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This was supposed to be her kingdom.
Only ruins remained. Nothing here brought the image of Ylisse, the once wondrous and sacred kingdom. There were only destroyed buildings, a never-ending shadow across the land, and decomposed corpses milling about.
Lucina knew her father was one of them as well, though she had never seen the once-king zombified form. Truthfully, she was glad to at least have that little luck. She didn’t know what she would do if she saw what her father had become. The once strong, powerful father who held her on his shoulders and seemed brighter than any god, now merely a zombie. A puppet of a monster. He was always kept secret, hidden away at his – no, their castle. The one where she was supposed to rule, together with her family. To bear the weight of the crown, becoming the next Exalt, and lead her people to a better (if not perfect) future.
And now there was nothing left.
Lucina barely remembered her childhood, only flashes in her mind now. There were mostly sensations, the absolute certainty that she’d once been dearly loved and protected. Her father’s bright smiles, strong arms, and the mark of the exalt he so proudly bore – as did she, in her eye (which she was now forced to hide). Her aunt Lissa’s wonderful hugs and games she invented for the children – Owain was always so happy back then, he never stopped smiling. Lucina remembered it all so clearly.
Her mother’s calming and warm hugs always made her feel safe. Her sweet, calming voice as she sang a lullaby. But she’d been gone too early, too soon for Lucina to remember more. She wishes she could.
Lucina knows too little of Grima or of the past. The times from before she was born, or even her toddler days. She is aware that is when things went wrong, when Grima conquered the world and destroyed everything, leaving only death and shadows behind its monstrous form.
Even though Lucina tried asking the few who survived – as their numbers kept decreasing daily, mercilessly – she searched for any books or record-keeping she could find, researching with whatever was available. The ones left by the time she was a teenager barely held any information. It seemed Grima specifically targeted royal family members in the beginning, and all those closest to them. Lucina wasn’t sure if there was some strategy behind it or if it was just some random dragon logic.
Some seemed unwilling to share much, even right before they passed away, like Aunt Lissa. The princess always held a strong hope that things would get better, always trusting something Lucina couldn’t quite understand – but she believed in it just as much. She’d heard Aunt Lissa had once been very different, a little too happy-go-lucky for some, immature for others. Lucina can’t quite believe it. Even if her aunt never lost her smile, there was steel behind it. The only noble left from the past generation, she did her best to help not only heal troops but also participate in war strategies.
Lucina didn’t remember much, but she recalled a little bit of Uncle Freddy, always stern and taciturn, who tirelessly spent hours awake to protect her and her aunt, and her husband Lon’qu, just as stern but with a gentle, silent side. There had been a before and after those deaths. Both her aunt and her cousin changed drastically with Lon’qu’s death. Aunt Lissa vowed she would not lose Owain. And indeed she didn’t. It was he who lost his mother.
Owain vowed he would aid her in all her plans. There was pain in his eyes but not quite revenge. His eyes weren’t the same as Lucina’s – no mark and no bitter, ugly hatred – and for once, she was glad they were different. That somehow her cousin got his mother’s sense of humor and never-ending joy in life. How she wished she’d been like that.
Lucina wonders what her mother had been like. As much as she looks just like her father, she’s always heard whispers and compliments about how she reminds them of her mother: her independence, perseverance, and creativity. She hopes she is doing her proud, wherever she is in heaven with her father.
Lucina only knows one thing about Grima: its monstrous, disgusting symbol. She knows it is somewhere on their body, hidden in plain sight, still visible back then. Back when everything was still good, and the future looked bright. Lucina vows she will make that hopeful future a reality. Whatever happens to the world she comes from, she doesn’t quite care. Deep down, she hopes it can be erased, forgotten by time. No one wants to live in that dreadful wasteland, save that aberration that created it.
Grima had that awful triangle with the eyes, the mark followed by its crazy cult members, the same ones she remembers once, from above her. She can’t quite place where it was; her memory is so foggy by now. The mark loomed above her, a hand appearing in the darkness. She remembers her father and her mother were there, and she felt safe.
Lucina wishes she could at least remember her mother’s face. How she searched and searched. Far and wide, so desperate to have some semblance of the family she lost. And yet, she never found a single painting of them together. Lucina wishes she had something so she could mourn. Her father’s memory seems good enough – but not completely.
She mourns the family she never got to have.
Fate has been merciful to her and offered a chance to correct what was wrong in the past. Lucina vowed she would do it.
Nothing could’ve prepared her for what would greet her once she arrived.
This world is so different from the one she knows. There is barely any darkness. The soil is rich and covered in vegetation and beautiful flowers. Actual, real flowers! And not enchantments created to remember a past long gone, courtesy of Aunt Lissa and Aunt Maribel, using the little Aunt Panne could save before her destruction.
It’s so beautiful. And the injustice of it all feeds her even more hatred towards Grima. To have removed such beauty, to have polluted the air and corrupted the land, and for what purpose?
Power?
Lucina vows this place right here, this idyllic paradise, will become her reality. She will kill Grima, no matter what it takes.
Meeting her father seems surreal. The young man in front of her is closer to a teenager than the king she remembers. He is so young, unruly, unpreoccupied with it all, and a stranger to ruling. If not for Emmeryn’s death, perhaps he would have always remained a stranger to ruling a kingdom.
Lucina can’t quite match this young, vibrant, and irreverent man with the faint memory of the big, strong father who always protected her and kept her safe. Her father, who’d always been serious, was in perpetual mourning over something she couldn’t know. But when Chrom ruffles her hair after a particularly good fight move, she forgets for a second that this is young, still unwed Chrom. The not-quite father or husband Chrom. But the warmth and love are all there, just waiting for his wife and daughter.
And it feels like she’s back home. To the family she never knew.
Maybe it was all the excitement of seeing the past, putting names to faces, and even finding her fellow friends in this day and age. But Lucina loses herself a little, lets herself become too unfocused – even if just for a little while. It’s surreal to all of them, seeing their parents not only alive but so, so young. Untouched by war, pain, torture, and famine. Just young people starting to see a war now, still hopeful for a peaceful resolution. Still alive.
Seeing not just her father, but everyone so young and happy. Uncle Freddy, who’s apparently always been like that, Uncle Lon’qu even shier than she remembered, Aunt Maribell so haughty and bossier. Lucina marvels at seeing an (almost) complete royal family and court. Save for poor Aunt Emmeryn, guess they were always fated not to meet.
She is particularly struck by meeting the famous tactician, the one featured in all of her father’s speeches, his inspiration for every decision he’s made in the war. So this is what Robin looked like, she marvels. Beautiful, yes, but more than that: there was this energy, something that drew everyone’s attention to her. While well-kept appearance-wise, Robin was all about intellect and guaranteeing that everything worked well together. Her tranquility, allied with her lightning-fast strategies, commanded respect. Lucina, for lack of a better word, was in awe.
She understood now why her father had been so fascinated with his tactician; why she invariably appeared in every speech and was responsible for every victory. There was no people pleasing from Chrom – not like he would ever resort to such a thing – it truly was the result of Robin’s impeccable strategy and long-term planning.
No matter the excuse, though, Lucina could only blame herself. She took too long marveling at everything and anything from this surreal world.
Took too long to truly look (really look) at each member of the army and who they eventually became.
She wasted too much time finding her father’s murderer. The betrayer. The one who took everything away from her.
Lucina wanted to throw up when she realized, weeks later. Much too late.
More shocking than seeing Grima’s hideous mark in that slim, but rough hand, was noticing the wedding ring.
Her mother’s wedding ring. Right there on that pale finger.
As if mocking her.
And Lucina understood then and there everything. The reason for never finding a portrait of their family (even though Owain had his own portrait, held close to his heart, literally, hidden from his family even now). And why no one wanted (or could) to explain her parents’ untimely demise.
For Grima, the evil incarnate who killed every single one in this army, was staring right in front of her. Hiding behind those fake motherly eyes, promising empty vows of love. Pretending to love Chrom, who was stabbed unceremoniously, and feigning to feel any sort of motherly love for Lucina.
Could a monster even feel love?
But was Robin truly Grima? Had it all been a plan to destroy Ylisse from within? To humiliate their noble line, to desecrate it?
The love in the tactician’s eyes feels so honest, though. Lucina has seen countless times where Robin threw herself in harm’s way to protect all their comrades, from sturdy Kellam to the still learning the ropes Donnel. The one she’s always protected the most, no questions asked, had been Chrom. And now, Lucina herself.
Robin calls her daughter with the utmost love and respect in her eyes. She’s ecstatic about having a child. The idea of having a family is a dream to her; she tells her once, whispering. Just between the two of them.
“How honored I am to have you for a daughter, Lucina.”
And for the first time in her life, Lucina felt doubt about this mission. About herself. Was Robin just Grima, lying behind those kind eyes? Waiting to strike the second they were defenseless?
Could Grima ever feel love like this?
And worse, could Robin ever kill so coldheartedly and destroy everything laughing, as Grima did?
Lucina wasn’t sure anymore. The crux of the matter was that she lost her purpose and her faith in this mission – in herself. Could she truly bring an end to this? Especially if the solution is killing her own mother? And who is she to commit matricide when she is just (half) as much Grima? Just half as much of a monster.
She can’t bring herself to do it.
Not anymore.
How could she, when she dreamed so much of meeting her mother (honestly, more than her father even, but this was a secret Lucina would take to her grave).
And as she looks into her mother’s eyes, Lucina lets herself believe that this Robin is different. This one won’t become the dragon who destroys everything and kills them all.
This one is her mother, and she promises Lucina she loves her. That she loves her more than life itself, that she would sacrifice anything for her and her father.
But hadn’t Grima perhaps promised the same thing? Uttered the same empty words, before luring Chrom and all the others to their death?
Maybe that monster was right there, staring at Lucina under those seemingly motherly eyes. Most likely just laughing at the foolish, naive little princess.
Far away from camp, in this little clearing, they’re standing face to face as the sun sets behind them. They both know what is going to happen now.
“I love you, Lucina. I always will.”
Her mother says without a hint of hesitation, smiling knowingly. Fully understanding what her daughter needs and where this is going.
As she unsheathes her sword, glinting in the fading sunset, Lucina wishes she could believe that wholeheartedly.