"Tharja," she breathed, though the name was lost in the clash of battle.

A Plegian captain raised his axe for what would have been a killing blow, but Falchion intercepted, the legendary blade slicing cleanly through the weapon's shaft. The captain stared in shock at his broken weapon, then at Lucina's face—at the Brand glowing faintly in her left eye—before Falchion's return stroke ended his confusion permanently.

Tharja looked up, blood trickling from a cut on her forehead, eyes widening at the sight of Lucina's uncovered face and the blade in her hand.

"Impossible," the dark mage whispered, her voice remarkably steady despite her exhaustion. "That sword... that mark..."

"Questions later," Lucina replied, extending her free hand. "Can you still fight?"

A slow, dangerous smile spread across Tharja's face as she accepted the help, rising to her feet with newfound determination. "For the right cause, always."

The battle around them intensified as more Shepherds reached the square. Chrom and Robin fought back-to-back near the execution platform, systematically dismantling the structure while defending against attacks. Frederick led a cavalry charge that scattered a formation of Plegian knights attempting to regroup. Above, Cordelia and Sumia rained javelins upon archers positioned on the rooftops.

Lucina turned to rejoin Odyn, only to find him already at her side, his blades slick with blood but his stance unwavering.

"Your friend seems... interesting," he commented, nodding toward Tharja, who was now unleashing a particularly nasty hex upon a squad of soldiers.

"Not a friend yet," Lucina replied. "But a valuable ally."

"You knew she would be here," he observed, not a question but a statement.

Before she could form a response, a horn blasted from the direction of the northern tower—three short bursts followed by one long note. The Plegian signal for reinforcements.

"The tower," Lucina said urgently. "Emmeryn."

Odyn nodded, understanding immediately. "They'll move her if they haven't already. We need to—"

"Prince Chrom!" Tharja's voice cut through the clamor of battle. She approached them, stepping carefully over fallen soldiers. "The Exalt is being relocated as we speak. Not to the execution ground, but to the Sacred Cliffs west of the city."

Chrom, hearing this, dispatched his current opponent and hurried over. "How do you know this? And why would you tell us?"

Tharja's eyes narrowed. "Because King Gangrel has lost his mind. Because he ordered the execution of every dark mage who questioned his methods—including me. And because..." Her gaze shifted to Robin, who was directing Miriel and Ricken in a magical bombardment nearby. "...I have my reasons."

"We can't trust—" Frederick began, riding up to join them.

"We have no choice," Robin interrupted, having caught the end of the conversation. "Our intelligence confirms the northern tower is being emptied. If Tharja's information is correct, we need to adjust our strategy immediately."

"The Sacred Cliffs," Lucina said, a chill running through her. This was it—the very place where, in her timeline, Emmeryn had fallen to her death. The convergence point where fate had turned irreversibly toward darkness.

Saibyrh appeared beside her, as if sensing her distress. "What troubles you, child?" the elven healer asked softly.

"In my ti—" Lucina caught herself. "In my visions, the cliffs are where she dies."

Saibyrh's unusual eyes studied her intently. "Then this is where paths may diverge. Where what was written becomes unwritten."

Chrom, overhearing, looked between them with confusion, but there was no time to explain. "Robin, we need a new plan. Now."

The tactician nodded, already calculating. "The main force continues here to secure the city and prevent pursuit. A smaller team—our fastest units—heads for the cliffs immediately."

"I'm going," Chrom stated, brooking no argument.

"As am I," Lucina added firmly.

Robin studied them both, then nodded. "Chrom, Lucina, Odyn, Cordelia, and Sumia. The rest of us will create enough chaos here to keep their main force occupied."

"I'm coming too," Tharja declared, her tone making it clear she wouldn't be dissuaded.

Robin hesitated, then acquiesced. "Very well. But know that if this is some sort of trap..."

"It isn't," Lucina said with certainty that drew curious looks. "She can be trusted."

Tharja raised an eyebrow but said nothing, a faint smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Then we move now," Chrom ordered. "Robin, you have command here. Seraphina, Sarai—your people know the terrain better than any of us. Work with Robin to secure our exit route."

As the group prepared to separate, Saibyrh approached Lucina once more. "Remember what I told you," the healer said quietly. "Changing the future means making different choices—in matters of war and matters of the heart."

Lucina glanced toward Odyn, who was checking his weapons while conversing with Cordelia about the fastest route to the cliffs. "I'm trying," she admitted. "But some burdens can't be shared. Not yet."

"Sooner than you think," Saibyrh replied cryptically. "When the moment comes, trust what you feel, not what you fear."

Before Lucina could question her further, Chrom called for the rescue team to assemble. With a final nod to Saibyrh, she joined the others, accepting Sumia's offered hand to mount behind her on the pegasus.

As they took to the air, the city spreading out beneath them in a maze of stone and conflict, Lucina found her gaze drawn to Odyn, riding with Cordelia. The wind whipped his dark hair back from his face, his expression set in determined lines as he scanned the horizon.

In her timeline, he had died protecting her long before these events—a sacrifice that had shaped her entire life. Now here he was, whole and alive, fighting alongside her as an equal rather than a protector. The paradox of it struck her anew: she knew him intimately, yet he barely knew her at all.

Or perhaps that wasn't entirely true. There had been moments when understanding passed between them that defied logical explanation—as if some essence of their connection transcended the boundaries of time itself.

"We're approaching the cliffs," Sumia called over her shoulder, breaking into Lucina's thoughts.

Below them, the terrain shifted from urban sprawl to rocky wasteland, and then to the sheer drop of the Sacred Cliffs—a natural formation that Plegian mythology held as the place where the earth met the realm of their fallen god. And there, on the precipice, a small procession was visible: soldiers escorting a solitary figure in white robes.

"Emmeryn," Chrom breathed, his voice tight with emotion.

Cordelia signaled, directing Sumia to approach from the western angle while she circled around to the east, using the sun's glare to mask their approach. But they weren't the only ones who had spotted the procession.

"Wyvern riders!" Odyn shouted, pointing to the horizon where dark shapes were approaching rapidly from the direction of the capital. "Royal Guard, by the look of them."

Lucina's heart pounded. This was it—the moment where fate hung in the balance. In her timeline, the rescue had failed. Emmeryn had jumped to spare Chrom an impossible choice, setting in motion the chain of grief and guilt that would eventually leave him vulnerable to Validar's manipulations.

"Faster!" she urged Sumia. "We have to reach her before they do!"

The pegasus knights pushed their mounts to greater speed, but the wyverns were closing the distance quickly. On the cliff's edge, the soldiers had noticed the approaching fliers and were moving Emmeryn closer to the precipice—a clear threat.

"They're using her as a shield," Cordelia called. "We can't risk a direct assault!"

Chrom's face contorted with frustrated rage. "We have to try! We can't just—"

"Wait," Odyn interrupted, studying the scene with narrowed eyes. "Something's not right. Look at the formation."

Lucina followed his gaze and noticed what he had already seen: the Plegian soldiers weren't positioned to defend against an aerial attack. Instead, they were arranged in a semicircle facing inward—facing Emmeryn.

"They're not shielding her," Lucina realized with dawning horror. "They're preparing to execute her themselves if the rescue looks like it might succeed."

Tharja, flying with Cordelia, confirmed this with a grim nod. "Gangrel's contingency plan. If he can't have his public spectacle, he'll still have his war."

"Then we need a distraction," Odyn said decisively. "Something to draw their attention away from the Exalt long enough for one of us to reach her."

Lucina's mind raced. This was where history had pivoted—where Emmeryn had made her sacrifice. But what if that wasn't the only possible outcome? What if, as Saibyrh had suggested, different choices could create different paths?

"I have an idea," she said suddenly. "But it's dangerous, and it relies on something I'm not sure will work."

"At this point, I'll take any chance," Chrom replied.

Lucina explained quickly, the plan forming as she spoke. Chrom listened, his expression shifting from skepticism to determined hope. When she finished, he nodded once.

"Do it."

The group separated, each taking their position in the desperate gambit. Cordelia and Sumia split wide, approaching from opposite directions to divide the attention of the wyvern riders. Chrom took position on Cordelia's pegasus, ready to leap down once they were close enough. Tharja began preparing a complex hex, dark energy gathering around her fingertips.

And Lucina and Odyn, having transferred to Sumia's pegasus, approached from directly above, using the sun as cover.

"Are you sure about this?" Odyn asked quietly as they positioned themselves.

Lucina met his gaze, finding in it a trust she hadn't expected. "No," she admitted. "But some risks are worth taking."

He reached out, his hand finding hers where it gripped the pegasus's harness. "Whatever happens next, know that I—" He hesitated, something vulnerable flickering in his expression.

"I know," Lucina replied softly, understanding what he couldn't yet put into words. "In another life, you told me once."

His eyes widened slightly, but before he could respond, Sumia signaled—they had reached their position.

"Ready?" Lucina asked, drawing Falchion.

Odyn nodded, unhooking the specialized climbing gear they'd prepared. "Together."

The next moments unfolded in a blur of action. Sumia's pegasus dived sharply, bringing them directly above the cliff where Emmeryn stood. The soldiers looked up, momentarily distracted—exactly as planned. In that instant, Tharja released her hex, a wave of disorienting darkness washing over the Plegian guards.

Odyn fired a specialized arrow, its head embedding deeply in the rock near Emmeryn's feet. Attached to it was a thin but incredibly strong elven-crafted rope. With practiced precision, he secured the other end to Sumia's saddle, creating a lifeline to the cliff's edge.

From the east, Cordelia and Chrom made their approach, drawing the attention of the wyvern riders. The aerial battle that ensued created further chaos and distraction.

"Now!" Lucina called.

She and Odyn slid down the rope together, landing on the cliff's edge as the Plegian guards were still struggling against Tharja's hex. Emmeryn stood only yards away, her eyes wide with surprise and—Lucina thought—a flash of recognition as she saw the Brand in Lucina's eye.

"Aunt Emmeryn," Lucina whispered, too softly for anyone but Odyn to hear.

Three guards broke free of the magical confusion, rushing toward them with weapons drawn. Odyn met them with his twin blades, a whirlwind of lethal precision that blocked their advance. "Go!" he shouted to Lucina. "Get her!"

Lucina sprinted forward, Falchion gleaming in the sunlight. The remaining guards moved to intercept her, but Chrom chose that moment to leap from Cordelia's pegasus, landing among them with a battle cry that momentarily froze them in shock. The sight of Ylisse's prince wielding the legendary Falchion on Plegian soil was enough to create the final distraction they needed.

Lucina reached Emmeryn, grabbing her arm. "Your Grace, we need to—"

But Emmeryn was looking past her, her gentle face suddenly stricken with horror. "Behind you!"

Lucina turned to see what had caused Emmeryn's alarm, and time seemed to slow. A lone archer, having evaded both the hex and the fighting, had positioned himself on a higher outcropping. His bow was drawn, the arrow aimed not at the combatants, but at the rope—their only lifeline back to Sumia's pegasus.

In the future Lucina remembered, this was the moment when all hope had been lost. The arrow had severed their escape route, leaving Emmeryn with what she believed was only one choice: sacrifice herself to prevent Gangrel from using her as leverage against Chrom.

As the archer released his shot, Lucina made her decision. This was the divergence point Saibyrh had spoken of—the moment where fate could be rewritten.

She raised Falchion, channeling the power that had always flowed through the divine blade. With perfect timing born from years of training—training she had received from the very man now fighting to protect her—she intercepted the arrow mid-flight, the legendary sword cleaving it in two.

The pieces fell harmlessly to the stone, and the archer stared in disbelief. Before he could nock another arrow, Tharja's magic found him, sending him tumbling from his perch with a strangled cry.

"Now!" Lucina shouted to Cordelia, who had been hovering nearby waiting for this signal.

The pegasus knight dived, bringing her mount close enough for Emmeryn to mount. Chrom, having dispatched his opponents, turned to assist his sister.

"Emm," he said, voice thick with emotion as he reached for her.

Emmeryn smiled, the serenity that defined her undimmed by her ordeal. "Chrom. I knew you would come."

"Always," he replied, helping her onto Cordelia's pegasus. "We're taking you home."

As Cordelia began to ascend with her precious cargo, Chrom turned back to where Lucina and Odyn still fought against the remaining guards. "Come on!" he called.

Odyn dispatched his final opponent with a devastating spin of his blades, then reached for the rope. "Ladies first," he said to Lucina with a grim smile.

But Lucina's attention had been caught by something on the horizon—a familiar dark shape approaching from the direction of the capital. The silhouette was unmistakable: Gangrel himself, riding a wyvern and leading a squadron of elite guards.

"We need to go. Now!" she urged.

Odyn followed her gaze and nodded, his expression hardening. "Together, then," he said, wrapping an arm around her waist.

With his free hand, he signaled to Sumia, who began to ascend, pulling them up by the rope. As they rose, dangling precariously above the rocky chasm, Lucina caught a glimpse of Gangrel's face as he approached—the rage there promising vengeance that would pursue them long after this day.

But they had done it. Emmeryn was safe, already disappearing into the distance with Cordelia and Chrom. The point of divergence had been navigated successfully. History—her history—had been changed.

As they swung from the rope, the wind whipping around them, Lucina found herself laughing—a sound of pure, unexpected joy that bubbled up from somewhere she'd thought long sealed away.

Odyn looked at her in surprise, then joined in, his arm tightening around her waist. "I take it the plan worked?" he asked.

"Better than you could possibly know," she replied.

When Sumia's pegasus finally drew them up to safety, Lucina found herself reluctant to break the contact with Odyn. Something fundamental had shifted between them—beyond the revelation of her identity, beyond even their shared battle. In changing fate, she had opened a door to possibilities she had never allowed herself to consider.

As they flew back toward the rendezvous point where the other Shepherds would be waiting, Lucina cast one last look at the Sacred Cliffs receding in the distance. In her timeline, those cliffs had been where hope began to die. Now, they marked where hope had been reborn.

And perhaps, she thought as she felt Odyn's steady presence behind her, where more than just hope might find new life.

* * *

The celebration at the Shepherds' camp that night was subdued but heartfelt. Emmeryn, though exhausted from her ordeal, had addressed them briefly, her words of gratitude and peace as powerful as ever. Now she rested in a guarded tent, with Lissa attending to her while Frederick maintained a vigilant watch outside.

Chrom had sought out Lucina almost immediately after their return, his questions about her identity—about the Brand in her eye so identical to his own—held at bay only by Robin's insistence that debriefing the mission took precedence. But his searching looks promised a conversation that could no longer be delayed.

Lucina found herself at the edge of the camp, gazing up at the stars. The night was clear, the desert air cool against her skin. She touched her face absently, still unaccustomed to the absence of her mask. It felt strange to be so exposed, and yet also liberating—as if she had shed more than just a physical disguise.

"There you are."

She turned to find Odyn approaching, carrying two steaming cups. He offered one to her—a spiced tea that reminded her of home, of peaceful moments between battles that had grown increasingly rare in her timeline.

"Thank you," she said, accepting the cup gratefully.

"Saibyrh's recommendation," he explained, settling beside her on a flat rock. "She said it helps clear the mind after battle."

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, sipping the aromatic tea. Lucina could feel the weight of unasked questions between them, but Odyn seemed content to wait until she was ready.

Finally, she spoke. "You recognized it. The Brand."

He nodded. "Hard to miss, once your mask was gone. The Mark of the Exalt isn't something easily forgotten, especially when it's in the same eye as Chrom's daughter."

Lucina nearly choked on her tea. "You know?"

"I suspected," he corrected gently. "The way you look at him—at all of them. The knowledge you shouldn't have. Your fighting style, so similar to his yet with influences I recognized from my own techniques." He smiled slightly. "I may not be Robin, but I'm not blind either."

"How long have you known?"

"Suspected since our first real conversation. Was certain after seeing you fight alongside Chrom today." He studied her over the rim of his cup. "The real question is: how far did you come? And why?"

Lucina took a deep breath. This was the moment Saibyrh had warned her about—the choice between clinging to her secrets and sharing her burden.

"I came from approximately twenty years in the future," she said quietly. "A future where Emmeryn's death was only the beginning of a series of tragedies that eventually led to... the end of everything we know."

Odyn listened without interruption as she explained—about Grima's resurrection, about the Fell Dragon's devastation of the world, about the desperate plan to return to the past and change the course of history. She spoke of her companions, other children who had made the journey with her, though she was careful not to reveal their identities or their parentage.

And finally, hesitantly, she spoke of him.

"In my timeline, you were my father's most trusted friend. After he... after he fell, you became my guardian, my teacher." Her voice softened. "You taught me how to survive in a world that was determined to destroy us. You were... everything to a child who had lost everything else."

Odyn's expression was solemn, his eyes never leaving her face. "And then?"

"And then you died," she whispered, the words still painful despite the years—and now the reality of him sitting beside her, very much alive. "Protecting me. You kept your oath to my father until the very end."

"How old were you?"

"Fifteen."

He was quiet for a moment, processing this. "And now you're..."

"Twenty," she supplied. "Nearly twenty-one."

"And I'm twenty-four," he said thoughtfully. "No longer the older mentor you remember."

The implication hung in the air between them, unspoken but undeniable. Lucina felt heat rise to her cheeks and was grateful for the darkness.

"It's... complicated," she admitted.

"Life usually is," he replied with a small smile. Then, more seriously: "Thank you for trusting me with this. I understand now why you avoided me when you first arrived. It must have been... difficult, seeing a ghost."

"Not a ghost," she corrected softly. "Just... a different version of someone I once knew. Someone who hasn't lived through the same trials, made the same sacrifices."

"Someone who doesn't know you," he added, understanding in his voice.

Lucina nodded, surprised at how much that simple acknowledgment affected her. "Yes."

Odyn set down his empty cup, turning to face her fully. "Perhaps that's not entirely true."

"What do you mean?"

"Since you arrived, I've felt... drawn to you, in ways I couldn't explain. In battle today, we moved together as if we'd trained for years. When you were in danger, I knew—before anyone signaled, before any warning was given—I knew you needed help." His voice dropped lower. "I've had dreams about a blue-haired warrior since I was a child. I always assumed they were about Chrom, given our friendship. Now I wonder..."

Lucina's heart quickened. "Saibyrh said something similar. About souls finding each other across time."

"Her people have old beliefs about such things," Odyn acknowledged. "I never gave them much thought until now."

A comfortable silence fell between them, filled with possibilities neither was quite ready to name. In the distance, the sounds of the camp continued—muted conversations, the occasional burst of laughter, the rhythmic sound of whetstone on steel as warriors prepared for battles yet to come.

"What happens now?" Odyn finally asked. "You've changed one pivotal moment. Is your mission complete?"

Lucina shook her head. "No. Saving Emmeryn was crucial, but the threat of Grima remains. There are others who would see the Fell Dragon rise again—Validar chief among them."

"Then you'll stay. Continue fighting alongside us."

"Yes. For as long as it takes."

Odyn nodded, as if he had expected nothing less. "And afterward? If—when—we succeed?"

The question caught her off guard. In truth, Lucina had never allowed herself to think that far ahead. Her focus had been so singular, so consumed by the mission, that the concept of "after" seemed almost foreign.

"I don't know," she admitted. "This timeline is already different from the one I left. My presence here has changed things in ways I couldn't have predicted."

"For the better, I'd say," Odyn responded, a hint of warmth entering his voice. "At least from where I'm standing."

Lucina found herself smiling despite the weight of all they had discussed. "Perhaps you're right."

From the center of the camp, Chrom's voice called her name—her real name—the sound strange and wonderful after so long living as "Marth."

"It seems your father is ready for that conversation," Odyn observed.

"It appears so." Lucina rose, brushing sand from her clothes. "He deserves the truth, as much as I can safely tell him."

Odyn stood as well, his height bringing him close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him in the cool night air. "For what it's worth," he said quietly, "I'm glad the mask is gone. The world should see you as you are—the woman who changed fate itself today."

His words touched something deep within her, a place that had been frozen by grief and duty for too long. On impulse, she reached out, her fingers lightly brushing his.

"Walk with me?" she asked. "I think... I think I'd like you there when I tell him."

Surprise registered in his eyes, followed by understanding. This too was a divergence from the path she had originally envisioned—bringing someone else into her confidence, allowing herself to lean on another's strength.

"Together, then," he said, echoing their words from the battlefield as he took her hand properly in his.

And as they walked back toward the camp, toward a future neither of them could fully predict, Lucina felt the weight she had carried for so long begin to lighten. The burden was still there, the mission still unfinished, but no longer did she carry it alone.

Perhaps this was what Saibyrh had meant about changing the future through different choices. Perhaps salvation lay not just in altering events, but in allowing herself connections she had denied for too long.

The path ahead remained uncertain, filled with dangers they had yet to face. But for the first time since arriving in this past that was becoming her present, Lucina felt something beyond duty driving her forward.

Hope. Possibility. And the chance—however fragile—for a future written not by fate, but by choice.

Unexpected Allies (Continued)

The fire crackled, casting long shadows across the war tent where Chrom sat with his head bowed, hands clasped before him. Across from him, Lucina waited, her heart pounding against her ribs like a prisoner seeking escape. Between them, the silence stretched taut as a bowstring.

"So," Chrom finally said, his voice barely above a whisper, "my daughter."

It wasn't a question, but Lucina nodded anyway. "Yes."

His eyes—so like her own—studied her face with wonder and disbelief mingled in equal measure. "From a future where everything... where we..."

"Failed," she supplied gently when his voice faltered. "But that future is not written in stone. Today proved that."

Chrom's gaze shifted to Odyn, who stood respectfully to one side, close enough to offer support but far enough to grant them privacy. "And in this future, you were her protector?"

"So it seems," Odyn replied. "Though I have no memory of it."

Robin, the only other person present for this revelation, leaned forward from her position near the tent's entrance. "The implications are staggering. If you've changed one pivotal moment, what else might be altered?"

"Everything," Lucina said with quiet conviction. "That's what I'm counting on."

Chrom rose suddenly, pacing the length of the tent. "Who else knows of your true identity? Does... does your mother know?"

Lucina exchanged a quick glance with Odyn before answering. "Only those in this tent, Saibyrh, and now you. As for mother..." She hesitated. "I believe it's better if such revelations come in their own time."

"Wise," Robin agreed. "Such knowledge could influence decisions not yet made, relationships not yet formed."

Something flashed across Chrom's face—understanding, perhaps—before he turned back to Lucina. With three long strides, he closed the distance between them, and before she could react, he pulled her into a fierce embrace.

"My daughter," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "My brave, impossible daughter."

Lucina froze for a heartbeat, then slowly returned the embrace, allowing herself this moment of connection with the father she had lost so long ago. When they separated, both blinked away tears neither would acknowledge.

"We have much to discuss," Chrom said, regaining his composure. "But first, we must secure Emmeryn's safe passage back to Ylisse. Gangrel will not stand idle after today's humiliation."

"No," Lucina agreed. "And there are other enemies moving in shadows deeper than you know."

"Validar," Robin murmured, a strange distance entering her eyes. "You mentioned him earlier."

Lucina tensed, careful now. The relationship between Robin and Validar was dangerous territory—revelations that could shatter the trust so vital to their cause. "Among others," she said cautiously. "The Grimleal cult seeks Grima's resurrection above all else."

"Then we must remain vigilant," Chrom decided. "Robin, adjust our course. We'll escort Emmeryn back to Ylisse by the eastern mountain pass rather than the main road."

"A wise precaution," Robin agreed, already calculating. "We should divide our forces. A visible decoy traveling the expected route while the actual escort moves quietly."

"I'll lead the decoy force," Odyn volunteered. "With Cordelia's pegasus knights, we can create a convincing show."

Lucina started to protest but stopped herself. The strategic logic was sound, even if the thought of separation made her uneasy. Old fears died hard—the memory of losing him once before still vivid despite the man standing whole before her.

Chrom nodded his approval. "Agreed. I'll remain with Emmeryn. Robin, you'll coordinate between the groups." He turned to Lucina. "And you?"

The question hung in the air, weighted with meaning beyond the immediate tactical decision. Which group would she join? Which man would she protect—the father she had crossed time to save, or the protector whose death had shaped her life?

"I'll go with the escort," she decided after a moment. "My knowledge of the future makes me valuable there."

If either man recognized the deeper significance of her choice, neither showed it. But as the meeting dispersed and preparations began, Odyn caught her arm gently outside the tent.

"You chose him," he said quietly.

"I chose the mission," she corrected, though they both knew it wasn't that simple. "Emmeryn's survival has already changed the timeline in ways I couldn't have anticipated. I need to be there to... to see what else might change."

Odyn studied her face in the moonlight, his expression unreadable. "Be careful," he finally said. "This new future we're writing—it has unknowns even for you."

"I know." She hesitated, then added, "You be careful too. Gangrel will be furious after today. The decoy group will face the brunt of his wrath."

A smile touched his lips. "Worried about me?"

"Always," she admitted, the word slipping out before she could reconsider.

Something shifted in his expression—recognition, perhaps, of the weight that single word carried between them. He reached out, his hand brushing a strand of hair from her face with unexpected tenderness.

"I'll find you in Ylisse," he promised. "After all, I apparently have a future reputation to live up to."

Despite everything, Lucina found herself smiling. "You already exceed it."

* * *

Dawn found the Shepherds dividing into their separate companies. The decoy group—Odyn, Cordelia, Sumia, and several others chosen for speed and visibility—departed first, heading west before looping back toward the main road to Ylisse. Their exit was purposefully conspicuous, designed to draw attention.

An hour later, the escort group began their own journey. Emmeryn rode in the center, flanked by Chrom and Frederick, with Lissa nearby under Lon'qu's watchful protection. Robin had positioned Tharja—still adjusting to her new allegiance—near the front where her dark magic could provide early warning of ambush.

Lucina found herself riding beside Saibyrh, the elven healer's presence calming in a way few others' could be.

"You seem troubled," Saibyrh observed as they navigated a narrow mountain trail. "More so than your companions."

"I know too much and too little," Lucina replied after ensuring no others rode within earshot. "Every change we make to the timeline creates new unknowns. The future I remember offers less and less guidance with each passing day."

"That is the nature of life, child, even without the complications of time travel," Saibyrh said with gentle amusement. "None of us can see the path beyond the next bend."

"Perhaps. But most haven't witnessed the destruction waiting at the end of a particular path."

Saibyrh considered this. "When a healer treats a deadly disease, they don't focus on the death they've seen it cause. They focus on the interventions that might prevent it."

"And if those interventions have never been tested? If you're creating the cure as you go?"

"Then you rely on principles, not precedents," the elf replied simply. "You know what strengthens life and what weakens it. Apply that wisdom to each new challenge as it arises."

Before Lucina could respond, a sharp whistle cut through the air—Tharja's signal. The column halted immediately, weapons drawn in practiced unison.

"Movement ahead," Tharja reported as Chrom rode forward. "Not soldiers. Villagers, I think. But they shouldn't be on this route."

Robin frowned. "This pass is rarely traveled. Why would civilians be here now?"

"A trap?" Frederick suggested, always suspicious.

"Let me see," Lucina said, urging her mount forward. From a vantage point on a nearby rise, she could make out what appeared to be a small group of travelers—perhaps a dozen in all—making slow progress along the trail ahead. Their garb was simple, their pace hampered by loaded carts.

As she watched, one of the carts lost a wheel, spilling its contents across the narrow path. The scene looked genuine—the frustrated gestures, the hurried attempts to salvage scattered belongings.

"Refugees," she concluded, returning to the group. "Fleeing the war, most likely."

"We should avoid them," Frederick advised. "Any delay increases our risk."

Emmeryn, who had remained silent until now, spoke firmly. "We will help them."

"Your Grace," Frederick began to protest.

"These are people caught in a conflict not of their making," Emmeryn said, her voice gentle but unyielding. "I will not pass by their suffering, especially when that suffering is born of a war fought in my name."

Chrom nodded, knowing better than to argue when his sister spoke with such conviction. "We'll help, but cautiously. Robin, position our forces accordingly."

As they approached the refugees, Lucina felt a strange unease. There was something familiar about this scenario, though she couldn't place it in her memories. Had this happened in her timeline? It seemed unlikely—Emmeryn had died at the cliffs, never making this journey.

The refugees looked up in alarm as the armed company approached, several reaching for tools that might serve as improvised weapons.

"Peace," Emmeryn called, moving to the front despite Frederick's protective gesture. "We mean you no harm."

An older woman stepped forward, her weathered face suspicious. "You wear Ylissean colors. Why should we trust you?"

"Because I give you my word," Emmeryn replied simply.

The woman studied her for a long moment, then her eyes widened in recognition. "The Exalt," she gasped. "You're alive."

Murmurs spread through the refugee group. Some bowed awkwardly, others simply stared in disbelief.

"We thought you dead," the woman continued. "Gangrel's messengers spread word that you'd been executed."

"As you can see, those reports were premature," Chrom said, his hand never straying far from Falchion's hilt. "Where are you headed?"

"Away," a man answered, joining the woman. "Anywhere but Plegia. Gangrel has gone mad with his war preparations. Our villages are being stripped of food, our young men conscripted. Those who resist disappear in the night."

Emmeryn's face softened with compassion. "You seek sanctuary in Ylisse?"

The man looked down. "We seek life, Your Grace. Politics mean little when your children are starving."

"Then you shall have both sanctuary and sustenance," Emmeryn declared. "Frederick, see to their broken cart. Robin, organize an escort for these people once we reach the border."

As the Shepherds moved to assist, Lucina found herself drawn to the edge of the group, where a hooded figure stood apart from the others. Unlike the rest, this person made no move to help with the repairs, instead remaining perfectly still, observing.

Instinct raised the hairs on the back of Lucina's neck. She approached casually, one hand resting near her sword.

"You seem apart from your companions," she said, stopping a few paces away.

The figure turned slowly. Beneath the hood, Lucina caught a glimpse of pale skin and eyes that reflected the sunlight oddly—like mirrors rather than living tissue.

"As do you, Time-Walker," the figure replied, its voice carrying a metallic resonance that set Lucina's teeth on edge.

She drew Falchion in one fluid motion. "You are not what you appear to be."

"No more than you," the creature agreed, seeming unconcerned by the legendary blade pointed at its chest. "But while you fight against destiny, I am merely its messenger."

"Risen," Lucina hissed, recognizing now what had felt wrong. This was no refugee—this was one of Grima's undead servants, but more intelligent than any she had encountered before.

The creature smiled, revealing teeth too sharp for human mouths. "Not quite. Something... older. Your interference has necessitated a more direct approach."

Before Lucina could call a warning, the false refugee moved with impossible speed, shedding its human disguise like a snake casting off dead skin. In its place stood a tall, gaunt figure with skin like polished obsidian and eyes that burned with purple flame.

"The Fell Dragon sends his regards," it announced, voice carrying unnaturally across the pass.

Chaos erupted instantly. The other "refugees" transformed as well, revealing themselves as more of these advanced Risen. Unlike the shambling corpses Lucina remembered, these moved with purpose and coordination, immediately targeting key figures in their group.

"Protect the Exalt!" Frederick bellowed, urging his mount between Emmeryn and the nearest attacker.

Lucina found herself engaged with the leader, Falchion meeting its unnaturally strong claws with a shower of sparks. "How is this possible?" she demanded as they circled each other. "Grima has not yet risen in this timeline!"

The creature laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "Time is more fluid than you know, daughter of Naga. When you stepped backward, you created... openings."

Tharja appeared at Lucina's side, dark magic swirling around her fingertips. "Less talking, more killing," the mage suggested dryly before sending a bolt of crackling energy at their opponent.

The creature dodged with inhuman grace but couldn't completely evade Robin's simultaneous attack from the opposite flank. Lightning struck its shoulder, tearing away a chunk of its form.

"You cannot prevent what comes," it snarled, suddenly defensive as more Shepherds joined the fight. "He sees you, Time-Walker. Across the void between worlds, he knows your face."

"Then he should fear it," Lucina replied, pressing her advantage.

Around them, the battle turned quickly in the Shepherds' favor. These enhanced Risen, while formidable, were still outnumbered. One by one, they fell to blade and magic, dissolving into purple mist that dissipated on the mountain breeze.

The leader, recognizing defeat, backed toward the cliff edge. "This changes nothing," it said, its form already beginning to disintegrate. "The dragon rises. The wheel turns. And this time, daughter of Naga, you will watch your protector die again."

With those words, it stepped backward into empty air, its body completely dissolving before it could strike the rocks below.

In the sudden silence that followed, Lucina found every eye turned to her. The creature's words had been heard by all—words that confirmed her story to those who now knew it, and raised dangerous questions for those who didn't.

"What was that?" Chrom demanded, coming to stand beside her. "What did it mean about a dragon rising?"

Lucina wiped Falchion's blade clean, buying time to collect her thoughts. "It was a messenger from the very future I'm trying to prevent. A servant of Grima."

"It knew you," Robin observed quietly. "Called you 'Time-Walker.'"

"And spoke of a protector," Frederick added, his shrewd eyes moving between Lucina and the path where Odyn's group had departed hours earlier.

For a moment, Lucina considered further evasion, more half-truths to protect the timeline. But as she looked at the faces surrounding her—faces of people who had just fought and bled alongside her—she made another choice.

"Yes," she acknowledged, sheathing Falchion with deliberate calm. "What you just witnessed is proof that my mission is more urgent than ever. The enemy I fight knows I'm here, knows what I'm trying to prevent. And now they're adapting."

Emmeryn stepped forward, her serene presence seeming to calm the tension that had risen. "Then you must tell us what we face, so that we may help you fight it."

Lucina looked to Chrom, who nodded his agreement. "All of it, Lucina. No more secrets between us."

And so, as they resumed their journey with redoubled caution, Lucina began to speak. She told them of Grima's resurrection, of the Grimleal cult's plans, of Validar's role—though she carefully avoided revealing Robin's connection to him. She spoke of the world's devastation, of the desperate final stand that had led to her journey through time.

With each revelation, she felt the future shifting further from the one she had known. For better or worse, the path was changing—diverging into unknown territory where her memories offered less and less guidance.

And somewhere ahead, Odyn led his decoy mission, unaware of this new threat—unaware that he had been specifically marked by an enemy from beyond time itself.

Lucina gazed north, toward Ylisse and the rendezvous point still days away. "Be safe," she whispered to the wind, hoping some part of her prayer might reach him. "Be safe until I find you again."

* * *

The decoy group made excellent time along the main road, their visibility deliberately high. Odyn had arranged their formation to suggest a valuable cargo protected by elite guards—exactly what would be expected if they were truly escorting the Exalt back to Ylisse.

"Any signs of pursuit?" he asked as Cordelia returned from a scouting flight.

The pegasus knight dismounted with practiced grace. "Nothing yet, but that may not last. There's heavy movement around Gangrel's fortress—troops mobilizing."

"Good," Odyn replied with grim satisfaction. "The more attention we draw, the safer the real escort will be."

Cordelia studied him with an assessing gaze. "You seem... different since the rescue mission."

"Do I?"

"More focused. Less restless." A smile touched her lips. "It wouldn't have anything to do with a certain blue-haired warrior, would it?"

Odyn busied himself adjusting his mount's saddle straps. "We should reach the border crossing by nightfall. If Gangrel means to intercept us, that would be the place."

"Avoiding the question," Cordelia noted. "Interesting."

Before he could respond, Sumia landed nearby, her usually cheerful face tight with concern. "Riders approaching from the west," she reported. "Not Plegian military—their formation is too loose. But armed and moving with purpose."

"How many?" Odyn asked, immediately alert.

"Two dozen, perhaps more behind them."

"Bandits taking advantage of the chaos," Alek suggested, the berserker hefting his massive axe. "Or mercenaries in Gangrel's employ."

"Either way, we maintain our course," Odyn decided. "If they attack, we engage decisively but don't pursue. Our mission is to be seen, not to waste time with minor skirmishes."

They continued north, and within an hour, the dust cloud of the approaching riders became visible to all. As the distance closed, Odyn could make out details—a mismatched collection of armor and weapons, no uniform colors or insignia.

"Definitely not regular military," he confirmed. "Sumia, take Miriel and circle wide. Be ready to strike their flank if this turns hostile."

The approaching force showed no signs of slowing as they drew near. At their head rode a towering figure on a massive warhorse, a crimson axe gleaming in the sunlight.

"They're going to attack," Cordelia concluded, readying her lance.

"Then let's not disappoint them," Odyn replied, drawing his twin blades. To the others, he called, "Defensive formation! Remember—engage, destroy, continue. We don't linger!"

The clash, when it came, was swift and violent. The mercenaries—for they were indeed hired swords, not random bandits—fought with surprising coordination. Their leader, the axe-wielder, directed them with practiced signals, targeting Cordelia's pegasus in an obvious attempt to remove their aerial advantage.

Odyn found himself engaged with three opponents simultaneously, his blades weaving a lethal pattern as he defended and countered. The first fell quickly, a precise thrust finding the gap beneath his helm. The second proved more skilled, forcing Odyn to give ground before a feint created the opening for a killing stroke.

The third backed away, reassessing his opponent with newfound wariness. "You fight like the shadows themselves," the mercenary observed, his accent marking him as Feroxi.

"And you die like everyone else," Odyn replied, pressing his advantage.

Their duel was interrupted by a thunderous crash as the mercenary leader's axe met Alek's in a contest of raw strength. The two massive warriors strained against each other, neither yielding.

"I know you," Alek growled in recognition. "The Crimson Storm. You once fought for Basilio."

The leader laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. "And now I fight for gold. The West-Khan grows soft in his old age."

From above, Sumia and Miriel struck the mercenaries' rear, the mage's fire spells creating chaos in their ranks. The distraction was enough for Alek to break the deadlock, shoving his opponent back with a roar of effort.

"We've made our point," Odyn called, dispatching his final opponent. "Disengage and continue north!"

The Shepherds responded with practiced discipline, breaking contact and reforming their column with minimal delay. The mercenaries, catching their breath after the sharp engagement, made no immediate move to pursue.

As they rode away, Odyn noticed something odd. Despite the clash, the mercenary leader made no attempt to rally his forces for chase—instead, he simply watched them depart, an almost satisfied expression visible even at a distance.

"That was too easy," Odyn murmured.

"Easy?" Alek scoffed, binding a shallow wound on his forearm. "The Crimson Storm is no minor opponent."

"That's my point," Odyn replied, frowning. "Why would a commander of his reputation lead such a half-hearted attack? They tested our strength but made no real attempt to stop us."

Cordelia flew close, her expression matching his concern. "You think it was a distraction?"

A cold certainty settled in Odyn's stomach. "Or reconnaissance. They weren't trying to defeat us—they were assessing us."

"For what purpose?"

"To determine if we're truly the high-value escort we appear to be," he replied grimly. "We need to move faster. If they realize we're a decoy..."

The implication hung in the air, understood by all. If their ruse was discovered, Gangrel's forces would immediately redirect toward the mountain pass—toward the real escort carrying Emmeryn.

Toward Lucina.

Odyn urged his mount to greater speed. "New plan," he announced. "We abandon subtlety. From now on, we ride as if the Exalt herself traveled with us, making all the standard security preparations at maximum visibility."

"And if we're pursued?" Cordelia asked.

"Then we lead them as far from the eastern mountains as possible," he replied. "Whatever it takes, whatever the cost, we keep their attention fixed on us."

As they rode north with renewed purpose, Odyn found his thoughts returning to Lucina—to the mystery she represented and the strange connection he felt toward her. He had meant what he said about the dreams he'd had since childhood. The blue-haired warrior had been a constant presence in his sleeping mind for as long as he could remember, always just ahead, always leading him toward some crucial moment he could never quite reach before waking.

Now he knew why. Somehow, across the boundaries of time itself, he had sensed her—or perhaps the echo of what they had been to each other in that other, darker future.

"I won't fail you," he promised silently as the border crossing came into view on the horizon. "Not in this timeline. Not ever."

Little did he know that at that very moment, miles to the east, Lucina was making a similar vow as her group recovered from their encounter with the enhanced Risen. Two protectors, separated by distance but united in purpose, each determined to shield the other from a fate neither fully understood.

And between them, the wheel of destiny continued to turn, its course altered but not stopped—spinning toward a confrontation that would determine not just their futures, but the future of all worlds.

To be continued in Chapter 11: Introduction to New Comrades; preparation for War with Gangrel