Setting: Just after PoR, before the events of RD, a continuation of my other fanfics "Accident, Impluse, Affection" and "Company"
Pairings: Soren/Lucia, Ike/Elincia, Geoffrey/Nephenee, onesided Kieran/Lucia
Description: A New Year is on the horizon for the continent of Tellius. But instead of opening a new year of promise, turmoil has come to Castle Crimea. An assassin darkens the doors, seeking to take the life of the newly crowned Queen and those closest to her. As her new fiance, Ike struggles to keep the peace, both inside and outside the walls of the castle. For while a new preadator stalks from outside, the inhabitants of Melior themselves face conflict. With the tacticians of both Ike and Elincia refusing to cooperate with one another, and the Royal Knights distracted in their personal affairs to pay due attention to the troubles they face, the threat of the assassin's envenomed blade presses close to the heart of their country.
Notes: I would like to thank my brilliant co-writer, Falchion1984 (over on deviantART) for all of his work on this fanfic. He is my beta reader, and has written all portions from the assassin's POV.
Fire Emblem is not mine.
The sun was a white gold in the late December sky when the three Mercenaries sighted the walls of Castle Melior. Expectant blue eyes scanned the balconies for that familiar, gentle, beautiful face… she had been so kind, to invite to put up with them this New Year's Eve…
"Commander."
And he couldn't wait to see her, and feel that warm upsurge of happiness hit him as it always did…
"Commander."
She would be waiting, he knew, maybe at the front gate, to greet them upon arrival, and perhaps there would be a crowd, which he didn't like, but the only face that mattered was hers…
"Ike!"
The sharp voice finally roused him from his thoughts of the Queen. He looked down into the face of his best friend, and smiled. "Hm? Oh, Soren. Was there something you wanted?"
"I just thought it best that you didn't look like a total fool when we arrived."
"What do you mean?"
He heard a light giggle, and turned to see that it had come from his sister. "You always look like you've been hit by lightning. When you think about her."
Ike felt his cheeks darken, and that familiar benevolent grin pulled onto his face. "Oh, uh… right. Right."
He was startled as the envoy the three were riding in came to a halt. His sister gave a small squeal of delight as she exited the carriage and headed up towards the castle. The tactician winced, gathered himself as best as he could, and exited with the look of someone heading to their execution. He had not wanted to come, he hadn't said why, but recollections of the Christmas party were brought to mind… Finally, shaking his head to clear all other thoughts, the Commander himself stepped out, his eyes immediately catching hers, and both of them smiling.
I am the Chimera.
Amidst a small grove of pines which rose skyward from a thin carpet of slush rose a sizeable hill that yet retained a thick curve of white. A robin, merrily chirping portents of an early spring, happily skittered up and down the white hill. Blades of grass, freeing themselves, from the long, dark sleep of winter, began to poke through the dwindling carpet of ice crystals around the hill. A pair of bear cubs, roughhousing in a fashion not terribly dissimilar to their talking, two legged counterparts, playfully pawed and chased each other around and over the tiny ivory mountain.
When all eyes were directed elsewhere, however, the hill moved.
For it was not a hill, nor was the white carpet that topped it snow.
I am a stone, I move only by my own will.
A blur - an arc of silver, green and brown, so fast that even the sharpest eyes might miss it - swept over a patch of slush. Liberated blades of grass sprang up as the patch of ice crystals vanished. Within the hill, a faint slurping sound could be heard as stray bits of grass erupted seemingly from nowhere.
I weave myself into the terrain. The birds nest upon my back and small animals rest against my bones.
And, indeed, they did. The hill that was not a hill acquired two more robins and, tiring of the roughhousing with its sibling, one of the bear cubs began sniffing about for a meal. The snow continued to slowly but inexorably melt, creating tiny rivers that flowed around and through the hill that was not a hill. All the while, however, the hill that was not a hill remained demurely still...
...until a certain emerald haired woman appeared in the distance.
I sight my prey, then I wait for the opportune moment.
A long, narrow section of the light carpet of snow between the emerald haired woman and the hill that was not a hill shifted, rising and then falling like trees uprooted by a temblor. Amidst the eruption of white and the scintillating reflections emerged other, more sinister colors.
Dull brown, a mingling of earthen colors that could go unnoticed even in full daylight.
Iron gray, flecked with a sickly yellow color reminiscent of drab flowers and which seemed to swallow rather than reflect the sunlight.
And, a deep purple ichor, skillfully painted onto a rounded knob of heavy metal which tapered to a point.
I am patient. The prey will grow careless, make some fatal blunder, and I will strike.
The hill that was not a hill continued its subtle transformation. Another portion shifted, unnoticed by the happy robins or the meandering bear cub, and two liquid gems were revealed. These gems turned in the direction of the emerald haired woman, affixing upon her unwaveringly.
The Chimera had emerged.
Yet, this was no mythical beast with multiple heads and a body forged from so many mismatched creatures. This creature was one, and whole, and all too terribly real. A creature whose like would snuff out the life of another person for sordid coin, or even for the joy of bloodshed. This creature was an especially deadly breed, possessing a killer instinct honed to perfection over the course of a long and flawless career in the art of murder.
And, he remained poised to strike.
The Chimera watched as the emerald haired woman, who'd spent some time pacing back and forth in girlish excitement, race to meet an approaching carriage. The coachman tugged hard on the reins, bringing the carriage to a halt. The Chimera noted, with passing interest, that the carriage in question was one of exquisite make. Carved and gilded with gleaming redwood chased with gold, curtains of red velvet hanging just within windows that offered a clear view of the carriage's decadent, cushioned seats...
...and its occupants.
A common sellsword in ragged leather with a mane of blue hair that look more wild than the animals traipsing about the Chimera's chosen hiding place. A young girl wearing a young boy's boots, a coarse blouse and a rough-and-tumble dress that didn't even reach her knees . And, a dour, perpetually frowning youth clad in the most drab cloak the Chimera had ever seen in his long, bloody career.
The insignia of the Royal House of Crimea shone proudly on a carriage meant for use by the Queen and her guests of honor...which were presently a trio of common mercenaries.
The liquid gems narrowed - or, rather, sharpened - in displeasure, and then flashed with indignation as they reflected the longing in the emerald haired woman's eyes when the mercenaries approached.
The Chimera's client had studiously refused to refer to her as the "Queen," and the Chimera now understood why. The client had been quite vocal and longwinded about the Queen's lack of respect for those of noble stock and her lack of disdain for the churls and plebeians - so much so that the Chimera had nearly turned down the job over his time being wasted. He had ultimately heeded some inner voice that urged him to reconsider, and his instincts had not played him false.
The client was right.
This "Queen" was no more deserving of a royal title than the unkempt girl she now hugged with undisguised delight.
It was the dazzling smile and the look of longing that the emerald haired woman gave the blue haired mercenary that drove the Chimera to finally act. The hill that was not a hill trembled and rose skyward, birthing a tall figure shrouded in a silken mosaic of emerald, silver and deep brown. The dull auburn, iron gray and deep purple remained poised at the distant emerald haired woman.
I have only one shot. I aim for the head.
The Chimera eyed the purple tipped bolt with a hint of reverence; the reverence of a murder who knows a potent tool of such a trade. His client had gone to considerable trouble, and expense, to procure this particular implement of death. The purple ichor had cost more gold than the Chimera had earned in his life, but it wouldensure that this so-called Queen's offenses would soon end.
Permanently.
There was a click, a twang and a whoosh as the purple tipped projectile took to the air; and the Chimera, a many colored blur, vanished into the terrain once more.
She felt her breath hitch in her throat and her heart gave a small lurch. With all the regal air she could muster, she extended her hand to the man whom she'd grown so close to. He gripped it at once, smiling warmly, and pulled her forwards not to kiss her hand, as tradition would have dictated, but into a warm embrace.
She had never been so grateful for his impulsiveness and disregard for tact. She felt a small burst of wind rush by her, couple with a faint zinging noise, and then suddenly, everyone was pulled into motion. The man's younger sister gave a shriek, and she felt the arms around her tighten and begin to jerk her towards the door that lead inside the castle. She could hear the Commander of the Royal Knights shouting orders to mobilize, and from the corner of her eye saw a flash of blue as her sister darted off to the left. She saw a flicker of hesitation cross the face of the man's best friend, before he yelled something to the brunette that was still screaming and darted off after the swordswoman.
Finally, her eyes fell upon the object that had triggered all of this chaos. A single arrow, tipped with a purple point, lying on the ground, where it had fallen after just missing her temple.
Her efforts were wasted. Whoever had just tried to kill Her Majesty was long gone. She'd found the location of the attack. The pressed down grass was still warm from where the assassin had knelt, but the person was long gone.
Slowly, she became aware that she had been followed. Her blue eyes rose to meet his red. Instantly, her eyes became ice. "You."
"Me," he returned, holding his arms out slightly to the side as if presenting himself. She could not believe he had the nerve to come, after…
"I thought I'd visit."
Her glare wavered as she took him in a second time, but froze over once again. She stood from her kneeling position and rose to full height. Being about five inches taller than he, she gained a sense of supremacy. She had nothing to say to him. Did he really expect to be forgiven so easily? When he'd gotten her hopes up so high, then turned right around and frozen her out? She'd worried about him. After all, if anything happened to the tactician, who would ever think to inform her? Until a week ago, no one had the slightest inkling about what had happened that night… the coronation party…
"Lady Lucia."
Her jaw tightened. She didn't care anymore. "Kieran and I get along well." She had thrown the words out of her mouth, knowing that they would hurt him. He tried to cover the emotion, but she saw him flinch.
"I… see," he said, with a faint air of anxiety. She smiled triumphantly to herself, walking a few paces ahead of him back towards the castle, leaving him chasing after her, as it should have been from the start.