Yours to Command, a fire emblem fanfic

Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance or Goddess of Dawn only the plot and the words used to tell this story.

Universe: Fire Emblem 9: Path of Radiance, post-game.

Author's notes: Another one shot, this time about Volke and Lucia. Why this pairing you may ask? Well, why not? I love Volke and I could easily picture him with Lucia. Plus, there's not enough stories about him.

~Anyhow, enjoy and don't forget to review!

Last edited: 12/16/2014.

"From the moment we enter this life we are in the flow of it. We measure it and we mock it, but we cannot defy it. We cannot even speed it up or slow it down... Or can we? Have we not each experienced the sensation that a beautiful moment seemed to pass too quickly, and wished to make it linger? Or felt time slow on a dull day, and wished that we could speed things up a bit?"

-Eisenheim (The Illusionist, 2006)-

"Yours to Command"

By: FenixPhoenix (Giselle González)

One-Shot

Volke tilted his head, amused and intrigued, as he listened to the grave man before him expose his case.

"You do realize she is capable of taking care of herself, right?" he pointed out as soon as he found out who his target was.

No matter what Bastian said, Lucia wasn't exactly a damsel-in-distress. In fact, if memory served, she was the opposite of that. Granted, he hadn't paid her much attention throughout Ike's campaign, but he'd seen her hold her own against waves of enemy soldiers. So what kind of trouble could she get into that would have Bastian -the man that ought to know her best- so nervous? What had she done to drive the Count to such a state, so as to procure Volk's services to protect her?

"Of course I know her strength is one to behold," snapped Bastian, "but dare I say, I also know she has a knack for getting into trouble…" he crossed his arms and glared at the misty window, "…especially when it comes to politics."

"Politics…?" Volke's smirk was lost under his scarf, but Bastian could detect his amusement. Politics was a tricky subject. No one save the Count was any good with them, so it wasn't surprising that his alarm for Lucia was due to that. Yet to go this far… could it be Bastian still had some feelings for her?

"Fine, fine!" Bastian threw his arms up in surrender. "I'll indulge you, dearest Volk –though time is of the essence- and briefly explain the situation. Lucia has been… 'investigating' some of the senators on her own and I fear some –if not most of them will try to silence her… permanently."

"They'll try to kill her," Volke concluded, wondering if he should add the splendid couch he was using to the price. He draped a arm over the back, liking the rich texture of the fabric. In his humble opinion, Bastian had five too many couches anyways. Taking it from him would be a favor, he supposed.

"Exactly! I knew you would understand!" Bastian brushed invisible dust off his shoulder, obviously satisfied. "So how about it? Care to lend your services?"

"A hundred and I'll keep an eye on her for a month. After that I'll charge five thousand per day," Volk offered.

Bastian clapped, "Wonderful!"

"…Plus the couch," he added, tapping it. It was only fair. Bastian hadn't even flinched at the price and Volk was merely looking out for him. He was helping Bastian redecorate his spacious mansion.

Bastian frowned with suspicion which quickly gave way to confusion. He waited for Volk to say something else, but he was disappointed. Bastian shrugged and accepted with a handshake. Contract struck, he gave Volke a number of addresses to get him started. Armed with the information, Volk slipped out the misty window and melted into the darkness outside.

-o0o-

For the next two weeks, Volke followed Lucia around like a shadow, careful to stay concealed at all times –least his target got alerted to his presence. With increasing fascination, he found that Lucia spent most of her time alone and that –during such times—she indulged in activities he'd never fancied where part of her life. Perhaps the one he found the most intriguing, was her expertise in the art of lock picking. And let it be said, it was not any lock she picked, but the most challenging ones. The investigations Bastian had told him about consisted of Lucia breaking into Senators' houses and rummaging through their stuff in search for incriminating evidence.

What would Bastian and Geoffrey think if they saw you now? He marveled, watching her glide through a garden, careful to keep herself out of the guard's view, as she made her way towards the back door of the mansion. When she disappeared inside, Volk settled between the thick branches of a tree, intent on waiting. He was just considering taking a nap, when an unwelcomed turn of events forced him to reconsider. The owner of the house, who was supposed to be out with a lover, had returned. Escorting him were twenty guards, all armed to the teeth and ready to spring into action at the first sign of trouble.

Volk cursed. He was certain that by the time Lucia realized her situation, it would be too late. He slid off the tree and hurried across the garden. In half the time she'd taken, he unlocked the back entrance and stole inside. He proceeded down countless corridors, making use of every piece of furniture available to take cover whenever someone ventured too close. He inspected every room he passed, but didn't find her. Eventually, he reached the room at the far back. He pushed the door open a slit, praying this was it. He was relieved at the sight of her. She was sitting at a desk, rummaging through some papers, completely oblivious to the danger she was in.

She jumped to her feet the moment the door clicked shut behind him. He grabbed her wrist before she could reach for her weapon and covered her mouth with his free hand. He wasn't sure if she would risk yelling, considering she was trespassing as well, but he wasn't taking any chances. Her body coiled, fighting his hold. She shifted, trying to get some leverage, and elbowed him painfully in the ribs.

"It's me…," he hissed, spinning her around, his hand still covering her mouth. Who knew she was so dangerous absent sword and horse!

"V-Volke!" She pushed his hands away. She seemed torn between surprise, confusion and anger. "What are you-"

"There isn't much time," he interrupted, eyeing the door. "The senator is back. He's going to be here at any second." He focused back on her. "We need to find a place to hide."

Lucia's blue eyes widened for a second, but then became calm and collected. He raised an eyebrow, impressed by her recovery.

"This way," she reached for his hand and, though he could have moved it, he didn't. It was weird. He didn't like people touching him, but his reflexes seemed a bit lax in regards to her. He didn't have time to ponder the oddity further as she guided him into a closet. They stepped in and she shut the door, draping them in darkness. At least this was familiar grounds. Darkness was his comfort zone, but if that was so, then why wasn't he at ease?

The answer came to him slower than it should. He prided himself on being perceptive, but he guessed that even he had a slip or two. Volk rolled a shoulder, taking note of the cramped space. They were surrounded by coats, jackets and other winter clothing, shrinking the space available, making him feel claustrophobic and hot. Lucia wasn't fairing much better, it would seem. Her hands were resting on his chest, making her lean against him, and he could feel the intense heat emanating from her palms. He'd never believed a touch could burn, but he stood corrected.

Volk tried to shift, to get some space between them, if only to reclaim some of his scattering sanity. But their legs were too entangled to gain purchase; her shapely leg trapped between his. He tried his best to stay still, else she ended up pressing a more intimate part of him.

"This is where he stores his winter clothing," she whispered, stating the obvious. If her lips brushing the shell of his ear wasn't so damn distracting, he would've remarked on it. She sighed, making him curse. The ghostly kiss sent shivers down his spine, all the way to the tip of his toes. "It's summer now, so I am sure he won't be opening this door anytime soon."

Volk nodded, not trusting his voice. He was sure he wouldn't be able to do anything more than croak an answer. He was becoming very aware of how good her touch made him feel. He closed his eyes and told himself to keep his face angled towards the door. If he didn't, then his nose would be inches from her and he didn't want that... did he?

They tensed when the door to the room creaked open. Lucia shifted closer to him in reaction, pressing against him even more. He was sure he was blushing madly by this point. It was strange. How could someone his age -someone able to kill without batting an eye- react like a schoolboy when having her so close. Gods, his hands were sweaty under his gloves and his scarf was making him feel all clammy and uncomfortable! He wished he could pulled down his mask, but he doubted that would help. Plus, the barrier of fabric at least deterred him from claiming her lips.

"This is a nice room," a woman purred, the tapping of her high heels drowning part of her partner's chuckle. Hurried, eager steps followed, indicating the presence of the overweight Senator.

"And you're perfect in it," the senator complimented, voice low and husky. The sounds that followed indicated kissing, among other things -if the creaking of the bed and the resulting yelp was any indication.

A graphic picture was painted for them by the high-pitched moans, groans and 'yes!' As the situation became more heated, Volke couldn't decide whether to be embarrassed or amused. Never in a million years would he imagined this would happen! To be locked inside a closet with a beautiful woman pressed against him, while two strangers were having sex outside… what a world!

Despite the absurdity of the situation, he shifted awkwardly when the pair reached their climax. For the second time in a span of less than an hour, he was glad he had his mask to cover his blush. To his surprise, a soft groan escaped Lucia. Casting carefulness to the wind, he focused on her. Though it was dark, he could make out her face, probably just as crimson as his. He smirked. As he'd predicted, their faces were inches apart... but it wasn't all that bad.

He might have underestimated her ability to see at night, because she scowled up at him and mouthed, Not a word.

He raised both eyebrows as though he didn't understand what she was talking about and to both –his delight and shock—she buried her face on the crook between his neck and shoulder. Without thinking, his hands settled on her waist and he was not sure if he did it because he wanted to pull her closer or because he wanted to push her away. Perhaps, as contradicting as it was, he wanted both. More so when, instead of slapping his hands away, her hands closed around the front of his jerkin. They stayed like that; quite still, leaning into each other, limbs entwined, bodies warm, waiting and waiting, hot with embarrassment and probably something else. Then, the sound outside ceased.

"Let's wait a bit longer… just in case," she suggested in a whisper, her lips much closer to his ear. The caress of her breath sent a another shudder of pleasure down his spine.

Volk nodded, still unable to speak. Wasn't she feeling the least bit nervous? He moved his hands downwards, letting them rest on her hipbones. She didn't seem to mind, which made him curious as to how far she would allow him to go. Of course, he didn't follow through. This wasn't the time or the place. And he didn't dare risk her disapproval –or worst! Her displeasure!

She pulled away after a while and pushed the door open, careful not to make a noise. She peered outside and, sure that the senator and his lover were sleeping, stepped out. Volk stared at his empty hands. He was already beginning to miss their closeness. How queer a feeling! How strange this impulse that demanded he pulled her back into his arms and he kiss those lips that –not long ago—had been so close to his own!

When, though? When had his feelings evolved from indifference to interest and to this… this thing he felt which he could only explain as a crazy desire -an intense yearning for her touch and her complete attention.

"Volke?"

He snapped out of his thoughts at the urgency and worry of her tone. He nodded in assurance that he was alright and followed her out. He took the lead from there, given moving undetected was more of his especially anyways. Quickly and quietly they made their way through the twisting corridor and down the stairs. Just as the door to freedom came into view, however, they heard a most unwelcome sound.

"YOU THERE, HALT!" a guard had come out of a room they'd just passed.

Volk grabbed Lucia's hand and broke into a run. They were half-way out the garden when Lucia informed.

"Darn! He called reinforcements!"

"How many?" he asked, his eyes scanning the area in search of an escape route that wasn't forthcoming. Already he could hear the guards assembling, the sound of their clinking armors making him groan.

"A dozen," she counted. "There's no other way. We'll have to fight!"

Volk tried to come up with a better solution. His mission was to keep Lucia safe.

"You can't be caught here," he decided, staring her in the eye. "I'll take care of them… go!" He let go of her hand and shoved her back, stepping between her and the guards, unsheathing his twin stilettos.

"Volke, I can-" he spared her a quick glance and noticed worry etched all over her face. It gave him a sense of satisfaction and morbid delight.

"Just go. Now!" he commanded, charging the guards with his superior speed. He didn't want to give her too much time to think. Nor did he want time to second guess his decision.

He moved around the guards like a dancer, slashing, thrusting and parrying skillfully. Every move was carefully planned, fueled by adrenaline and his sudden desire to save Lucia, no matter the cost! He killed the first man with ease, then… the second… the third… the fourth… He felt a slash across his back and spun around in time to paint a bloody smile upon the throat of the fifth. He parried another sword and counterattacking, killed the sixth guard.

Now only half stood; their grinning faces telling him that, despite their casualties, they were having fun. A man charged shortly after and the seventh guard went down when Volke jumped and plunged his stiletto into his skull. He didn't have time to pull the blade out before a new opponent was upon him. Volk jumped back, barely avoiding another sword, only to feel yet another blade biting into his right shoulder. He kicked the man who'd attacked first and threw his second stiletto, killing the man that had slashed his back.

He turned to face the remaining four, but a sword slashed him across the chest, causing him to stagger back, right into his opponent's grip. Two pairs of hands hitched his arms, immobilizing him. His dark eyes, still clouded with blood frenzy, jumped from one man to the next wondering what—or rather, how they would kill him.

"Who are you and what were you doing?" The man who looked to be the highest ranking demanded, pulling Volk's scarf down, unmasking him.

Volke answered by spitting a mouthful of blood right into his face. The man brushed it away and slapped him across the face, hard. His head was left ringing, yet Volk felt a wave of serenity sweeping panic and anger away. He had always believed he would die for a mission but it seemed fate had a different thing in store for him. Even if this had started with a mission, it had transformed into something better. Something he desired for himself. No. Not something. This mission had provided him with someone for whom to lay his life down… Yes, that was it! He'd saved her not because he had to, but because he'd wanted to. And that made him... happy?

He smiled at his executioners. Indeed, what joy to have found what was missing in his life, even if he would not experience it!

"You dare...!" With a chopping motion, the officer ordered one of his goons to teach him a lesson.

Volke braced himself when the man's hook connected with his jaw one…two…three times. The man stepped back, shifting his weight before he started punching his stomach, drawing air out of his lungs, probably breaking a couple of ribs. He spat blood and phlegm onto the ground, blinking at the dark spots assailing his sight. He could already feel his jaw swelling. He closed his eye when a stream of blood trickled from the end of his left eyebrow, coating half his face in red. He was just getting ready for the new set of punches, when he heard the neigh of a horse and a voice… her voice.

"Get your hands off him!"

She cut the man holding him right where he stood, her sword missing Volk by an inch. The blade moved in a crescent arch and found the man who'd punched him, beheading him cleanly with one strike. The last two men she dispatched with ease, thrusting her sword through the chest of the first and slicing the officer's face in half. Volk stared at her dumbly. She looked beautiful and fearsome, like a goddess of war stepping down her throne to rescue him.

For some reason the thought made him chuckle and he fell to his knees, clutching at the wound of his chest. Gods, it stung like hell and the blood wasn't stopping! It was as if someone had forgotten to close a tap.

"Volke!" She slid off her horse and took a knee beside him, holding him.

"I…I'm alright," he lied. He tried to stand but, absent adrenaline, his legs turned to jelly.

"Come on," she pulled him to his feet with an unladylike grunt. With their combined efforts, they somehow managed to get him onto the horse. She pulled herself up and he dipped forward, leaning against her, his head cradled on her shoulder, staining her pristine white coat. How discourteous of him...

"Hang in there," she pleaded, taking his hands and placing them around her waist. "Hold onto me, Volk." He wanted to respond to her wishes. He wanted to hug her fiercely. But damn his arms! He was tired and too drained to do anything more than lean.

He grunted with discomfort when the horse switched to a faster gallop. It was too late to save face and act tough. Gods, he was hurting. He shook his head, fighting to stay awake. Where they still being followed?

"Take a right here," he said; his voice low and weak. He was holding onto consciousness by a thread, but he managed to recognize his surroundings. The taste of copper was strong in his tongue. It made him want to gag, but he didn't want to dirty her clothes even more.

Lucia followed his directions unquestioningly until they were out of the city.

"Where to?" she asked, squeezing his hand. He answered by jutting his jaw at a small cabin near the outskirts of a forest. "That it? That's your house?"

"Yeah...," he wanted to say more, but he drifted into unconsciousness before he could extend his gratitude.

-o0o-

He opened his eyes sluggishly, squinting at a fuzzy light. He tried to speak, but his throat felt dry and rough. A heavy fog in his mind made it impossible to make sense of what was happening. He groaned, feeling sweat running down every inch of his body. He was on fire. Something inside of him was burning. Was this the part where he should panic?

"Volke?" he heard her voice, soft and worried whispering in his ear. It eased some of his worries, ridding him of the tension. He wanted to say something clever, something that would reassure her, but his brain had gone out for a walk and it didn't look like it would come back anytime soon.

"Lucia..." he called to her, unable to mask the yearning in his voice. Volk wanted to ask her if she was alright -he wished he could ask her if she would stay, but the words wouldn't roll down his tongue, no matter how hard he tried.

"It's alright, Volke," he felt a cold sponge wiping the sweat off his face and neck and chest. "I am here," he felt her fingers brushing his hair, caressing his face, "just sleep."

Her words were his command, and he followed them to a tee. Volk slept, lulled by the sound of her voice and those fingers, hard with calluses, but gentle with...what? What...was...that...?

-o0o-

Volke shifted and groaned, a body that hadn't moved in days protesting annoyingly. He blinked until everything came into focus and recognized the ceiling of his house. He glared at it, trying to recall how he'd arrived and –most importantly—what had happened since. Images of the fight came tumbling down memory lane, giving him a headache. He sighed, threw the blanket off and peeped at his chest, studying his patched wounds. It drew on him that he wasn't wearing a shirt and he had different pants on than the ones he'd almost died in. Volk felt extremely self conscious of the fact that only one person could have removed them… He chose to ignore that for now and focused on what was important.

He touched the wound on his chest. It had been patched quite badly, truth be told. He figured that the hands that stitched him up were not as skillful as his own. Then again, he wasn't in a position to complain. At least there was no more blood and the wound seemed clean and nicely wrapped. The wound on his shoulder was less grave and, touching his face, he could feel his jaw was not as swollen as he'd expected. The cut on his eyebrow had also healed and the one on his back… well, since he was laying on it he figured it must have been a shallow slice.

"Volke," he tensed at her voice. He'd been so engrossed on his physical examination that he hadn't considered the fact that she was still here! He turned to the sound and was met by a breathtaking sight. Lying in the couch Bastian had given him as payment, laid the peaceful sleeping form of Lucia.

Had I known the couch would include such an exquisite present I would have asked it of Bastian a long time ago, he thought playfully.

"Volke… be careful," she mumbled, "just… rest."

She's dreaming… of me? Volke forgot his pain in the wake of that thought. Satisfaction and excitement gripped his heart. Volke never had time for women, but her presence made him realize how much he desired the company of one. No. Not of any woman, but of this one. This gorgeous and brave goddess of war, he acknowledged between terror and happiness, had somehow stolen what he had guarded the most. She had stolen his heart and melted, with one look, his cold exterior.

He left the bed and stretched, flinching when some of his joints cracked. He told himself it wasn't a product of age. He was still young. Young enough to get himself a partner, in fact. It took him a moment to find his balance, cramped up legs complaining. He grabbed the blanket he'd cast aside and draped it over Lucia. He leaned on the back of the couch, and stared down at her for a while, relishing in her beauty. He wanted to brush the lock of hair that slashed across her face, but chickened out.

Unwilling to disturb her rest any further, he tiptoed to the kitchen. He'd never cooked breakfast for two –not that he ever thought he would- yet, odd as it was, it seemed right. As though this was a thing that had been fated to be. At any rate, he didn't want to question it. Why look a gift horse in the mouth, is what they said, right?

He wasn't sure of the exact moment she woke. He'd just finished placing the dishes on the table, when he saw her. She was standing in the threshold to his room with a surprised look on her face.

"You cooked breakfast?" Her eyes glinted with something he couldn't quite understand but which he hope was not disappointment.

He frowned, and looked at the table. No, those plates cooked themselves… Of course he cooked! Couldn't she tell that? He doubted pointing that out would break the awkwardness, however, so he refrained.

"I'm fairly certain this is edible," he offered instead, suddenly very aware of the fact that he'd forgotten to put on a shirt because her eyes roved his body almost greedily. She blushed when she realize he'd caught her looking. It was a boost to his ego, but at the same time she was making him feel shy.

He went to her, intent on putting on a darn shirt, but she stopped him dead with a hug. Before he knew it, he was hugging her back, just as gently. Volke was absurdly afraid that if he used the force his heart demanded, he would crush her.

"Thank you," she said, her fingers tracing the scar on his back.

"It was nothing," he dismissed, allowing her to push him away in order to study his face.

"What were you doing in the senator's house anyways?"

She was frowning and Volke was surprised at how good she looked even with the wrinkle in her brow. He thought of lying, making something gallant up, but decided against it. It was not his style.

"I was looking for you," he said, his hands settling on her hips, like they'd done in that closet. Gods, it felt like ages ago!

Her eyes clouded with suspicion. "Why?"

"Bastian hired me to keep an eye on you," he said, smirking at her incredulous look. Well, well… Bastian was right. She looks the best when angry.

"So you did it all for Bastian, then!" She tried to push him away but his arms tightened around her. Volke was afraid that if he let go, she would walk out of his life before he had time to discover more about his new found feelings.

"At first I did," he agreed, moving forward until her back was flat against the wall, "but then I changed… I learned…," he dipped forward predatorily, "I saw and what I saw," his eyes glinted with interest, amusement and lust, "… I liked."

She blushed a shade of red that might just rival his own. He wondered if her heart was drumming as quickly as his, if she could hear it beating in her head. It was a maddening sensation, but exhilarating as well! Her touch burned him, yet he clung to her like a drowning man! Never in his life had he felt so excited and so frightened at the same time! It was as if he'd suddenly lost control of his every thought while his mind yielded to the mercy of the heart that raced for her and her alone.

He saw her eyes darting from his eyes to his lips and back again. He knew what it meant. He knew it because he'd been doing the exact same thing. He smiled disarmingly when she reached up and clasped her hands around his neck.

"Do it," she ordered, parting her lips in invitation.

He brushed his lips against hers in a feathery fashion; as if to test if this was what she'd meant. She closed her eyes and answered, her lips searching for his this time, hungry and harsh, unyielding and determined. He smiled when she took the lead, deepening the kiss, setting him on fire.

Breakfast forgotten, he grabbed her legs and swept her off her feet. She fastened her knees around him, straddling him. If his body was complaining, he couldn't hear it. He didn't care. His body could break down if he wanted, but Volk would not stop anytime soon! He tightened his grip around her waist and slowly made his way towards the bed. The same bed that –though it was made for two—had served just him…until today.

He laid her down gently and lowered himself on top, kissing, licking and nibbling her milky skin. Clothes became superfluous as his hands worked expertly on her body, discovering with intense satisfaction every inch of her. She did not lag behind, her hands touching and rubbing every muscle; her fingers tracing every scar. Her mouth nipped and kissed his jaw until he felt as though she was planning on curing his bruises with the power of her lips. Volke knew it wouldn't work, but he didn't care. She could believe what she wanted so long as she didn't stop.

For the first time in his life he understood what it was to lose himself -to cast away control and plunge into the unreasonable chaos of an alcoholic passion. He melted with her, losing himself in a touch that made him forget where he ended and where she started. And at last, as his eyes bored into hers, he knew what it meant when they'd said that one plus one sometimes means one.

When it was over he pecked her swollen lips before rolling to lie on his side; his eyes devouring her heaving profile. She shifted to her side, looking at him, and flashed him the most beautiful of smiles. A smile he hoped would be reserved for him and him only.

"When did I begin to interest you?" Her voice was playful, but he knew she was serious as well.

He smiled, "One thousand." She raised an eyebrow. "The price of my answer."

She scowled, making him grin boyishly. Gods, he felt rejuvenated. Like a new person. When she didn't reward him with a smile, Volke laughed and brushed her cheek with his lips before answering.

"It was around the time I learned of your lock picking abilities."

This time it was her turn to laugh and it was such a joyful sound –so strange to hear in his line of work— that he stored it in his heart.

"I never thought I would say this," she admitted, her eyes glinting with merriment, "but for once I am happy for Bastian's over protectiveness."

"Yes. We should thank him," he agreed. How odd that they'd ended up together when Volk had always pictured Lucia hand-in-hand with Bastian. Of course, the Count had lost his opportunity. If Bastian attempted to make a move on her, Volk would kill him.

"So… what happens now?" she asked.

He saw a hint of fear in her eyes. How absurd! Did she truly think he would leave her so easily? After finding out just how good it was to have her by his side?

"Hmmm… now," he kissed her in reassurance, making her moan. "Now, I am yours to command."

She smiled, "I could use some help to gather evidence."

He rolled onto his back and pulled her close. Her body molded to his and it thrilled him to have it so.

"Yes. You could certainly use my help," he acknowledged.

"What about Bastian? Are you going to tell him… about us, I mean?" she rose a perfect eyebrow when he flashed her a wolfish smile.

"And stop being paid to see you? No. Let us keep it a secret for now…" When she scowled, he added quickly, "At least until I get two hundred thousand from him."

"That's evil," she said, but he could see the idea amused her.

"That's the kind of man I am," he conceded, draping an arm around her and kissing her full on the mouth. He didn't want to give her the time to reconsider staying with him. He couldn't picture a life without her anymore.

When she responded to his kiss, he knew for certain that he wouldn't mind this at all. He wouldn't mind sharing his bed if he would get to sleep every night with her in his arms and wake up every morning to the sight of her beautiful face. He wouldn't mind cooking for two either, even if they ate their breakfast cold…

..:. FINIS .:..

Story Written by: Giselle González

:…:Other Fire Emblem Stories:...:

+-+The Beginning of the End+-+

A Rekka no Ken story featuring almost all characters with various pairing such as: LynxRath, EliwoodxNinian, HectorxFlorina, HeathxPricilla, NinoxJaffar etc. It centers on the main question of "What if Nergal was nothing but a puppet?" and depicts a whole new adventure.

+-+Change of Feathers+-+

Naesala x Leanne. Redemption can be sought throughout all your life but what a surprise when it comes knocking at your door. Fire Emblem 10: Radiant Dawn. One shot.

+-+Comforting Shelter+-+

When a storm breaks out and Haar does not return, Jill sets out to look for him almost freezing in the process. After Haar founds out that he is the reason for her current state, he decides to set her right again. ::Haar x Jill:: Path of Radiance/Goddess of Dawn. One-shot.