CRS- A Friend and Guardian

    The blue-haired young maiden trudged along slowly as she made her way down the path adjacent to the school building, the shadow of the overhang above her mirroring her mood. She knew Naga had sent her to this strange place for a reason, to better equip herself with the skills and knowledge she needed to save Ylisse- no, save the entire world. But every moment, every step, was agony as she thought of her late father, her deceased mother, her younger brother that she'd left behind. Both Naga and the head of this strange place had promised her that the sanctuary of knowledge, this supposed RavenShadow, existed outside of time. She would return to Ylisse at the same time she had left, albeit with new experiences.
    Thinking about it made her head hurt.
    She wiped her eyes and readjusted the uniform she'd been given. It was far from what she was used to, but RavenShadow's leader, calling himself the headmaster and nothing else, had insisted she garb herself in it. A skirt coming to her knees and a white blouse with three-quarter sleeves. She missed Falchion, wondered what exactly had happened to it, wanted it at her side once again. But she trusted Naga and understood this was, to some extent, necessary. When she was done with her lessons, she would return and be prepared to fight off Grima and the Risen.
    She sighed heavily and looked at the ground as she turned a corner into the sunlight above her. It had been some time since she'd seen such brilliant light, felt the warmth it brought. But she didn't have time to ponder it as she suddenly bumped into someone with a bit of a thud.
    "Oof!" her victim huffed. "Haha, watch yourself, young lady! You won't do well here if you don't stay on your toes."
    "I'm sorry!" she said quickly as she looked up, and was about to say something else before she found she'd lost her voice. What he found was a young man, perhaps in his mid twenties, slender but still built well. He wore a dark vest over a white shirt, dark pants, and a tie more or less knotted neatly. She had seen other people, teachers, wearing similar outfits, and quickly deduced that he must have been one as well.
    This wasn't what had stunned her into silence. This man had blue hair trimmed around his neck at chin length and his bangs were swept into locks around his bright blue eyes that shone with a light she could barely believe was there. It was impossible. How did this man match the descriptions she'd read, the paintings she'd seen, the stories she'd heard?
    "You seem a little lost," he noticed, but she could see that he was somewhat perplexed by her as well as he studied her. "Are... are you new here?" She nodded and swallowed.
    "Y-Yes, sir," she confirmed. "I arrived this morning and was given permission to explore the grounds. My name is... is Lucina." He smiled warmly.
    "A beautiful name," he remarked. "It fits you well. It means 'light,' does it not?"
    "Yes, sir," she nodded again. "My parents thought it quite fitting of me when I was born."
    "Your parents may as well have been prophets," he laughed. "What... hm. That's quite an interesting mark in your eye." She blinked. "Pardon me for staring," he added quickly.
    "No, I understand," she replied. "It's the mark of Naga. It's... a mark passed down through the bloodline of the first Exalt of Ylisse- the Hero-King." It was his turn to be stunned into silence for a while.
    "Naga?" He finally said. "As in... the Divine Dragon Naga?" She nodded. "R-Remarkable..." he breathed. "Then... You and I were sent here by the same guardian." She swallowed.
    "Sir... are... are you the hero-king?" His eyes shined knowingly.
    "I've gained that title back home, yes. Allow me to introduce myself." He bowed briefly. "I am Marth Lowell, former prince of Altea and king of Archanea."
    "I can't believe it!" she blurted, awe-struck. "Y-You're the Hero-King! You're... my..."
    "Your ancestor, from the sound of it," he agreed with a smile, but it quickly faded. "Lucina, why are you here? What happened in our world of your time?"
    "G-Grima..." she choked. "The fell dragon... he was resurrected and my world is... death shrouds it. The people cannot live in peace. I've been trying to fight back in my father's place..."
    "Your father's place?" he echoed. "What... did he fall in battle?"
    "From what I understand, yes," she nodded. "He was betrayed by someone close to him... I don't know exactly who, but..." Her voice fell silent as she tried to hold back the wave of emotion she felt for her fallen family.
    "My father was taken from me in a similar way," Marth told her. "I'm so sorry. What was his name?"
    "Chrom," she replied, and he nodded and shut his eyes.
    "Our bloodline seems cursed to serve the world and protect it from danger, but at the cost of those closest to us." He sighed. "I'm sorry you inherited such a burden, Lucina. T'were it possible, I'd gladly go to your time in your place and put an end to this. I would avenge your father as best I can." Her heart clenched, and she suddenly found herself overwhelmed as she nearly leapt forward and hugged him tightly as she fought back tears. To her surprise, he returned her embrace and kept her close.
    "Th-thank you," she mumbled.
    "I know I'm not your father, Lucina," he said softly, "But I promise I'll look after you as long as you're here. You're away from Grima, from the Dragons that wish to envelop our world in darkness. You're safe here." He pulled her back with his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "You're not alone."
    "Thank you," she repeated, and he smiled.
    "I know a thing or two about saving the world from a dark dragon." Despite everything, she chuckled a bit. "And I'll gladly teach you everything I can." She watched him curiously as he smiled at her.
    "Wh-what is it?" she wondered, and he laughed for a moment.
    "Just a thought," he replied. "My wife and I have a son back home. But... if we had a daughter as well, I would imagine she'd look a lot like you." She smiled a bit.
    "Is that a bad thing?" she asked.
    "Of course not!" he scoffed. "I'd actually be quite delighted if she were to grow to be like you."
    "Thank you." He nodded and released her.
    "The pleaure's mine. Now, then... during class, you'd best refer to me as the other students do. But, outside of that, you may call me Marth." She nodded.
    "I understand," she smiled. "Thank you, Marth."