Disclaimer: The author does not own Fire Emblem Awakening for the author is not/affiliated with Nintendo or any third party developer. Therefore any plot deviations are the result of much deliberation on the part of the author and of the author's own design. I mean, this story is pretty much an AU, so I hope you enjoy reading AU's. You probably won't see many of the cannon character's from the game for at least a few chapters so please bear with me here.
Long ago in a kingdom long since past,
There lived a mighty king.
The kind king was beloved by all his people,
For he and his men protected the people from many dangers.
The king's men and woman were loyal and brave
But among them one stood out as the most loyal
They loved the king and the kingdom with all their heart.
They never left the king's side.
So even when the kingdom had forgotten the warrior's name,
The people remembered them as the king's "Shadow."
The kingdom was happy and prosperous for many years,
But one day blight fell upon the land.
The people became sick and many died.
The king and his men were troubled.
The king sent his men to scour the land for healers and a cure.
But no healing magic, or medicine devised by any mortal could remedy the plague.
When no help was found the King turned to Naga for wisdom,
She told him that to the south a great fissure was the source of the land's sickness.
The Seal on the bound Earth Dragons was weakening and their hatred for life was poisoning the earth, water, and air.
So the King was tasked with strengthening the seal with the Fire Emblem,
And so he and his mighty men of valor left the capitol and went south to stop the dragon's curse on the land and its people.
When they had arrived at the fissure they were beset upon by wraths and abominations most vile that crawled out of the crag.
The King's soldier's held fast and true against the tide of battle and protected their King as the ritual to rebind the earth was performed.
Suddenly, a great claw armored in black scales emerged from the ground and made to grab and pull the King into the underworld.
But the King's Shadow leapt in front of the danger and was pulled under in his stead.
Before the King could react, the ritual completed and the fissure was sealed.
The King wept bitterly at the loss of his dear friend and all of the kingdom with him.
And so the King lived the rest of his days without his Shadow,
For without risking breaking the Seal of the imprisoned Earth Dragons there was no way to reclaim them.
So the Shadow passed from this world as most shadow's do, without a trace.
"Grandmaster?" A tentative voice called out from the doorway.
A figure with long snow silver locks of hair looked up from the book of fables they clutched in their hands. The ornately carved chair they sat uncomfortably in was too small for their impressive stature. In fact they looked almost ridiculous: surrounded by stacks of books of various subjects and genres, and dressed in a dusty traveler's cloak with metal greaves and gauntlets peeking through the worn out folds. They were an odd sight to be sure.
Carefully folding the book shut and placing it on the desk beside them, they turned to fully greet the visitor with a smile. "Yes, Marine?" Their voice was low but smooth on the ears. The broad shoulders and sinewy build suggested this giant was male, but their soft features and gentle mannerisms made it difficult to be certain. A trait they remember a dear friend having, earning him many admirers and many more headaches.
The young maiden at the door fidgeted with the hem of her own cloak, she too was dressed in armor underneath. "Sorry to interrupt, but they are ready for you in the throne room."
The tall figure rose to their feet with a resigned sigh. "Then let's not keep them waiting." Placing a comforting hand on the maiden's shoulder the silver haired soldier had to bend down a bit to pass under the frame of the library door.
The pair made their way through the hallways, carefully avoiding the fallen debris and gapping holes in the castle walls as the last hours of sunlight would bathe them in the fleeting warmth of the afternoon in their passing. A few groups of familiar faces that were mingling in the great hall smiled at their approach.
The two cavalier brothers Penn and Barius nodded solemnly as they passed. The mage Galvan winked from his seat on a felled column while his apprentice Brigid continued to prattle on about how black powder could revolutionize warfare if utilized correctly. The others: Titan, Sheryl, Bosc, Pione, they were only a handful of the people that came to join the silver haired stranger's campaign even though they were not asked to come.
"Grandmaster" they called the stranger, for the stranger would accept no title higher than that, and even then the name felt like it was stolen from someone more deserving. The title carried with it the memories of countless battles alongside comrades whose faces brought such heartache and longing for a time far too distant to even dream of, least they risked drowning themselves in misery.
When the pair entered the throne room, an entirely different crowd from the lively band of mercenaries was waiting for them. A mass of warriors scarred from battles past wearing chilling sliver masks that covered their true faces with perpetual scowls stood silently around the trembling frame of the lord of the besieged castle. The quivering man looked to be in his early thirties but his pale complexion made him look more aged.
"Lord Dias, how fortunate you are to be reunited with your men like this." The silver haired giant walked calmly to the room's center where the man laid cowering. "After passing their unburied and desecrated bodies while on my travels, I could not help but overhear their most earnest desire so see you again." A thin smile and eyes clouded with anger was all that hinted to the rage swelling beneath the façade of serenity the man had, for now all semblance of softness was gone and if at all possible the silver haired stranger seemed even taller and more predatory the closer he came to the deposed lord. "I must admit, I too became eager to meet the man who had slaughtered his own men for the sake of ethnically cleansing his ranks." As the giant continued to open his mouth to speak as he stood looming over the pitiful man, the lord could then clearly see the rows of sharp teeth that seemed ready to gobble him up at a moments notice. "You look as great of a fool as I imagined you to be, to believe that loyalty could be breed and not bought with your own sweat and blood."
"W-what are you?" The effort of squeezing that question out of his trembling lips made the lord named Dias appear much smaller.
The stranger looked almost disappointed in that question as if it was the most inconsequential one to ask before offering an unreadable smile to prelude his response. "What I am is…" the smile reached up to his wine red eyes with gleeful abandon, "a tactician."
Silence hung in the air for a good long minute before it broke along with the fallen lord's sanity. His chuckles turned into short bursts of laughter turned into rancorous wheezing as he struggled to get his bearings and crawled towards his throne.
"AHAHAHA-! YES, YES! A TACTICIAN! BWAHAHAHA-!" Tears streamed down his twisted face as he heaved himself over the seat of his marble and gem studded chair. "Tell me who am I to be visited next in this nightmare, my old nursemaid? Or-or my father's mistress?! AHAHAHAHA!"
The gathering of risen warriors restlessly gripped their weapons as their former lord continued his tirade. They all looked ready to rip apart the foolish man where he sat, but restrained themselves, for the chief risen among them who was a captain in life had given no order to attack. The masked Falcon Knight, lance in hand, strode forward towards the cackling lord's throne.
"Marine, leave." The silver haired man commanded his partner who was still hanging back at the door.
"Yes, Grandmaster." She replied breathlessly as she hurriedly escaped the scene before whatever her leader sensed would happen, happened.
Once standing only a few feet away from the madman, the risen brought her hand to remove the angry mask of silver that hid her true face.
"Ah…" Dias sighed nostalgically after blinking a few times to adjust to the shadow his former soldier cast. "Justica. Truly you are as lovely as a wildflower in death, as you were in life." The russet haired Falcon Knight said nothing, continuing to stand like a resolute statue clutching her spear in one hand and her mask in the other. "It is a lamentable shame you had to have your father's filthy bloo-" The lord's words were cut off by the sharp end of her lance being impaled through his chest. Blood spurted out of his gasping mouth as Justica turned and walked back to the crowd of anxious risen. After descending the last step to the throne she raised her hand and the others swarmed up to finish the job.
Whilst her companions painted their former master's throne liberally with red, the Falcon Knight continued her walk until she stood before the tactician.
"Thank you." The breathy voice of the risen reverberated against the stone tiles of the room.
"You are welcome." The tall man bowed with a sincere smile on his face. "My friends and I will ensure that you are all given a proper burial this time."
"I can not say that I am looking forward to being planted into the earth," Justica laughed weakly at the fact that despite everything, her and her fellow soldiers were still very much dead. "Are you sure you do not need any extra hands for this mission of yours?"
"Mission? What makes you so sure that I'm on any mission?" His attempt at dodging the question was met with the deadest of deadpans a dead person could give. "I'm telling the truth! I have no mission, least not yet, but I am currently searching for one."
"So you've been aimlessly wandering with a party of trained warriors and you can just casually raise the dead, with no end-goal in mind?"
"We haven't been aimlessly wandering!"
"I'm pretty sure you accidently found our bodies while looking for the main road."
"In our defense we found your bodies when we were investigating the suspicious scent of decay while looking for the main road." As the two continued their verbal back and forth the rest of the risen finished what they came to the castle to do and quietly became observers to the banter going on without them.
"Look," the silver giant sighed in exasperation, "What if I told you: I was born to destroy all life?" A collective gasp rang out followed by the clattering of weapons being held at the ready.
"I'd politely ask you not to." Replied Justica, her grip on her spear tightening.
"Well that's why I'm currently without a mission," he continued, unperturbed by the sudden hostility towards him. "I don't want to be a threat to humanity, that's what I was meant to do, but to hell with that destiny!" The giant threw up his hands to accentuate his feelings on the subject. It was so compelling that the risen lowered their weapons by a full inch. "My origins, how I was born and who or what was involved to create me, are unknown even to myself." He absent-mindedly stroked his chin as he spoke. "So I suppose my mission is to find answers, and since I have basically defected from my original purpose, stop whatever my try and take my place as harbinger of death and destruction."
"And what exactly brought on this sudden change of character?" Justica asked, her curiosity mixed with apprehension.
"Oh it's a long story, with many variations, all of which are true." The giant gave a cheeky smile, "It would take a very long time to retell everything, and I must warn you it gets very confusing once the story gets to the time-travel bits."
"Time-travel…?" "Yes, time-travel."
"I think I'll pass." The Falcon Knight leaned on her lance with a small smile in response. "You certainly are a unique tactician."
"Heh, I'm one in a million," He scratched his cheek, embarrassed of his own boast, "Or more accurately I'm a million in one." His eyes drifted back to hers, "You still want to throw your lot in with the likes of me?"
Justica turned to look at her fellow soldiers, blood dripping from their weapons, faces unreadable behind their masks.
"I think we've had our fill of bloodshed for now, but if you are ever in need of help from beyond the grave, we will be more than willing to repay our debt to you for your kindness." She held out a hand and grasped the much larger and warmer hand of her avenger. "Best of luck for your journey. May the gods guide you to what you seek."
"And may you receive the rest you deserve in your own journey through the afterlife." The tactician bowed low and brushed his lips against the knight's pale knuckles. Regardless of being dead Justica still managed a faint blush that deepened once the chortling of her fellow risen knights assaulted her ears.
"You still have not given us a proper name to remember you by besides your title amongst your peers."
The tactician grimaced as if he swallowed a sour grape. "My name?"
"Don't tell me someone born to destroy the world has no name?"
"I have an abundance of names! All of them however do not rightfully belong to me…" The silver giant ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "The name of my birth carries with it a heavy memory of despair, but perhaps this time it need not carry that stigma with it."
"Very well…you may know me as… Grima."
(AN: I feel guilty posting this. This idea has been stewing in my head for sometime now and I hope it may inspire someone else into to writing their own take on it. Because next week I'll probably fall back into my long inactivity with the start of my last semester of college studying animation, I'll try to keep writing on the side but for my own sake will prioritize my schoolwork. Even so, until next time dear reader. ~OMTy)