Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
This was inspired by a series of 150 prompts that I found while browsing around LiveJournal. I copied the prompts, and promptly lost track of the community. If anyone from said community finds this, I'd love it if you told me the name so I could get proper permission to use them. Until then, I'm only working off my own creative juices.
Oh, and I'm afraid that there's no set length for any of these prompts. I basically write until I think it's finished.
If you don't want to spoil all of Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword (otherwise known as FE7) or parts (including endings) of Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance and Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn (known as FE9 and FE10, respectively), then I advise you to stop reading now.
# 81 – Memories
Ugh…my head… The man, groaning, began to sit up from a bed, brushing long strands of black hair out of his face. He looked around the tent. Where…am I? What am I doing here?
A woman with long, green hair in a ponytail entered the tent through the flap. "Oh, you're awake!" Putting down a tray she carried on a nearby desk, she sat next to the bed. "I found you unconscious on the plains," she explained. "I am Lyn, of the Lorca tribe. You're safe now." He glanced at Lyn curiously for a moment, before nodding. "Who are you?" Lyn asked. "Can you remember your name?"
My name is…wait, my name is… "I can't!" he exclaimed. "I can't remember anything at all."
Lyn gasped. "I'm sorry," she said. "I…erm, I took the liberty of going through your things." As the man glared at her, she hurried to placate him. "Please understand! You have been unconscious for two days now, and I knew nothing about you, or what ailed you. Added to the fact that lying you on anything sharp or concealed might have hurt you… Anyways, there was nothing indicating who you were, or what you did. All I found was this." She handed the man a piece of parchment, which he unrolled. The parchment turned out to be a map, and well-worn. "I don't recognize the shape of the continent, or the language," Lyn told him.
The man rolled it up, and tucked it into his robes. "Does it look familiar to you?" Lyn asked anxiously. After regarding her with a cool look, the man finally said, "It does, but besides a sense of familiarity, it brings back nothing." Suddenly, his head jerked up. "That noise…" he murmured.
"I'll go see what's happening." Lyn had noticed it, too. "Wait here for me." She ducked out the tent flap, and the man swung his legs over the side of the bed. As he found a pair of boots – his, he assumed – he slipped them on and stood up.
Lyn slowly backed into the tent again. "Bandits," she hissed grimly. "They must have come down from the Bern Mountains. They must be planning on raiding the local villages. I... I have to stop them!" She strode to a corner of the tent, and picked up a sword, buckling it on. "If that's all of them, I think I can handle them on my own. You'll be safe in here," she told the man.
"No," the man said, shaking his head. "Such hubris only inevitably leads to defeat. How are you going to take on all of them by yourself?" Seeing her hesitation, he continued, "You'd best take me along."
Lyn seemed startled. "What? You want to help?" As he nodded, she continued doubtfully, "Well, can you use a weapon? I didn't see you carrying any." As she spoke, the image of the map flashed in the man's mind, this time with markers for troop movements drawn on it in detail. "No," he said with surety. "But from what little I can remember, I am a tactician."
"So, you're a strategist by trade?" Lyn regarded him appraisingly. "An odd profession but…very well. We'll go together!" She tossed the man a satchel, then walked towards the flap.
They exited the tent, and the man saw two bandits. Even looking around, he couldn't spot more. So, she probably could have taken them by herself…but there's no need to rush headlong into battle. "It is somewhat awkward, not having a name by which you can refer to me," he told Lyn. "So, until I regain my true name, call me Mark."
"Mark." Lyn rolled the name around in her mouth, as if tasting it. "It is a good name. If you want to help, Mark, I could use your advice. I'll protect you, so stay close to me." As the newly-named Mark nodded, his mind began planning out strategies. "You see the bandit closest to us?" he asked. As Lyn nodded, Mark told her, "Get close to him, then make him notice you. When he charges, take the opportunity to dodge and attack." As Lyn followed the advice, the bandit noticed her and charged.
Mark winced as the axe dug into Lyn's arm, even as she ran the bandit through. "Victory!" she gasped.
"You're injured," Mark said flatly. "Not much of a victory if you die."
"I have vulneraries in that satchel," she said, exhaling slowly. Mark dug through the satchel and pulled out a bottle of the potion. As Lyn wiped and sheathed her blade, he uncorked the bottle and spread a little on her arm. Sure enough, the wound closed up.
"Thank you, Mark," she said, wincing as the vulnerary took its effect. "There's still one more brigand left. Should we use the same tactics?"
"No," he told her. "That man can see us clearly, but he's not moving. You're going to have to go to him. Test his defenses, and strike when he's distracted. I can provide such a distraction," he added, looking at Lyn sidelong.
Lyn frowned. "No. I said I would protect you, and as you said, it's not a victory if one of us dies." She shook her head, then began running towards the hut where the last brigand was waiting, stationary. "Come on, Mark!"
Shaking his head and following her, Mark arrived to see Lyn engaging with the enemy. As he watched, she seemed to disappear, before cleaving the bandit's arms off, and slitting his throat. "That…that was close," she said, catching her breath. "I sorely underestimated him. Sorry if I worried you."
"You didn't," he told her. "I remember nothing of my life, but even I could tell that you outclassed that bandit. Even if you did underestimate him. Don't do it again." Lyn nodded, chastised. "I'll need to be stronger if I'm going to survive…strong enough for no-one to defeat me," she said.
"The best of luck to you, then," Mark said. He rubbed his head distractedly. "While you're getting strong enough for nobody to defeat you, I think I need to lie down again."
"Of course," Lyn agreed. "I'll take you back to my tent." The instant they reached the tent, Mark fell into the bed and a deep slumber. It seemed like hardly an hour, when Lyn woke him.
"Is it necessary for you to disturb my rest?" Mark moaned. Lyn looked at him disapprovingly. "You haven't had anything to eat for three days!" she exclaimed. "And you slept through all of yesterday. Time to get up." She produced a bowl. "I made some soup."
As Mark shrugged off the remnants of his sleep and began to eagerly devour the soup, Lyn fidgeted. As he finished the bowl, he looked at Lyn. "Spit it out."
"Mark, I can see you have experience in the ways of war," she blurted out. "Would you allow me to travel with you?"
Mark sighed, and Lyn pressed her case. "You don't remember anything about yourself or your life, you said. It only makes sense for me to assist you while you regain your memories."
"If you want to go on a training journey, shouldn't you ask your parents?" Mark asked. "You're what, sixteen? Seventeen? You can hardly tell me that your parents would approve of you wandering the world with a man who doesn't even know where he's going." Lyn looked down. "My mother and my father... died six months ago," she said quietly. "My people -- the Lorca-- they don't... I'm the last of my tribe. Bandits attacked, and... they killed so many people."
Mark watched in fascination as she continued. "The tribe was scattered. My father was our chieftain, and I wanted to protect our people. I am so young, and my people are old-fashioned. They wouldn't follow a woman. No one would follow me!" she burst out. Lyn began to cry. Mark sighed. He knew he shouldn't take the girl with him. He had no idea of where he was going to go, and she seemed like the sort who would continuously ask about things to refresh his memory. But, some hidden memory lurked at the back of his head.
…There's nothing to hide, is there?
They left? Both of them? Why did they – oh, I see. They left because of me, didn't they?...
…I'll be all right. Grief won't bring my father back to life. I know I've been a burden on the both of you…I just need to thank you both for staying here with me…
Mark patted Lyn on the back, as she continued to bawl. I may not know this girl…but something about her situation seems too familiar for comfort. And if she's with me, at least I'll have a capable bodyguard while I regain my memories. "Fine. You can come with me, Lyn," he told her.
"I'm sorry…I've just been alone for so long. Forgive me…no more. No more tears." With one last sniff, she wiped the tears off her face with the back of her hand. "Thank you. I'm better now."
"You had better pack your stuff," Mark said. He stuck his head out of the tent. "It's right after daybreak. If we leave within the hour, we can probably make a good distance before night falls."
"I understand," Lyn said. She began grabbing stuff from around the tent and tossing it into her satchel. "I'm afraid we're going to have to sleep outdoors."
"That's all right. I've got a feeling that I'm used to it." Mark stood up and began helping Lyn gather things they'd need for a long journey. As they worked, Lyn smiled. "You'll be my master strategist, and I'll be your peerless warrior!" she joked.
I need your tactical knowledge. I need your objectivity. You're not going to leave me, are you, –?
"I won't leave you," he told her. While sorting through things (honestly, didn't the girl organize anything?) his hand landed on a silver-backed mirror.
"Oh, that's something my father bought for my mother, long ago," Lyn told him. Mark was busy studying his reflection in the mirror, though. Crimson eyes stared at a mark on his forehead, which he traced with a finger.
"I guess you wouldn't know what that was, given your amnesia," Lyn said. "I think I'm done here, Mark." Snapped out of his reverie, Mark nodded and prepared to leave, until he noticed a green cloak on the ground. He picked it up and put it on.
"But you're already wearing so much!" Lyn protested. "Aren't you hot?"
"Very," Mark agreed. "But something tells me…" He dropped the mirror and picked up a bag on his way out, lifting the hood of the cloak and covering his face. "Something tells me that I shouldn't let others see this mark."