#f:ea

The room is full of your favorite people, your comrades-in-arms. There’s the Ylisseans, with smug looks on their faces, indicating that they clearly knew about this while you didn’t. You’ve even got your foreign friends, Tiki, Say’ri, Lon’qu, and even Virion and Cherche.  They’re all here with big grins on their faces. Or at least most of them. Even the more serious folk have small little smiles.

There are even all the members of the younger generation amidst all of the eclectic and colorful decorations (and not a hint of a skull to be found), but you can’t seem to spot your son. He’s sure to be around here somewhere…

 You’d never have thought that you’d get a complete gathering of all your friends ever again.  Well then, this explains all the recent sketchy behavior.

Yet, you can’t find the culprit behind this all either. You look around the room with a questioning glance and yelp when a pair of hands covers your eyes. “Nya ha! Surprised, are ya?” He takes them off and steps in front of you, beaming even more than usual, with Morgan in tow.

“Am I ever!” you say. “How did you pull this all off?” You smile fondly at your son as you ask, and pat his head.

“Welp, it was no easy task, I can tell you that nya ha! But a challenge is fun, wouldn’t you say, Morgan?”

He nods enthusiastically. “We wanted to make your birthday special, Mom!”

B-birthday?

“But I don’t have a birthday,” you say. “That is, I don’t have any recollection of it.”

“But that’s where you’re wrong,” Henry says and ruffles your hair.

“The day we found you,” Chrom says.

“In the field,” Lissa chimes in and pushes in front of her brother.

“And you joined the Shepherds,” Frederick adds.

“Changing all our fates forever,” Morgan says happily.

“No,” you say self-deprecatingly. “I made things worse, if anything.”

There’s uproar at the comment, and Henry thumps you over the head. “You’ve saved the world from dealing with Grima ever again, even if you had to leave us behind. Silly, you helped all of us.” He gives you a tender look and you hold back the urge to peck him.

Each person chimes in how they’d all be lost without you, and before you know it, you’re tearing up. Maribelle tells you that she’s sorry for mistaking you to be a low born. Priam is happy to have been defeated at your hands. Inigo says that he’s not received so much pleasure being rejected by anyone else. Gaius thanks you for the cake. But then he says that he’s glad to meet someone as trustworthy and reliable as you. Goodness, he’s still not on about that incident, is he?

Even so, each person is so heartfelt in their compliments that you can’t help but start bawling. Henry hands you a handkerchief. He’d probably had anticipated the waterworks already. Looking around the room, you can tell that he’s everything covered for already. After being allowed to sniffle a bit, he announces that it’s time to start the party.

After mingling, and stuffing yourself with food, and taking care of the cake, it’s finally time for everyone to leave. Morgan goes along with them with the promise of visiting tomorrow, and you know that he wants to give you some alone time with your husband.

Thankfully, Frederick’s organized a very efficient clean up, so the place is more spotless than you’ve seen it in months. At last, you sluggishly head to bed with Henry and the two of you flop down onto the mattress.

“Henry…” you say after several moments of silence. You weren’t able to thank him among all of the chaos that ensued at the party. “This meant the world to me.”

You look over at him and entwine his fingers with yours. “I can’t even begin to imagine all the trouble you went through to pull this off…You must be so tired.”

“Nah,” he waves his other hand. “It was nothing, if I get to see you be so happy.”

“I love you,” you tell him, and peck his lips, like you’d been itching to.

He chuckles and sits up, sleepily rubbing his eyes. “You’re still missing two presents.”

What could you be missing? You’ve gotten everything from a hexed toenail clipper to an extravagant necklace.

“I’ll give you mine now, but we’ll save Morgan’s for the morning, hmm?” Ah right. Theirs. You’d thought that everything else was your present, what need do you have for anything else?

“Close your eyes,” he orders you, and you oblige. It’s nice, having him tell you to do something instead of it always being the other way around.

He places something around your neck and draws back to shuffle around something in his robes. “Don’t open them yet,” he sings, and you nod. When what he’s put on you feels a little warm, you jump in surprise.

“Henry…are you hexing me?” you ask fearfully.

“Of course not,” he says. “Oh, you can open them now.”

You do so and look down. You see a glowing little stone by your collarbones and gasp. It’s beautiful. There’s little colors swirling around, but it’s mostly a stone of a dark purple color radiating ephemerally.

“Henry…it’s…” you have no words to tell him how happy you are…with everything.

He shows his palm to you, and it’s a matching stone. “I’ve enchanted them so if you give one a squeeze, the other will respond. So don’t you ever worry about being too far away from me,” he says cheerfully.

You pout and climb on to his lap. “Now why would I be far apart from you?”

“Well,” he says thoughtfully. “In case you get sick of me and leave, but change your mind?”

You whack him in the side of his head. “Ow!”

“You dolt, why would I ever do that?” You hug him, and he reciprocates. “Who else will love your twisted sense of humor, anyway?”

“You say twisted, I say genius,” he retorts.

You grin and kiss his cheek. “How about we compromise, and call you a twisted genius.”

“That works for me,” he laughs, and pulls the both of you down so that you’re lying next to each other. “Happy birthday, love,” he says and blows out the candles.

Stahl: “So…how do you do this?” he wants to put a diaper on but isn’t sure what to do. He’s got Morgan’s legs raised up and is trying to stick a cloth under his rear. “Are you even supposed to be putting one on?” you ask sleepily. “He just came into the world a few hours ago. What’s he got to get out?” He turns red but keeps up with his attempts. “Well, these trousers are brand new…so just in case…” You stifle a laugh and watch him continue helplessly.

Gerome: “He’s a baby, not an explosive,” you reprimand Gerome who’s been to nervous to carry Morgan. “And he’s our baby. Relax!” You hold out your baby to him, and he hesitantly takes him. “What if I drop him?” he asks, forehead creased with worry. “Gerome,” you say impatiently. “You would be one of the last people to drop a child.” Morgan starts to cry and Gerome tries to quickly hand him back to you. “He doesn’t like me,” he sighs. “I knew it.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “He’s just tired. Why don’t you put him to bed.” He pales as though you’d asked him to throw the baby out the window, but he inches very carefully and nestles Morgan into his cradle. “See?” you yawn and he moves to pull the covers over you. “You’ll be…fine…”

Yarne: “Hello little Taguel baby,” Yarne says and lifts Morgan up. He seems to be content against his father’s chest and slumbers off. “So he likes the fur too,” you laugh. “Aww man,” Yarne turns pink from a sudden realization. “Don’t tell me you’ll both use me as something to pet.” You nod. “But of course.” He lets that sink in before asking, “So, want to get started on some more repopulation?” If it weren’t for the fact that he has Morgan in his arms he would’ve been assaulted by a variety of objects.

Vaike: “Don’t drop him, don’t drop him,” you frantically mutter under your breath as you see Vaike parading around with the newborn. Thankfully, you’ve enlisted Maribelle and Frederick to help take care of your husband and newborn child. But you’re still wary about the two of them when they’re alone. “He’ll be fine,” Vaike calls loudly. It seems as though you’re louder than you think. Just as he says that, Morgan begins to bawl. Great. And you’d just put him to sleep too. To your surprise, Vaike quickly has him quiet again, by murmuring sweet words and singing what you assume is a lullaby to him. To your horror, you later find out that it’s a drinking song.

Henry: “Hey there, little guy,” he peers into Morgan’s face as you hold him, still weary from all the hours of labor you’ve been through. It feels like this was the hardest battle you’ve fought, and you’ve faced Grima for Naga’s sake! Henry offers a finger to your silver haired child. “Nya ha! Would you look at that? He’s holding on…” He looks so happy that you feel warm all over, especially when he takes Morgan from you and holds him close. You feel sleep come to you as you mumble to Henry to not sing any strange lullabies.

Donnel: “Aw, you’re the cutest little thing I reckon I’ve ever seen,” He holds Morgan snugly against his shoulder and walks around with him the few private moments you get to yourself. “You’ve got nothing on Mary-Lou.” You run the name through your head and groan. “Of course he doesn’t, he’s not a sheep.” Donnel is affronted at this and gasps. “Mary-Lou is a very precious part of this family.” You roll your eyes. “Compare Morgan to any more farm animals, and I will be eating her.” He gasps and walks away with Morgan, only to having to return a few seconds later when he begins to cry.

Lon’qu: He’s been holding on to Morgan every second that you haven’t been. Even when you wake up to a wail, you see your husband gently rocking him, although he’s a bit panicked from the crying. “I-I’m not sure why he’s upset?” he says when he sees that you’re awake. You giggle and hold your arms out for him. “He’s just hungry,” you assure him and let the hungry child have his milk. You find that your husband is staring. He’s still not sure how that works.  But he just sits down beside you and strokes your hair gently as you feed Morgan.

Chrom: “So have we come to decision?” he asks softly. He’s on the bed next to you and the two of you are cuddling with your baby. “Mm, I think so. I think it’s a lovely name.” He nods and flashes you a warm smile. “Lucina it is then.” You smile fondly at your family and peck Lucina’s cheek and Chrom does the same and moves to briefly kiss you. “Well you’ve got yourself a princess,” you say after the two of you pull apart. “I’ve got two,” he says and pulls you two closer. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” you nuzzle your nose with her little one. “She gets it from her mother,” he says proudly, but you disagree. “No, I think she’s inherited your devastatingly handsome good looks,” you say dryly, and the two of keep arguing with each other until Lucina starts crying.        

Frederick: “Frederick…where is our child?” you ask him slowly. “All I see is a bundle of blankets…” He turns to face you with a pleased expression. “He’s right here. I must take care that he doesn’t catch a chill.” You smack your forehead with your palm. “Maybe, but he’ll gain a temperature instead. Please free him from his fabric prison.” He looks a little put out, but he does so and you can almost hear your baby sigh with relief. If babies did that, that is. He gurgles happily instead and you hear your husband crying. “He likes his Papa,” he sniffles and you laugh. You should hope that he does.

He had laid the little three-year-old Lissa to bed and not an hour later, she’d found him in her pink nightgown and crying. He was reading a story to Chrom, a boy only six years his junior and still with much left to mature.

Chrom started snapping at the younger sibling who started crying even louder. You’d let the eldest finish for you, but she’s been so harrowed by the affairs that were too big of a burden to her small shoulders, he’d been taking great pains to ensure that she not be bothered by these two. That’s why, he supposed, that instead of serving in the army he’d become the royal babysitter.

So with a sigh he passed the book to Chrom and convinced him that reading is good for becoming a strong man, left the boy before he could argue, and scooped the little girl up and carried her out.

“What’s the matter?” he asked her gently. She was sniffling and had snot running down from her nose. With a sigh, he’d done an action so automatic he doesn’t even flinch anymore, and used his thumb to wipe it away.

“I had a nightmare,” she sniffed and blew her nose into his tunic. Lovely.

“You want to sleep with Chrom tonight?” he questioned and went into her room to retrieve her favorite stuffed cat.

She shook her head furiously. “Don’t wanna be with that meanie!” He restrained a chuckle. “You know, he didn’t mean it.”

She merely stuck her nose up airily, indicating that she didn’t want to talk about it. Such a princess already, he thought amusedly. He’ll sort out the matter tomorrow. Preferably before breakfast, so that they didn’t have any ammunition to use against each other. He shuddered at the thought of the last time they went to breakfast being angry at each other.

“Then you’ll just stay with me is it?” he said and she nodded. As he picked up her blanket she cried out for him to wait.

“Oopsies,” she said and giggled. Oh no. That angelic little giggle meant—

He tossed the stench filled fabric away from him and held back from letting his nausea overcome it.

And if that happened then—

They’d both have to take a bath then.

Wonderful.

It took a good hour to capture her so she could take a bath, and another ten minutes to convince her that one of the serving maids had to do it. He’d then scampered off to get rid of all evidence of…that…and had to change once more by the time she’d finished. She skipped in front of him to bed and left a pleasant surprise on the floor.

By the time he’d gotten into bed he was already sporting some nasty looking bruises. Little Lissa decided to pay him back for his misfortune by leaving a soapy trail by his bedside.  She went to scoot over but when she heard a yelp, she shrieked, which in turn had him yelling. A mop of blue hair poked out from under the covers and frowned at the two of them.

“Can’t a man get some sleep around here?” he demanded. The three of them exchanged awkward glances and then laughed. It seemed that this was his way of offering a peace treaty.

“I take it that you’d like to join us?” it would be a tight squeeze, but it wouldn’t be unpleasant. He nodded and sat up to retrieve a book. It was the one that Frederick had been reading to him. “Here, I’ll read this to you two. So I don’t owe you anything. Dad said that you shouldn’t owe anything to anybody.”

“Did he?” he asked vaguely. He didn’t know what to say to that. It was a respectable philosophy, he supposed.

“I’ll forgive you,” Lissa said and brought up the blanket to below her chin. “Fredwick says that you don’t like to say sorry and do nice things.”

Trust her to twist up the discussion he had with their elder sister the other day. Children. Evil little things, they were, really. Chrom luckily paid no mind to it and just opened up the book.

“Alright, now listen up. And don’t fall asleep before I finish!” he added to Lissa when she let out a huge yawn.

“I’m listening,” she mumbled and curled up to her brother’s side. “Reawwy.”

He patted her head like Frederick does and began to read.

“Once upon a time, there were two dragons, a prince, and his tactician…”

He’d expected Lissa to doze off, but to the surprise of the two siblings, Frederick fell to a fast, deep, and well deserved slumber. They shared a fit of giggles, and with heavily lidded eyes, pulled the covers over him and slept peacefully beside him.

The peace was a good respite for all the trouble they’d surely start up again the next day.

“It’s just hair,” you tell him, although you feel like you’re telling yourself this more. It’s not a battle. No monsters, no barbarians, or crazed warlords. It’s just you, your husband, and a pair of scissors.

So why does his sharp intake of breath at your first snip terrify you out of your wits?

“Careful,” he says. His voice is so strained, you’d think that he’s giving birth. “There’s a lot of care that goes into this. It’s not just hair, it’s my—“

 “Yes, yes,” you snap at him and furiously finish cutting away the strand. He yelps from the sudden movement. “I know how much time you spend taking care of your hair, now let me cut it in peace or you won’t have any left!”

He presses his lips tightly out of fear that you would actually cause such harm to the remainder of his hair. You sigh. Finally, you can get something done. You make another snip, and he says “ahm, _____.”

“Not.” Snip. “Another.” Snip. “Word!” Snip, snip, snip.

You cut and hack away (alright, that’s exaggerating, it was more like seething while very carefully cutting his hair) for a good half hour until you’re satisfied with your work.

The length of his hair is similar to Frederick’s, but his bangs are untouched. Cough edgeworth hair

It looks good, you think with a relief. You hand him a mirror and you see him pursing his lips and looking this way and that. When you see him smile in delight you let out a breath of air that you didn’t know that you were holding. Thank you Naga, you mutter as he stands up to face you. “Thank you, ma cherie,” he pecks you on the lips and pulls away to admire his new hairstyle.

“Maybe now you can spend less time on your hair and more time with your wife now,” you tease him as he brushes through his blue locks. He pauses at your suggestion and grins wickedly.

“Perhaps I’ll take you up on that offer, sweet _______.”

Libra: He lets out a cry that has you whip around. You see that a good part of his hair is gone from the neck below, with chunks hanging here and there. What’s even more worrying is the bleeding from it. Thankfully, the battle finishes soon enough and the damage is superficial at the worst.

He, on the other hand is moping, an action that’s rather odd coming from him.

You know what the reason is, you think, as you brush your fingers over the scar gracing his neck, the one not incurred from the skirmish today. He doesn’t even wince when you do it, but his hand instinctively goes to cover it when you press the cold blades of the shears near his neck to clean up the damage. Perhaps it’s because it’s been exposed today. There’s only some strands haphazardly covering the area.

“I’m going to have to cut it Libra,” you say quietly. A sigh resonates from him.  

“You…you are correct. Please, proceed.”

You nod to yourself. You’ll try to salvage what you can, you say, but he says that it matters not to him. Perhaps showing the scar will be to his benefit, you think to yourself and slowly make good work out of his hair. You begin with the front to make the length not stand out so much, and angle downwards until you reach the back. You think that layering his hair would be best to cover as much as you can.

You’re no barber, but you think you’ve done a decent job. Especially for one who was in the outhouse when the gods were distributing artistic talent.

“Libra…I’m done,” you say and gently tousle his hair with his fingers. His own find his scar once again and he sighs. You’ve done your best to hide it, and for that he is thankful.

The ice cream cone, when they share –

He holds it. After the popcorn incidents, you’ve got him to swear that he won’t be messing with food anymore. Ever. Again. He doesn’t like sleeping on the couch so much, so the worst he’ll do is get ice cream on your nose so he can lick it off; he really likes making you blush.

The remote, when they sit down to watch a movie –

You do. You don’t trust him because you’ll go up to get something, and the next thing you know he’ll have the most gruesome horror movie on screen and he’ll just be laughing from enjoyment. He knows that it scares you, so he’ll gladly put back on whatever the two of you had agreed on watching.

The basket, when they go shopping –

Henry, since he happily does everything as he’s told. He has a good eye for things too, although he’s pretty good at getting you to buy dark artifacts. Sometimes you wonder about the intentions behind his constant smile…

The door, on dates –

He does. He can be very sweet and helpful like that and always wishes to make you happy. Sometimes he’ll keep the door open for too long and you won’t notice that he’s held it for about twenty people. When you tell him to not do that, the next time he lets it shut on an elderly couple. You need to teach him to not take you quite so literally….

The other’s hand, most often –

You do, and in the beginning it surprised him. He got very used to showing affection very quickly and always makes sure to be by your side. It’s good for you, because you can keep an eye on him.

Their breath, upon seeing the other on their wedding day –

You…because you’re relieved that he’s actually wearing something normal. Though he does have a tender look in his eyes when you finally walk up to him. “You’re pretty,” he says unabashedly, and you have to hid your blush with your bouquet.

The camera, when they take pictures together - 

Frederick: “______” he runs his fingers through your hair when you go and plop your head down in his lap. “Please, let it not ail you, my sweet.” You merely bury your face into his thigh and he sighs. You know he’ll make you speak eventually so you take preemptive action and turn back to face him. “How can I not! Look at all everyone’s suffered through, and it’s all my fault!” Your voice raises so loudly that you can hear a few startled whispers from outside. You ignore them, but lower your tone. “What do I do?” you say with a shaky voice. Blast it all, you’ve started crying. How much more pathetic could you get? You apparently say this out loud because the next second he has you in a tight embrace and murmurs words of comfort. You let yourself listen to them and have his words lull you to a sleep. The last words you hear before you rest are, “don’t be reckless.” Reckless, he says. But this is something you’ve given careful thought.

Chrom: “Quit tormenting yourself over it,” he tells you when he sees that you’ve worried your lips into a cracked and bloody mess. “How can I?” you ask quietly. When Lucina’s told you of the dark future that can very well be coming for you all. And that you’ll have the blood of the world on your hands.  “Because that’s not you,” he says firmly and grabs you by the wrists to yank you to him. “Your bonds with everyone are much stronger than any other power. Think of that and you will remain strong. Just promise me you’ll do your damndest to stay strong.” He urgently brushes his lips along your neck, your ear, down your jaw and over your collarbones. “Please…” he whispers. He says that he would cut you down, but you know that he would never do that. It’ll be up to you to take your own life when you have the chance.

Inigo: “Love, what’s wrong?” he panics when you wake up in a cold sweat. “Nothing,” you mumble incoherently and fumble around for your water pouch. “Don’t worry about it.” He realizes what you’re searching for and passes it to you. You take a few gulps and pour the rest on your face. “______!” He snatches the pouch before you can become completely drenched. “You’ll fall ill,” he scolds you and pulls off your top. He takes his off to put it on you. It’s bigger, but his warmth has you feeling better. “There. Now tell me, why are you being this way?” He looks in you such a way that you have to tell him. You render him speechless for a few moments, and you can’t blame him with the absurdity of it all. You can almost see the images flash through his eyes. You expect him to recoil from you in horror, since after all, it’s your fault that anything horrible has ever happened, but instead he pulls you close. “Silly girl,” he says. “Hiding things from me. The ______ from then is a thousand times different from the ______ now. We’ll get through it together.” He entwines his fingers with yours until the two of you fall asleep.  

Lon’qu: “There’s something eating at you,” Lon’qu says as the two of you make your way to Mount Prism. “Speak.” He looks at you with his concerned face, brows more furrowed than usual and him biting the corner of his lip ever so slightly. “Don’t say ‘nothing’, because we both know that it’s nonsense.” You had opened your mouth only to close it again at his words. Damn. He knows you too well.  After explaining the events that have transpired you expect him to react negatively; and that he’ll tell you to leave him. Instead, his face relaxes. “So what? Are you not the same woman? You’re one of great mental fortitude. Let not your blood define your actions.” He blushes a bit from praising you so much and looks away. The familiar action manages to quell the restlessness in your heart for a moment. But only that.

Stahl:  “Can’t sleep?” you haven’t even noticed that he’s left the tent until you see him offering you a glass of milk. “Drink up.” You take the glass obediently and he watches you patiently, his face propped by his hands. “Feeling better?” he asks you. You nod a bit and set the drained glass down. “So dear, was there something you want to tell me? It’s okay if you don’t. Just know that I’m here,” he smiles at you with traces of tiredness, but he’s as genuine as ever. So you decide that he has a right to know about his father-in-law….Gods that was a joke in poor taste. “That’s really…wow…” He thinks of what to say. “Well, family’s always a tricky business. But we’re your real family,” he says simply. You smile weakly and nestle into his neck.

Ricken: “Validar? No way!” he makes such a grossed out face that it causes you to laugh for the first time that day. “You’re too pretty to be related to him.” He looks so adorable being all worked up that you give him a chaste kiss on the cheek. “If only looks dictated our relation,” you say sadly. “But he’s in my head, and it’s immensely difficult to get him out.” He ponders for a bit before saying, “well then let’s put other things into your head! Look, I know that everyone’s all doom and gloom right about now, but we all need a distraction, don’t we?” He pulls you up and you decide to go along with it.

Henry:  “Related to Grima?” He looks over you. “Well, that’s kinda neat.” You know that he’s just being honest, but you can’t help the frustration that wells up inside of you. “No! It’s not neat, it horrifying! I can’t keep Validar’s voice outside of my head and I’ll probably just cause doom and, don’t say mm doom, and destruction for everyone!” He waits patiently for you to end your rant, his usual smile slipping a little. “Why Chrom won’t just leave me behind or kill me off I don’t know!” You throw your hands up in annoyance and are startled to see him catch them. “Hey now,” his eyes flash with something you haven’t seen off of the battlefield. The look he gets when someone wants to hurt you. “You think we should just abandon you? Kill you off? And people think that I’m the crazy one! Don’t even think about it, or I’ll kill you.” You give him a look and he returns it with his usual grin. “Nya ha! You know what I meant.” Yeah…you do. If only he meant it.

Laurent: “It’s not wise to keep a burden to yourself,” he advises you when he catches you reading your book upside down. “Articulate your thoughts, if you will. Please?” How he persuades you with a couple of glances and non sugarcoated words, you do not know, but considering he’s your husband, you tell him what’s been plaguing you. “Put your worries to an end. They’re trite. Clearly you are from differing timelines. Different events have transpired, and you’ve walked two different lives.” He says this all so logically, but you can heaer the faintest strain from a desperate attempt at persuasion. “Therefore, you shall not associate yourself with your other self. And that foul grimleal will not have any control over you so long as you do not give in.” Easy words to speak, you think and bite back these words. But you can see that he’s worried for you, and only turn your book back the right way to continue reading.