My Hero
Welcome, and watch in wonder as I write yet another oneshot, instead of updating my multi-chapter fics like I should! Yay!
(Note: This scene was originally supposed to be used in Priscilla's Diary, but seeing as it 'disagreed' with several people, it no longer exists. Oh well. Storytime. Woot.)
Disclaimer: Fire Emblem does not belong to me.
John was grumpy. Why, you may well ask, was this so? A very simple answer was forthcoming. It had to do with the fact that they had not been able to celebrate a single damned holiday since they had joined this army, because they were usually in a battle (and on the losing side)
In fact, the more recent holidays had resulted in him presiding over military disasters that made Roland's decision to attack a Fire Dragon with a Slim Sword look worthy of something that had been meticulously pored over by Etruria's finest tacticians for weeks on end.
Halloween, the battle against Linus of the Four Fangs.
"Oy!" Cass yelled. "I said quit hanging out in the arena and head over to attack Linus!"
"Just one more fight." Lyn promised, holding up a finger. "It's a brigand. It'll be a quick one."
The battle started, Lyn charged the axe-wielding fighter- that promptly dodged her attack, and stuck his foot out in the process, tripping her over. He then proceeded to beat Lyn senseless.
"Great." The female tactician sighed. "I guess it's another retre-" Glancing up, she noted with a fair amount of alarm that wyverns were now filling the sky. "Aw, fudge." She muttered.
Meanwhile, back in the encampment, John was aiding Priscilla and Serra in administering to the wounded, a seemingly endless task. This was not helped by several of the more childish members of their little party dressing up in brightly-coloured costumes in an attempt to celebrate Halloween.
"Nils," He snapped to the young bard. "Take that thing off and go find your sister, I need her to refresh-" He broke off as he noticed the skies darkening with clouds of wyverns. Clutched in the talons of the lead rider was his sister, screaming bloody murder and attempting to use her staff to poke out the wyvern's eyes.
"Now THAT is scary. He muttered resignedly before gesturing for Rath to shoot it down.
Thanksgiving, battle against Blaise Pascal of Landskron.
"Not a turkey in sight." Eliwood commented miserably as they trudged for the umpteenth time through yet another mud patch, dodging lances, axes, and blasts of light magic. The flyers, high ahead, were the only ones with anything in the way of mobility.
"These stupid cavaliers wouldn't stand a chance against us if I hadn't replaced my Mani Katti…" Lyn grumbled. Hector was quick to retaliate.
"Hey, you were the one who broke my Wolf Beil! It'd finish these losers in a hurry!"
"Let us not forget the person who used up my Rapier by utilizising it as a weenie fork." Eliwood countered testily. "In any case, let's finish this quickly and stake a claim to it being the first battle we completed on our first try."
"Lord Eliwood! Look OU!" The cry from Fiora went unfinished before a ballista bolt zipped through the air, zipping past the red haired Lord before thudding into Hector.
"Lucky you took that hit." Eliwood laughed. "You're the only one of us that has the defense to withstand blows of that sort, eh, Hector? Hector?"
"Hector?" Lyn queried worriedly. "What's wrong?" For the armored Lord's face had gone an extraordinary color and expression. With a choked groan, he slumped over to the ground. Then Eliwood noticed exactly where the ballista bolt had hit.
"Oooh…" He muttered, a pained expression on his face.
"Do you think he'll still be able to have children?" Lyn asked Eliwood, who merely shrugged in reply.
"Well, lessee… I'm thankful for the fact that as of now, I'll probably be more prolific in procreation than the brother of Marquess Ostia here." Eliwood sighed as he managed to pick up his friend with considerable effort. Raising his voice, he sighed and called to the rest of the army. "Retreat!"
Christmas, battle against the Shrike and the Death Kite.
"Other people spend Christmas curled up in front of fire, with friends, family, and a nice hot mug of cocoa. WE spend Christmas trudging through a frozen wasteland fighting not one, but TWO Fang lieutenants!" John growled angrily as he trudged through said wasteland. "And whose bright idea was it to recruit those two anyway?"
"What?" Cass defended her choice. "They're good fighters!"
"You hired a psycho who's only reason for joining us is to toughen the group up until they reach a certain level of strength so he can slaughter them, and an angsty idiot who tried to commit suicide three times in this past hour!"
"Bah." Cass muttered. "In any case, the others appear to be getting into the Christmas spirit." She said as she indicated Guy, Raven, and Matthew, who were running amok through the fortress slaying Fang left and right."
"Deck the halls with corpses of Black Fang, falalalalalalalala, these assholes all deserve to hang, falalalalalalalala, we won't rest or go down to bed, falalalalalalalala, 'til every last one of 'em is dead, falalalalalalalala!"
John rubbed his temples. "We're being too lucky. We NEVER finish a fight on our first try. Something's gonna come up. I just know it."
Just then, a blast of light from the heavens appeared, heading straight for Raven. Before the red-haired Hero could react, he was blasted backwards straight into a wall.
"And the jolly tradition continues, hohoho." John muttered sourly as he continued trudging through the snow. Cupping both hands, he gave the order to retreat, and began dragging Raven's limp form through the frozen landscape.
New Year and New Year's Eve, the battle for Prince Zephiel
"I can't see a bloody thing!"
"Neither can Legault, from the looks of it. Methinks that scar on his eye affects him more than he'd like to admit." Erk muttered grumpily. A group of magic users consisting of him, Priscilla, Canas, Lucius, and Serra had been sent down this side of he manse to halt any Fang that decided to show his face. Unfortunately, since Legault wasn't proving up to the task, they were forced to pretty much rely on their on night vision.
Which sucked.
Both their night vision, and actually having to rely on it.
"Stop whining." The lavender haired thief snapped. "I can see perfectly well! Eyes like an owl! They used to call me ol' Hawkeye back in the Fang."
"Wasn't your nickname 'The Hurricane?"
"Details, details." Legault waved it off impatiently. "The point is, I'm perfectly fine concerning night vision."
"Then would you mind explaining the two heroes, five mercenaries, three mages, and Paladin we just managed to walk past?" Erk growled resignedly as he noticed them bearing down on their tiny group.
"Huh? Wha- Oh, shi-" That statement was left unfinished as the magic wielders neatly sidestepped out of the way of their charge, leaving Legault straight in the path of their rampage.
Twelve seconds later, the call for retreat was sounded, Canas and Erk hauling the mangled form of Legault towards the exit of the manse.
And then, there was today. Valentine's Day, a day where love was supposed to be celebrated, had succeeded in finding them stranded in yet another Black Fang stronghold.
A stronghold they had been trying to break through for damn well over a month.
Stuck in a cavernous temple filled with a purplish sludge that somehow passed for water, the heroic fighters of the group were doing their level best to drive back the Black Fang, and defeat Sonia.
They weren't very successful at it, by any means. As usual.
THWACK!
"Ow!"
"Damn it, Eliwood! I told you not to stand there!"
"I can't swim! I can't swim! I can't blubblublblub!"
"Fiora! Go save Hector from drowning! Stat!"
"Matthew, stop chasing Jaffar! They're the bad guys!"
"Says you!"
John stood surveying the surroundings. With a sigh, he collapsed onto a deck chair. Yes, a deck chair. Tacticians require comfort for optimal tactitianizing, or whatever it is you call it. Beside him, Cass pulled a map from one of her voluminous pockets.
"Okay, what's the situation?"
"Eliwood is currently getting chased by a Wyvern Lord, Heath and Florina just collided with each other in midair, Nino is still sitting in a corner crying, Jaffar is beating the crap out of Matthew because he won't leave him alone, Guy is busy trying to fight a General and a Hero at the same time, Sain, Kent, and Lowen are stranded on that island over there, and that Bishop just hit Dart with berserk. Again. Elsewhile, Sonia is laughing her ass off at us from that throne, and she just hit Raven with Bolting."
"So basically, the usual."
John sighed and massaged his temples. "A-yup."
"What about Erk and Priscilla?"
"Oh, right. The only competent pair in all of Team Eliwood. They're over there taking potshots at Wyverns. Last count was fifteen kills for Erk, fourteen for Priscilla."
"Oh…" Cass was silent for a moment.
"Fancy a drink?"
"Why not?"
Later that day…
Priscilla raised her staff, letting azure light pour from it, soothing the wounds Erk had taken throughout the battle. He gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks."
"Any-" She ducked to avoid a Hand Axe flying over her head. A second later, the thrower of it followed, courtesy of an uppercut from Dart. "Time." She finished.
They were attempting to walk across another of those damnable bridges that spanned the entire area of the Water Temple. And they were by no means very successful. One believes it was because Hector insisted on holding the forefront of the bridge at every opportunity, until the bridge sank into the 'water' again, rendering half the team immobile.
Sighing, she turned to note Hector dueling a Hero. The Blue haired Lord seemed to love using his newfound ability to wield swords way too much. As she drummed her fingers against her horse's mane, she caught sight of a pack of wyverns swooping down on them.
"Erk!" Instantly he had turned to face them too, and streams of flame and thunder lanced out from their fingers, blasting the warhawks out of the sky. As they finished, she turned and grinned at her escort.
"Seventeen."
He chuckled slightly. "Just you wait until the next batch, Priscilla."
She returned the friendly smile, and settled down to watch Hector fencing against the hero.
MISS!
NO DAMAGE!
MISS!
NO DAMAGE!
MISS!
NO DAMAGE!
MISS!
MISS!
She rolled her eyes and sighed wearily. This was going to take forever.
Snuggles the Bishop was unhappy. And no, it wasn't because of his name. He had long since gotten used to being alienated and jeered at because his parents had been stone drunk during the naming ceremony.
No, it was because he had run out of targets for his berserk staff. Most foes that could be berserked already had, and the remaining people in range were either Pegasus knights or magic users, with resistance high enough that they'd barely feel a thing.
He sighed. He was bored. Then, he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, a blue-haired fighter dueling with his brother, Quincy the Hero. He raised his berserk staff, and then frowned.
Rats. Just out of range.
Then he got an idea.
Backing up, he took a running leap forward, straight into the water. Splashing about and gasping, he succeeded in raising his staff high enough to cast a Berserk spell.
Why did I have to wear such heavy robes? He thought to himself as he turned back, ready to begin the tiring swim back to dry land.
The bridge had long since sunk back into the water, and Priscilla and Erk were now engaged in a rousing game of 'Rock, Paper, Scissors' in an effort to keep their brains from attempting to burrow out of their skulls.
Then it happened.
A blast of crimson light, and Hector was no longer trying to attack the Hero.
"Lord Hector?" She asked worriedly.
The Lord turned slowly to regard them, and she saw his eyes were glowing red. "Oh, no." She whispered. "Berserk."
The Hammer was raised high into the air, and Priscilla was digging frantically through the pack.
"Restore Staff." She muttered frantically. "Restore Staff! Where on Elibe did I put that-"
THWACKOOM!
And then everything went black.
"Priscilla!" Erk cried in horror as he watched her collapse, bleeding heavily from her forehead. Cursing, he managed to wade through the gooey mass, placing himself between her and the still-raving Hector.
"I'm sorry, Master Hector." Erk said. "But you leave me no choice!"
Grabbing the Heal Staff he had recently mastered using, he smashed it onto his head as hard as he could, watching as it splintered into a thousand and one pieces.
It worked.
Hector toppled over, out cold.
And by some incredible stroke of luck, the bridge rose again at that exact instant.
Scrambling over, he managed to pick Priscilla up. Cradling her, he motioned for her horse to follow, and headed back towards the entrance/exit of the water temple, thanking whatever higher beings might exist for letting the bridge come up at that particular moment.
A wyvern swooped down and its rider aimed a javelin at Erk's throat.
"This is for David!" He screamed.
Erk set the wyvern on fire and carried on running.
It was at one of the stone islands, backed up against the corner of the vast temple that his luck ran out. The path abruptly sunk under again, leaving the young mage stranded with an unconscious Priscilla. And just to complete the situation, it was the last bridge separating them from the exit, and safety.
And several wyvern riders were now heading his way, carrying several willing archers on the back of their mounts.
John, staring at the scene before him, was worried. It wasn't so much that he didn't want Erk getting injured so they could finish the battle (Hector, in any case, was unconscious, the unconditional sign for a retreat.). It would be of no help if a comrade-in-arms, and a competent fighter was rendered invalid due to unfortunate circumstance.
Well, first things first…
"Dorcas!" He called to the fighter. "I need an RNG run, stat!"
Dorcas rolled his eyes, then proceeded to follow through with an 'RNG run', so dubbed by Cass. Mostly I involved him circling around his original spot and hopping back to the start before beginning again. Cass had informed him that an aspect of this exercise was used to determine 'highs' or 'lows', something that was entirely foreign to the axefighter.
However, the boss may not always be right, but in the end the boss is always the boss, and so grudgingly, Dorcas did as was told.
After several minutes, he stopped his strange little dance and turned to John. "All 'low's." He said a trifle wearily.
Hastily, the male tactician did some rapid-fire calculations. Erk, speed halved by carrying Priscilla, compared to the wyvern riders and archers armed with steel weapons…
Equated to an average 47 chance of him getting hit per attack.
Double that due to all low RNs… and it equated to a 94 percent chance. Add to fact that Erk would be more protective than most of Priscilla…
John uttered several choice words that would have been considered unsuitable for print.
Erk sidestepped another strike from a lance. Or attempted to, anyway. He received another wound of on his arm despite his efforts. Not deep, but it stung like all hell. He was beginning to think they coated their lances in some kind of pain-causing chemical or something that would sting wounds.
Having laid Priscilla down at the corner that faced the wall; he was currently staying in his best defensive position available to him, occasionally countering to drive some of the wyverns away.
The sum result was that he had been hurt more times in the last five minutes than he believed he had been for the rest of their entire journey.
One of the wyverns rushed at him, his tail swinging out to strike him as he shot a fireball at its rider. The end of it clubbed into his face, sending him sprawling, and leaving what was likely to be the mother of all bruises on his cheek.
Struggling back to his feet, projectiles (read: arrows and javelins) assailed him once more, not mention that the wyverns once again clouded around him, seeking to draw blood.
"You're making me angry." Erk growled as he was knocked back by another flailing tail, another arrow drawing shredding cloth and drawing a thin red line on his leg. "You're not going to like me when I'm angry…"
There were several flashes of crimson and cerulean light, blasting away the cloud of warhawks, giving the young mage some reprieve. Quickly scooping Priscilla into his arms again, he staggered towards the bridge, praying that it would rain soon. Why in Elimine's name didn't I pack an extra Elixir!
The tacticians, however, were decidedly unused to leaving things of such gravity up to chance, and they saw no reason to change that track record here.
"Dart! Hawkeye!" Cass called. "Dive underwater and find a way to raise the bridge!"
This demand was met by two looks of complete and utter bafflement from the resident berserkers.
"Do it!" John commanded. With a glance and a shrug at each other, they dived into the violet goop, turning rapidly into dark shapes underwater.
Elsewhile, the wyverns were beginning to regroup again.
Underwater, Dart peered through the murky gloom, trying to find some way of fixing the problem at hand.
"Hub blublub hlub blub hubblub?" He queried, which translated roughly into "Any ideas on how to fix this?" Hawkye replied with a "Glub." Which translated roughly into "Nope."
Swimming around some more, he abruptly conked his head on what appeared to be a gear sticking out of the wall. What the heck. He thought, and proceeded to pull on the gear.
The effect was instantaneous: The bridge, far as he could see, sunk even further underwater.
"Bloop!" (Roughly translates into "Oops.")
Twisting the gear in the other direction, he was much pleased to note that the bridge now began to realize. He was not very pleased, however, to realize that the bridge was now in a direct collision course with the two most sensitive parts of his body, not referring to his eyes.
That's not to say his eyeballs were entirely uninvolved in this, indeed, upon contact they bulged out nearly far enough to touch the wall in front of him, while his vocalizations sounded remarkably like "YYYAAAIIIIiieeee…" (Which hopefully needs no direct translation.)
Erk noted with extreme relief that the bridge had now risen out of the water. Gathering himself for one last all-out dash, he charged forwards over the bridge, leaping over a Dart who, for whatever reason, appeared to be straddling the pathway.
As he reached his goal, he retained sufficient presence of mind to hand Priscilla over to John (who proceeded to rapidly bundle her over to the infirmary tent), before the special brand of exhaustion that comes from adrenaline wearing off set in, and he collapsed onto the cold stone floor.
When Priscilla awoke, she noted several things.
First, she was in her tent.
Second, her head was bandaged. A dull ache still resonated inside, but nothing major.
Third, Erk was half-lying half-sitting at the entrance of the tent, also asleep. She noted with some concern and puzzlement that he was far more heavily bandaged than her.
Slowly, she crawled out from under her covers. Despite her efforts to remain silent, Erk immediately awoke and glanced to her.
"Priscilla?" He asked, a concerned look on his face. "Are you all right?"
She flushed involuntarily. She had never been able to properly deal with being the center of attention. Nodding, she managed to stammer out that she was fine.
Erk smiled slightly, looking relieved. "That's good, then." He nodded. "That's good."
Anxious to change the subject, she questioned Erk on how he had come by to receive so many bandages of his own. "After all, you're usually one of the most careful people I know." She said, trying to make light of the whole situation.
She was unprepared for his response. He flushed as red as she was, stammered out some vague answer, and then turned, making himself excused in a hurry.
Slightly confused and puzzled by her escort's odd behavior, she left the tent.
It was now late afternoon of the same day, and after yet another defeat in battle, they were resting on the grassy plains directly outside the Water Temple. The majority of people in the army were all relaxing, and it wasn't long before people noticed her around.
General encouraging remarks were made towards her having a fast recovery. Hector apologized for his error, Lucius nodded and smiled at the young maiden, and even Raven found it in him to laughingly tell her how cute she looked with her head all bandaged up.
After an hour or so, she found herself wandering over to the infirmary, where several of the more severe wounds from battles long finished were still being looked to.
There was Geitz's wound from when Heath accidentally commanded Hyperion to land on him, Bartre's injury to the head after attempting to prove he could smash a rock with it, Florina's broken leg owing to a lucky blow from a brigand wielding a club…
And the new addition of Dart, lying on a mattress.
Walking over, she looked at him quizzically as she pulled up a chair and sat on it. With some apparent difficulty, he managed to sit up.
"Nice to see yer feelin' better, Milady." He grinned slightly.
"Ah, my thanks. And what is the nature of your wound, if I may help?"
"Ah, well, it's… not something I like to speak of…"
Priscilla considered this statement for a while, and dismissed it. There would be time enough for enquiries later. Before she could speak again, however, Dart shook his head. "And if I may be so bold, what are you doin' here 'stead of thanking your savior? Or have you done it already?"
She frowned. What? "M-my savior?" She stuttered slightly.
Dart looked at her incredulously, then managed a slightly pained guffaw. "What, you din't know? That mage escort of yours, Erk, wasn't it? When Hector whacked you with that axe of his, he braved hell and high water to rescue you! Carried you the whole way back to the entrance, with a horde of wyverns and archers 'ttempting to put an end to that life o' his! Saw it with my own eyes, that feller took a arrow to the back to make sure you didn't get worse knocked up then you already were. You must 'ave seen all his wounds, didn't you? He sat on the outside of your tent, refused to budge! If I were you, I'd be out there singin' his praises to the whole company!
Priscilla sat for a long moment, blinking. Then she got up and left the tent, her head in a whirl.
Erk? Saved me? Reaching out for a tree to steady herself, she thought of this most recent turn of events for a long time.
She could remember all too well the numerous bandages all over his body, some with dried blood caked on it, and even if none of those wounds had been life threatening, they would certainly have been agony to receive and endure.
Biting her lip, she made her decision.
She headed back into the vicinity of the camp, trying to find a particular tent.
Erk sat near the fringes of the camp, leaning against a tree.
Closing his eyes, he shook his head at his own incorrigible stupidity. She asks me why I got some wounds on my body, and I freeze up. Great going.
With a sigh, he stood. I can talk to her as an equal, but do the slightest thing that would show my affection for her, and I stumble over my ineptness at dealing with women.
Still, no reason to moan and gripe 'bout it. Supper should be ready soon. Kicking at a pebble lying on the ground, he turned to head back.
And found himself staring at Priscilla.
He was certain that his face immediately became red as a beetroot, but he made no response save a startled jerk.
As he mentally tried to find the correct way to best salvage the situation, Priscilla solved them dilemma for him in the most stunning way possible.
Reaching out an arm to draw him closer, she leaned over and kissed him for a long, indeterminate period of time. So shocked was he that he offered no resistance, and soon enough, he found himself returning it.
After several long seconds, she pulled away and smiled at him. "Erk… thanks."
It took little puzzling to figure out what she was talking about. "Anytime, Lady Priscilla."
She chuckled at that and shook her head. "What have I told you about calling me that? Your contract officially ended a long time ago."
"I know, I know, I just forgot, is all." He replied good-naturedly. "But I still protect you, and well enough."
She stopped then, and turned to him, hugging herself against the evening chill. "I know you do, but, Erk…"
"Hm?"
"Please… please don't feel you had to suffer like that for my sake. I wouldn't know how to cope if you ended up…" She gazed at him, completely serious now, imploring him. "You mean too much for me, too much for me to be able to handle…" She scrubbed angrily at several tears that were threatening to leak from her eyes.
He smiled, and clasped her hand. "Alright then, Priscilla." He smiled. "I promise to stop acting suicidal in efforts to protect you, if you promise to stop getting into positions where I have to do that. Deal?"
She laughed gaily, before nodding. "Deal."
They kissed once more to seal the agreement, and this time it was all the more sweeter, for they know felt comfortable in the knowledge that their love for each other was returned, enough so that she whispered to him as they pulled away, "I love you."
He had smiled that slow smile of his, brushing a strand of hair back. "I love you too."
Hand-in-hand, the two of them strolled back towards the campfire, unaware that the tacticians had been observing the new lovers from a slight distance.
John smiled to himself as he stood, signaling to Cass that they should grab some supper. As they walked back to the campfire, he reflected not without some happiness, that in their own way, they had been able to celebrate Valentine's Day this year.
I hope this story was to you liking. If it wasn't, please offer your critiscism so I may further improve on my writing skills
(Obligatory request) Please review. Thank you for reading.