DISCLAIMER: I own nothing except for my OCs and whatever dialogue and plot not presented in the game. Based loosely off of Fire Emblem: Awakening...at certain points. Everything other than that belongs to Nintendo/Intelligent Systems. Now, read on and please try not to die during my horrible retelling of Fire Emblem's 13th game: Awakening!
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Premonition: Invisible Ties
Two forms were seen running among the ruins of where once a great temple stood reaching into the skies now splashed with hues to violet. They were both breathing heavily and could barely see through the swirling sand whipping past them. One man, shorter of the two, wore a hooded dark violet coat and his white hair shone dully in the brief flashes of light raining down all around them. The taller was a regally dressed man in a fluttering cloak that has seen better days, an unusual sword strapped to his waist and he ran with a limp.
"Robin," the taller one spoke after coughing, inclining his head slightly towards the other. "What about the others? Won't they—"
"They're fine," the white haired man interrupted with a hint of irritation. "I left them in capable hands." By capable hands he meant Miriel, the scientist who worked as a magician on the days she felt like it, and Flavia the East Khan of Feroxi. Miriel and Flavia were both level headed, calm and brilliant at making decisions and he could trust them to keep the rest of the Shepherds and army alive. Whereas Miriel wasn't a natural born leader and preferred to stay silent and quite judgmental behind the scenes, Flavia was the very epitome of a leader.
However...Chrom and Robin surviving together was slim. Although, Robin had every intention of making it happen.
"Chrom, I can't go in there," Robin said quietly as the two of them skidded to a halt in front of two standing doors leading to the temple, chunks of stone missing but still doing its duty despite the many years of neglect. The sand and wind beat relentlessly against the two, stinging their eyes, getting in their mouths and wanting to shove them over.
Chrom shook his head stubbornly as he turned from the door to stare at his tactician—no, his long time friend—with a furrowed brow. "We both are going and that is final."
Robin shook his head and said in a low voice, "No, I can't. I...I've seen it. In my dreams. If I go in there with you, one of us will die."
The taller man clapped the shorter man on the shoulder. "We won't," he replied optimistically. "We'll both return alive—"
"Didn't you understand me?!" Robin shouted over his friend and over the noise of the wind in their ears. "If I go in there with you, only one of us will be walking out! Alive! I have seen it!"
Chrom didn't remove his hand from his companion's shoulder and instead squeezed tighter. "Robin, it will be alright. Validar holds no sway over you. He does no hold your future, no one does. He cannot control your destiny. We control our own, we create our own. Now come with me! We will fight for the Shepherds, our daughters, Ylisse, our lives and the rest of the world." And with that, the limping man bounded up the short staircase, leaving the white haired man behind and staring after him with an unfamiliar emotion coursing through his veins. One he couldn't put a name to...or rather, one he didn't want to put a name to.
"No Chrom," he said softly, his nails biting into his skin as he clenched his hands hard, "you're wrong. We don't write our own destinies. They are already written for us. It's infallible. It's pointless to fight it. One of us will die in there."
But yet Robin followed the blue haired general in, having to run to catch up. The limping man still moved fast than a man with two good working legs, much to his chagrin. He blinked hard, trying to adjust to the low light inside the temple.
He knew that fate wasn't something that could be avoided. Destiny wasn't something you could change. One of them would die, and that was certain. All of the other times, he had seem himself the one walking out, the one with blood staining his clothes and hair, but this time he was going to make damn sure that it was his friend. After all, Ylisse needed her hero, her Exalt, and it certainly wasn't going to be a Plegian tactician.
Chrom deserved to live.
Robin didn't. After all, Robin had screwed up so many things and he didn't want to live with it any longer.
The two approached a larger door inside the temple that they figured lead to the Inner Sanctum that the Dragon's Table laid in. With a twist of his wrist, Robin slammed the doors open with a powerful gust of wind, biting his lip at the pain that crashed through his head with the simple movement.
Chrom led the other inside quickly, drawing his divine blade and Robin flipped through his spellbook frantically, trying to locate a certain destructive spell as they neared the tall, thin and dark skinned man standing in front of a large table in which a great shield lay glittering in the fire light.
The tall thin man dressed in deep violet and gold robes smirked maliciously as the other two men stopped in front of him, Chrom with his sword held point first and low at him and Robin with his fingers poised to blast a spell.
"Ah, Robin," the man said with a hint of mocking entering his voice. "You came back to me, to your destiny. You even brought along the sacrificial pig. Have you finally realised who was correct, after all this time? After all these needless deaths"
"Don't listen to him," Chrom warned, shooting a glance at his tactician. "Stay sharp."
'Don't you think I know that?' Robin wanted to retort but he knew that now was not the appropriate time to do so.
He grit his teeth, from both pain and irritation, as he stared into the cold eyes of his enemy. His name was Validar, he knew, the man who was trying to kill them both and resurrect Grima. The king of Plegia. The leader of the Grimleal religion. Validar. "No," he spat. "You are not my destiny. Grima is not my destiny. I will kill you here and end this hell."
He wanted to believe it so badly that it was not his destiny to be the vessel for the Fell Dragon. But things kept coming back to haunt him, to whisper doubts in his ear.
Validar threw back his head, a large cracking bark of laughter escaping from his mouth, a sound that grated harshly in the other men's ears. "You cannot escape fate, you foolish boy. But by all means, run all you like!" And which a flick of his hand and the sudden quiet of laughter, a large bolt of dark matter shot at them.
However, Chrom and Robin were expecting it. They each rolled to a side as the magic shot past them to blast into the marble behind the spot where they had just stood. Dust rose up to momentarily blind them and the thudding of heavy objects crashing to the ground was heard. When the dust cleared, the room around them was mostly intact but missing the back wall that lead to the Outer Sanctum. Large debris littered the area.
With a quiet murmur and a harsh cracking sound from the white haired man's wrist, bolts of yellow lightning rained from the ceiling. One after another, four in total. They struck true, bringing the dark skinned sorcerer to his knees, fried but not dead. With a nod, Chrom charged at him quicker than Robin thought was possible for a gimp, using the opening that his friend had created.
Chrom's divine blade Falchion slashed across the Grimleal's torso, blood splattering upon contact. Validar screamed out in pain, falling to all fours as he coughed painfully, blood spitting out of his mouth. "No!" he shrieked. "No, it's not over! Damn you! Damn you both to hell!" With a final heart-wrenching wheeze, the thin man collapsed to the floor and did not move again. Chrom straightened and swung his sword out to the side sharply, flicking off the dark red substance that was dripping off the gold and silver blade and sheathed it in one fluid motion.
"It's okay," he said, turning and smiling at his friend. "It's finally over, Robin. We did it, we saved the day."
Robin gave a tired grin in response, sighing and running a hand through his hair and his brow furrowing further as his head throbbed. He hadn't seen his friend smile like that for the longest time, especially not since his wife died whilst giving birth to his youngest daughter.
"Yes, although there was not much 'we' in it. It was mostly you," he said, too tired to spin some humour into his response, flickering his eyes over the slumped body of the dark mage with a cold look. He was finally free from this tyrant and he felt no sorrow at his death. But still, he had a sinking feeling in his gut and from years of experience, he knew that feeling meant something bad was still to come.
"Are you okay?" Chrom inquired, walking towards him with something akin to a concerned expression. Robin waved him off, gritting his teeth before widening his eyes at something behind the other swordsman caught his eye. Without a second thought he dashed forward and shoved the blue haired man to the side, much to Chrom's confusion, crying out in pain as the dark wave of magic struck him and threw him back into the air.
With a sickening thud, Robin's back hit the floor some distance away and he laid there, his vision going white and his chest heavily futilely as all the air was forced from his lungs. Chrom picked himself off the floor and rushed over to his companion, helping him sit up as the white haired man wheezed and coughed.
"Are you okay?! What's wrong?" Chrom's voice asked and Robin squinted at him, confusedly seeing double and pulsing red like veins. Frightened concern was evident on both of Chrom's faces and he struggled to focus on the real one.
"Does it look like I'm okay?" He murmured in response, biting his lip hard as the migraine in his head grew worse, worse than ever before. He just wanted to curl up and die, for all this pain to be over... His hand clenched before releasing and flexing his fingers unconsciously. The white noise that painted his vision and harassed his ears was streaked with red.
Chrom coughed suddenly and Robin's vision cleared enough to see Chrom looking down at his chest, no not his chest, his abdomen. A large bolt of solidified lightning was shoved into his stomach, Robin noted with confusion before realisation dawned on him. He raised a gloved hand, watching in horror as yellow sparks still danced across his fingers before glancing up at the other man and back down to his hand.
He had done it. He had just stabbed his best friend, Ylisse's Exalt.
The last hope for mankind.
Chrom continued to cough, blood splattering all over the white haired man as he gripped him tighter, pulling him into a tight embrace. "It...was not your fault," he gasped with effort. "This is...This is not your fault. Promise me—Promise me you'll escape from this place...Please...Go..." The blue haired man pitched forward and the two men's positions were instantly reversed, Robin now holding Chrom as disembodied, malicious laughter rang out through the room.
Robin gazed at his friend, running his eyes over the contours of his face and noting the peaceful yet strained expression before giving a cold chuckle. "You're right," he agreed, laying the blue haired man down gently into a position that looked as if he were merely sleeping. It was the most he could do at this point. "It wasn't my fault. You had insisted that we both go, heedless of my warnings. If anything, it was yours." He shrugged off his dark coat and laid it over Chrom's corpse before standing and walking towards the Dragon's Table and putting the latest death in the back of his mind.
This was war.
Chrom's death was one of many and honestly, Robin didn't care. He had started to feel numb to his friends' deaths after so many years of watching them die one by one. Chrom had given his life honourably in battle, like the others. Like his wife had, and now his best friend.
He approached the table, intending to remove the Fire Emblem and stop Grima's resurrection when he paused, his eyes scanning the immediate area. He could literally see the huge dark violet mass of energy amassing just above the altar, could feel it calling to him. He knew - and who - what it was.
"Come to me..." a voice whispered harshly in his head, causing him to clutch a hand to his head in a futile attempt to ease the pressure.
After countless years, he was standing in front of it, listening to the whispers that always invaded his mind. Grima was his destiny he always knew, even though he tried to deny it. What could he do? Continue to run from Grima? The Exalt was already dead. His surviving friends (if there were any left) wouldn't accept him any longer now that he had killed the king.
It was pointless to resist, Robin realised before gasping softly as another thought occurred to him. He could take in Grima, hold him in his vessel and together, they could die. The world would be safe from both him and Grima. His remaining friends wouldn't die from Grima's wrath on mankind.
He had nothing left to lose.
His best friend was murdered by him.
His other friends would kill him once they found out.
He was truly alone.
All he needed to do was accept the voice that he had denied for so long and give Chrom's blood and his own. With a slight crazed grin that had slipped onto his face without him knowing it, he wiped his bloodied hand on Ylisse's precious artifact and the altar itself, smearing his best friend's blood before Robin's hand drifted down to his waist and unsheathed his dagger and held it tightly as he brought it to the inside of his other wrist. With a small hiss of pain, he dragged the knife across the pale skin and turned his wrist, letting the blood roll down his skin to drop once, twice, thrice and four times on the artifact. The blood was then dripped onto the blackened stone of the altar itself. As soon as the blood made contact with the altar table it hissed and dissipated.
Yes...As it should be.
"Grima," he called lowly, closing his eyes and ignoring the stabbing pain in his head that continued to grow worse and worse with each passing second. Ignoring the gut feeling that everything he was about to do was wrong. "Grima, I am yours now and forever. Do with me as you please, for I accept you."
He had accepted this. He had wanted this. After all, for once in his damn life he would be a hero instead of Chrom.
Robin stared at the spot that the blood had been momentarily before widening his eyes, the haze once clouding his sight suddenly gone. The silver haired man took a giant step back as he comprehended his actions with growing horror. What had he done?!
Laughter echoed all around him, bouncing off the walls and vibrating in his ears. A cruel, harsh, maniacal and deep laughter of something that never should have awakened—
"Chrom, we have to do something!"
"Well, what do you suppose we do?"
The deep sound drifted into the man's ear and successfully waking him, and slowly, he struggled to open his eyes with a groan of irritation. He was trying to sleep, thank you very much. He wanted to see the rest of this dream, damn it, and these people weren't helping.
"I...I dunno...But we can't just leave him here!" A girl's voice joined into the mix, and he grimaced. Too high, too loud. Couldn't they just leave him alone? And couldn't that girl just tone it down a little? No, not a little. A whole lot. His head felt as if a beast were trapped inside and trying to escape the confines of his skull, and she was not helping.
"Yeah, someone else might trip over him, and maybe not someone as nice as us."
His eyes cracked open and two individuals slowly came into focus. A dark blue haired man and a small blonde pigtailed teen, concern written all over their faces. They were conversing with each other and not him, it seemed.
But it still didn't matter. They had woken him.
Noticing he had awoken, the blonde haired girl smiled warmly, her bright blue eyes reflecting her kindness. "Hey there."
"You're awake now. There's better places to sleep then on the ground, you know," the blue haired man commented, smiling lightly and holding out a hand. "Give me your hand."
Almost not realising what he was doing, the man grasped the stranger's, a brow furrowing as he noticed a strange purple mark on the back of his hand before dismissing it just as quickly. Why he had a tattoo was the least of his concerns right now.
With a grunt, the blue haired man pulled him up to his feet, muttering a "Whoa" as the previously sleeping man pitched forward with a stumble and gripped his upper arm. The white haired man barely nodded a thanks as his eyes swept over the two curiously. The blue haired man, on the right end of twenty, dressed in blue and white expensive looking clothing, had a large two handed sword was strapped to his hip.
This guy looked eerily familiar and it made the other man narrow his eyes as he tried to remember with only no avail. It only gave him a headache on top of the first one.
The blonde girl looked a few years younger than the blue haired swordsman and wore a bright yellow dress, a metal cage poofing it out beneath it that the man figured was for safety reasons. Whoever she was made his chest ache a little with a sense of sadness. But why?
"Are you alright?" The blue haired man asked him curiously, concern written all over his face. The blonde girl with him had a similar expression.
Where do I know them from? The man mused before nodding stiffly, biting his lip against the pain in his head. "I'm fine...Thank you, Chrom." He frowned; where had that name come from? But as he thought about it more, the more it seemed right.
The blue haired man—Chrom—raised his eyebrows high. "Ah, so you know my name?"
The other man shook his head, narrowing his eyes even more. Where had that name come from? As far as he could tell, he couldn't remember much of anything, much less remember a stranger's name. "No...How odd. It just came to me..."
Chrom's eyebrows raised even higher. "...How curious. Tell me then, what is your name? What brings you here?"
"My name?" He pressed the heel of his hand to his eye as his head pounded even more. What the hell was wrong with him? What was his name? "It's...Ah..."
"Your name is Ah?" The blonde haired chick piped up, her voice heavy with confusion.
He shook his head at the girl's question telling her in a broken sentence that he couldn't remember, feeling Chrom's stare bore holes through the side of his head. Almost instantly, the man wanted the hole to open underneath him and swallow him whole.
"...You don't know your own name?" Chrom echoed suspiciously.
"I'm not sure if..." the man trailed off and shook his head, sighing and switching tracks. He didn't blame Chrom being suspicious. He was sure that if he was faced with the same problem, he'd act the same way. Well, not entirely sure. After all, apparently, he only had a few minutes worth of memories. "I'm sorry, but where am I exactly?"
The blonde girl bounced on the balls of her feet and suddenly burst out, "I know this! They call it amnesia!"
A deeper male's voice scoffed from behind the white haired man, causing him to jump almost a foot in the air in panic. He hadn't even noticed the third person. A quiet snicker was heard which was ignored by the majority. "It's called a load of pegasus dung, Milady. We are to believe that you remember milord's name but not your own? Pathetic."
The male in question eyed this new man warily, taking in his pristine armour, his scowl and a horse not that far behind him. The horse looked as bit as peeved as the large, yet slender man in front of him—if that was even possible. "It's the truth," he replied in an irritated tone, deciding in that moment that he didn't like this man at all.
The unknown man scoffed again, glaring down his long nose at the shorter man.
Chrom quickly intervened, "But what if it is the truth, Frederick? We just can't leave him here, alone and clearly confused. What sort of Shepherds would we be then?"
Shepherds? The man thought in confusion. Like...herding sheep shepherds? Um, something is clearly not right with this picture.
"It's okay," the blonde girl that the man still didn't know her name said, placing a small hand softly on his coat sleeve—a coat that he had just realised he was wearing. It was a dark and heavy garment, curious violet markings on the sleeves. "Frederick's always prickly, don't pay him any attention. I believe you."
The man smiled faintly, deciding that he liked this girl that he had deemed loud and annoying a lot better.
Frederick turned to the blue haired man after giving the blonde girl a level silent stare, one that was kinder than the one directed at the white haired man. "All the same, milord. We must be careful; it would not be wise to let a wolf into our flock of sheep."
The man, this supposed wolf, gave Chrom an incredulous look, but his look went by unnoticed, no one apparently concerned with explaining.
Chrom gave a sigh, massaging his temples in a tired manner. "Fine then. We'll take him back into town and sort this out there. Maybe someone knows something about this stranger." To the white haired man that had opened his mouth about to ask if he got any say in this, he said, "Peace, friend. I promise that we'll get to hear you say your piece in Southtown. Now come."
The man gave an inaudible sigh as Chrom started to lead the four of them down a dirt path towards a sprawling town in the far off distance. And without him realising it, the remnants of his dream had faded away into nothingness.
He had found a slightly broken sword strapped to his belt and a spell book deep in his coat pocket. The spell book looked well loved, and it was full of strange symbols that looked familiar but he could hardly read it. Whoever had written it had atrocious handwriting...And he hoped it wasn't him. Unfortunately, he didn't have any food in his pockets, not even water. That was something he had frowned upon; prior to him waking up, he must've been travelling somewhere, right?
Not only that but something else besides the lack of memories was bothering him too.
"What are you going to do with me?" the man asked suddenly, peering at the back of Chrom's head, of whom took that moment to turn around and face him, now walking backwards. "Am I to be your prisoner?"
Chrom chuckled. "You'll be free to go once we determine you are no threat to Ylisse."
The man's brow furrowed in confusion. He didn't even know who he was, how could he be a threat? Besides, if he was a threat he would've already taken these people out...Maybe. Did he know how to fight? And...What the hell was Ylisse? He took a wild stab in the dark, hoping he was right. "Is...Is Ylisse where we are?"
Frederick let out a bark of laughter of which sounded fake from a little ways behind the trio, leading his warhorse by the reins. "You've never heard of Ylisse? Ha! Someone pay this actor. He plays quite the fool! That furrowed brow is quite convincing..."
The white haired man narrowed his eyes at the metal clad man as Chrom rolled his eyes and stopped walking. "Give it a rest, Frederick. Please. I'm surprised you talk to anyone besides the Shepherds at all with that amount of distrust."
The blonde girl besides Chrom, the one that he kept calling Lissa, snickered in agreement but didn't add her two cents in.
To the white haired stranger Chrom said, "This land is known as the Halidom of Ylisse; our Exalt is Emmeryn." He paused then added, "I suppose proper instructions are in order...As you know, I'm Chrom. This delicate one here is my little sister Lissa."
He obviously meant the blonde girl. Frederick did not look delicate—more like the opposite. More like he had a rather large pole stuck up his arse.
Lissa stuck out her tongue. "I am not delicate!" Then with a dignified hmph, she turned to the unknown man. "Ignore my brother, please. He can be a bit thick sometimes-"
"I am not."
"Yes, you are," she replied without missing a beat. "But you're lucky the Shepherds found you. Brigands would've been a rude awakening!"
The man raised an eyebrow at yet another use of the word shepherds, before finally addressing one of the many curiosities that had been eating away at him for some time now. "You've said Shepherds at least twice already. You tend sheep? ...In full armour. What kind of wolves do you have in this country?!"
Chrom laughed again, patting the man on a dark clad shoulder. "It's a dangerous job, but someone has to do it. Just ask Frederick the Wary!"
"A title I wear with pride," the man in question deadpanned. The idea of sarcasm seemed to be lost on him. "Gods forbid that one of us keeps an appropriate level of caution. My station mandates otherwise, but I have every wish to trust you, stranger."
The man nodded stiffly to him. "I understand, sir. I would do no less myself...I think. And it's Robin."
He was met with a series of raised eyebrows and silence. Hesitantly, he clarified, "My name is Robin." Why were they looking at him like he had grown an extra head? No, scratch that—Chrom and Lissa was and Frederick looked even more suspicious.
"I...I just remembered that," he murmured, pressing the heel of his hand to his eye as the pain that had subsided in his head started up again. "How cryptic..."
I suppose that is one mystery solved.
A snort was heard. "I'd bet," the horse riding man muttered, sarcasm dripping in his voice. Robin had to bite his lip hard to prevent himself from snapping back a reply and instead ignored Frederick.
Chrom nodded slowly, curiosity alight in his gaze as he surveyed the newly dubbed Robin. "'Robin'? Is that foreign? ...Ah, well, we can discuss this later. Look over there, we're almost to the town gate. Once there, we—"
"Chrom!" The gasp cut off the older man mid-sentence and he gave his sister a puzzled look.
With a trembling finger, she pointed in the direction of the town and all three men's eyes followed the trail of her finger tip and simultaneously, six eyes widened at the sight. The town was ablaze, orange flames licking high into the sky and screams carried faintly to where the travellers and the amnesiac were standing.
Chrom cursed loudly, his once kind eyes hard with anger. "Those brigands no doubt set the town on fire...Lissa, Frederick! Quickly!" He started off with a light jog that picked up pace.
"What about him, milord?" Frederick called after him as Lissa started off after her brother, madly sprinting to catch up with his longer stride.
"Unless he's on fire as well, he can wait!" Chrom shouted back and Frederick shrugged before kicking his horse into gear, galloping after the two siblings. Robin was left alone with the chirping of the birds and the rustling as animals moved along under the undergrowth.
"Wait, what about—hmm..." Robin trailed off, his words lost as he tilted his head back and stared up at the sky, wondering what exactly he was supposed to be doing. Was he supposed to stay here and wait for them to come back? After all, he technically was their prisoner. He also didn't really want to be considered a threat to this country, and most of all, he didn't want to stand here any longer with the sun beating down on him. It was hot, damn it.
Or maybe...With a slight grin and his hand drifting towards his pocket, he started off after the trio. There was a reason why he had weapons, of course.
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Author's Note:
Slow updates and I hope you enjoyed this chapter, but if you didn't I'm not surprised. My writing sucks and I'll be editing it in the near future. Probably. Until next time, maybe—
