Do not own original story of FE.
A/N: My first FE AU (and one of the few in the fandom!)
This is a weird idea I had to redo the story of Fire Emblem with different roles, angles, and ideas. The basic setting is the same—the world of Elibe.
Also, the title is subject to change.
-
"Good evening, your Highness."
"Marcus." Eliwood was looking out the window, a slight breeze ruffling his bright red hair. "How long until Mother and Father come home?"
"I don't know, Highness." Marcus walked over to where Eliwood stood, gazing at the darkening sky. Sunset lingered in the air, painting the sky red and gold, but the colors were fading into shades of violet and black as the sun sank behind the mountains.
"They've been gone for two weeks, Marcus," Eliwood said as he leaned out the window, resting his elbows on the stone as he studied the castle grounds below his window.
"It's only to be expected, Highness; they are in Bern, after all. It's a fair distance from here, even by carriage. They likely only arrived in Bern a short time ago."
"I know, I know," Eliwood interrupted as he turned away from the window after pulling the shutters closed. "I just get worried sometimes."
"It's your way, Highness," Marcus said with a soft chuckle. "You do have the tendency to get worried over even the silliest of things. It's one of your quirks, I suppose."
Eliwood returned Marcus's laugh. "I suppose you're right, Marcus. I do tend to worry a bit much."
"A bit too much, I think, your Highness, and it can't be good for you, if you don't mind my saying so."
"Not at all." Eliwood stepped into a small room connected to his own and emerged in a red dressing gown as opposed the white tunic and red cape that he usually wore around court. "I was going to ask you if you knew how long Sir Oswin and Hector would be gone."
Marcus scowled. "No, Highness, I don't. And frankly, Sir Hector can stay out there as long as he wishes for all I care."
"Marcus, be civil," Eliwood said. "I know that you do not get along with Hector, but he is still a close friend to me, not to mention my bodyguard. I do not want there to be arguments among my own escorts."
"As you wish, Lord Eliwood," Marcus muttered, "but I do not see why that boy is allowed to speak to you as if you and he were of the same class. You are royalty, after all, and, Prince Eliwood—"
"Marcus," Eliwood interrupted. "For all we know, Hector could be royalty as well. I mean, Father found him alone, Marcus. No family anywhere in sight. For all we know he could be heir to one of the other kingdoms. Father did find him fairly close to the borders of Ilia." He shook his head slightly. "And besides that, Marcus, he's like a brother to me, not to mention my closest friend."
"I suppose you're right, Highness," Marcus said. "I will do my best to be civil with Sir Hector."
"That is all I ask. So, do you have any idea when they will be back?"
"As I said, your Highness, I don't know. Sir Oswin was taking Sir Hector into the mountains for a bit of isolated training. All that Sir Oswin told me was that they would come back when he was confident Sir Hector had learned what he needed to know."
Eliwood laughed again. "So there are things in the fighting arts that even Hector does not know? Oh, I would like to see them!"
"There is no such thing as a master fighter, my Prince. There are only warriors who have—"
They were interrupted by a flash of white light that cut through the small openings in the shutters. The light was bright enough that even the small amount that shone through the shutters left spots dancing in Eliwood's eyes.
In an instant, the light was gone, and Marcus ran to the window. He flung open the shutters and studied the night sky carefully.
"What was it, Marcus?" Eliwood asked, rubbing at one of his eyes as he walked to Marcus's side.
"I don't know, your Highness," Marcus replied. "But whatever it was, it seems like it has passed now—"
Another flash of light lit the landscape; had Eliwood not known better, he would have thought it to be lightning. As it was, though, no clouds were anywhere in sight, and Eliwood had heard no thunder. If the light was from lightning, it was most certainly magical.
Marcus leaned back, shielding his eyes, but Eliwood did the exact opposite. He leaned forward, squinting against the light as he struggled to see a vague outline in the distance. He could make out a faint outline of pale wings against the background of white, and somewhere, staring out at him from within the light, was a pair of red eyes.
The light faded within another instant. Eliwood blinked; his vision was filled with multicolored spots, but he could still see the red eyes in the center of his vision.
"What was that?" he managed to say.
Marcus blinked a few times to clear his own vision. "I've no idea, your Highness. I haven't ever seen anything of that sort in all my years of service to Lycia."
Eliwood rubbed his forehead and attempted to blink the spots in his vision away. They dispelled with little effort, but he could still make out the red eyes, as if they were burned into the undersides of his eyelids.
"Well, it looks like we're both at a loss, then," he said. "I certainly don't know what it is, and you don't seem to know, either.
"I swear on my honor that I do not, Highness." Marcus pulled the shutter closed again and stepped away from the window. He turned to make eye contact with Eliwood; in Eliwood's vision, his eyes glowed red. "Do not worry yourself, my prince. Whatever it was, it has passed now."
"Has it?" Eliwood muttered, staring at Marcus for another moment before quickly turning away.
Even then, the red eyes remained, watching him from the very walls of his bedroom.
"I am tired, Marcus; would you mind leaving me so that I may sleep?" Eliwood asked.
"Not at all, your Highness." Marcus bowed before walking to the door. "Sweet dreams."
He pulled the door closed, and Eliwood sank onto his bed and stared at the eyes. They stared right back at him.
"It is only an after-image," he told himself. "They will be gone by the morning; I needn't worry. A bit of sleep will solve the problem."
He climbed into bed and closed his eyes, and the red eyes watched him from underneath his eyelids.
-
"Your problem, Hector, is that you are too impatient with how you wield your axe," Oswin said, spinning his lance idly. "Hastiness will only make you hurt yourself and possibly those who mean you no harm."
"I know how to use an axe, Oswin," Hector muttered. "Your skill is with the lance, so why don't you just stick to it instead of telling me what to do all the time?"
With that, he raised his axe above his head and let out a yell before bringing it down to split a log in two.
"Besides that," he said, "I don't see why I have to use a perfectly good axe to cut firewood. It's dulling the edge, Oswin! And this is a battle-axe, too!"
"You need to learn patience, Hector," Oswin said. "You have great skill when it comes to fighting well and hard, but sometimes the key to defeating an opponent is to outwit them, not to cut them down in one swipe. You'll find that you move slower than the swordsmen you encounter, but if you can simply outwait them, or trick them into doing something stupid—"
"Yes, yes, I know already," Hector huffed, placing another log on the stump. He raised his axe, yelled, and cut the log in two as he had the one before it. "You know I hate lecturing, so just be quiet already. I know what I'm doing."
"If the prince gets killed because of your folly, you will likely be executed," Oswin said. "Has that occurred to you?"
"Yes, many times." Grunt, yell, strike. "But I don't see why it should matter." Grunt, yell, strike. "After all, I'm one of the finest axe-wielders in Lycia. You said so personally."
"Talent and skill are not the same thing," Oswin said. "That should be enough firewood. Bring it here and we'll cook dinner."
Hector left his axe near the stump and hauled the split logs over to Oswin.
"And not only are you impatient, Hector, but you've no idea how to survive on your own," Oswin said.
"Excuse me, Oswin, but who was the one cutting the firewood here?"
"Hector, you don't know how to hunt or forage, you can't disguise your own tracks, and you're horribly loud when you move. Even I make less noise, and look at my armor! If you and the prince had to flee Lycia for some reason, you'd be shot in ten minutes!"
Hector scowled. "Would not."
"As you say," Oswin sighed and pulled his flint and steel from the bags he had brought along. "Hector, arrange the firewood in kind of a pyramid shape—yes, sort of like—perfect. And grab me some tinder—dry grass, or twigs, something small that sets fire easily—"
There was a sudden flash of light which filled the whole of the clearing they were in; Oswin cried out and dropped the flint and steel. Hector stood up and reached for his axe—he usually kept it at his side, but when his hands met air, re remembered that it was still at the stump he had chopped the wood on. He turned and lunged for it.
As his hand connected with the handle, the light faded away suddenly. Hector blinked.
Oswin, meanwhile, swore, and started looking frantically for the flint and steel that he had dropped. He was not as young as he used to be, and his vision was thereby less adequate at night than it should have been.
"Here, Oswin, let me help you," Hector said, starting to walk over to Oswin. Oswin looked up and nodded, a smile on his face.
And there was another flash of light. Hector stumbled and swore under his breath; Oswin looked up and shielded his eyes.
It was gone in an instant. Hector stared up at the sky. Oswin, meanwhile, returned his attention to the grass to search for the flint and steel.
"What in Roland's name was that?" Hector muttered as he sat down. He turned to look at Oswin, but stopped midway. "Er . . . Oswin?"
"I'm a bit busy right now, Hector," Oswin said, continuing his search. "And whatever happened to your offer to help me?"
"Oswin, I think maybe you should—"
"Don't go telling me what to do, I'm your senior, after all," Oswin snapped. He continued looking for the flint and steel in the darkness.
"Oswin, I'm serious, there's something you should—"
"Aha! Found it!" Oswin sat up, clutching the flint and steel triumphantly. He turned to look at Hector. "Now, what was it that you needed to . . ."
He trailed off as he caught sight of the firewood; it was already blazing, the flames dancing over the wood.
He dropped the flint and steel again.
"How did that—who lit the—what happened?"
"I don't know," Hector said. "I just know that after those flashes of light, I looked and the fire had already been lit."
Oswin suddenly went stiff.
"Oswin? Is something wrong?"
"No, nothing," Oswin replied, not looking at Hector as he replied. "I just think I might know what caused those lights, and the Prince and Sir Marcus will need to know about it.
Hector grimaced. "Why Sir Marcus, with all due respect? I mean, I don't want to sound like an ass, but I can't stand him."
"It's just something they need to know, Hector. Trust me on this one," Oswin said. He leaned his lance against a nearby tree and began unbuckling his thick outer coat of armor. "Tomorrow we go back to the castle. We've no time to waste. If this is what I think it is, then his Highness needs to know soon—immediately, if possible."
Hector shrugged. "If you say so, Oswin." He laid his axe down and began taking off his own armor. "What do you think it is, anyway?"
"I'll tell you tomorrow," Oswin said, removing his sub-coat of armor. "Right now, we need rest, so we can wake early and go back to the castle first thing tomorrow."
"If it's so important, why don't we just go right now?" Hector pulled the two bedrolls from his pack and tossed one of them to Oswin, who grunted in thanks.
"It's late, we've been working all day, and we're both tired," Oswin said. "To travel now would be to invite disaster—we'd be sitting ducks for bandits. No, we best travel in daylight, when we can see and have been rested."
"Whatever you say, Oswin," Hector said, laying out his bedroll and climbing into it. He let out a yawn. "In the morning, then."
"Yes, in the morning," Oswin replied. "Good night, Hector."
"G'night," Hector mumbled.
Within a few minutes the two were asleep; a dark-haired person watched them for a few minutes before jumping down, rifling through their bags, and producing a round white gem.
"I don't think this is the thing Lord Nergal wants," the person muttered in a woman's voice, "but if not, I can always sell it for a decent amount of money." She tucked the gem into her pocket.
Oswin rolled over in his sleep, and the thief stiffened and watched him. He muttered something and settled back into his bedroll, and the thief let out a sigh of relief. She adjusted her gloves, took a deep breath, and started running, her long red ponytail waving behind her as she faded into the trees.