Masked Rider

As far as he was concerned, being in Ylisse just meant for new customers. Future gold was still gold all the same. It had taken some time to drum up business in the town near where the Shepherds were camped but he finally managed to procure a map and a couple clients willing to blindly trust a stranger with their packages.

That day was one of those days, and as Minerva flied high above watching over her master, he walked the streets of the small village buying and selling whatever he needed; now and then checking the skies to assure himself of his wyvern's safety.

It was as he was turning to head back to camp that he spotted what appeared to be a dragon he had never seen in his lifetime. It did not appear anything like a Manakete, and it's arms and size were the only proof needed to assure the rider that it was not a wyvern either. 

Gerome moved closer to the reptile, remaining cautious in case of disturbing it's peace, and watched it in interest.

He scooted closer to the water, watching Minerva with a smile, talking to Minerva “Yeah? I bet he appreciates that you do. I can tell you are an incredible pair..”

Minerva seemed to have different plans, though. Noticing that Henry understood her almost as well as Gerome and Cherche could, she let out a small roar. Her large tail coming down and splashing in the water. Gerome took notice of this as well, and against his preference, gave Henry his attention yet again.

"Ahh.. you know, you’re right. I’d hate for something horrible to happen to her. Like REALLY horrible. Dangerous situations where she ended up injured or stolen…" She tugged on her own hair using one hand, almost dropping her basket full of flowers, her mind filled with with uneasiness. "Uwaaagh, I’d let so many people down! I’d feel so bad!"

Gerome had a good point, and she hadn’t really realized it until now. Her pegasus could possibly be in danger. This was certainly a worrying development, and now she was more than motivated to get going. On the bright side, she had a good companion to travel with—if he didn’t try to abandon her like usual. But Cynthia would make sure that wouldn’t happen until the deed was done at least!

The pegasus knight took in a deep breath, then flashed a smile at Gerome despite her worries. Now wasn’t the time to freak out.

The two set off, Gerome leading the way a good few steps ahead of Cynthia as he headed toward the edge of camp. They had set up their tents at the edge of a large field that week, and Gerome thought it likely to find a pegasus or two grazing in the tall grass.

"Let us go over this one final time..." Gerome spoke calmly, keeping ahead with his back turned to the rider. The last thing he wanted was this to seem like a friendly gesture. 

"Fantastic, right?" Morgan’s selective hearing drowned out Gerome’s criticism, leaving him to interpret only the wyvern rider’s shock. "There were so many different colours, I ended up buying a bunch of them! I thought I’d share them with everyone, so we could match while fighting! Yours are black, Cynthia’s are grey—oh, Owain’s are yellow, and Inigo’s are white because he really likes lilies. Severa’s are dark red, and Brady’s and Yarne’s match—they’re brown—isn’t that cute? And I bought Lucina blue ones (that’s obvious), and Nah’s are…"

Lucina shook her head. “Nothing in particular,” she admitted, then clearing her throat. “I suppose I wanted to see if you were busy or not to chat for a while.” She knew that wasn’t a good enough answer to show up all of a sudden. It didn’t seem like a bad idea at the time to go see what her old friend has been up to lately.

"Not you too..." he sighed, half turning to re-enter his tent. As he turned, though, he noticed the expression on Lucina's face. She appeared concerned. Had she expected him to react this way? He stood still, considering and understanding well that she was the closest person he had left. Minerva aside, of course. He turned back to her.

He smiled as Gerome came closer to get his mask, watching the embarrassed rider try to hide behind his mask 

"Aww don’t worry. It wouldn’t have been the first time. Besides, you weren’t carrying any anyway! So it was all ok."

He looked over at Minerva, smiling wide at the excited wyvern, patting his lap “Well hello pretty girl! You sure are excited, huh? Are you getting a bath? Gerome’s so good at keeping you all shiny and clean, you better make sure you do the same for him!”

With his mask safely upon his face once more, Gerome turned to face the sneaky sorcerer. It was clear he was angered by his sudden appearance, but he had no intention of speaking on the matter much more. He turned to return to Minerva's side.

"That isn't the point... You're careless and foolish for interrupting me. Don't do it again." He dipped the old cloth into the water, moving it over to Minerva's back to continue cleaning her.

He took the back plating with his free hand, and looked down at the pieces together. He may have had to chip in some money to have matching pieces made, but if they fit her he would be happy to do so.

"You really think so, Gerome?"

Amazing! There were other pegasi besides her own running around, causing mishap and mayhem? The pegasus knight was entertained by the idea.

On the other hand, however nice that idea seemed, she still had to face the facts. Cynthia felt somewhat ashamed after realizing it, but she and her pegasus was very blameable. It was probably because she was always so occupied with other things that she would accidentally leave her steed unattended to, causing it to seek out food and get into all sorts of trouble… No wonder Gerome suspected her at first! She’d still forgive him for that though.

"Ah, but that’s okay! We get blamed all the time, so it’s no big deal."

"Oh! And if you’re going to see Mother, can I come with you? I’ve gathered a bunch of flowers for later." The girl revealed a colorful basket filled to the brim with the fruits of her labor.

"I suppose nothing is stopping us from making the visit together... Except," he paused, turning to face Cynthia once more. "Let us search for your pegasus first." He made his suggestion, hoping she would take it. She may not have known whether her steed was missing or not, but locating it seemed like the right thing to do.

Furrowing his brow in distress, Brady ran a hand through his hair. “Tch. So if Minerva wasn’t the wyvern what took a chomp outta my staff, what the hell happened!? I know what I saw, an’ I definitely saw a wyvern!”

"What the hell did I say about those glasses?"

"You leave me no choice," Morgan murmured in a monotone and hung his head. The tactician turned his back on the wyvern rider, as though he was about to leave. Then…

Was... Morgan... completely mad?

Gerome was left speechless by the young tactician's outlandish behavior and poses. He glanced around to be sure no one had witnessed the shame the rider felt by merely associating with the boy.

"Aw, come on Gerome—please? You have spares, right? Can’t I just borrow one for a second? Look, I’ll show you again!” Morgan repeated his pose, completing it with a hand on his hip, and winked at the wyvern rider.

Idiot. A bigger idiot than Gerome had previously imagined if he thought he could talk a mask out of the wyvern rider's pocket.

Cherche sat under a tree, passing a sewing needle back and forth through a piece of scrap cloth she had found. Minerva dozed, her scaled body curved around the tree; lazy coils of smoke rose from the wyvern’s nostrils and her rider couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

After securing the final stitches, Cherche looked down at her hands to see the finished product - a tiny little stuffed doll of black cloth, in the vague shape of a wyvern. It was crude if anything, but held some likeness to her dear Mineyvykins. 

Feeling a tug of maternal emotion in her chest, Cherche realized that she would have sewn such toys for her own child. And she did have a child - a brooding, masked wyvern rider who was in truth closer to a man than a boy. A child from another timeline, who thus far had proven to be battling his own demons and had no want for familial affection.

Cherche stared across camp at the training grounds, where she could see the aforementioned son sparring with some of the other split-timeline children. Even from a distance she had no trouble making out his tall form and red hair, accentuated by the sharp mask that covered a third of his face.

"…Gerome," Cherche said aloud, sighing just a little.

Gerome however, disliked days such as these. He could never trust this kind of quiet. It left an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that worsened at the realization that there was nothing he could do about it. He sat still in the grass, his back leaned against his wyvern companion. He would remain alert in case of emergencies.

Or so was his plan. He hadn't until then noticed Cherche and her Minerva sitting not far from where they rested. He watched as she quietly sewed, wondering what she might be making. He faintly remembered a time in his youth when he watched his own mother go through those very motions. Her eyes met those which hid behind Gerome's mask, and as she smiled warmly in his direction he couldn't help but look away.

He had remained strong in distancing himself from Cherche. He told himself again and again, she is not your real mother. Do not grow attached. But her caring smile made it difficult to push her from his thoughts. 

He stood to his feet, having formed a plan. Leaving Minerva to rest in the sun, he approached the wyvern of this altered timeline and placed a gentle hand on her back. She was far too cute when she slept.