Fire Emblem: Holy Crusade Chapter 1: I : In the Morning Sun, a fire emblem fanfic

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.:| F I R E _ E M B L E M |:.

*~. H O L Y _ C R U S A D E .~*

by Lacunose

All original characters and storyline copyright to Lacunose, 2011

It's been a while since I've had any sort of contact with fanfiction, and my writing has gathered up dust and rust in a dark corner somewhere. So to celebrate my glorious and ephemeral return to this world, I decided to go head first into the deep end and go for that Sacred Stones epic which I've been planning for quite a while now! Yes, my very first Fire Emblem fanfiction, and it's totally chock full of OCs, some NPCs that were mentioned but never used, as well as a quite a few familiar faces.

Anyway, like I said, due to lack of use, my writing skills may come across as sort of rusty to downright illegible, but I beg your indulgence and your reviews

Now, on to the rest of the story!

Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem, nor any of the characters imported from it. But the OCs and whatever originality the plot contains are mine. Duh.

Summary: Four years have passed since the War of the Stones came to its conclusion. However, a dark power grows in the west – can the nations of Magvel come together a second time to bring peace to their home once and for all?

Universe: Post-game

Status: Ongoing

PROLOGUE

– Before the Storm –

It is the year 807. Four years have passed since the War of the Stones was brought to a close at Darkling Woods. Grado, once the most powerful nation on Magvel, has been struck by a catastrophic landslide, wiping the map clean of almost half its land mass and claiming countless lives. While Grado was to be placed under the protection of Renais, the burdens it placed on the still recovering nation was impossible to bear, and thus stewardship of Grado was passed to Renais' ally, Frelia, and her monarch Hayden, the Sage King. General Duessel, known as the Obsidian and formerly one of Grado's Imperial Three, heads the reconstruction effort. Meanwhile, King Ephraim of Renais often rides throughout the continent in order to oversee the reconstruction of other countries as well as his own. Jehanna thrives under the reign of Joshua, the Tempest King, and his queen, Natasha, as does Rausten under the continued wise rule of Mansel, the Divine Emperor. Slowly but surely, peace is beginning to return to Magvel.

However, underneath the apparent calm, stirrings of unrest begin to rise into view. The Frelian governors who have been sent to Grado to aid its reconstruction have not been entirely co-operative. With Grado being rebuilt as a port nation, its growing potential for trade has incited the greed within its foreign administrators. With many trading the well-being of the Grado people for personal gain, the citizens have come to depend on a group of freedom fighters known as the Scarlet Wings to defend them from bandits and distribute retrieved supplies among them. They are pursued by the Frelian governors and their troops, and the influence of the corrupt foreign politicians in Grado leave Duessel with little opportunity to help them.

Meanwhile, the reconstruction of Renais is proceeding slowly, but the constant absences of King Ephraim make the citizens restless – it is only through the continued service of General Seth and his knights keeping the bandits at bay that prevent public disquiet from becoming too outspoken. Princess Eirika works tirelessly for her people, but her concerns, torn between her own nation and the promise she made to her deceased friend Prince Lyon of Grado to protect his country in his stead, are taking its toll on the progress of her work. To augment her troubles, word has come from Rausten that there is dissent among the nobles over the matter of the succession of Princess L'Arachel as the next Queen, and from King Joshua of Jehanna that Natasha, his wife, has been struck with an unfathomable illness and is bedridden. Yet, despite her ardent wish to aid them, there is nothing she can do.

Amidst the impending conflicts, a young court mage of Jehanna meditates peacefully upon the high peaks that surround the isolated mountain village of Caer Pelyn...

CHAPTER I

– In the Morning Sun –

The air was still cool when the sun had risen fully over the horizon. The peaks of Caer Pelyn basked in the gentle warmth of the breaking sunlight, the grass rippling softly in the wind as if stretching out contentedly in preparation for the start of the day. A slight figure was perched on one of the rocks scattered around the stony cliffs, his eyes closed peacefully as he let his awareness extend throughout the mountainous plains that surrounded him. Every wild flower, each nook and cranny carved by the ages into the rock faces, every single blade of grass that had its own sway, its own dance – the sound of nature itself waking to a new, unmarked beginning. A gentle gust rustled through his hair and he smiled contentedly as he allowed the freshness of the early morning breeze to seep into his consciousness.

Zzzzz... ...

His mauve-coloured locks flopped over his face as his head drooped onto his chest and his body began to slump out of its meditative position, the hours of sleep he had missed the night before finally catching up to him. Slowly but surely, he began to tilt to the side, and the unconscious movement (unconscious being the most important word here) continued until his head rested on the edge of the rock he was sitting on, his body in an impossibly arched position – yet he went on to snore softly away from consciousness, all thoughts of awareness of nature slipping quickly into a half-made dream woven to accommodate his rapid descent into oblivion. A blissfully ignorant smile began to spread across his features as the next process of his slumber commenced – namely, drooling copiously onto whatever his head happened to be lying on.

However, before the chronology of his sleep patterns could progress any further, an incisive, jarring sound of screaming steel stabbed into his ears, and he jerked involuntarily at the sudden attack on his hearing. As his senses attempted to readjust themselves to reality, he lost whatever precarious balance he had in his surreal sleeping position and fell – utterly gracelessly – off the rock. As he blinked up into the now sharp sunlight stinging his eyes, he caught sight of the sun flashing off his attacker's crimson hair, and he groaned briefly as he allowed his head to drop back into the grass.

'Hi, Marisa,' he greeted her half-heartedly. 'I was thinking I hadn't seen you in a while.'

The figure that stood before him (correction, over him, and rather threateningly at that) was an imposing young woman of graceful build, dressed in a simple swordswoman's purple one-piece that stopped just below her upper thighs, with an opaque, silken shawl wrapped around her midriff. With her stunning features, sharp crimson eyes and an evocative outfit that laid plenty enough of her skin on display – porcelain white despite the unbearably hot climate of the Jehannan desert – it was a wonder she didn't have more men chasing after her. But then again, he knew all he had to do was add her sword to the equation (which, he figured, had recently been slapped against the edge of a rock he had known well prior to his fall), and he would have his answer as to why people avoided Marisa more often than not. As well as why she wasn't precisely his favourite person to see in the mornings.

'The Elder wants to see you,' she said drily, her expression unreadable. 'Hurry up.'

The reproached boy at first did not move, desperately attempting to somehow return to the slumber from which he had been so brutally awakened. But upon realising that Marisa would probably not wait for him, he sighed and stood up, brushing stray grass and dust off his simple dark green robes as he did so. Readjusting his headband so that his hair stopped falling over his maroon-coloured eyes, he tried to blink the last remnants of drowsiness from his sleep-ridden eyes.

Ugh... hate mornings. I wish mornings could be optional.

He looked over at Marisa, who had, sure enough, already begun to walk briskly towards the village. He stumbled in her wake, almost tripping over his robes and his own drowsiness, calling after her, 'H-hey! Wait! Marisa!'

Marisa stopped, and turned to look at him. 'What?' she asked.

'Couldn't you wait up a little? I mean, it's not like we're in a hurry or anything –'

'But we don't have any reason to waste time either,' she said pointedly. 'And the Elder is waiting.'

'Come on,' he said as he caught up to her. 'Two friends, long time no see, plenty to talk about – there's no need to be so stand-offish, right?'

'I've been working,' said Marisa shortly. 'Is there anything else to talk about?'

Oh man, haven't those bandits and armies been good enough for you? he thought mournfully. Do you have to be so cruel as to excel in killing conversations as well?

For the sake of the swiftly failing verbal exchange, he braved continuing their dialogue, 'Er... a little more elaboration on your part? Like umm... you know, where you've been, what jobs you've had... who you've killed lately, all that... everyday sort of stuff.'

'I don't get it,' she said simply. 'Are you intent on wasting my time?'

'Ouch,' he winced. Okay, rest in peace, small talk. We had a good run.

He gave a sigh as she continued to walk away from their effectively concluded conversation. 'Touché. Er... cool. Great chat. Mm. Boy, I'd forgotten how cutting Marisa can be – with or without that blade of hers.'

He saw Marisa pause again, and he momentarily froze in fear as he wondered if she'd heard him. But after a moment of silence, she spoke up.

'Len,' she said.

'Er... yeah?'

'I'm waiting up,' she said curtly, a hint of impatience slotted dangerously into her voice.

The mage Len almost paused to wonder if she was joking, but he knew Marisa too well to know when she was pulling his leg – which was, unless she was literally pulling his leg off the rest of his body, basically never. Ever. So he made the prudent decision to quicken his pace as they headed to the village Caer Pelyn.

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Caer Pelyn was not usually a place which 'bustled' with activity, as bustling indicated stress and worry – qualities which Len had been quick to discover the villagers had abandoned over their years of serenity and necessity through their day-to-day routines up in their quiet mountain village. Nevertheless, smatterings of conversation appeared here and there, and many of the villagers greeted him with a slight inclination of their heads as they walked towards the Elder's house, accompanied by more than one odd look at Marisa, no doubt wondering what calamity had brought the crimson-haired swordmaster into their midst. Len noticed this with only slight amusement, and smiled further at the indifference with which Marisa treated their glances.

'So, Marisa... what brings you here in the first place?' he asked conversationally. 'I mean, don't get me wrong, when Grandmother Dara mentioned that you were coming, I was over the moon, but well, you don't usually come up all the way to Caer Pelyn – '

'I'm here on a job,' came her succinct reply.

Len recovered quickly from being cut off in mid-sentence. But of course. What other reason would bring her to... well, anywhere? 'Okay... so do you know what Grandma Dara wanted? Cos wasn't really very clear the other day – '

'Don't know.'

Len sighed inwardly as Marisa did not pause in her quick-paced strides up the steps.

It's okay. I mean, we didn't know each other THAT well, and it has been a pretty long time. And this is Marisa we're talking about. Ugh... it's still too early to be putting in so much effort into something like small talk of all things...

Changing tack, he asked, 'So... how's Gerik and Tethys doing?'

At this, a shift of expression – so fast that had he not been looking closely at her face at that moment he would have missed it – flashed across Marisa's features momentarily, but then was gone, returned to her usual blank expression, but Len detected a barely noticeable awkwardness in her voice as she gave her answer, 'They're fine.'

Len frowned a little at her reaction. Gerik and Tethys were two of her comrades from the mercenary guild, led by the former. The last time he had heard, Gerik had been appointed the royal guildmaster of Jehanna, effectively putting him in charge of a sizeable majority of Jehanna's military might, and Tethys had been the same as always – still dancing on many stages and breaking even more hearts in the process. Wonder if something's happened... an internal something or other within the guild, maybe? he pondered.

Deciding that this was, for some reason, not the best of subjects for conversations with Marisa, he maintained their silence as they continued up the streets and steps up to the Elder's house near the top of Caer Pelyn, allowing the sounds of the villagers' morning routines to alleviate the awkwardness that hung between the mage and his mercenary companion.

In spite of his aversion to waking at such an early hour, Len loved the village of Caer Pelyn in the morning. It was a time when the tranquil peace of the preceding night remained unbroken even as each villager went about his or her business with purpose, beginning the day with an array of activities that prepared them in their own way for the impending jobs of the coming hours. Three fidgety youngsters were being taught by their grandmother the rites of making and pouring tea, and he noticed with great sympathy that one of them was slightly nodding off. A group of villagers were performing Valega exercises in an open space that served as the square, their slow, graceful movements and regular breathing perfectly reflecting the peace around them. Some mages-in-training, few of whom he recognised, were reading their tomes as they walked to the house of their teacher, some of the less disciplined ones still trying to tie their shoes on properly as they went. Len smiled, remembering himself being similar when he was travelling to his first lesson with one of the senior sages. Near the steps of Grandmother Dara's house, two elders were continuing a board game which they had left the day before. They smiled at him in recognition and he made a brief stop at their side, watching with a little exasperation as he saw Marisa walk on without him out of the corner of his eye.

'Why, if it isn't young Len,' one of the elders said. 'You still owe me that game one of these days.'

'I'll be sure to drop by again once this game's finished,' he promised. 'Maybe you'll beat me this time.'

'Oh, it's still too early for me to accept defeat to you youngsters yet!' he said with a chuckle. 'I'll be sure to win.'

Len glanced over the board, and as he turned to catch up with Marisa, he whispered in the other elder's ear, 'Three paces left from the bottom right-hand corner.'

He gave a smile of satisfaction as he heard his opponent give a baffled splutter halfway up the steps to the Elder's house, where Marisa waited for him (but only very briefly).

Len knocked on the door, to which an answer came from inside the house – 'Come in, Len – the door is not locked.'

'Unlocked,' he corrected her inwardly. Though then again, I wonder why she said 'not locked' as opposed to 'unlocked'. The word 'unlocked' might suggest that it was previously locked, and that it was actively moved from a state of 'locked' to 'unlocked', indicating a sense of former insecurity and guardedness that was only recently relieved. However, the term 'not locked' hints that the door was never in a state of being 'locked', and this therefore leads one to believe that the person behind this door is one of complete openness and trust, even to things which might threaten his or her safety –

'Are you going in or not?' Marisa's voice cut through his rambling ruminations and brought him swiftly back to reality. Len coughed embarrassedly and he pushed the door open.

A sigh of contentment could not be resisted as the familiar scent of rich tea, age-matured wood and aromatic mutton stew filled his senses. The low-beamed roof did not detract from the spaciousness of the Elder's home, and only served to add to the homeliness of the inviting house. Upon the wide fireplace, the stew brewed in a pot over a cheerful fire, the smoke and steam curling up to the carvings of men and dragons that adorned the surrounding woodwork. At the table sat an elderly woman in a green hood, welcoming them with a smile – and beside her, Len recognised the face of a young indigo-haired girl sitting with her hands clasped shyly under the table. Her flame-red eyes met his own carnelian gaze and his face broke out into a wide grin.

'Grandmother Dara! Myrrh!' Len greeted them, smiling broadly – with both Myrrh and Dara, he never knew whether he ought to embrace them or bow to them, since the latter appeared to exasperate the Elder and bother Myrrh. As for embracing, he recalled the first time he was introduced to the indigo-haired manakete (Great Dragon, he reminded himself), he had ruffled her hair, which made Grandmother Dara have a fit; it had, after all, still only been a few years since Myrrh had decided to move to Caer Pelyn at the request of Dara's grandson, Saleh. He quickly learnt that it was difficult for the villagers to completely get over the reverence of her being the Great Dragon, even though to him, she looked every bit a little girl. Nevertheless, he decided not to be overly-friendly with Myrrh from then on, at least in the Elder's presence.

'Hello, Len,' Myrrh returned his greeting with her usual half-smile.

'You've been practising Valega, I see,' the Elder said as she indicated to the pair to seat themselves in front of the cups of tea prepared for them at the table.

The mage gave a sheepish laugh as he seated himself opposite the Elder. 'Well, haha... of sorts,' he said vaguely. Dreaming counts as a meditative state after all... I think.

'He was sleeping when I found him,' Marisa said impassively, settling herself into a cross-legged position beside him.

'Marisa...' Len muttered uneasily.

'Just like you said he would be,' she added as she picked up her cup of tea to take a sip.

The mage turned with a scandalized expression at the Elder. 'Grandmother!' he said in an appalled tone.

'It's not like it would be the first time, would it?' Dara reasoned as she picked up her own cup. 'The reason you seem to fail so miserably at Valega is because your sleepiness gets the better of you before you fully allow your awareness to become one with the world. You're a bright lad. It just needs some more focus and discipline, and then you'll get there. Eventually.'

'Yeah, meaning it's gonna take eternity,' Len grumbled as he took a sip of his tea.

'Eventually,' the Elder repeated gently.

They continued to drink the tea in silence, before Dara put down her cup and said, 'Well... I suppose you youngsters are wondering why you were called up here.'

'Yeah, especially so early in the – uh, I mean... yes, of course, Elder,' Len said meekly as he remembered who he was talking to.

'Chief said that this job was something urgent,' Marisa said, referring to her guildmaster.

Dara's usual calm gaze became troubled, and this was an uncommon enough occurrence that Len's brows furrowed into a frown as he put down his tea. 'Yes...' the Elder began slowly, 'Perhaps... it would be best if Lady Myrrh were to explain.'

Myrrh looked at the Elder with an uncertain expression, but then turned to Len and Marisa. She took an uneasy breath before speaking, 'I... not long ago, I sensed a shadow rising in the west.'

The mage's frown grew deeper. 'A shadow?'

'Yes,' she said with a small nod of her head. 'It was very small at first, but it's recently become... bigger. The feeling I got was not unlike the same darkness that... that I felt four years ago.'

There was a moment's silence before Len spoke, 'Er... ehehe... come again? Four years ago – that's the same time as the War of the Stones... but that's impossible. The Demon King was sealed away. The Sacred Stone lies safely in Renais. Only the King knows how to open the vault in which it is kept. So how could –'

'Len!' The Elder's voice was not raised, but her tone was sharp, and Len was struck silent. 'Do not talk to the Great Dragon so,' she said warningly.

'Right. Sorry, Grandmother Dara,' he apologised humbly. 'Sorry, Myrrh.'

'No, no, it's alright,' Myrrh said. 'It's very possible that I could be mistaken – it's much weaker than it was four years ago, after all...'

'Lady Myrrh, it is wrong for you to efface yourself so,' Dara insisted. 'It is only thanks to your efforts throughout the Sacred Stone War that we were able to prevent the full return of the Demon King and the dark ages of old. We cannot ignore the same signs that saved mankind four years ago. If you did indeed sense that selfsame evil, we must act upon it immediately, before it is too late.'

Myrrh nodded, but her eyes lowered very slightly, just enough so that she would not be able to meet the others' gaze. The Elder turned to Len, who unconsciously straightened up in his seat. 'Saleh is currently in Jehanna carrying out studies in the Lagdou Ruins,' she told him. 'You must deliver the message that evil stirs once more in Magvel to him at once, and – should it be required – offer your assistance to Saleh in his mission to investigate the source of this dark energy.'

Len blinked, not quite sure if he was still too sleepy to have heard everything clearly. 'W-what? Me?' he said disbelievingly. 'I'm just an ordinary mage – I'm nothing special. I can't even get Valega right. Surely one of the other sages are way better for this mission than me?'

'On the contrary,' Dara cut in smoothly. 'You are not just any mage – you are a court mage of Jehanna, handpicked from a young age for your magical potential. Your father was one of the generals in the Jehanna army, and so you are able to gain safe haven at the Hall and travel throughout the country without incident. Your skill in magic – though your affinity with Valega is sorely lacking – is more than sufficient for this mission. To compound this, I have requested Marisa here to accompany you. I see no reason why you are not fit for this task.'

At this, Len was left with no more to say – a frequent happening when he attempted to go head to head with the Elder, since her years of experience and wisdom made her an invincible target to all who tried and failed to argue with her. Marisa seemed to get the same impression that the conversation had ended, nodding in the Elder's direction and standing up from her seated position. 'I will go prepare,' she said as she bowed slightly and left.

Len sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling the tiredness of the earlier morning creeping back into his bones. 'I guess I ought to get my things as well,' he said wearily as he stood up and brushed himself down. 'I'll meet you at the gate, Grandmother Dara.'

The Elder nodded back, and moments after he stepped out of the door, it opened again as Myrrh came running out.

'Len!'

'Myrrh?' he said in surprise. 'What is it?'

An anxious expression was spread across her features as she looked up at the mage, her eyes looking as if they were about to burst into tears. 'I... I'm sorry. This is my fault, isn't it?'

Len blinked in confusion. 'Wha? Your fault? No! Of course not!'

He knelt down to her height, and looking around swiftly to check that no-one else was around, he placed a hand on top of her head of indigo hair. 'Don't worry. Grandmother Dara's right, your power was what saved us back then, so no matter how small, we have to check it out now, before it gets any bigger. It's better to be safe than sorry, right? So don't feel bad, we're really very grateful to have you here.'

Myrrh smiled. 'Thank you, Len. I – I'm glad you're here. All the villagers are very kind, but sometimes they can be... well...'

'Too reverent?' he said with a grin. 'Well, they're trying to get over generations of worshipping the Great Dragon after all, and having her live among them as a normal girl is always gonna be a bit hard to swallow. Maybe it's cos I haven't spent that long here that I never got used to seeing you as... well, you know, the Great Dragon and all that. Er... hope you don't mind.'

'No, I'm very happy that you see me like that,' she said earnestly. 'But... if you're uncomfortable with it in any way, then that's fine. I can wait.'

'Are you kidding?' he said, laughing. 'There's a reason why I get chewed out by Grandmother Dara all the time for unintentional disrespect, you know. If anything, it's harder for me to keep on thinking of you as the thousand-year-old Great Dragon all the time rather than as just Myrrh.'

Myrrh smiled, this time a full beam that brought a ruby-like shine to her eyes. 'Thank you Len,' she said. 'You always seem to make me smile.'

How can this little girl be over a thousand years old? he thought as he looked at her infantile gaze. Three years in Caer Pelyn and I still can't quite get my head around it.

'I think that's the only thing I'm really ever good for, to be honest,' he said with a pained expression. 'Anyway, I need to go, if I'm late, then Marisa might end me before I even get started on this mission. But don't worry – I'll be back before you know it, and I promise I'll make you some of those cinnamon rolls from Jehanna you like so much.'

Myrrh's eyes lit up. 'You promise?'

'You bet. I'll see you soon, Myrrh.'

Author's Note: Well, there you have it! The prologue and chapter one in all their OC glory. Oh, and yes, Len is going to be the 'Lord' figure in FEHC, so I hope he will grow on you, as you will see an awful lot of him. I'm going to try and squeeze in as many of the characters from FE8 into this fic, but I hope you'll forgive me if this sometimes fails, or I end up giving them a smaller role than what you guys may wish for. I've already counted that there will be more than twenty original characters joining the ranks of the original FE8 cast, and to be honest, there are too many characters that end up with the same job post-FE8, either returning to their country to help out with reconstruction or disappearing off for some reason - Renais alone for instance has almost seven characters all becoming troops of some sort in its army (Seth, Franz, Kyle, Forde, Garcia to name just a few). Also, the large number of royalty in the FE8 army - six to be exact - is one of the highest in any FE game I can think of, meaning that they all end up being in pretty high society by the time of FEHC. So I hope you'll all be understanding as to how I bring these characters into the plot - but please do offer guidance, criticism and ideas, and I'll be sure to check them all out. Thanks!