A/N Just a new thing I'm trying out. I don't own Fire Emblem or any of its alternate timeline forms.
The crux about parallel timelines was just that. There are multiple. Hundreds, thousands, infinite. The defining feature of each timeline is that one difference. It could be small and insignificant, such as a certain pebble on an isolated road being placed two centimeters right of where it is in a parallel universe. More often than not however, the discrepancy is on a grand scale: a war is never fought. A tactician meets his other half too early. A princess grows up taking the lives of her subjects for the dead.
Things get messy then.
Life was simple under her master's care.
Each morning started before the sun came up. In the early hours before dawn, she aroused herself from the cloys of sleep, making sure to splash cold water on her face for a complete wake-up. This was followed by a brisk morning run around the grounds: five laps under normal conditions, seven laps when she was feeling particularly energetic, and twelve when her master was displeased. Breakfast followed, which was usually composed of bread made from whatever grain had been scrounged up from recent battles, and a small cup of milk from one of the few remaining living cows under her master.
As the afternoon would approach, she would be sent to her teacher, a woman no more than ten years her senior. Despite her age however, her teacher was a prodigy, a genius tactician in her own right. The woman was well-versed in all the human languages of Valm, Ylisse, and Plegia, as well as other obscure dialects of the living. She was talented in the arcane as well as swordsmanship, and she knew how to take advantage of her surroundings to gain the upper hand. Of course, no one would expect anything less than that of the master's daughter. The girl knew she was lucky to be under the tutelage of someone so accomplished and so trusted by the master.
Nighttime would then fall, and, tired and sore from her afternoon training with her teacher, the young girl was all but ready to pass out. But every month, there was still one last task to complete before the day was truly over, and that was to report to her master. The thought alone of seeing him was enough to push the girl past her exhaustion and personal qualms, for to her, her master…
He was everything to her. He was her master, confidant, savior, light in the darkness. When those Ylissean savages burned her parents and robbed her of everything, he had been the one to save her from the ashes and take her under his wing. From infancy to present, he was all she ever knew. Ever since she could remember, he had been the one constant in her life.
Before each meeting, she would try to make herself presentable before meeting him. Usually her navy blue hair was manageable enough, only needing a quick brushing before the strands fell straight and into and their places. The clothes were easily swapped for a fresh replacement after a brief bath.
Her face was a different issue. Her master did not approve of her face, or rather, he did not approve of her eyes. He said that her left eye was cursed with the brand of the enemy, so he provided her with a special concoction to diminish its power. The potion was a vile black, the color of tar, and was to be taken once a week to sustain the effects. It tasted as disgusting as it looked, but with a pinch to the nose, the young girl would always down the liquid. As a result, her eyes faded into a dull steel shade and she would be ready to meet her master.
At eight o'clock sharp, their meeting took place. He would have just finished his meeting with the army commanders. His daughter would be stationed at his right hand side to offer her insight on the previously discussed tactics as well as give information on the girl's education and training. Her eyes never strayed from the man at the head of the table though.
Sitting there, he always looked so regal, though not in the gaudy way of those that don't deserve it. A quiet air of power surrounded the man in only simple clothes covered with a Grimleal cloak. The marks on the cloak exuded an ancient power associated with the Fell Dragon and she always felt a bit of awe just looking at them.
Today's meeting was different however. Her master's expression was one of thoughtfulness as he examined his charge.
"Step forward," he murmured softly, just loud enough for his voice to carry across the room. His elbows were propped up against the arms of his chair, hands clasped thoughtfully against his lips. Silently the girl complied. Behind hair white as snow, her master's hazel eyes examined her every movement. She stopped four feet away from him.
"Morgan tells me you've progressed much since our last meeting. Swordsmanship and battle tactics-you've apparently become quite skilled in the art of war," her master began conversationally. The girl was quick to respond. "I still have much to learn," she responded humbly, head bowed slightly while watching for her master's reaction. When he didn't reply immediately, she gathered up her courage and continued, "I am sure, however, that I can truly advance out in real battle. Send me to lead a Risen assault against these petty human resistances and-"
He raised a hand. "When was the last time you've asked to be sent to the battlefront? How old were you?" he asked. "Last year," she said. "I was sixteen. I am now seventeen."
At this her master looked slightly surprised. Next to him, Morgan glanced worriedly at her father, an action that didn't go unnoticed by the girl. It took some restraint to keep from biting her lip, a habit that she fell back on when contemplating something.
After a long pause and with an unreadable expression on his face, her master said, "very well then. I should put your training to use then against these mongrels." The girl's eyes widened at his acceptance, but he continued, "Though their forces weaken day by day, new groups have sprung up along the southern areas of Ylisse. I need someone to take care of these insurgents and I can't waste any of my best commanders on such petty battles. I leave it to you."
At this, the girl grinned with pride at the task and chance to prove herself. "Thank you Master Grima!" She bowed. "You will not regret this!"
His deep brown eyes never left her as he slowly responded, "I look forward to hearing of your victories, Adriane. Dismissed."
Adriane gave Master Grima another quick bow, happiness apparent even through her dull eyes. She turned and walked out the hallway doors, but not before she caught a snatch of conversation between her master and teacher.
"...looks more and more like her every day," Master Grima was saying. He did not sound like the fearless leader she had grown to worship him as, rather like a man lost. However, Adriane disregarded the thought as a figment of her imagination.
Yes, a life under her master's care was a simple one. But simple didn't repay debts. Venturing out, aiding her master's and her dead parents' cause, that was a life worth pursuing. With that in mind, Adriane carried on in anticipation of the next step in her life.