Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem Awakening!
Note: Hello, everyone! If you're reading this, then I want you to know that Lethality has been rewritten from the beginning, again. This time, I swear that I'll stop editing and continue the story along as it should. As of 1st January, 2019, every chapter that existed previously has been edited and rewritten, and new chapters will finally start coming at a steady rate throughout this new year.
That being said, here are some other things about this fic that you need to know:
-Henry and Tharja are described as darker-skinned than what canon normally portrays them as. I often refer to Henry as being golden-skinned, honeyed, or just plain dark. He is lighter-skinned than Tharja in my mind, however, so you can imagine that as you will.
-Robin will be referred to using "they/them" pronouns, as I have described them as gender neutral/non-binary in this story, seeing as I couldn't pick one version of Robin over the other. Imagine them as you will.
Thank you for being patient with me, old readers! And new readers, thank you for taking an interest in this story! It's been a few years since the writing of Lethality first began, but I'm finally happy with the way it's being written now. Thank you again, everyone! I really appreciate it!
A wrapper crinkled between playful hands. It drifted downward, where it rode the strange waves of the stagnant air before landing on the sodden ground below. That was where it belonged, really. The wrapper was nothing more than trash now, a former shell of its bright and colored glory that spoke tales of the sweet confection inside. And it matched its fellow wrappers in numerous ways, as hundreds of little wrappers and sweets laid themselves before Henry—and like a crow encircling its prey, he hovered over his food and picked at the desired treats one by one.
He really shouldn't be eating candy, especially candy that belonged to Gaius. But the thief was the one who left his tent flap open—whether by accident or purpose Henry didn't know, but he didn't care, either. That little detail wasn't nearly as important to him. What was important to him was that for a brief moment in time, Gaius abandoned his abode and made it possible for light-fingered fools like Henry to come inside and traipse about the place like they owned it.
Like he owned it. And he might as well own it, at this rate. Henry's feet were kicked up skyward, one at a time as if exercising or testing their functionality when he knew that they would always be working, even in spite of the countless curses that ran through his veins in lieu of his blood. He kicked his legs up and down, and smiled to himself in triumph.
This was a hard-earned victory in reality. When Henry first entered the area, he saw that there was a surprising lack of sweets. Despite the intensely sugary smell that left the tent in a haze, there were no candies or goodies to be seen. There was nothing in the bedroll, cabinets, or the small table that sat in the corner, seemingly unused. But the aroma of sugar couldn't have just come from nowhere, so Henry realized at once what the answer was.
The sweets were hidden from view. Most likely the treats were stashed underground, and after murmuring an incantation or two, Henry discovered that he was right. His little spell allowed him to see the hidden secrets in the room, and his eyes opened to take in the view of what should have been invisible to his eye, but instead became as clear and lucid as the bright blue sky itself.
Another spell was cast to lift the earth up in small amounts, and when the dust settled back down again, Henry saw a spacious compartment with its contents open for all the world to see. First was an icebox, and it was packed to the brim with various donuts, cakes, and other cookies. Next to the large icebox was a crate filled with at least a hundred different bonbons, all ranging in flavors fruity to chocolaty and back to fruity again. There were lollipops, hard candies, gummies, and mints, as well—all stuffed into hefty bags and sacks, sorted by egregious handwriting on the front that differentiated Good Normal Sugary Sweets from The Best Ones Ever! Henry laughed at the tackiness of it all, but his voice soon disappeared entirely when he began to stuff himself with the confections.
Now, he wasn't a big eater at all, but if it meant that he could humiliate Gaius, then he would devour everything in sight. By the time Gaius returned, Henry had eaten through at least a hundred different things, and they were all varied and delicious, if the stray crumbs and fallen wrappers were any indication of such. But these were shifted with his every movement on the bed, including when he sprung up from the cotton and landed on his feet in a swift motion, only to stop when rocking back-and-forth on his heels and smiling at the other with the most cheer he could muster.
Gaius was less amused. There was a startling lack of outward animosity on his part, but Henry could feel the agitation rise from him like steam in the air. It showed through the slightest motions—twitch of lips that dared not go further and create a frown, curl of fingers into a tightened fist around the knot of his burlap sack, tiny breath escaping his mouth in an annoyed huff—that were still detectable, and as such, Henry prepared himself for the worst.
Or the best. They were practically the same, in his mind.
"Junior," Gaius addressed him in a calm voice. He set down his bag, straightened out his shoulders, and cracked his knuckles in quick movements that happened within seconds in each other. In the same time, Henry had only managed to scratch at the itchy side of his head with his spindly fingers. "You realize that this is my tent, yeah?"
"Definitely! I could smell the cavities from a mile away!"
"So why the hell are you in here, then?"
He stood at his fullest, asserting some sort of dominance when it came to the comparison of their frames. Because compared to Gaius, Henry looked more wiry and meager than usual. The difference in height spanned at least four inches or so, and even though beautifully bright thoughts of mutilation came to mind, Henry still felt the odd sting of self-consciousness biting at him.
He didn't realize it, but he craned upward on his toes, and adjusted the angle of his back ever so carefully to mitigate a fraction of the height difference between them. In an unbothered voice, he responded: "I'm here 'cause I wanted to be, silly! You've got a lot of candy, by the way!"
Gaius eyes narrowed down to bitter green slits. He hoped his indignation burned clearly and visibly, and that Henry would back down after his show of intimidation. He hoped that his rigid stance and exasperated breaths spoke for themselves, and Henry would be beside himself in apologies as he rushed the hell out of there. He hoped all of this and more, but he knew that the other was steadfast in his ways, because he remained unmoving and unfazed by this situation entirely. And normally, Gaius wouldn't be so bothered by Henry's antics or his stupid smile, but if there was a time for him to be tolerant of others' bullshit, this wasn't it.
"Get out," Gaius demanded. "Or I'll beat you without any remorse, I swear."
"Go ahead~" Henry taunted. He picked up a few stray licorice sticks from the crate, and twirled them in his hand dangerously as if they were knives, instead. "You can kick me out if you want, but you can't stop me from doing this!"
Like a child, he twirled on his feet, and somewhere in between the start and end of that rotation, he managed to scoop up a dozen pies or so in his hands. In the same swift manner, he scattered them to the ground, and stomped on them in almost rhythmic steps afterward. When they were reduced to mere crumbs and fillings, Henry stopped, and glanced at Gaius for a reaction.
His eyes still bore that bitterness, although there was something in them that was clouded differently—something that showed more than just simple detest for the other. Something like confusion and bewilderment, maybe. But something laid beneath that outer surface—something dark and looming and enticing at once. Henry kept smiling as always, but there was a quick rush of darkness in his head.
Although he just gorged himself on sweets, his mouth closed up with a bitter taste forming throughout.
Oh, he was in so much trouble, now.
.
.
.
Henry limped around the barracks with his hand pressed to his side. His bony fingers were mostly ineffective at staying the blood, and their darkened skin was sprayed with deep crimson that oozed out unabashedly. Trembling, his hair fell in cluttered white strands that swept off to the side, with tiny dots of red patterning their interlocking shapes.
Everything hurt so much. If there was one thing that Henry hated in this world, it was pain. He would rather be killed instantly than have to bear the burden of torture or injury. Of course, as a mage, that didn't look too good considering that enemies were smart enough to go for him, as opposed to big, meaty walls like Vaike or Gregor. But so long as he could get his own kicks out of it—a death here and there, some Risen limbs for the collection, too—then it didn't matter to him so much.
Right now, though, he felt weak and lightheaded. Despite it all, he found it in himself to smile widely. Who knew that Gaius would get so violent over some sweets?
"Henry?"
He knew that voice anywhere. His smile fell slightly at the thought of his best friend seeing him like this, but he turned around and faced him, anyway. "That's me! Did you forget already, sillyhead?" Henry laughed, but the sound quickly morphed into a coughing fit, although he tried to obscure the worst of it by smothering the force of his upheavals into his hands.
His joke went fully unappreciated, all the while. There was a deep concern etched into Ricken's eyes, and he moved hesitantly—as if afraid of Henry, but there was no way that that was the case—before finally reaching out and grasping at the tremulous, thin limbs that belonged to his dearly injured friend. Reluctantly, he pulled Henry's hands away from his face, and he blanched at the sight of his dark skin patterned with wet, crimson stains.
His tawny eyes were wide and his lips were dry when he asked, "What happened to you?"
"Gaius happened to me."
"Gaius did this to you?"
"To be fair, he did warn me, but I got annoyed at him and so I ate all his sweets and cursed his arse off! Then he beat me up real good, but it was so worth it."
"Was it really worth it?" Ricken's voice was sharp with disappointment and disbelief in full. But his actions betrayed his words, because he took Henry's damaged arm in his own, and tugged at his sleeve with careful, gentle movements. Then he started them on a course towards the nearest healer's tent, because Henry looked worse than the injured cavaliers from the last battle with the Risen.
It was an unspoken arrangement between them, but Henry seemed to be in agreement, because he let Ricken move him around as he wanted. And the sudden jerk forward spurred him into action—a chaste laugh escaping his lips as it did.
"Totally worth it," he insisted.
"You're such a troublemaker," Ricken said. "Next time, think twice about messing with other people, or I might just not help you again."
"Hey, I don't make trouble! Trouble makes itself!"
"That's exactly what a troublemaker would say!"
.
.
.
After that, Henry should have steered clear of Gaius. He should have been wary, careful, even apologetic for what he had done. If he did that, then maybe the other wouldn't hate him so much, or maybe they could have put their childish antics aside. If they did that, then maybe they would have been able to see past their initial silliness, and actually get to know each other.
Instead, Henry was spurned, inspired, and even motivated to further intervene with Gaius' seemingly peaceful life. He was never good about letting things go, and had a rather obsessive streak that started ever since he was young. His occupation as a dark mage didn't help this in the least, especially when it was so easy to curse and hex other people for their wrongdoings. A little bit of bad luck here, some major heart failure there, and Henry could always exact the right amount of revenge and punishment needed to make him feel whole again.
Plus, it was just way too fun to mess with Gaius. How could he pass up an opportunity to ruin his day if it came?
The answer was that he couldn't pass it up, which was seen mere days after the first confrontation. Henry crunched happily on some freshly baked pecan pies—the fruits of his ill-intentioned and juvenile labor. Stealing them was an effort made all too easily, such that it made him wonder if Gaius was always this dense, or if he was only a suave, smooth-talking machine when it came to striking deals or landing blows on enemy soldiers.
Either way, it all played out so fluidly. Henry enlisted the help of his crow friends, who pushed over a large barrel full of flour in the nearby hallway. Gaius—who had just taken his pies out of the oven—was surprised by the noise, and naturally, he left his desserts unattended to as he went to inspect the damage. In the time it took him to do so, Henry had snuck into the kitchen, taken the pies, and fled the scene.
He even had a chance to leave behind a message—a challenge, if you will. One of the kitchen counters was covered in flour, and so Henry dragged his index finger along the white substance, and left a message in the negative space.
Your move, Honeybuns.
Gaius didn't need to go very far to find the culprit, especially since Henry wasn't trying to hide. He was seated on top of the horse and pegasus stables, with his feet dangling precariously over the edge of the wooden roof. He was triumphantly indulging the in the pecan pies, although the look on Gaius' face was almost twice as sweet, in his mind.
There was that harsh, acrid stare again, and if looks could kill, then Gaius would have murdered the soles of Henry's feet in cold blood.
The dark mage leaned forward to get a better look, and sneered all the while.
This should be good.
"Well, look what the crows dragged in, nyahaha!"
"Just get down here and gimme back my pies, Junior!"
"No way, Honeybuns!" Henry retorted, wagging a finger as if to scold him for even thinking that was a possibility. "This is, as the kids call it, payback."
"Payback for what? And stop calling me 'Honeybuns', damn you!"
"Payback for hurting me, obviously! And plus, aren't you the one that likes to use nicknames for people? So it's only fair that you get one back in return! Don't like it?"
"I hurt you because you invaded my privacy! And you cursed me first!" Gaius reminded him of this, as if the ringing headache he was barely recovering from right now was any indication of it. He bit back at the sickening sensation that dully pulsed through his temples, and continued his angry string of replies in Henry's direction. "And no, I don't like that nickname one bit!"
"I cursed you 'cause you hurt me," Henry countered. "And good, 'cause I'm gonna keep calling you that!"
"Just get down here already, and give me back my pies!"
Henry's smile was like a thread needling itself through the cloth of his face. Slow, steady, and oncoming, he couldn't even try to hide the excitement pouring through him. Of course, if Gaius reacted like that, it would be impossible to let this all stop. How could he, when the other was so blatantly amusing and stupidly fun to mess with? Even though the thief was normally more controlled and calculated than this, Henry had a special talent for pushing people past their limits.
Gaius was no exception. Pleased by the outcome of it all, Henry began to laugh, erratically and uncontrollably so. It took a whole minute before he was able to contain himself, and even then, his body shook with silent giggles and airy intakes.
"Fine," he gasped. "But you asked for it!"
In a quick, unceremonious motion, Henry dumped the pie tins over Gaius' head, and watched with unmatched glee as the nuts, cream, and crust all spread over him messily. The sound of the metal tin clanging against his head was like music to Henry's ears, and he laughed again when the container slumped off of Gaius' head like a hat discarded—finally resting on top of his toes with a dull but painful thud.
He wasn't sure where they stood, now, but judging from Gaius' smoldering gaze and clenched fists, Henry knew he was in a lot of trouble.
Bring it on, he thought to himself eagerly. Catch me if you can.
.
.
.
Henry limped around the barracks with his hand pressed to his side, again. His bony fingers were mostly ineffective at staying the blood, and their darkened skin was sprayed with deep crimson that oozed out unabashedly—again. Trembling, his hair fell in cluttered white strands that swept off to the side, with tiny dots of red patterning their interlocking shapes...again.
It all happened again. In return for messing around with the other's sweets (among other things), Henry was soundly beaten by Gaius again. And just like before, he dragged himself around the common area, leaving behind a tiny blood trail like a wounded animal.
Ricken was the one to find him, again. The boy had forgotten his trusty Elwind tome, and with an upcoming battle in Plegian territory, he knew that doing so was an unwise decision. But he found more than he expected to, because alongside his perfectly pristine magic book was the utterly injured form of his best friend.
The expression on Ricken's face—a cross between concern and exasperation—was nearly the same as before, too.
"Hey," Henry greeted him. "Funny I should run into you here!"
"Don't hey me! I thought I told you to stop messing around with Gaius! What did you do this time?"
"Well, obviously I messed with him."
Ricken sighed loudly, and quickly ran up to Henry's side. He had less hesitation than before, so he grabbed the other's less injured arm, and began leading him to the direction of the nearest healer's tent (which, they discovered from last time, happened to be Lissa's tent). There was a familiarity forming in this routine that Ricken began to hate, and so he brought it upon himself to sternly lecture Henry so as to make sure something like this didn't happen again.
But they both knew it would, anyway. Still, it was the thought that counted.
"If you don't knock it off, then you'll find out that Gaius isn't nearly as dangerous as I am." He sounded serious, for once, and there was something hardened in the gaze of his usually soft, earthen eyes. It was definitely the look of someone that wanted no part of this shenanigans, despite being inadvertently involved in it twice up to this point. Unfortunately, Henry was the type of person to be annoyingly persistent in such pursuits, but he did appreciate Ricken's help in it all.
So he feigned cooperation to show his appreciation. "Yes, sir! No more messing around with Gaius!"
"You say that, but I get the feeling that you're just gonna try again tomorrow."
"If I do, then I get the feeling that you'll be there for me tomorrow, too." Henry's smile brightened, and he gleamed in Ricken's direction. "At least, I hope so!"
Ricken laughed. He calmed down considerably, but still appeared annoyed by it all. Although what Henry said was largely true: he would be there for him when no one else was, if only because they were best friends and nothing else. Although he wouldn't admit it to Henry just yet, there was a certain rush of pride that Ricken felt in knowing that someone depended on him this much. To be useful and strong in the eyes of others was his main goal (if Henry can see it, then I bet Chrom and the others can, too) in life, and there was no better way to prove it than in the midst of a trying war.
But needless to say, being the mediator between a dark mage's twisted curiosity and fixation on an equally dangerous thief and adversary was not the way that Ricken wanted to be recognized for his usefulness. He made this clear as he said: "Y'know, if it wasn't for me, you'd probably be dead for annoying everyone so often."
"You're right," Henry agreed. His staggered walk was a little more painful, now, and the two of them hurried their pace along accordingly.
As they moved forward, an unspoken thought resounded in Henry's mind like a clear mantra. It was as if a small voice whispered to him, and reminded him of the fact that if it wasn't for Ricken, then he'd probably be dead for entirely different reasons, already.