Blackout
I do not own Fire Emblem or any of its characters.
Written for Raphiael in response to the prompt "Amnesia" for FE4/5.
A Generation 2 story for FE4 (Seisen no Keifu). I'm not listing the parental pairings here because most aren't important to the story and the rest are a surprise. Or obvious.
Flashes of light, like the sparks thrown off by a stoked fire, floated through Arthur's head in the moments before he opened his eyes. For a moment they still seemed to hang there in front of him, a netting of bright flecks draped across his face, but then they cleared. Arthur sat up and slid his bare feet onto the cool tile floor of his bedchamber.
Their bedchamber. Johalva was still burrowed under the blankets on the other side of the room. Like all the gang raised in Isaach, Johalva thought that the tail end of a Manster summer was unpleasantly chill. Arthur, for his part, found the crisp morning air the nicest weather he'd experienced since leaving Silesse; the winds coming down the towering mountains of Thracia felt almost like the winds he'd left behind.
Arthur decided to take a walk before the sun got too high and the air warmed up. Part of it was that he wanted to feel that brisk air against his legs just then, and part of it was that his head felt strangely fuzzy despite the full night's sleep, and he wanted it cleared. The view of Manster from its city walls was a pleasant one- jagged peaks to the east, outlined by the rising sun, a soft grayish-blue sky that hinted of rain to the west, and a city of people going about their business below. Arthur liked cities best that way, at a slight remove, where the voices weren't right in his ears and elbows and feet didn't jostle him. From this height, the city just looked and smelled better and he noticed the festive decorations going up on the walls more than he did the scars and signs of decay.
When he turned up for breakfast in the Great Hall of Manster Palace, Arthur found a festival mood in progress there, too. The full moon of that September was to fall on the very day that light and dark reigned in equal measure, and both Sir Seliph's army and the people they'd liberated took this as a portent of good things to come.
Arthur glanced around the room; his sister was sitting with Prince Leif and his retinue, while Sir Seliph broke bread with Levin and his other advisors. The remainder of the girls were at one table, while the young men were likewise off on their own. Prince Ares, the so-called Black Knight, had a seat by himself, positioned where he could look out the window and have an excuse not to speak to anyone. Arthur considered doing the same, but after a last glance at the back of his sister's head, he took a chair at the table with the "young lords" of Seliph's army.
And most of them were lords, as they'd found out. Faval, heir to the duchy of Jungby, bent over a platter of sausages. Faval's cousin Lester, who'd been the presumed heir of said duchy until Faval turned up, picking bits of shell from his boiled egg. Johalva, who'd inherit the house of Dozel as soon as they'd tracked down and dealt with his brother Brian. Ulster, younger prince of Isaach through his mother. Delmud, younger prince of Nordion through his mother.
And then there was Ced, who was almost certainly the heir to something but he hadn't admitted it yet. He was sitting just a little bit away from the others- not an offensive distance like Ares, but just enough to... to observe, Arthur decided. He wondered offhand if Ced also liked to take walks around the city walls to look over Manster from a height.
Arthur sat down, pushing his chair back far enough to that he and Ced made a mirror of one another across the table. The young lords appeared to all be discussing what they did back home for the harvest festival.
"In Isaach, we..."
"Mother said that in Grannvale they..."
"Here in Manster everyone..."
In Northern Thracia, people celebrated their grain, the wealth of their fertile savannas. Tinny had told him of it, of how the last stand of wheat to be cut got paraded through the streets of Alster, how they made a manikin from the bundle of stalks and gave him a seat at the high table.
In occupied Silesse they didn't celebrate the grain, because the empire took the last stand and all the rest of it too. Yet even in Arthur's village they'd had races and tournaments to celebrate the end of summer. Arthur had entered the tournament two years running; the first year he did miserably, knocked off his feet in the opening round, but the second time Arthur and his battered book of wind spells had made it to the victor's place beneath the canopy and he'd gotten a kiss from the girl who'd won the pegasus race.
"And what did you do in Silesse, Arthur?"
Delmud asked it, politely reminding everyone that Arthur had been a Silessian most of his life and didn't just belong in the box labeled "fugitive nobles of Grannvale" along with Lester and Faval and their sisters.
Arthur explained about the races, making it sound far grander than it did, leaving out that the races and the tournaments had been banned under occupation. But he remembered how they'd been when he was a little boy, and he embellished the story with details from old Tuva's tales of her girlhood in the last golden days of Crusader Ced's reign.
Once or twice, Arthur looked at the other Ced, the one across the table, to see the other man's reaction to these fabulous accounts of the pegasus races. Ced's face showed almost nothing- no suspicion, no telltale disbelief- but about halfway through Arthur's account Ced began to tap his fingers against the table. It gave Arthur the same sensation as watching sand slip through an hour-glass- time's up. You can stop it now.
But everyone else appeared to believe whatever Arthur told them, and once he'd finished, they went on happily to the topic of what they could do this particular holiday in the free and grateful city of Manster.
"On the equinox, spirits are supposed to pass freely from their world into ours," said a wide-eyed Ulster. "In Isaach, we always had our fortunes for the season told."
"There's a fortune-teller down in the town square by the pawn shop," said Faval. "I oughta go to him. Maybe he can tell me where mum went and who our dad was."
"Oh, those old charlatans don't know anything," replied Lester. "Mother said they all have tricks to make you think they're seeing the future, but none of these market-square seers are holy men. You'd be better off finding a priest."
"You're in Manster," Faval replied with a jaded air. "Honest priests got run out of here a long time ago. You should come with me, Lester."
"Me? I don't need to ask some old fraud about my parents. Mother's safe in Tirnanogue and Father died at Barhara protecting her."
Arthur watched the antics of the cousins feeling more than a little jaded himself... but he did notice Delmud rolling his eyes at Lester's statement. It stayed with him even after the rest of the morning's conversation faded from his mind.
-x-
Arthur did notice that Ced didn't say a thing about whatever childhood celebrations he'd enjoyed at harvest time. Ced spoke only of what people in Manster did when they weren't being rounded up by imperial troops. Typical Ced, Arthur thought, for all that he'd known the man for less than a week. They'd found him in Manster, and he dressed like the people of Manster and halfway talked like it, but he wasn't from there. The citizens there in Manster called him "Ced the Hero" while their hero merely called himself Ced and gave evasive responses about who and what he was if anyone asked.
Arthur kept an eye on the green-haired sage (such an unconvincing Thracian he made with that hair!) for some time that day, and was more than a little pleased to learn that Ced did, indeed, go for walks on the city walls. It made a good place to corner Ced, though the sage didn't seem in the least rattled when Arthur called out to him.
"What's your game?"
"I don't play games."
There was something wrong with one of his eyes, something disconcerting about it that made Arthur not want to look too closely.
"You're not fooling me. You can't have fooled anyone- nobody in this place would name their kid after the Silessian wind god."
"Nobody?" Ced smiled a little at Arthur's words. "I'd say it's about as likely as a Silessian youth with a name more common in these parts."
"My mum was from Grannvale."
"Obviously." And Ced gestured towards the pale hair that cascaded well past Arthur's shoulders.
"So what are you, then? A man with a Silessian name and knowledge of Silessian magic who turns up here at the far edges of the empire?"
"I was looking for someone and ended up here," replied Ced. "I'm told you were also looking for someone close to you... and ended up here."
Ced's eyes were two fingers lower than Arthur's but Ced had that disconcerting... thing in his eye. Arthur looked away first, and Ced took that opportunity to leave.
-x-
Prince Leif stole Tinny at dinnertime, too, so Arthur joined the young lords yet again. The evening meal wasn't nearly as festive as the morning had been; Ulster slouched at the end of the table with a pale, blotched face and red eyes.
"What's with him?" Arthur whispered to Johalva.
"He went to see the fortune-teller to find out if he had a chance with Miss Julia," Johalva replied. "Heard instead that his mother's been dead all this time."
"Ah."
Arthur looked on as Delmud and Lester both attempted to comfort their friend; for his own part, Arthur felt profoundly unmoved by Ulster's sorrow. Wasn't it Ulster's own fault for hoping against hope that his mother was alive? Or his own fault for going to see the "market-square seer" and trying to divine his future? Ulster ought to be glad he had a healthy, pretty sister and an elder cousin who looked out for them both.
Arthur heard Ulster moan, "How'm I going to tell Larcei?" as he ceased to pay attention to anything going on at that end of the table. Nobody- not Faval, not even Johalva- was in a lighthearted mood that night, and at the end of the meal they all drifted away, silent as cats.
Yet, as he turned to go, Arthur felt a tug upon his sleeve. He looked down to see a quiff of dark blond hair and a pair of brown eyes.
"Hey, Del."
"Do you want to take a walk?" asked the prince of Nordion. "I'd go back to the room with Ulster, but I don't know how much more to say to him."
The idea of another brisk walk through the evening air sounded good to Arthur, and besides that, he'd noticed the spots of light in front of his eyes at dinner. Maybe a good walk would tire him out to the point where he had some proper sleep...
"Yeah, that's rough," was what he said to Delmud by way of agreement. "You got some bad news about your mum recently, too."
"Lost in the desert? Yeah. But Lewyn told me afterward that she's not dead... just in some place where we can't reach her." Delmud looked remarkably unbruised by the news. "I just have the feeling I'll see her again. Here in this world, I mean, not like..."
"Lucky you." The words came out sour, but Arthur couldn't help himself. The look Delmud shot him in return was so empathetic that Arthur decide to accept the silent apology that Del offered, and instead of heading off alone into the dark, Arthur decided to keep their conversation going.
"What's that funny look you get on your face whenever Lester goes on about his dad the chivalrous bow knight?"
"Oh, that." Delmud brushed at a stray lock of hair with the back of his hand. "I guess 'funny' is the word for it, but I remember once long ago, I heard Shanan and Oifaye talking about how weird it was that Lester looked so much like Lex of Dozel."
"Lex?"
"Yeah. He was one of the Grannvale nobles with Sir Sigurd. I remember hearing he was a friend of your mother's- him and Lord Azel of Velthomer. They all knew each other way back when. Come to think of it, he'd be Johalva's uncle, too."
"Is that so? Did he get blasted at Barhara with the rest of them?" asked Arthur, interest piqued by the reference to his own mother.
"No. Mother Aideen said that Lex and his sweetheart left before then, right around the time your mother and Lady Fury went to Silesse. So maybe he's out there somewhere, and Lester doesn't know it."
"Heh. It wouldn't be the first time somebody got their world turned upside down." This idea did not bother Arthur in the least.
"And it won't be the last," Delmud agreed, once more seeming content with it all. "Are you okay, Arthur? You've seemed a bit off since we got to Manster."
"Oh, so that's why you're sticking around to talk to me. Yeah, I'm fine. Maybe I could do with sleeping better."
"Ah. Yes, we've seen you dropping out in conversations a couple of times this last week."
"You have?"
"Not often," Delmud said quickly. "Just a few times, you didn't seem to be following us."
"Right. Thanks for your concern, Delmud. I'll try to... not do that."
As much as that conversation set Arthur on edge, he seemed to sleep normally that night. The sparks of light weren't there when he woke in the morning, and Delmud and the rest didn't act as though anything were amiss with Arthur at breakfast.
Then again... how would Arthur know, exactly?
"I'm going down to the arena today," he announced to the rest. "Anyone else want to come?"
"Sure," said Faval with a yawn. "Need the money, again..."
Faval burned through money like mad, though most of it went to keep the holy bow he'd inherited from his mother in good repair. Only Prince Ares went through money faster, as far as Arthur could tell.
In truth, Arthur didn't need the money. His Wind and Thunder tomes never cost a lot to get repaired, and he'd cleaned up at the arenas in Melgen and Alster. But something in Arthur made him want to prove himself, to prove he'd come just fine out of their last string of battles, that he wasn't "off."
Ced, though, showed him that little smile again.
"Not quite the same as the harvest tournaments back home, is it?"
"Hell, no," Arthur replied. "Going to give it a shot today?"
"I might," Ced admitted.
"Great. Meet you at the gates in an hour, then."
He was only a little surprised that Ced kept the appointment. As they waited for their turns in the ring, Ced brought up the harvest tournaments again, but this time he was serious. Arthur, half-hoping to trap Ced into an admission of his secret identity, spoke freely of the tournaments he'd actually been in- not massive festivals with prizes of silver and gold, but vicious matches against some truly shady opponents, some of whom used dark magic.
"I'm not even sure how I got to the final round last year. Every time I was about to lose and go down, my opponent would just... miss. Sometimes a couple of shots in a row; it was like being on the verge of defeat gave me the strength to make me untouchable, and then I'd let them have it."
"Really."
"Yeah. And the last guy I dealt with was a real son of a... well, he had a Hel tome under his cloak. You know that one?"
"I don't practice it," corrected Ced. "But I know of it, yes."
"Yeah, well that one left me basically dead. I was down on my knees with this dark mist closing in around me..."
It took only a little effort to push himself back to that moment, of being there in the hard-packed dirt of the ring, head lolling to the side as his leaden limbs refused to obey any commands. Arthur could still feel the hate in the words that had popped into his head then.
Not today. I've come too far. Not this time, you smirking bastard.
He remembered the surge of energy that filled him then, remembered rising up from the ring with his tome clenched in a death-grip even as his sneaking adversary brought out the Elwind tome that was supposed to be his legitimate weapon in the match. The green waves flowed around Arthur, rustling his clothes without touching his flesh, and Arthur had enough time to see the shock in his opponent's eyes before he unleashed a return volley that took his opponent clear out of the ring, out of the match...
"I damn near killed him. After that, I knew I was ready to go out and find my family."
"Is that so?"
Ced actually looked impressed. Or disturbed. Arthur couldn't tell, and he still didn't want to look too closely at that oddly green damaged eye.
-x-
He'd miscalculated. This swordmaster was going to cleave Arthur in two with the broad silver blade. They'd take him back to Tinny in pieces.
Arthur managed to swerve away from Xenon's next strike, but he'd already lost enough blood to be dizzy, and his opponent was fast... and surprisingly strong. Even when Arthur struck him with a bolt of Thunder that should've laid the man out, Xenon kept on his feet, kept dancing. His resilience enraged Arthur.
"Come on and get me!" he shouted.
Xenon did, knocking Arthur back with a blow that left him dazed and bent double. It didn't hurt as much as it should've... always a bad sign.
"Feh." Arthur tasted blood in his mouth. "I wanted you to do that."
And, in spite of the pain rippling down one side, he managed to stand up straight with his shoulders back.
"You see, I fight better when I'm angry."
Xenon's blade should've finished Arthur off, but the silver edge caught only empty air, and then a massive blast of Thunder magic illuminated the entire arena. When the light dimmed, Xenon was the one hauled away for healing.
Not that Arthur was in much better shape. He raised his arm to the roars of the crowd, but he couldn't really see any of his audience. Blotches of pale light in front of his eyes made it impossible to see anything, and he stumbled back as the pain returned to overwhelm him.
Someone caught him, someone with a healing staff to patch up the wounds in his arm and his side.
"Ced?"
The healing didn't help the spots in his vision.
"Good, you're awake."
"I've been awake the whole time."
"No. You lost consciousness for a few moments there."
"Mm." Arthur thought his right eye had better vision than the left. "I didn't notice."
"That's what worries me. What were you doing there?"
"Winning."
He won four thousand in gold and the arena boss's admonition to not come back. That made thirteen thousand and five hundred pieces of gold earned in one morning- not bad, considering. Arthur did not, however, ask what Ced had won, or how easily he'd won it.
Especially not after Ced mother-henned him all the way back to the palace and insisted Arthur go straight to bed.
"Hey, leave me alone. I've done this before."
"I hope not," Ced replied as he propelled Arthur into the door of the bedroom.
"I'm glad Johalva isn't here to see you doing this," said Arthur.
"Do you seriously not understand what you're doing to yourself? Allowing yourself to be beaten down to the edge of death just to channel more power than you can handle isn't a battle strategy."
"I understand just fine. I've been doing this for years. Like I told Xenon, I have strength in my anger." He really did want to lay down, but Arthur wasn't even going to think of it until Ced left him alone.
"That's not the way." Sometimes Arthur found it hard to believe that he and Ced were the same age- especially when Ced was acting like this, stone-faced and making pronouncements like a high priest. "Wind magic is inherently less destructive to the user than fire or thunder magic. What you could do as a student with an elementary wind spell you can't do with Elthunder!"
"I am using elementary magic. Elthunder is Tinny's specialty." And his mother's Thoron tome was beyond him at present, not that Arthur planned to admit it.
"It's still thunder magic. Fire and thunder are not your friends- it's no accident that Valflame and Mjolnir are both in the hands of our enemies."
"How can you be so sure, Ced the Hero? I mean, Ced the Liar."
"I'm not lying."
The defensive edge to his voice did Arthur some good.
"You're not telling the truth, either. That green flash in your eye is the holy mark of Forseti. You're the prince of Silesse." Ced didn't protest it, didn't deny it, but the downturn of his mouth gave everything away. "I don't know where you're hiding the tome, but I already figured out that your heroic feats were possible thanks to Forseti's powers. I've seen every kind of wind magic there is- except that- and nothing I've seen matches up to the stories about your single-handed defense of the gates of Manster. Nothing else makes the sky turn green."
Arthur meant to stay on his feet until Ced got the hell out of his room, but suddenly he was sprawled on the bed with one boot on, one boot off, and his hair tangled all around him. The sparks were going off in his eyes again.
"I want to sleep now," he said, and rolled away so he wasn't facing Ced anymore. Still, he couldn't escape the range of Sety's voice.
"We're not here by accident, Arthur. We're holy warriors- Sir Seliph, Prince Leif and Prince Ares, you, me, the Jungbys, Johalva, Prince Shanan and his cousins. Each of us has been blessed with the talents we need to see this war through and to liberate Jugdral from Southern Thracia to Upper Silesse. But our enemies have talents, too... and these gifts can destroy us, corrupting us as our enemies have been corrupted."
Arthur closed his eyes and pretended to sleep, but Ced had one more piece of advice for him.
"Don't fight with your anger, Arthur."
Arthur remained where he was, eyes shut tight, until long after the sound of Ced's footsteps faded away.
To Be Continued