The Magician

Time travel makes life complicated. Henry wanders through a world where the past, present and future are becoming increasingly blurred. He isn't used to things being out of his control. Eventual Henry/Robin, Libra/Robin and a few others.

Disclaimer: The author does not own Fire Emblem: Awakening or any of its characters.

Rated M for bad language and violence !

1.

Ellis Langley lumbered through the forest, clutching his leather jacket tightly to himself. It was one of the coldest nights of the winter, and even here, under the shelter of thick pines, the wind bit like a snarling dog. Ellis was a well built, dark tower of a man, who worked in the mines during the day and fathered three children on mornings and evenings. He hated the snow. It had killed his wife many years ago, and he fumed with every step he took, every footprint he left, screwing up his square jaw with an irrational anger at nature, the gods, and in particular, the forsaken youth he was looking for. The wood was getting blacker, so Ellis began to squint and wade faster. He had to calm down, or he'd be crushing the little shits head with his raw hands on first sight of him.

A crow cawed somewhere close, and he flicked around to see where it had come from. There in the tree top, was the silhouette of a few black birds, fluttering and eyeing him down. He was close to the bastard then. The crows flew across him to another branch, and seemed to wait for his approach before they set off again. He followed as they led him to a clearing, lit shades of grey in the light of a waning moon. As his eyes began to re-adjust, Ellis could forge a small lamp a few feet before him, and a shadowy figure emitting grunts of effort. There was the sick little bitch he was after. Only the Gods knew what he was doing in the woods this late at night.

'Henry!' Ellis called out, trundling over to the dim lamp. 'Henry!'

He stood over the youth, who was curled over the rotting carcass of a doe, sawing at her leg-bone, blood and grime coating his hands, and freckling his pale face. As always, he was surrounded by a flock of birds.

'Ellis?' Henry responded, still hacking away at the bone with a small saw. 'Can I help you?'

'W-what the hell are you doing? Did you-?'

'Kill this? Ahahah! Nah. Wolves got her. It was amazing ! Actually, quite savage, they-'

'Spare me. I don't have time for this. You need to come with me and quickly. One of those dead armies are out in the fields ! The goatherd saw them advancing toward the village, but they're massacring our flocks now. The men are holding them back but we need all the help we can get—before- before they reach the village.' Ellis poured his fears out, leaning on his knees for support. He wondered if he'd run out of time. It'd taken him a good twenty minutes to get this far into the wood, and it'd be at least another ten back. The Risen were slower than live soldiers, but that did not mean time could be wasted.

Henry stopped the sawing and turned his silver eyes onto the miner, smirking. The man had children. Friends. He'd watched his wife and brother and parents die. He supposed, then, Ellis Langley had every logical and emotional reason to worry about a battalion of Risen approaching his village, and every reason to fear death. He must have watched it so many times, and still he feared it. Henry Wootten, however, had watched and administered death so many times, and still it remained a delicious mystery.

Ellis disliked Henry. This creepy youth had turned up in the village tavern a year ago, chugging ale with the men and making bawdy jokes at the women- which seemed to pass as flirting due to his youth and cheery demeanor. It was like he'd known them for years, despite having sat in the room for only an hour. A dark mage, a Plegian army defector was who he'd said he was. He'd come looking for a room, and hadn't left since they'd given him one. He'd spent a year following the hunters and physicians around, obsessed with death and medicine. He gave out odd potions and advice. He stole and wrecked the hearts of young maidens, and even a few of the other young men. According to rumor, Nicolas Steele, a clerk in the monastery, was lovesick for Henry Wootten. The other monks said he had been cursed, but Steele insisted it was not so.

Ellis believed the monks. He thought Henry was arrogant, and too effeminate for his liking. Perhaps his ex-army status had earned him the respect of the villagers, or perhaps they were just afraid of his witchcraft. Perhaps they couldn't see the filthy memories, the pleasure killings and pain that hid behind his constant smile. Henry wasn't amiable, he was false. Ellis was sure he wasn't the only one of his neighbors to find the boys puns and potions irritating. He was sure he wasn't the only one who knew about the illegal, addictive powders he'd cooked up and sold to men for smoking in their pipes. Three of them now slept in the street thanks to this evil bastard. Three of them, once providers, good minds and great miners, driven insane by the pipes this mage had sold them. Not to mention the amount of bird shit on their roofs these days.

Now the slattern was grinning at him. Ellis would deck Henry in his pretty nose if only he weren't absolutely necessary for destroying cursed soldiers.

'Another Risen army you say? Hm. Haven't seen them in a while. Are their visits getting more frequent though? I'm not sure.' Henry said. 'I've been researching them though. I need to find-'

'Henry.' Ellis urged. 'We don't have time for this.'

'Alright alright. Snap this out for me and I'll get rid of the big scary Risen for you. Deal?'

Ellis was close to losing it, but he pushed the kid aside and focused his anger into ripping out the doe-bone in a single move. Henry giggled, pleased when the thing was shoved into his hands.

'Wow ! That was so cool! Are you sure you need my help?'

Ellis wasn't. It was too late now.

They ran out to outskirts of the village, where the remaining Risen were advancing. One of the guards had shot an arrow at the foremost solider. Although it had hit him in the forehead, the Risen carried on forwards, shrieking a wordless threat.

'Ellis ! Henry !' The guardsman saw them approach. 'They got four of us. They're strong.'

Henry scanned the field. Twenty Risen remaining. Five successfully killed. Four village men drawn back, ten still able to fight, but were only chipping away with pitchforks and weak swords. These men were not skilled fighters, but they could distract their opponents long enough to stay away from their families.

'Alright.' Henry nodded. 'Don't follow me!'

He ran into the field, already reciting a foreign language. Ellis and the guardsman exchanged a glance as the mage took out a knife hidden somewhere within his black robes, and made a small incision in his finger. He waited, not too long, for a Risen to reach him. Before he got attacked, he ducked, wedging the knife between some of the grey exposed ribs of his opponent. The body caught fire, as well as three more around it. Henry killed Risen the most gruesome way he could; by melting their skin off of their bones with a flaming curse. The stench was putrid; it was the smell of rot and decease twice over.

'Have some death.' He could be heard saying through a clenched jaw. The shrieks of the undead soldiers distracted the others from the village men. Henry turned to push one back with an Elwind spell, tired out from his first cast. He was panting, watching two on horses make their way toward him. There were three coming up behind him. He did not seem to notice. The guard fired more arrows, at least as a distraction. Ellis unhooked a large knife from the inside of his jacket and ran in, slashing at the chest of one of the un-armoured ones. It was useless. The thing turned and screamed in Ellis' face, opening its jaw wide enough to show the lawns that grew on its teeth, and the saliva that dripped off them. Ellis was shocked, but managed to wedge the knife into the back of its head so it dropped to the floor, maroon blood leaking out of its skull.

'Henry ! Look behind you, you idiot bastard !' He yelled, but said bastard wasn't listening. His eyes were unfocused as he muttered something, the Risen behind him was meanwhile raising a sword to stab into his back. Ellis leapt in, pushing away the Risen, the sword a hair-width from his face. For some reason, the deamon warrior was lighter than Ellis had expected. He seemed to have gained a lot of strength- no – he realized he too was being pushed- a strong, quick force drew him away from Henry and on to the Risen, both of them ending up in a shivering, bleeding heap on the hillside. Ellis felt himself gag. He was calling out in pain. His front was covered in the blood of the unconscious enemy, but his back felt as if someone had just ripped the skin clean off. It felt exposed, cold and prickly, as if being raked raw. He was in an indescribable pain. He did not think that his skin could ever be thirsty. He needed water, and he needed ice. The heat on his back was excruciating, but every pulse of blood that washed over it momentarily relieved him.

'ELLIS !' He heard the voices of Kelvin Greene, the butcher, Rager Valdorne, the tavern landlord, and Henry Wootten, the one who had cursed him. Ellis could not speak.

'He's hurt. He's hurt so bad.'

'What the fuck, Henry? His back is torn apart, he'll bleed out.'

Henry stared at shredded miner. He knelt down beside him and dipped his fingers in one of the pools of blood that were forming on the grass, rubbing his fingertips together as if they were swirling in a fine wine.

'I told him,' He said softly, 'Not to follow me.'

Ellis gagged again.

'He was protecting you !'

'Take him to the clerics, quickly. They can seal up the wound and he'll be okay if he hasn't lost too much blood.' He continued, a smile in his voice as he assessed the amount of blood on the field. The curse he'd used had taken out the five Risen that had surrounded him, and weakened the others. The hillside now ran red with torn skin and fluid. For Henry, it was the most beautiful sight. He'd created artwork beside the candles of the village. Unfortunately, it had taken out a respected member of the community with it.

'The fool.' He sighed. 'He'll be alright, if you hurry.'

Sometimes, he supposed, one needed to spend blood to spill blood. The civilians often forgot that. He walked back to the gate with them, watching Mr. Ellis Langley, a tall dark tower of a man, who convulsed as he was carried home.

A/N: Thankyou for reading ! Let me know what you think.

I decided to write about Henry as an exercise in creative writing/ description; which is why this chapter looks the way it does. Somehow this short piece developed into a longer one with a few chapters, so I've decided to put it up online, because why not?

He is the character I find most interesting in FEA, and I hope this fic develops him a bit more.

I chose the title 'The Magician' because it is a tarot card meaning new beginnings, things changing, and also can be the central figure in a reading. Reversed, it means trickery and illusion. I guess that's Henry/This story ! I also have given a few people surnames because I think you gotta have longer names in a medieval/fantasy/village setting.