Chapter 26: Joy of Peaceful Days & Shepherds Weddings? - Flame Eyed Strangers in Awakening: OC x Lucina

Chapter XXVI: Joy of Peaceful Days & Shepherds Weddings?

Meeting the High Royalty

The days leading up to Lissa and Roy's wedding brought a flurry of activity to Ylisstol Castle that rivaled even their most elaborate military campaigns. Diplomats, nobles, and dignitaries from across the continent had begun arriving, but none drew more attention—or nervous excitement—than the delegation from the newly established kingdom of Valmar.

The name itself carried deep significance. Chosen to honor both the dark elves who had suffered under Walhart's tyrannical rule and the Chon'sin resistance that had ultimately reclaimed their homeland, Valmar represented everything their new world stood for: unity forged from diversity, strength born from cooperation, and hope rising from the ashes of oppression.

Lucina stood at one of the castle's tall windows, watching the impressive procession approach. Even at a distance, the dark elven delegation was unmistakable—their ethereal grace evident in every movement, their rich clothing catching the afternoon sunlight in ways that seemed almost magical. At the head of the group rode two figures whose bearing marked them as royalty even without crowns or ceremony.

"Nervous?" Odyn asked softly, joining her at the window. His own elven heritage allowed him to appreciate the significance of this moment more than most.

"Excited," Lucina corrected, though her hand instinctively moved to rest on her belly where her twins continued to grow. "And curious. They're not just your parents—they're my children's grandparents. That's..."

"Overwhelming?" he suggested with a gentle smile.

"Wonderful," she finished firmly. "Different, but wonderful."

Below in the courtyard, preparations were being made for the formal welcome ceremony. Chrom stood ready with Sarai beside him, little Lilina dressed in her finest clothes and practically vibrating with barely contained excitement. Baby Morvaeighn dozed peacefully in his mother's arms, blissfully unaware of the historical significance of the moment.

"Papa, when will they get here?" Lilina asked for perhaps the twentieth time, tugging on Chrom's ceremonial cloak. "Brother Odyn said they're really tall like him, and they have special powers, and they're really really old but they look young, and—"

"Patience, little star," Chrom said with fond exasperation, using the pet name that had evolved from her endless energy. "They're almost here."

The massive gates of Ylisstol opened with ceremonial precision, and the dark elven delegation entered with the fluid grace characteristic of their people. At their head rode Berethon and Hyuuan, the High King and High Queen of the Elven people, their combined presence commanding attention without effort.

Berethon was indeed tall, even by elven standards, his silver-white hair flowing freely over shoulders clad in deep blue and silver that spoke of both royalty and practicality. His features carried the ageless quality of his people, but his eyes held the wisdom of centuries and the warmth of a father who had raised children with love rather than mere duty.

Hyuuan moved beside him with the lethal grace of a queen who had earned her crown through strength as well as birth. Her midnight-dark hair was adorned with intricate silver ornaments that caught the light like captured starlight, and her clothing—deep purple and silver—complemented her husband's while maintaining her own distinct elegance. Despite their otherworldly beauty, both radiated approachability that immediately put the gathered humans at ease.

The formal greetings proceeded with the careful protocol required between allied kingdoms, but Lucina could see the moment when ceremony gave way to genuine emotion. It happened when Odyn stepped forward to greet his parents, and both Berethon and Hyuuan's carefully maintained royal composure cracked slightly with parental joy.

"My son," Hyuuan said, her melodic voice carrying easily across the courtyard as she embraced Odyn with fierce affection. "You look well. Happy."

"Very happy," Berethon agreed, his own voice deeper but no less warm as he clasped Odyn's shoulder. "And we understand congratulations are in order for more than just your marriage."

Odyn's smile was radiant as he gestured for Lucina to join them. "Mother, Father, may I present my wife, Lucina—and our children."

The formal introduction dissolved into something more intimate as Hyuuan took Lucina's hands in her own, studying her face with the intensity of someone memorizing details for future remembrance.

"You are the princess who traveled through time itself to save her world," Hyuuan said softly. "The warrior who prevented apocalypse. And now you carry the next generation of our bloodline." Her smile was radiant. "We are honored to call you daughter."

"And your children will know the love of grandparents who have waited centuries for this joy," Berethon added, his eyes moving to where Lucina's hand rested protectively over her growing belly. "May we?"

Lucina nodded, moved by the gentle request. When Berethon placed his large hand carefully over hers, she felt a subtle warmth—not quite magic, but something deeper. Recognition, perhaps, or blessing.

"Twins," Hyuuan observed with delighted certainty. "One carries strong magical resonance, the other... something different but equally precious."

But all this adult interaction paled in comparison to what happened next. Lilina, who had been watching the proceedings with wide-eyed fascination, suddenly stepped forward with the fearless curiosity of childhood.

"Are you my grandparents?" she asked directly, her three-year-old voice cutting through the formal atmosphere with perfect clarity.

The effect on Berethon and Hyuuan was immediate and profound. Both ancient rulers turned to look at this small human child—this other version of their son's beloved wife—with expressions of wonder and instant adoration.

"We are indeed," Hyuuan said, kneeling gracefully to bring herself closer to Lilina's level. Even kneeling, she was nearly as tall as the standing child, but her expression was pure grandmotherly warmth. "You must be Lilina."

"I am!" Lilina declared proudly. "Brother Odyn told me about you. He said you're really really old but you look young, and you rule all the dark elves, and you have magic, and—"

"Breathe, little one," Berethon chuckled, also kneeling to join the conversation. "We have time for all your questions."

"Do you really have magic?" Lilina asked, bouncing slightly with excitement.

Rather than answer with words, Hyuuan held out her hand palm-up. With barely a thought, small lights began dancing above her palm—not harsh or bright, but gentle, warm sparkles that seemed to giggle as they swirled around each other.

Lilina gasped in delight, reaching out tentatively to touch the dancing lights. When her small finger made contact, the lights swirled around her hand like affectionate pets, drawing delighted laughter from the child.

"Can you teach me?" Lilina asked eagerly.

"Perhaps, when you're older," Berethon said gently. "Magic requires patience and practice."

"I'm very patient," Lilina declared with the absolute certainty of childhood, causing ripples of amused laughter throughout the assembled crowd.

"I'm sure you are," Hyuuan agreed diplomatically. "But for now, perhaps you could show us around your home? We would love to see where our new granddaughter lives."

The offer was clearly irresistible. Lilina immediately grabbed both of their hands—or rather, grabbed their fingers, since their hands were too large for her small grip—and began tugging them toward the castle entrance.

"This is the courtyard where Papa practices sword fighting, and over there is where the pegasus knights land, and inside there's a really big library where Laurent reads all the time, and there's kitchens where Gaius makes the best sweets, and—"

As Lilina chattered away, leading the High King and High Queen of the Elven people on an impromptu tour with all the authority of a three-year-old hostess, the watching adults exchanged amused and touched glances.

"She's completely conquered them already," Sarai observed with a soft laugh, shifting baby Morvaeighn to her other arm.

"Can you blame them?" Chrom asked, his expression mixing paternal pride with amazement at watching his daughter fearlessly befriend beings of immense power and ancient wisdom. "She's irresistible when she decides to be charming."

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," Lucina murmured, remembering her own father's legendary ability to inspire loyalty and affection in the most unlikely circumstances.

As the group began following Lilina's enthusiastic tour, Lucina found herself walking beside other members of the dark elven delegation. She recognized several faces from intelligence reports—nobles who had survived Walhart's purges, military leaders who had fought in the resistance, scholars who had preserved their people's culture through the darkest times.

"Your daughter is remarkable," commented Lady Selyria, one of Hyuuan's closest advisors. "To approach the High Royalty with such fearless affection... it speaks well of how she's been raised."

"She's not actually—" Lucina began, then stopped herself. In every way that mattered, Lilina was her daughter, just as Lucina was, in a sense, Lilina's future self. "Thank you. She's very special to us all."

"And the other children?" asked Lord Vaelthon, gesturing toward where several of the future timeline young adults were mingling with the dark elven delegation. "We understand they are from... unusual circumstances."

"They are," Lucina confirmed. "And they're all remarkable in their own ways. Many of them carry mixed heritage—human and elven, human and dark elven, and other combinations. They represent the future we're all building together."

The tour continued through the castle, with Lilina maintaining her role as enthusiastic guide. She showed the royal couple everything from the armory ("This is where all the sharp things live, but I'm not allowed to touch them yet") to the gardens ("These flowers smell really good, but don't eat the red ones—they make your tongue tingly").

When they reached the nursery that was being prepared for Lucina's twins, Lilina's commentary became even more excited.

"And this is where the new babies will sleep when they get here!" she announced proudly. "I helped pick out the blankets, and I'm going to teach them games, and Brother Odyn is making special elven cradles, and everyone is going to help take care of them because they're going to be the most loved babies ever!"

Berethon and Hyuuan exchanged meaningful glances as they examined the carefully prepared space. The nursery blended human and elven design elements seamlessly—practical human functionality combined with elven aesthetic beauty and subtle protective enchantments.

"The craftsmanship is exquisite," Berethon observed, running his fingers along the carved details of one of the cribs. "Odyn's work?"

"With help from several of the other young men," Lucina confirmed. "It's become something of a community project."

"As it should be," Hyuuan said warmly. "Children are the treasure of the entire community, not just their parents."

As the day progressed and the formal welcome ceremonies gave way to more relaxed interactions, Lucina found herself increasingly impressed by the dark elven royalty. Despite their immense power and ancient wisdom, they adapted easily to the chaotic, affectionate atmosphere of the castle. They patiently answered Lilina's endless questions, showed genuine interest in the various projects and concerns of the Shepherds, and demonstrated the kind of practical wisdom that came from centuries of leadership.

By evening, when the delegation had been settled in their prepared quarters and the formal duties were complete, Lilina had claimed permanent adoption rights to her new grandparents. She fell asleep curled against Hyuuan during the evening's informal gathering, the ancient queen gently stroking the child's hair while continuing her conversation with Chrom and Sarai about child-rearing philosophy.

"She's going to be devastated when you have to leave," Chrom observed quietly.

"Then perhaps," Berethon said with a thoughtful smile, "we shall have to ensure our visits are frequent enough to prevent too much devastation."

Looking around the gathering—at the easy mingling of humans and elves, at the children who represented hope for the future, at the simple domestic joy of a small girl sleeping peacefully in her grandmother's arms—Lucina felt the familiar wave of gratitude for the world they had created.

Tomorrow would bring more wedding preparations, more diplomatic complexities, more challenges to navigate. But tonight, surrounded by family in all its wonderful, complicated forms, the future looked exactly as bright as she had dared to hope.

A Season of Unions

The arrival of the dark elven delegation had transformed the wedding preparations from a simple celebration into what Maribelle privately called "the social event of two centuries." With representatives from multiple kingdoms, various elven courts, and what seemed like half the continent in attendance, the logistics had become staggeringly complex.

Frederick stood in the castle's main planning chamber, surrounded by charts, lists, and what appeared to be a military-grade tactical display of seating arrangements. His legendary attention to detail had found its perfect match in wedding coordination, though the stress was beginning to show in the slight twitch of his left eye.

"The Sacaean delegation requires specific dietary accommodations," he announced to the assembled planning committee, which had somehow grown to include most of the Shepherds, their future children, and several dark elven nobles. "The Feroxi contingent has requested combat demonstrations during the reception. And the Plegian ambassador has inquired about... recreational poisoning displays?"

"Tell the Plegian we'll provide a demonstration of antidotes instead," Tharja suggested dryly from her corner, where she was consulting what appeared to be an ancient tome on wedding hexes. "Much more appropriate for the occasion."

"Absolutely not," Libra said firmly, though his gentle tone took the sting out of the refusal. "Perhaps we could arrange a display of beneficial magic instead? Blessing ceremonies are quite popular."

As the logistics were debated, smaller groups had formed throughout the chamber to handle specific aspects of the celebration. Near the windows, Cordelia was working with several of the future children on floral arrangements, their combined efforts producing displays that somehow managed to incorporate traditions from multiple cultures without looking chaotic.

"If we weave the Ylissean roses with the dark elven shadowbloom like this," Vienne suggested, her mixed heritage providing insight into both aesthetic traditions, "it creates a pattern that honors both lineages."

"And we can add Sacaean wind-grass for texture," Severa added, surprising everyone with her suddenly developed interest in decorative arts. At their questioning looks, she shrugged defensively. "What? I have opinions about presentation."

Nearby, Gaius was deep in consultation with Berethon about the wedding feast, the unlikely pair having discovered a shared passion for culinary perfection. The dark elven king's centuries of experience with formal banquets complemented Gaius's innovative approach to traditional recipes.

"The ancient elven honey-wine pairs beautifully with human spice-cake," Berethon was saying thoughtfully. "Though we'll need to ensure the alcohol content doesn't overwhelm the human guests."

"Leave that to me," Gaius grinned. "I've got techniques for layering flavors that'll knock your socks off without actually knocking anyone out."

At another table, Sumia and several pegasus knights were coordinating with dark elven wind-riders for aerial displays during the ceremony. The logistics of mixed flying formations were proving complex, but the potential for spectacular visuals had everyone excited.

"The key is synchronizing our wing-beats with their magic-flight patterns," Sumia explained to Cynthia, who was taking notes with unusual seriousness. "If we can match the rhythm, the visual effect will be incredible."

But it was at the far end of the chamber that the most interesting development was occurring. What had started as wedding planning had somehow evolved into broader relationship discussions, as several couples found themselves contemplating their own future unions.

Robin and Cordelia stood together reviewing guest lists, but their quiet conversation had shifted to more personal matters. "After seeing Lucina and Odyn, and now Roy and Lissa..." Cordelia was saying softly. "It makes me think about our own timing."

"I've been thinking the same thing," Robin admitted. "We've been engaged for months, but we've been so focused on everyone else's needs..."

"Perhaps a double ceremony?" suggested Hyuuan, who had approached so quietly neither had noticed her presence. "The dark elven courts often celebrate multiple unions simultaneously. It's considered quite auspicious."

The suggestion seemed to spark something, because within minutes, several other couples had gravitated toward the conversation. Stahl and Kivara exchanged meaningful glances, while Vaike and Lyra began an animated discussion about the merits of joint celebrations.

"It would certainly streamline the logistics," Frederick observed, overhearing from his position at the main planning table. "Multiple ceremonies could share resources, venues, and preparations."

"And it would be symbolic," Nah added thoughtfully. "A celebration not just of individual unions, but of the community we've all built together."

The idea gained momentum as more couples considered the possibility. Ricken and Saibyrh had been quietly engaged for months, waiting for a "suitable time" that never seemed to arrive. Gregor and Cherche had been making vague plans that somehow never solidified into actual dates. Even Henry and Syll, whose relationship had always defied conventional timelines, began discussing the appeal of making their bond official.

"A festival of unions," Owain declared dramatically, having overheard enough to grasp the concept. "A celebration worthy of legend, where multiple destinies intertwine beneath the blessing of—"

"Owain," Lissa interrupted fondly, "they're talking about weddings, not epic quests."

"Is there a difference?" he asked with genuine confusion, causing laughter to ripple through the gathered group.

As the afternoon progressed, the wedding planning became increasingly communal. The dark elven nobles contributed insights into ancient bonding ceremonies, while the Shepherds shared human traditions that had evolved over generations of military life. The future children found themselves serving as bridges between different cultural approaches, their mixed heritage allowing them to translate concepts that might otherwise be lost.

Laurent had produced several historical texts on intercultural ceremonies, while Brady surprised everyone by revealing an unexpected knowledge of musical traditions from multiple regions. "Ma's been teachin' me about classical compositions for formal events," he explained when questioned. "Turns out there's a whole science to matching music with ceremonial significance."

"And I've been researching the legal implications of multiple simultaneous ceremonies," Miriel added, ever practical. "The paperwork alone will require careful coordination, but it's entirely feasible."

By evening, what had begun as planning for Roy and Lissa's wedding had evolved into preliminary discussions for what Maribelle had dubbed "The Great Wedding Festival of Ylisse." The exact number of couples involved was still being determined, but the potential for celebration was enormous.

"We'll need to expand the venue," Chrom observed, reviewing the growing lists of participants and guests. "The castle courtyard won't accommodate this many ceremonies and attendees."

"What about the great field beyond the walls?" Sarai suggested. "It's large enough, and we could set up multiple ceremony areas with a central celebration space."

"Weather contingencies?" Frederick asked automatically.

"Dark elven weather-working," Berethon offered with a slight smile. "We can ensure favorable conditions for any outdoor ceremony."

"Magic weather control?" Lilina asked with wide-eyed excitement. She had been following the adult conversations with the patient attention children showed when something interesting was developing. "Can you make it snow flower petals?"

"An intriguing possibility," Hyuuan said seriously, as if magical flower-petal snow was a perfectly reasonable wedding enhancement. "Though we should perhaps consult with the couples about their preferences."

As the planning session finally began to wind down, groups started forming around specific tasks. The future children had naturally gravitated toward coordination roles, their unique perspective allowing them to bridge generational and cultural gaps. Their parents found themselves working alongside beings they had once considered mythical, united by the common goal of celebration.

"You know," Cordelia said quietly to Robin as they gathered their notes, "this feels right. Not just getting married, but doing it as part of something larger. We've all been family for so long, it makes sense to make it official together."

"A wedding festival celebrating the community that saved the world," Robin agreed. "There's a certain poetic justice to it."

Nearby, Lissa was beaming as she overheard their conversation. "I love that our wedding is becoming the catalyst for everyone else's happiness," she said to Roy, who was reviewing protocol documents with the patient thoroughness that had made him such an effective diplomat.

"It seems appropriate," he replied in his measured way. "Our union represents the joining of different worlds. Having others join us in that commitment only strengthens the symbolism."

As the group began to disperse, Lucina found herself walking with Odyn toward their chambers, both of them carrying notes and lists related to their various planning responsibilities. The weight of organization was considerable, but so was the sense of anticipation.

"A festival of weddings," Odyn mused. "In my homeland, such celebrations were the stuff of legend. Entire communities would prepare for months, and the festivities could last for weeks."

"Weeks?" Lucina asked with some alarm.

"Perhaps we'll settle for a more... concentrated celebration," he said with a smile. "Though with this many couples involved, and the diplomatic significance, it may still be quite extensive."

They paused outside their chambers, looking back toward the planning room where lights still burned as die-hard organizers continued their work. Frederick's silhouette was visible through the windows, undoubtedly refining lists and contingency plans that would make the celebration flawless.

"Are you ready for this?" Lucina asked. "Not just the wedding festival, but everything it represents? The formal alliance between kingdoms, the cultural bridges we're building, the precedent we're setting for the future?"

Odyn considered the question seriously. "I'm ready for the world we're creating," he said finally. "A world where love transcends boundaries, where different peoples can celebrate together, where our children will grow up seeing cooperation as natural rather than remarkable."

Looking toward the planning room, where humans and dark elves worked side by side on seating charts and menu selections, where future timeline children contributed insights born from complexity and hope, where the logistics of joy were being refined into reality, Lucina felt the truth of his words.

They weren't just planning weddings. They were orchestrating the next phase of the future they had fought to create—a future where celebration could be communal, where happiness could be shared, where the bonds between people could be strengthened rather than tested by diversity.

The Great Wedding Festival of Ylisse was going to be more than a ceremony. It was going to be a declaration of everything their new world represented, witnessed by representatives from across the continent and blessed by powers both ancient and eternal.

And at the center of it all, her twins continued to grow, preparing to be born into a world where such celebrations were possible, where love was abundant, and where the future stretched ahead bright with unlimited possibility.

The Great Wedding Festival

The scale of what they were planning became more apparent as the days passed. What had begun as preparation for a single ceremony had evolved into something that required coordination on a level Frederick privately compared to planning a major military campaign—though he kept that comparison to himself, knowing it would only encourage Owain's dramatic tendencies.

The great field beyond Ylisstol's walls had been transformed through a combination of human ingenuity and elven magic. Multiple pavilions rose across the landscape, each designed to host a different ceremony while maintaining sight lines to a central celebration space. The dark elven artisans had woven living vines into elegant archways that would serve as ceremonial backdrops, while human craftsmen had constructed practical platforms that could accommodate guests of varying heights and mobility needs.

"It's like a city unto itself," Chrom observed, standing with Sarai on a slight rise that overlooked the entire preparation area. Lilina was perched on his shoulders, giving her the best vantage point to watch the organized chaos below, while Sarai cradled baby Morvaeighn against her shoulder.

"Look, Papa! They're making the flowers dance!" Lilina pointed excitedly toward where several dark elven mages were working with Cordelia and the other pegasus knights, creating floral arrangements that seemed to sway and shift with ethereal grace.

"Photosynthesis manipulation combined with minor animation enchantments," Laurent explained, having appeared at Chrom's elbow with his usual stealth. "The flowers remain alive and healthy while being aesthetically arranged in patterns that would be impossible through conventional means. Quite elegant, really."

"It's beautiful," Sarai said simply, adjusting Morvaeighn as he stirred slightly in his sleep. Laurent seemed to accept this as sufficient acknowledgment of both the technical and aesthetic achievement.

Below, the various couples preparing for their ceremonies had begun final fittings and rehearsals. The tailoring requirements alone had kept Cordelia's mother and several other seamstresses working around the clock, especially given the need to accommodate both human and elven body proportions.

In one of the preparation tents, Lissa stood on a fitting platform while a team of seamstresses made final adjustments to her wedding gown. The dress was a masterwork of collaboration—Ylissean white silk adorned with delicate dark elven silver-thread embroidery, practical enough for Lissa's energetic nature while still maintaining the elegance expected of royalty.

"Stop fidgeting," Severa commanded, temporarily abandoning her own preparations to help oversee Lissa's fitting. Despite her usual sharp tongue, she was showing remarkable care in ensuring everything was perfect.

"I can't help it!" Lissa protested. "There's so much happening, and I want to see everything, and—ow! Was that necessary?"

"Yes," said the head seamstress firmly, adjusting a pin. "Hold still, Princess, or you'll end up with a hem that makes you look lopsided."

Near the entrance to the tent, Roy—or Thallion, as his elven kin called him—stood speaking quietly with his father, Eliwood, who had arrived with the Lycian delegation. The reunion between father and son had been emotional, made more complex by Roy's unique circumstances and the weight of history he now carried.

"Your mother would be proud," Eliwood was saying, his voice thick with emotion. "Not just of this union, but of everything you've accomplished. The way you've helped build bridges between peoples, the wisdom you've shown..."

"I learned from the best," Roy replied, embracing his father. "Though I'll admit, I never imagined my wedding would become the centerpiece of a diplomatic festival."

"The best celebrations often exceed our expectations," Eliwood said with a smile. "And from what I've seen, you've chosen well. Princess Lissa is remarkable—and your brother Odyn speaks very highly of her."

"Odyn's been instrumental in all of this," Roy said warmly. "Having family here, being able to celebrate with both my human heritage and my elven blood... it means everything."

In another tent, Robin was going through his own preparations with considerably less grace. His wedding attire was elegant but practical—he'd insisted on being able to move freely, remembering too many battles where formal clothing had proved a hindrance.

"You could try to look less like you're preparing for combat," Chrom suggested, having temporarily escaped his viewing platform to check on his friend, leaving Sarai to manage their enthusiastic daughter.

"Force of habit," Robin admitted, adjusting his collar for the fifth time. "Though I suppose the stakes are just as high. Different kind of battle, same level of commitment."

"Spoken like a true tactician," Chrom said with fond exasperation. "Though I think Cordelia would prefer you thought of it as a beginning rather than a battle."

"It's both," Robin said thoughtfully. "Every beginning requires strategy, planning, adaptation. The difference is that this time, failure isn't an option because I refuse to allow it."

The depth of his commitment was evident in his expression, and Chrom felt a wave of pride for his friend. Robin had come so far from the amnesiac tactician found in that field years ago, had grown into someone whose dedication to those he loved was absolute.

"She's lucky to have you," Chrom said quietly. "You both are. And young Nygel is going to have an incredible childhood with parents like you two."

Robin's expression softened at the mention of his son from another timeline. "It's still strange, having a grown son who came from a future that won't exist. But he's proven himself remarkable—all of these children have."

Meanwhile, in yet another preparation area, the future timeline children were helping each other with the complex task of looking presentable while maintaining their individual styles. Severa had taken charge of ensuring the girls met her exacting standards, while Gerome had somehow been designated to keep the boys from committing any catastrophic fashion errors.

"Why do I have to wear this?" Yarne complained, tugging at his formal collar. "It's constraining and impractical and what if we need to escape suddenly?"

"We're not going to need to escape from a wedding, Yarne," Kjelle said with forced patience, adjusting her own formal armor—because of course she'd found a way to make ceremonial plate armor work as wedding attire.

"But what if—"

"No," Gerome cut him off firmly. "Whatever disaster scenario you're imagining, it's not going to happen. Frederick has planned for every contingency, the dark elven guard has established security perimeters, and my mother has trained the wyvern riders to respond to any aerial threat. We're as safe as we're ever going to be."

"Plus Aunt Tharja put protection hexes on literally everything," Noire added from where she was helping Nah with her hair. "Father Libra and I helped her. There are so many overlapping wards that even attempting hostile magic would give someone instant feedback headaches."

"Romantic," Brady said dryly, though he was smiling. His own preparations had been relatively simple—formal attire that allowed him freedom of movement for playing his violin during various ceremony segments. "Ma would call it 'pragmatic affection.'"

Laurent entered the tent carrying several scrolls and wearing an expression of intense concentration. "I've been coordinating with the dark elven chronologists," he announced. "The timing for each ceremony must be precise to maximize the auspicious alignments they've calculated. We have approximately..." he consulted one of his scrolls, "forty-three minutes before the first ceremony must begin."

The announcement sparked immediate chaos as everyone scrambled to complete their preparations. Inigo was suddenly trying to perfect his hair for the twentieth time, while the twins Cade and Karrin coordinated their matching formal wear. Ellie was helping Vienne with a particularly complex series of clasps, while Grimm practiced looking appropriately solemn instead of mischievously amused. Astrid stood with Keira, both of them radiating the kind of confidence that came from being raised by parents who valued strength and discipline.

Near them, Elden was reviewing ceremony protocols with Takeo and Midori, while Caelian and Mireya exchanged quiet words about the significance of seeing so many unions celebrated simultaneously.

In another quiet corner, away from the controlled chaos, Lucina sat with Odyn's gentle support. His hand rested protectively over her growing belly where their twins continued to develop, and his presence provided the calm she needed amid the excitement.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly, his elven senses attuned to any sign of discomfort or fatigue.

"Overwhelmed in the best possible way," Lucina admitted. "Watching your brother prepare to marry Lissa, seeing all these couples ready to formalize their bonds... it's beautiful. And knowing our children from that other timeline are here to witness it..." She glanced toward where Marth and Morgan—her son and daughter from a future that would never be—were helping coordinate the younger children.

"They're remarkable," Odyn agreed. "Morgan especially has taken to the organizational challenges with impressive dedication."

"She gets that from Robin," Lucina said with a slight smile. "The tactical mind runs strong in that branch of the family, even if she's technically my cousin in this timeline's configuration."

"Nervous?" Cynthia asked, materializing beside them with her characteristic boundless energy barely contained by formal dress. Her mother Sumia's daughter had inherited both the pegasus knight grace and an irrepressible enthusiasm for life.

"Excited," Lucina corrected. "And grateful. Looking around at everyone, seeing what we've built together..."

"It's pretty amazing," Cynthia agreed. "All these weddings happening because everyone finally feels safe enough to think about the future. To plan for happiness instead of just survival. Mother says it's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen, and she's flown through some pretty spectacular sunsets."

The observation struck Lucina deeply. Cynthia had articulated something fundamental. For so long, they'd all been focused on preventing catastrophe, on survival and victory. Now they could finally contemplate joy, permanence, the building of lives rather than just the saving of them.

"Come on," Cynthia continued. "We should join the others. I think Morgan's about to have a nervous breakdown trying to organize everyone, and you're one of the few people who can talk her down without her taking it as a challenge to her competence."

They emerged from the preparation area to find that Cynthia's assessment had been accurate. Morgan—the daughter of Odyn and Lucina from that other timeline—stood in the center of what appeared to be controlled chaos, clipboard in hand, trying to coordinate the movement of multiple wedding parties toward their respective ceremony areas.

"Severa's group needs to be in position three by the time Laurent's calculations reach optimal alignment," Morgan was explaining to a somewhat confused Frederick. "Meanwhile, Vienne's coordination team has to ensure the flower arrangements are properly distributed across—Lucina! Thank goodness. Can you help me explain the timing sequences?"

Lucina felt the familiar complexity of addressing this young woman who was simultaneously her daughter and not her daughter, a child of a future that had been prevented. "Let's go through it together," she said calmly, letting Odyn's steadying presence keep her grounded. "We have time."

As they worked through the logistics, Marth joined them—their son from that other timeline, bearing the name of the legendary Hero-King. "Mother Morgan," he said with gentle humor, using the title that acknowledged their complicated relationship, "perhaps we should trust that people can find their way to their designated positions without micromanagement?"

"But what if—" Morgan began.

"Then we adapt," Marth said simply, his tactical mind clearly inherited from both Robin and Lucina's lineages. "Flexibility is as important as planning."

As they worked through the details, the sun began its descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and pink that seemed almost too perfect to be natural. Several people suspected dark elven weather-working was involved, but no one questioned the gift of such beautiful conditions.

The first notes of music began to drift across the field—Brady's violin joined by dark elven lyres and human flutes, creating a melody that seemed to belong to multiple traditions simultaneously. It was the signal that the festival was beginning.

Guests began taking their places in the various ceremony areas, directed by coordinators who had memorized the complex seating arrangements. Representatives from across the continent mingled with surprising ease, united by their shared interest in witnessing something unprecedented.

In the central pavilion, Berethon and Hyuuan stood with Chrom and Sarai, the four rulers representing the alliance between kingdoms that had made all of this possible. Little Lilina sat between the elven royalty, practically vibrating with excitement as she held both their hands, while baby Morvaeighn had finally woken and was gazing around with the wide-eyed wonder of infancy from his mother's arms.

"Are you ready for this?" Chrom asked Berethon quietly as they watched the processions beginning.

"I have lived for centuries," Berethon replied with a gentle smile. "I have witnessed countless ceremonies, celebrations, and unions. But this..." he gestured toward where multiple couples were preparing to make their vows simultaneously across the field, "this is something new. Something beautiful precisely because it's unprecedented. And seeing my sons—both Thallion and Odyn—find such happiness..."

"They've both found remarkable partners," Hyuuan added softly, one hand gently smoothing Lilina's hair as the child leaned against her. "And soon we'll welcome more grandchildren into the world." Her eyes moved to where Lucina stood with Odyn, his protective hand on her belly.

"Here we go," Sarai murmured as the music shifted, signaling the beginning of the first ceremony. Morvaeighn made a small sound of contentment, as if he too understood the significance of the moment.

The Great Wedding Festival (continued)

The ceremonies had begun to flow with surprising grace, each couple taking their turn beneath the flowering archways while the assembled witnesses watched with rapt attention. Between the formal vows and blessings, there were natural pauses—moments for the musicians to transition, for guests to shift positions, for the coordinators to ensure the next ceremony was ready to begin.

During one such lull, as Stahl and Kivara completed their vows and the crowd offered their congratulations, Lilina managed to extract herself from her grandparents' gentle supervision. With the single-minded determination of a three-year-old on a mission, she made her way through the gathered guests toward where Lucina and Odyn stood near one of the side pavilions.

"Lucina!" Lilina called out, her small voice carrying with surprising clarity. Several people turned to watch with fond amusement as the princess navigated around formal gowns and ceremonial robes with practiced ease.

Lucina knelt carefully—as carefully as her pregnant state allowed—to bring herself closer to Lilina's eye level. Odyn moved to support her, one hand steadying her elbow while the other remained protectively near her back.

"Hello, little one," Lucina said warmly. "Are you enjoying the ceremonies?"

"They're very pretty," Lilina declared seriously. "Grandma Hyuuan made the flowers glow a little bit, did you see? And the music is nice, though Brady keeps making faces when he thinks no one's watching." She paused, her expression shifting to one of intent curiosity. "But I have an important question."

"Oh?" Lucina exchanged an amused glance with Odyn. "What's your important question?"

Lilina reached out with one small hand to gently pat Lucina's rounded belly, her touch feather-light and reverent. "Have you picked out names for the babies yet? The ones in here? Because Mama and Papa talked about names for a really long time before they decided on Morvaeighn, and Aunt Lissa said naming things is really hard, and I want to know what to call them when they get here."

Both Odyn and Lucina chuckled at the earnest inquiry, the sound soft and warm. Several nearby guests, including Berethon and Hyuuan who had followed their granddaughter at a discreet distance, smiled at the exchange.

"We have been discussing it," Odyn said gently, crouching down beside Lucina so he could be at Lilina's level as well. "Though you're right—choosing names is quite difficult. They need to be special, because these babies are very special."

"Are you going to give them elven names or human names?" Lilina asked with the directness of childhood. "Because you're elven and Lucina is human, so the babies are both, right? Like how Brother Thallion is both Roy and Thallion?"

"Exactly right," Lucina confirmed, impressed as always by Lilina's capacity to grasp complex concepts. "We want their names to honor both parts of their heritage."

"We've been considering several possibilities," Odyn added, his hand moving to rest beside Lucina's on her belly. "For our son, we're thinking of Marc—a name that works well in both human and elven tongues. It means 'hammer' or 'strength' in some old languages, and it has a good, solid sound to it."

"Marc," Lilina tested the name carefully, as if tasting something new. "I like it. It sounds strong. What about the girl baby?"

Lucina's expression softened even further. "For our daughter, we're considering Luciana—similar to my own name, but with its own identity. In the old languages, it means 'light' or 'illumination.' We thought it fitting, given everything our family has been through to reach this point of peace and brightness."

"Marc and Luciana," Lilina repeated solemnly, committing the names to memory with the seriousness of someone being entrusted with important information. "Those are good names. Very good names. When they're born, I'm going to teach them everything I know, and I'll make sure nobody is mean to them, and I'll help them learn to walk and talk and—"

"We know you will," Odyn interrupted gently, reaching out to ruffle her hair with brotherly affection. "You're going to be a wonderful cousin to them. The best cousin anyone could ask for."

"Better than just a cousin," Lilina declared firmly. "I'm going to be like their big sister too, because that's what family does. Right?"

"Right," Lucina agreed, feeling her throat tighten with emotion. Looking at this small child—this other version of herself who had grown up in peace rather than apocalypse—declaring her intention to protect and guide the twins, Lucina felt the weight of all they had accomplished. Lilina would never know the darkness that had shaped Lucina's own childhood. She would grow up in light, surrounded by love, and would help ensure the next generation did the same.

"Can I tell Grandma and Grandpa?" Lilina asked eagerly. "They'll want to know the names too!"

"You may tell them," Odyn said with an indulgent smile. "Though perhaps after the current ceremony concludes? We wouldn't want to distract from Ricken and Saibyrh's special moment."

Lilina nodded with exaggerated understanding, clearly pleased to have been given responsibility for sharing such important information. "I'll wait. But right after, I'm going to tell them, and they're going to be so happy, and maybe Grandma will make the lights dance again because she does that when she's really happy—"

A gentle hand settled on Lilina's shoulder, and Hyuuan's melodic voice interrupted the enthusiastic monologue. "Come, little star. Let's return to our seats so we can watch properly. You can tell me all about your conversation afterward."

But the knowing look in Hyuuan's eyes and the slight smile on Berethon's face as he stood beside his wife suggested they had already overheard enough to understand. The ancient queen leaned down to whisper something in Lilina's ear that made the child giggle, then guided her back toward their viewing positions.

As they departed, Odyn helped Lucina stand, both of them watching the small figure skip away with her grandparents. "Marc and Luciana," he said quietly. "Saying their names aloud makes them feel more real somehow."

"They are real," Lucina replied, her hands cradling her belly where she could feel the subtle movements of her children. "Very real, and very loved already. By us, by their grandparents, by their extended family..." She gestured toward where the future timeline children were gathered, many of them having witnessed the exchange with interest. Marth and Morgan in particular wore expressions of wonder—they bore different names in their timeline, yet these children would be their echoes, their replacements in this better world.

"By everyone," Odyn agreed. "As it should be."

The music swelled again, signaling the next ceremony about to begin. But as Lucina and Odyn made their way back to their designated positions, she carried with her the warmth of that small interaction—a reminder that in this world they had created, even the simplest questions from a child could become moments of profound connection and hope.

Marc and Luciana. Their son and daughter. The next generation of a family that spanned timelines and bloodlines, human and elven heritage woven together into something beautiful and new.

The future was already taking shape, one name at a time.