Disclaimer and Notes: Fire Emblem belongs to Nintendo. I seek no profit. Story started because the main pairing is a rare one that I happen to like and had on one of my files. I have not played, as yet, any of the Fire Emblem games other than Awakening and Fates; therefore I am a little lost on some of the specifics of the heroic tales that Owain would know from the FE universe. This does not preclude me using nerdy references from other universes when I will deem them fit, nor from exhaustively researching a reference if I need to.

Multiple chapters. I am posting chapters as I write them, but I have the story-direction outlined.

GHOST STORIES

A Fire Emblem Awakening Fan Fiction by Shadsie

Chapter 1: Neverending Stories

Owain was born into a world of stories. He grew up with myths of the gods and the legends of martyrs, various parables and symbolic reckonings of the journey of the spirit courtesy of his father. He grew up with tales of the royal line courtesy of his mother. As he learned to read, he had access to the royal library. He and his many siblings often took trips to the theater for holidays and more frequently than not, to see one of his parents' friends dance to music that some of his parents' other friends played as she took on starring roles in classic narratives.

He always knew that he was different than his many brothers and sisters. This was because he was the one child that his parents had "made." Up until he was age six or seven (he could not recall exactly when he'd "grown up"), he thought that being "made" meant that they had molded him out of clay and had prayed to the gods to give him life. Owain did not get this story from his parents or from anyone else. He had made it up. It seemed like the best explanation for his existence until the older children in the big group-home started making fun of him and telling him another story. The boy was aware from an early age that babies lived inside their mothers for a time before being born, for his father and mother provided shelter for women in need who were growing children inside of them, but he had created an elaborate story in his young and forming mind that involved said mothers praying on clay talismans. When they gave their children names, the soul entered and such was the same with anything that was named. The latter belief persisted for longer, to the point that a name being equal to a soul was something he carried into his adult life.

This, of course, left him quite confused that any parent ever changed their mind about keeping a child after making one until the story was set straight for him. As he grew, he overheard his parents talking about biology with the older children and he thought it was gross. The stray cats that the orphanage-family had made into pets hadn't sculpted or prayed upon clay to have their kittens and this confirmed things.

Then again, Owain made up many stories for himself and his friends that weren't really true and threw his heart into them anyway. All of his friends who were not being reared at the orphanage wanted to be like their parents, who told war-stories around reunion-feast tables, recounting times they had saved each other, pulling each other out of impossible odds. Lord Chrom's bravery as he charged into battle. Frederick's staunch protection. Tactician Robin's tipping of the scales in their favor even when the Ylissean army was well-outnumbered. Tales of healers – his parents among them – taking wounds as they treated the wounded. Dad still had a slight limp in his left leg. Owain was supped on all of these.

These tales were celebrations of survival. Sometimes, the stories were somber. Owain's mother and father were adamant that they did not want him to ever know war. At the same time, they allowed him to train for it when he was deemed old enough to hold a weapon in an open yard under supervision. He wanted to learn swords because he was impressed with Uncle Chrom's tricks and the legendary Falchion that was bonded to him. Lissa and Libra's greatest wish for their son, on the other hand, was to only know the stories and to never require the use of a sword beyond a prince's duty to learn it. The tales of heroism were tempered with tales of blood and death.

He had an aunt that he never knew who was a martyr. She had been killed for her commitment to peace. It had caused a terrible war to drag on. This war was how his parents had met – his father being the last survivor of a group of failed would-be saviors of the saint. His mother was a medical cleric, his father a war monk – a priest trained to fight. Owain's mother eventually trained with the axe, as well, after Uncle Chrom wanted her to be able to defend herself. So went the story. Owain wondered, as he grew older, why she did not choose another weapon, such as magical tomes, given her slight frame. Axes and war-hammers were the "least delicate" weapons she could think of, she'd told him with a giggle and she was sick to death of being thought of as "delicate." It had also been her way of getting closer to Father. They'd begun bonding over long hours in the medical tents of their constantly moving camp, healing the injured and the sick. This had developed into a crush on his mother's part even as his father remained unsure of himself. Asking to train with him and having long hours training together in addition to working together as healers had sealed Owain's eventual creation.

It was two wars that Mother and Father had fought in. The first was The Second Ylissean / Plegian War, also known as "Mad Gangrel's War." The one following on its heels was the Ylissean / Valm war, also known as "Walhart's Aggression." Owain grew up with great pride in knowing that his parents and their friends had secured freedom and peace for him and his friends. His mother was a princess, to boot – only giving up a life in the palace to help Father run the orphanage they'd created in the capital city. This was why Owain had many siblings to share games and stories with. The orphanage was funded by the royal treasury so that the household never suffered want. Trips to the palace were frequent – more frequent for just Owain and his parents than for the entire household and the hired assistants, but everyone who stayed in the home even on a temporary basis got to see the castle halls. Among Owain's friends were the sons and daughters of knights and his cousins – Lucina the crown princess and the princeling, Morgan.

He created the Justice Cabal, a group of elite friends, a fellowship to combat evil wherever it reared its ugly head or multiple heads. He devised training exercises for them to keep them sharp for the eventual combat of evil. Owain was quite offended when his friends referred to them as "games."

There were the true tales, too. Owain found himself the leader of many stories in the play-yard and hall of Saint Emmeryn's Orphanage (the name his home had been given in honor of his martyr-aunt), but some of the more interesting and darker stories he learned were the true ones given by his brothers and sisters. Many of his compatriots were true orphans – both of their parents had died during the wars or from sicknesses or accidents. A few had been rescued by his family's knight-friends from homes they were better off not in. One of his sisters said that her father giving her up was "the best thing for her." He did not know what a "prostitute" was for a long time, but when he'd learned what being one entailed (and that children were not crafted of clay and prayers, or even, in every case, from love), he understood that life with his family was better, in most cases, than the life of a prostitute's child in a world that was hard and cold.

It confused Owain to no end that some visitors expected his father to be judgmental of the women they sometimes housed when he was not in the least. He would say something like "Some priests have done more dubious things in seeking what is holy than most people have seeking mere survival" to anyone who expected that he should turn anyone away or offer help only with a catch. More often than not, adults looking for help were referred straight to Lord Chrom and Lady Robin for aid in finding housing, work and general care for themselves and their to-be babies. Sometimes, one of these women would leave the child to his father's "collection of needy souls." Sometimes, they left, baby in tow, grateful for help and off to a hopefully pleasant life.

Some of the kids in the home only stayed for a season, given up by farmers whose crops had failed and needed one or two or three fewer mouths to feed for just a year or two before they had better luck, then the kids would get to go back to their "real homes." These lost friends visited every once in a while. The same happened to those children who were lucky enough to be adopted out. It seemed to Owain that his family was always growing because everyone who left would come back eventually for a visit, sometimes with gifts.

The extended family of Mother and Father's friends also brought gifts. The favorite honorary uncle was Gaius, who always had candy in tow. Father would get a visible headache whenever Uncle Gaius dropped by. Owain was always the first to beg him for honey nut cakes…

… And for stories. He begged for stories from all of his parents' friends.

For a while, he liked Henry and Tharja's the best – tales of sorcery and horror intrigued him the most. His mother nearly smacked his hand off when he tried to take one of Auntie Tharja's tomes. His father took him aside and prayed with him for the protection of his soul as if a mere book could be dangerous.

This only fed young Owain's wonder.

And so Owain's first taste of life was sweet – spent in a large home full of excitement and the collective imagination of many. His mother joined in with his games, a big kid herself. His father drew pictures of the monsters and heroes he created after reading one book or another or hearing some tale that inspired him to create his own. He kept a picture in his personal treasure-box that his father had painted of him in dress armor fighting an evil dragon with the Divine Dragon Naga at his back – a symbol of his destiny to be a light against darkness and a reminder of his heritage as a scion of heroes.

He kept that piece rolled up in his knapsack when he lived as a refugee with the remnants of humanity in the days when his cousin became his commander after a dark dragon had leapt out of nightmares and books to become a reality.

His mother told him that she had fallen in love with her father because he was "like a ghost" – a melancholy ethereal vision, someone whose calm and kindness struck her as otherworldly. He, in turn, had spoken of how his mother's lively nature kept him grounded to the earth.

Owain kept all these memories after his siblings, friends, Father and Mother became nothing but ghosts in his heart.