"Father! Father!"

Owain sprinted across the battlefield faster than he'd run for anything in his life. He caught the boy he was looking for around the waist and tackled him to the ground.

"Father, you're so small! This, I did not expect!"

Owain buried his face in his shoulder with delight—he smelled almost exactly the same!—while Donnel made noises like he was trying to speak. Arms circled him automatically. He was much shorter and thinner and younger than Owain could have imagined, but the bright eyes and the shape of his hands were still familiar.

"Golly," he finally said, sounding dazed. "After Lucina, we figured we'd find one of our own eventually, but yer more enthusiastic than I thought. That's your ma's doin', I bet."

"Father, you don't understand." Owain just held him tighter, completely ignoring the fact that they were in the dirt. "Seeing you makes it worth it. It gives everything I've ever done greater meaning. How often did I sweat and bleed in your name, to become the legendary hero of legend!"

"Uh. The what?" Donnel patted his back a little. "Well, I'm happy to see ya too! But we should get up. We've got a battle to finish. And we've gotta introduce ya to your ma!"

"Yes, of course! I just had to, er, show you my might first!"

They got to their feet, and Owain felt his right hand twitch as the sunlight hit his father.

"Say...that pot...do you mind if I...purely for nostalgia's sake…"

"Lost yer fancy words, have you?" But Father smiled and put the pot on his head, and Owain grinned the grin that he knew matched.

"Now I am truly invincible! Come, Revered Father! Into the fray! Together!

xxx

"Owain, you look so silly," Mother sighed, falling into step with him after the battle. Their introduction on the field had been so easy that it was like no time had passed. The others worried their parents would not accept them, and some, like Gerome, had refused in advance to even call them parents. But Owain knew all along that Mother would be just as she always was. That was the quality of her spirit: unchanging, indomitable.

"You're at least going to take the pot off for dinner, right dear?"

"Yes, Mother."

"I hope it's ready soon. I'm starving." She reached for his hand. "And we'll get to have dinner together as a family! Even though that's a really weird thought, it's really nice!"

"Indeed. But…" Owain pulled away. His heart ached for the family dinners of his early childhood, now suddenly his again, but they would have to wait for now. "I'll join you, but I'll be late. There's something I have to do, first."

xxx

He didn't look nearly as young as Mother and Father did. Owain supposed he'd long ago suffered the hardship that brought tightness into the mouth and adulthood into the eyes.

Lon'qu was practicing even though the battle was over, in a grassy field a good distance from the camp, stabbing through clouds of gnats in the evening gloam—presumably trying not to hurt any of the insects.

Owain clenched and unclenched his right hand as he approached. How would this past Lon'qu stack up? More powerful because of his muscles, in the prime of his youth? Less skilled because he lacked a decade's wisdom?

Owain wasted no time. Eye contact was made. He sank into a bow.

And then he shouted, drew his blade, and leapt. Lon'qu managed to bring his sheath up and parry just in time.

"What?" he demanded.

"Fight me, Lon'qu! I shall not rest until out blades have met!"

"If it's a fight you want," he growled, "you shall have it. I'll teach you to interrupt my training."

Steel flashed in the low light as he drew Mantis. Their battle began.

It was everything Owain could have wanted. The ringing shouts of his attacks confused Lon'qu, but his master's speed was legendary. Every attack, he had to give his all. Every riposte had to be like lightning. The force of Lon'qu's strikes on every parry made his arms quiver with effort. And Owain was a grown man, now!

Despite the coolness of the evening, he was soon gasping for breath and ignoring how his sweat tickled his face and neck. Lon'qu looked just as exhausted. They came together with all their strength and their blades locked.

"You have studied in Chon'sin," Lon'qu accused through narrowed eyes. "I have not fought another on this continent who keeps his blade at such an angle."

"As sharp an eye as always! Owain the Spectacular is a master of the unexpected. But were you expecting—this!"

He kicked up at Lon'qu's wrist like a Feroxi might, but his opponent was quick to back away, now obviously incensed.

"I know that trick!"

"I figured you would," Owain mused as they circled. "You taught it to me, after all."

"What? Who are you?"

"Lon'qu, you wound me!" He lowered his sword and spread his arms, inviting the sword master to look. "Does every inch of me not radiate the bright aura of my noble father? My invincible mother?"

Lon'qu lowered his sword too.

"You're Lissa's?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I claim the title of her son most proudly."

Lon'qu lunged forward again and Owain parried like Lucina had taught him, two-handed, forcing Lon'qu's sword outward, sliding his own blade down the edge in an unblockable riposte—

Lon'qu was faster, godly fast, darting back before it landed. They paused again to stare each other down and catch their breath.

"I daresay this is a stalemate," Owain said with a grin. "I shall accept it, if only for today! This is the best I have ever fared against you, Master."

"Why do you call me that?" he snapped. "I've never met you."

"Not in this time, no. But in the future…" He paused dramatically for the big reveal: "You taught me everything I know of the sword!"

"That does not make sense." Lon'qu suddenly looked uncertain. "Lissa would not have wanted that. She has told me she wants her children to be scholars or healers. And even if you had talked her into it, Donnel would be a capable teacher."

"Yes, well." There was a sudden lump in his throat. Enlightenment aside, some memories had never stopped hurting. "I assume my Exalted cousin has told you at least a bit of our apocalyptic future. Mother never really got to make that choice for me. Not that I minded, of course. I had always dreamed of being one of the avenging, sword-wielding heroes you find in exciting tales. Father would have taught me, when I was old enough, but...he passed when I was ten. Took an arrow for me like a real hero. But then you came to stay with us for a while."

Lon'qu tensed the way he used to, as if Mother was standing too close. "No. Stop."

"What have I said wrong?"

"That can not be true. If you were ten, then it had been over a decade…" He clutched the front of his shirt. "You must be lying. You seem like one to spin tall tales."

"The tallest," Owain assured him. "But this is no falsehood. I know that you feel for my mother, and—"

"You—!"

"I know about Ke'ri."

Lon'qu froze and Owain was utterly unable to read the layers of his glare: shock, fury, shame, but also something he could not put words to.

"Is that proof enough?" Owain ventured gently. "We were very close. We do not have to be close now, but call me not a liar, Master. Slander not my name."

"Why are we speaking," Lon'qu demanded through trembling lips. "What do you mean to say."

"I'd rather hoped to be your harbinger," Owain admitted. It sounded so cool. "Let me ask—as Mother's bodyguard, have you had to act in her defense, yet?"

"Yes," he said cautiously. "A month ago we were ambushed by archers. She was unharmed."

"You told me this was a relief to you—a retribution—but also a weighty grief. Because you blamed yourself for not having the strength and skill you have now when Ke'ri needed it. And yet, you told me not to blame myself for Father's death. If there is any chance that you will heed me: do not be a hypocrite, Lon'qu. You were a boy then, as I was. You might be able to save someone now, but you could not have then, and enlightenment is being able to face that. Do not let this haunt you forever. You are a good man and you deserve happiness."

The derisive snort he replied with was so familiar.

"Lon'qu, listen. There is something else I came to tell you. Something even more important."

Slowly, the jadedness faded from his teacher's eyes and was replaced with attentiveness.

"You came to take care of us," said Owain. "To take care of me. And we would have been fine all by ourselves, but you made things so much easier. You were a friend to my mother without ever making her feel like she owed you anything else, and you taught me everything I know about protecting her. That is a kindness I shall never be able to repay." He extended a hand and smiled. "So, thank you."

Lon'qu took it and shook it, but raised an eyebrow. "Do you always talk this much?"

"I fight more, if that makes you feel better."

Lon'qu looked confused again, but Owain just snickered at his own joke and took a step back. "I'm going to meet her and Father for dinner, now. But expect my presence again at dawn! I shall not rest until I have defeated you! The pupil shall become the master!"

"I doubt my future self would have allowed that, and so neither shall I."

Owain sprinted to dinner with a grin.

xxx

Reuniting with the rest of his friends and family was incredible. He spotted Chrom first and clasped his hand, and the gesture was returned so easily that Owain just knew Chrom had accepted Lucina from the first.

"Owain, then? I see Lissa's mischief in you very well."

"Mine uncle! As heroic as ever!" And quite a bit more rugged, out here on the road. Owain was most impressed. A new hand slipped around his elbow and squeezed.

"What took you so long, Owain? I was worried."

"Have you not learned, Cousin," he scoffed as he turned to Lucina, beaming by his side, "that my impenetrable defenses and unsurpassed cunning leave you nothing to worry about?"

"Well, we found Brady without you, and thought that a little strange."

"So he's here!"

Owain tore away from Lucina and sprinted deeper into camp. Her laughter and Uncle's faded behind him. He didn't stop until he reached the long tent he knew healers used, to house cots for the wounded, and burst inside.

"Brady of the Moistened Eyes!"

There he was, in his black robes, folding a length of bandages and talking to—

Owain's vision was blocked as he was hugged with enough force to knock him a step backward.

"Damn it, you! Always bursting in unannounced after Lucina and I are left wonderin' where your fool head could be!"

For a tenth of a second, the barest fraction, he thought it was Brady's arms around him. Who else could hug with such ferocity, such steely strength? But the arms were too small, and there was suddenly quite a lot of blonde hair in his face.

"A child of Lissa's is a child of mine," she said. "Brady has told me so much about you."

"Aunt Maribelle!" he replied as he hugged her back just as tightly. There was the unmistakable sound of Brady sniffling and then banging around several jars of salve, as if reorganizing them, in order to disguise it.

xxx

The rest of dinner was a blur of introductions and reunions and cathartic moments. Sir Frederick, just as tall as Owain remembered but without any grey in his hair, scraped the rest of his plate onto Mother's when she complained that Chrom had stolen her second helping. A couple of the knights he remembered from when he was very small, one in red and one in green, were trading stories about his beloved Aunt Emmeryn. Gerome's mother had done the cooking and it was incredible.

Owain wiggled a little, firmly seated between Mother and Father, with Brady and Aunt Maribelle just across the table

"This day will be one for the ages, O Priest," he said. "I shall write of our exploits at great length."

Brady rolled his eyes. "You still keep up with that ol' manual of yours?"

"That manual is made to teach justice and heroism," Owain insisted indignantly. "No, this is a different project entirely. An epic tale like the one you all gave me on my birthday."

"And the title: lemme guess. Something stupid."

"Tales o' the Time-Travelin' Hero," Father suggested.

"The Adventures of the Biggest Dweeb," supplied Mother.

"Once Upon a Time in the Past!" Lucina called down from closer to the head of the table—in earnest, which made it all the worse.

"Argh, mock me not!" Owain slammed his sword fist down on the table. "It will have an epic name to match my epic lifestyle!"

"Saga of the Scion," said Brady, mimicking his grandiose voice. But Owain pointed at him.

"Yeah. Something like that."

They ate and spoke and laughed long into the night. In the darkness, Owain stood in the doorway of his tent for a while and watched the candles being blown out in Uncle's, in Lucina's, in Mother's and Father's. Then he smiled and went to sleep himself, completely at ease for the first time in years. He would need all his strength at dawn, when he went to fight with Lon'qu again.

Author's note: Well, this took a lot longer than I thought to write. This story as a whole also had way more readers than I expected, especially for a gen fic! Thanks again to Jack and Roe for letting me borrow your ideas, and to everyone else for all your encouragement!