Cynthia hadnât felt this upset or betrayed in a long, long time. The closest she could remember was when she was a child, and her mother hadnât come home. More broken promises and more broken families.
How could Lucina want to put me through that again?
Maybes. Maybes and what ifs and potentials and that was all that Lucina had been working on. Sheâd been scared and lashed out and up to a certain point Cynthia could have understood that, hells sheâd worked on less. Both of them had worked on less. But how could her sister take those feelings, all those maybes and what ifs, and use it to try and-
How many times do I have to have my family get torn apart?
Sheâd been unbelievably, apocalyptically angry when Robin had told her the story, feeling the words would be better from his mouth than others. She would admit to screaming, particularly when Robin said for a moment heâd seen the logic to her words and had considered letting her damn well kill him. Thank the gods her father was there. Sheâd promised that sheâd approach her sister calmly, try to talk it out, that Lucina had been heartbroken enough and surely and surely sheâd want to apologize and get the air clear-
Cynthia had never been very good at living up to promises. The moment sheâd seen her determination had given way to tears and upset and rage all over again, and her voice cracked when she let out a fierce, near primal shout.
Lucina turned, and Cynthia had the briefest moment of seeing shock and - gods, was that fear? - on her face. Then, before she could even really think about what she was doing, sheâd pulled her arm back and her fist slammed into her perfect sisterâs perfect, murdering face.
She froze for a moment, staring at the blood on the knuckles of her gauntlets in what looked like confusion, before growling and being a moment away from diving on the girl to beat some damn well more before her ears stopped being filled with the sound of her own raging mind and she heard the shouts. Arms locked around her waist and tugged her back, away from her sisterâs prone form as Noire managed to keep Cynthia restrained with surprising strength, Brady checking on the fallen princess as chaos raged around them.
It looked like her nose was broken. Good.
âWhat were you thinking, Lucina?!â
     She should have expected it, really.
     If she were in a relationship with someone and her sister had nearly murdered them, she assumed she would be angry. Be upset; hurt, demand answers and want to understand. Of course Cynthia would be upset; of course Robin would have told her, of course. Lucina hadnât expected it however, she had been in a haze since it happened; wandering, lost to herself and her own inner turmoil. She had killed grimleal; she had killed risen, taken the lives of bandits and those who used their strength or influence to hurt others-
     But. She had never taken the life of someone in the manner she was prepared to take Robinâs. Unarmed, alone; it settled uneasily within her, a taint that she could never scrub away, a reminder of the lows she is willing to reach to protect her father, to protect the future she wanted to secure for this world. She was at odds with herself, part of the reason she was now crumpled upon the ground with a throbbing and broken nose while blood (why is she always covered in blood, why will it never wash away?) poured freely down her body.
     When she had first heard Cynthiaâs enraged voice, she should have prepared herself; should have expected it. She hadnât, had barely even registered seeing her sister when she had turned to face her, the punch took her completely by surprise and once she was on the ground... Honestly, it was difficult to attempt to find the will to get back up. She was so tired. She had been fighting for so long; fighting to protect the otherâs, to try and salvage their home, to save people, and when she finally had the chance to end the person who would murder her father... She failed.
     It had been nothing but battle after battle; she was too young to feel this old, this tired, she was exhausted and she... Right now, she just wanted it to stop. At least, at least for a short while. Let someone else be the strong one; let someone else be the pillar of leadership among the children, let someone else carry the weight of the other timeline on their shoulders, just let her rest please.Â
     â... You really want to do this here, Cynthia?â Tired, oh so tired, eyes meet her sisterâs enraged gaze as Lucina accepts Bradyâs hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. She had been silent for a minute, allowing him to work his actual magic and tend to her injury, and now that it was taken care of she knew she had to deal with the consequences of her actions. Robin had forgiven her, something she knew she did not deserve, she doubted Cynthia ever would- even if she bothered to hear why Lucina had done it.
     âIn front of everyone? I will, if thatâs what you desire. Right here and now, Iâll do it.â Gods but sheâs so tired, defeat in her eyes but back still straight even though all she wants is to curl in on herself for eternity. She was far from perfect, she felt so cracked and chipped and worn, she tried so hard to hold herself together and she had managed for so long...Â
     But deep down she couldnât help but wonder, but anticipate, the day she finally shattered and nothing else mattered anymore because she would finally be free of responsibility, of duty and no longer would she be burdened with trying to make a safe haven in this hell of a life they were all living.Â