Full Summary: Fate has a strange way of acting. For Prince Chrom, it couldn't get any stranger than finding a blood-soaked Plegian woman almost immediately after driving Plegian brigands out of a nearby village. With little memory beyond her name, the woman still proves to be quite the tactical genius and a valued asset as another war with Plegia looms over the horizon. But those in the shadows are set on making fate play it's course and reviving their dark god. A fated meeting, innocent enough, could lead to disastrous consequences or a new hope.
Authors Note: Now I have written this story before, but a series of events have lead me to rewrite this. A bittersweet moment, but I'm excited.
A Battle of Embers
Prologue
"The very powerful and the very stupid have one thing in common. They don't alter their views to fit the facts. They alter the facts to fit the views. Which can be uncomfortable if you happen to be one of the facts that needs altering."
- The Fourth Doctor, Doctor Who, 'The Face of Evil'
Aching limbs. Blistered fingers. Screaming head. Gasping chest.
Her strength was quickly diminishing. Everything it took just to get her, the battles, discussions, the planning. She was worn out physically and mentally. As much as she would have liked to think she had grown out of that sort of thing, she just wanted to go home and sink into her mattress.
On her hands and knees, she knew she needed to get on her feet. That she was making herself a sitting duck like this. But her body was weighing her down, yearning for rest, she could barely take it.
A sudden battle cry caught her attention; she looked up her blood turning cold. A man, clad in blues and white, with blue hair to match, held his magnificent sword at the ready as he went in for the attack against the talk, sickly looking man. Struggling to her feet, she opened the tome cradled in her left hand.
The man of blue sparred off against the gangly man, they mirrored each other for several moments. The gangly man's magic seemingly caught the blue man's sword as he tried to get a hit in.
She had a mind to scold him for pushing himself. Despite the speed of his movements, all she could see is the jagged scar that traveled from his shoulder to his elbow on his right arm. The wound never fully healed, even years after the fact. How often had it froze up on him in the middle of a battle? She wasn't sure if they could get through his battle if it happened again.
But he made battle look so easy, so what did she truly know? She knew he felt safe, so safe, in the company of the blue-haired man. She trusted him, trusted him with her life. She knew him so well. And there was a time when he could say the same about her. But now? Now she wasn't so sure.
She barely knew herself anymore; within the last half-hour, if that, her whole world has been shaken. If they made it through this… then what? Would they be able to look at her the same way anymore? Would she have to die? Was that even a question? Of course, she would, it was for the best. She had to die so this gangly man's desires could never come to fruition. She had to die.
The two men continue to clash, the man in blue would go for a strike, then the gangly man would strike back with his dark magic. The process repeated itself as orange-yellow sparks began to flicker around her free hand as the page began to burn away. The gangly man leaped up, levitating himself just below the banisters, but still high enough to cause damage if he fell. His hands held up in front of him, ready to throw the dark magic he gathered at the man in blue. He threw the large ball downward, towards the man of blue, who successfully managed to dodge just as the tall man threw down the spell.
The force of the blast threw her off her feet. She cradled her tome close to her chest, careful not to lose it as she tossed her free hand at the gangly man. Yellow electricity sailed through the air, but the man had already vanished before the Thoron spell could even hit him.
Repositioning herself, she used her free hand to help her slide to a stop. She looked back up at the blue haired man, just in time to see blue electricity to crash into him. She shouted his name, cold dread began to swell up inside her. 'He's fine,' she told herself, 'He's fine. He's-fine-he's-fine-he's-fine-he's-fine…'
The dust began to settle enough for her to see the blue haired man pull himself to his knees. He is bruised, with thin cuts along his exposed skin. But thankfully, he looked relatively unharmed. He was using his sword, magnificent and brilliant, as a support to help him onto his knees.
She bit her lower lip as soon as she saw it, the tremor in his arm; it was beginning to freeze on him. He shouldn't be fighting this battle. She should have fought with him to sit this out! Why did she let him talk her into letting him fight?!
Gods, she hated herself. So. Much.
A buzz of electricity caught her attention; the gangly man in the dark robes was preparing another spell. Not as large, but still powerful. Cackling, the man throws the spell in the direction of the blue-haired man. "No!" she shouted, readying another Thoron spell.
The two spells of differing magic collided with each other. The room momentarily filled with a bight light. The light began to die down, allowing her and the gangly man to exchange glares. Everything was his fault. Everything! EVERYTHING!
The situation they were currently in. The deaths… the deaths… The monster running loose. The monster he wanted to make of her. It was his fault. His-fault-his-fault-his-fault-his-fault-his-fault-his-fault-his-fault-her-fault-her-fault-her-fault-her-fault-
A gentle squeeze at her shoulder snapped her out of her thoughts. She half-turned to find the blue-haired man beside her, his sword still at his side, and his other hand on her shoulder. "You're one of us," the blue-haired man said assuringly. His voice was still as warm and comforting as she had always known it to be. "No 'destiny' can change that."
She uttered his name, holding her tome close to her. A warmth fell over her, replacing the cold dread. A sense of home that always followed him, and by extension, followed her so long as they were near. How often had been able to reassure her in what seemed like a hopeless case? They always came out on top, this would be no different. "Yeah…"
"Why do you insist on rejecting the inevitable?!" the gangly man demanded. "You cannot erase what has been written! You are meant to stand here! At my side!"
No… No. He's wrong. He's wrong-he's-wrong-he's-wrong-he's-wrong-he's-wrong!
The blue haired man took off first, with her following at his heels. His swords shone brilliantly in what little light there is left. The blue haired man ad the gangly man repeat their previous spat. No matter how the man of blue would try the go in for a strike the gangly man would catch it with his magic.
He held a hand out blocking an oncoming sword attack from her, just as she had hoped. She had taken out her blade and gone in for the attack. Pulling her tome out, she opened it and allowed it to fall onto the floor. Orange-red sparks danced around her fingers as she drove the Thoron spell into the gangly man's side just as the blue-haired man cuts into his opposite side. The gangly man pushed himself back by a couple of yards, safely away from the pair. Black and purple flames begin to dance around his person. He fell on to his knees, sitting still for just a split second before dropped flat onto the floor his and reaching out futilely.
Relieved, the blue-haired man looked back at her and smiled. Weakly, she could feel her own lips pull back into a smile. Everything… Everything was going to be all right now. Maybe she didn't need to die with the gangly man dead. Maybe…
She took a step forward with every intention of grabbing onto the blue-haired man's hand. "This isn't over…" the raspy, ragged voice of a man thought dead said. The gangly man suddenly prompt himself up with one hand and extended his opposite hand towards the pair. "DAMN YOU BOTH!"
With her body acting before her mind could catch up, she placed her hand firmly on the blue-haired man's chest. Putting as much strength in as she could, she shoved him out of the path of the gangly man's spell. Under different circumstances, she would have thought it was an impressive feat as the man of blue easily outclassed her. But right now, she was far more concerned about keeping him alive. Between the two she was the expendable one. She was the expendable one.
She was just able to catch the utter fear and confusion on the blue man's face. A moment of realization. The idiot actually feared for her.
Her vision went white as the spell threw her off her feet. She was momentarily weightless, unaware of her surroundings. Her chest burned upon contact with the gangly man's spell. An uncomfortable tingle spread from her chest to her arms, to the tips of her fingers. A new form of pain brought her back to reality as she hit the floor. In contrast to the burning, the back of her head and shoulders started to throb.
The blue haired man shouted her, prompting her to slowly open her eyes. Her mind still fuzzy; she needed to blink a couple of times before her vision cleared. The blue haired man sprinted to her as soon as she hit the floor. Finally, at her side, he dropped to his knees, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he helped her sit up.
"You all right?" he asked instantly. Unable to find her voice, she nodded, relieved, the man looked back at the gangly man on the floor. He must have collapsed after casting that spell as his body began to disintegrate into a black and purple haze. "That's the end of him… thanks to you, we carry the day."
She brought a hand to her forehead, allowing the man in blue to hold her. She was still hurting, she was exhausted, and she wasn't sure what she was going to do with the gangly man dead. Were her thoughts just her reacting to the revelations at the moment? Did she simply overreact?
Without warning, her breath caught in her throat, her head hurt from it's deepest crevices. The pain, so intense, she hardly noticed the blue-haired man guiding her onto her feet. Though she wanted to sit back down. She wanted to scream at him to help her back down, but she couldn't find her voice. "We can rest easy now," the man said his voice so distance and muffle to her ears, "at long last."
Another spasm of pain pulsed through her head. She could feel the man's hand leave her shoulders, she grabbed it, instantly, wanting the support. Her chest started to heave, she wasn't actually sure if breathing was an actual struggle or not.
"What's wrong?" the man asked, finally noticing the pain on her face. She still couldn't find her voice, instead opting to squeeze his hand and hope he understood what she was trying to say. "Hang on! Hang-"
Blank.
Blank.
Blank.
She felt like she could faint with the sudden absence of pain. Like a candle blown out the pain was just… gone. She couldn't say how, or why. She was just glad it was gone. The pure relief of it all was enough to make her sing.
To her confusion, the man sauntered from her on unsteady legs. Her heart stopped at the sight of the large orange-yellow electric volt penetrated at his side. His hand held the volt, he wasn't trying to remove it, though it likely wouldn't have done him any good; blood was seeping out around the wound.
Her chest started heaving again, watching helplessly as blood started to drip at the man's feet. No… nononononono! Not him. Not him. Not him!
How? How?! It was just to two of them! No one else could have… No one else…
Oh, gods, please no…
Cold and utterly terrified, she looked down at her right hand. Small traces of electricity sparked between her fingers. Tears welling in her eyes she looked back at the man, shaking her head "No…" she choked out, the tears spilling down her cheeks. "No… No… No!"
Gods please, not him… not him… not by her hand…
The man took a step towards her, his free hand gently caressed her cheek, wiping the tears.
'Don't… don't… don't… don't…'
"This is not your-your fault…" the man rasped. Blood began to drip out of the corners of his mouth. "Promise me… you'll escape from this place… Please… go…"
The light died from his eyes as they rolled into the back of his head. The man dropped to his knees before he collapsed onto the floor. Blood began to pool out around him on the floor.
Her hands clasped over her mouth as she scampered back a step.
She stared at the man, motionless on the ground as blood began to stain the white of his clothes. She let out a muffled sob into her hands. She dropped to her knees, still sobbing.
It wasn't supposed to be this way. It wasn't supposed to be this way. It wasn't supposed to be this way!
Why…?
Why was she alive?! Why was she alive, why was she alive, why was she alive, why-was-she-alive-why-was-she-alive-why-was-she-alive?!
Why was this world still alive?
A miserable land perfect for generations of miserable existences. How many wars did this world experience and they never did learn their lesson? And how many ended up dead as a result? The lands ravaged, people suffering and dying. They never learned…
She was stupid for holding onto hope.
He was stupid for holding onto hope.
This world… was better off dead…
It was the rasped cackling that got her attention; a voice belonging to one she was sure was dead. Slowly, surely, her shoulder began to shake, a smile forming behind her hands. Lowering her hands, she allowed a low chuckle to escape her lips.
They were better off dead…
They were better off dead!
THEY WERE BETTER OFF DEAD!
Euphoria started to bubble up within her the more and more she accepted the truth. Her head tilt back, laughing alongside the disemboweled voice. Liberated from her previous concerns she remained somewhat oblivious to the new pain on her temples as a pair of jagged horns began to grow.
