Well this has been sitting on my hard drive for several years, and I kinda figured what was the point in leaving it there? So I edited and cleaned it up from cringe worthy writing.
I was a very big fan of the GBA fire emblem games, FE7 was one of my first ones and I loved it to death, those characters stayed with me for a very long time. So even if I can't remember how it ended exactly (I took an educated guess and did a little research), this is what I ended up with.
X
For those who never played this game, the Tactician(something that made a huge comeback in the recent games) was a brown haired sprite with a green cloak. He was found by the first Lord in the game, fainted in the middle of the Sacaen plains, completely lost. That's the total amount of story that he gets, so It leaves it wide open for fans to make up.
My personal headcanon was that he could be a dragon since he canonically cannot fight at all (in such a bandit and war riddled country, that's really unlikely) and is pretty secretive.
It makes it more interesting because dragons were driven out of Elibe and defeated in their war against man. So he'd be a lone dragon stuck in Elibe after his race fled, until he bumps into the two ice dragon siblings, Nils and Ninian, on his adventure with the Lords...
X
X
Title: Black Secrets
Series: FE 7 (Blazing sword)
Characters: Mark/Tactician
Plot: Mark is a frail and slight tactician, found nearly unconscious on the plains by Lyn. With short black hair, red eyes and a headband firmly tied around his head he is certainly, weird. The minute Nils runs into them, pleading for help to rescue his sister Mark rushes forward offering his own help even if Lyn did not. The idea of their frail Tactician going by himself scared most of the Legion silly, so they agreed to help. Mark was very cheerful, upon asking why he explained that Nils was from his House that he thought was all killed off. Nil's deferential attitude to Mark, despite his protests, revealed that Mark was from the Head/main Branch of the House and was probably royalty. They just didn't realize how royal...
Units(12or is it 8?) with their legendary weapons: Eliwood(Durandal, broadsword that catches fire), Lyn(Sol Katti, shiny katana), Hector(Armads, BIG AXE), Raven(Regal Blade, 2nd strongest sword), Heath(Rex Hasta, strongest obtainable lance), Canas(Gespenst, uber dark magic book), Priscilla(Excalibur, magic wind blades that sushi everything), Lucius(Aureola, ultimate holy nuke), Rebecca(Reinfleche, legendary bow)
X
X
X
X
The entirety of the small army froze in awe and terror as they beheld the sight before them. The brutal and bloody battle in the ancient dragon shrine had just come to a halt. The foul monster behind the trials and suffering of many had just been felled, Nergal falling like a lifeless puppet to the ground.
There had only been a minute of shocked silence before Dragon's Gate had opened. Solid rock suddenly transformed into a swirling orange opening.
For a moment they all prayed that something had gone wrong and that maybe the dragons couldn't cross over. A beat passed. Then two. Heartbeats thundering a fast tempo in their ears and eyes glued to the Gate. Hands grasped weapons tighter nervously.
Then the Gate rippled violently, originating from a single point in the middle.
A scarlet scaled nose breached the gate, nostrils flaring as it took its first whiff of the foreign air. That was all the warning they got.
Suddenly the head rammed through followed by a wickedly curved claws the size of a horse. The beast dragged itself out fighting every step of the way against the pull of the gate. And it didn't stop there, two smaller ones snarling and shrieking and clawing their way viciously out.
With heavily armored scales of blood red and burnt orange with massive wings of flames, they were truly creatures of legend. None wasted time in admiration, their minds in utter turmoil. Nergal had finally been brought down defeated, how could this have happened?! Were all their sacrifices for nothing? They had failed! The biggest one, a mass of scarlet scales and fire wings opened its teeth-lined maw and roared to the heavens, eyes nearly white with madness. That snapped everyone out of their stunned daze.
"RETREAT!" Mark's own roar cut across the scrambling fighters. "OUT OF RANGE! NOW!"
Hastily, they followed their trusted friend's orders, complying without much fuss to the retreat. They scrambled to the other side of the dais, clanking and horses whinnying in fear, out of immediate range. Despite the rush, the retreat was almost flawless out of long practice, not a single collision occurring among the troops. It was only as they rushed, stumbling backwards that someone noticed something was wrong.
"NO!" Little Nils screamed.
People's heads swiveled to where the ice dragon was pointing to see something that chilled them to the depths of their bones. While the Lords had been retreating, Mark had walked straight forward through the rush onto the dais. The army did a simultaneous lurch forward to drag him back but he only raised his hand in a halt motion. They all halted, following his commands on instinct.
"Sorry about this Milords." He half-turned, smiling gently. "This isn't your fight any longer."
It was a strange thing. Mark mused. To watch your world, fall apart around you.
He had traveled for so long with this group, first as a Tactician and then as a friend. He had formed himself a place in their hearts just as surely as they found a place in his. From quiet Heath and his massive Wyvern, to sly, cheerful Matthew. With his great intelligence, he had carried them through trials and impossible battlefields, decimating opponents with thrice or even four times their number.
And through it all his secret had never come to life. Not even when the Ice dragon siblings had joined them and treated him like long-lost family.
It stung and rotted and stabbed at him that after all this time...right as they were nearing the end, his dreaded secret would have to be revealed.
But then again, I always was a sucker for happy endings.
Mark could already see the tragedies awaiting some of his beloved friends, those of the Ex-Fang in particular, would not have a good end. However, he knew that between his comrades and their endings, happy or not, were three big dragons. Three destructive fire dragons, nearly entirely insane.
He had no idea why they had gone insane and that troubled him more than he cared to admit. Had the society on the other side deteriorated so much? Or had it come from crossing the entirely too unstable gate? Or was it from the abrupt transition to an atmosphere that had certainly changed from the environment of hundreds of years ago? Or was it because there had been nothing for the War dragons to vent their bloodlust on for that time? And he had a feeling he wouldn't ever know the answer as he stared at the trio snarling on the dais, minds reduced to plain instinct.
The Tactician knew his soldiers like the back of his hand. That was why he knew that they couldn't defeat three of them on their own. One or two maybe, but not three.
"UNCLE!" Nils screamed in warning.
"Hmm?"
He turned around to see the middle fire dragon inhale with madness glinting in its demonic eyes. Mark smiled slightly, his curious slight fangs all the more noticeable, pupils going to vertical slits. Out of sight of his friends his tawny eyes began to bleed scarlet across the irises. A breeze began to pick up around him from nowhere, rustling his trademark green cloak around him. His hacked short dark hair ruffled around his face as the unknown power began to build around him.
"Is he using magic?!" Hector blurted in disbelief.
"I d-don't know! He's feeling really strange all of a sudden!" Priscilla yelled out.
"I don't know what he's doing!" Canas yelled, sounding more excited than terrified at the prospect.
Then the dragon exhaled.
Frantic screams at their beloved Tactician caught in their throats, choking them with soul numbing terrorterrorterrornonothimnothimnothim!
And then their quiet frail Tactician who they had never seen fight with anything, much less magic raised his hand at the approaching blaze calmly.
Mark raised both hands and suddenly the flames were splashing across an invisible barrier before his gloves. The flames roared to either side of him, charring away centuries of moss in an instant. Blinding firelight washed over his somber features. A wave of heat assaulted the group but that was all, no actual flame touched them as they stood in shock.
"ENOUGH!" The normally quiet Tactician snarled.
There was silence, the flames cut off as quickly as they began. The three dragons eyed him curiously, as one might study an insignificant bug. Mark took a deep breath, eyes hard.
"Declare yourself!" He yelled up at the three dragons, hoping for a flicker of recognition or sanity
The dragons didn't seem to understand his words, the trio just stared at him blankly.
Mark felt his throat clogging with something close to despair.
"I-" His voice was shaking with heartbreak but still firm. "I am Lord Marken Blackwood, the Guardian of the Gate! DECLARE YOURSELF!"
"…Uncle…" Nils began, stepping forward from their very confused friends. "Uncle, they're…gone."
Mark closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep shuddering breath to force down the grief. The first dragons he met in years and he was going to have to put them down. Oh Naga, he was so useless! His very job was to keep an eye on this side of the gate and prevent this exact thing from happening! The years had been lonely and long and full of heartbreak and now he was going to have to kill one of the dragons he had been protecting.
The three snarled, eying him with murderous intent, wisps of flames curling around their jaws. However, there was no recognition in their eyes, no fleeting glimpse of sanity. All that was left of them was vicious beasts driven mad. Fire dragons had been vicious and volatile to begin with, lacking any ounce of reason, these would be much worse. Lyn barely restrained Nils from rushing out to join the other man.
"Uncle, you can't take three on at once! Let me help you!" The boy pleaded desperately with his only living relative.
"No Nils." Mark replied firmly, eyes never leaving his foes. "You're only a hatchling. This...This is my duty."
Power began to build around him, thicker now and visible in pitch black waves. His green cloak was snapping fiercely in the wind. He turned and gave his companions a bittersweet smile, aware that he may not survive a fight with three mad dragons but willing to reveal his secret to keep them safe.
"Thank you...for everything."
Then the black winds rose up, thick and heavy, and consumed him.
"Mark!" Heath yelled.
Other yells were promptly swallowed. An equally massive beast was rising from where Mark had stood. Unlike the armoured fire dragon, Mark as a dragon carried a sleek and graceful design much like Ninian had appeared. He had never been a particularly strong person, frail and slight in stature and prone to illnesses.
As a dragon all his weaknesses were washed away. He was pitch black, and not as heavily armored as the fire dragons. A long and sleek tailed lashed behind him, tipped with dangerous spikes. Leathery wings had faint touches of crimson along the edges as he snapped them open and bellowed a challenge at the opposing fire dragons. He glanced back briefly, with a large scarlet eye. What he lacked in the Fire Dragon's sheer intimidating armour and teeth he made up for in presence. There was something elegant and undoubtedly royal about him now, like they should all be bowing at his feet.
The three larger ones snapped and growled in clear threat towards the other dragon. Mark responded in kind with a few warning jaw clashes of his own. The combatants eyed each other warily, tails lashing. Even under the veil of madness, they recognized Mark for the deadly threat he was. He was their equal in size if not smaller but their primal instincts firmly labeled him as a higher breed of Dragon, something to be feared.
"He says we need to give him space!" Nils yelled.
Without question, they moved backwards their faces awed. Their frail tactician was a massive beast capable of destroying a country? It seemed so surreal but gave them hope. That gentle young man who everyone had befriended one by one, welcoming him into their guarded hearts, was a dragon and was on the level of the gnashing, snarling creatures of legend before them. They might live through this after all.
"Rebecca, Priscilla, Lucius, Canas, can you give him support?" Eliwood barked, taking control.
"Yeah!"
"Then do so! Remember, They're dragons, but we have dragon-killing weapons! Aim for weak points in the scales! Raven!"
"Got it!" The red head nodded, stepping forward and raising his shield to defend the long distance fighters from anything that dared to come near them.
"Don't go near the fight! If you don't have something that can wreck enough damage don't even think about getting anywhere near there!"
Movement was halted as the floor shook. Mark had taken the matter out of their hands entirely and lunged at the largest one, ivory claws fully extended. His wings fluttered and twisted with his movements, giving him small amounts of lift to boost his maneuverability to dodge returning strikes. The closed quarters of the shrine wouldn't allow him to fully take to the air and have an advantage. The fire dragons persistently tried to flame him down. In this case, their greatest strength was their down fall. Mark saved his breath, already knowing that dragons were immune to dragonfire. All his focus lay with using his talons, teeth and deadly tail to strike through the hardened armour.
Heath grit his teeth, hand tightening on the lance in his grasp. He refused to stand idly by when the man who had been understanding to his plight, who had been so kind and forgiving to him, went willingly to his death. The Wyvern Lord patted the moss green side of his mount.
"Do you trust me, old friend?" He murmured, fingers running across the massive scar pattern on the scaled shoulders.
The wyvern turned his head and gave his rider a clearly annoyed look, as if to say 'What kind of question was that?'
"Sorry, sorry." Heath chuckled faintly. "You already know what I was going to say anyway."
Hyperion gave a pleased huff and turned to the front, great muscles coiling like a cat. His wings half opened, in preparation for Heath's inevitable order.
"We're gonna have to fly like we've never flown before. You ready Hyperion? "
In response, the wyvern let out a fierce bellowing roar of a battle cry that echoed over the battlefield. One of the dragons glanced across but then was promptly smacked across the face by Mark's tail. Heath crouched over on the saddle, gauntlet fingertips clenched tightly around the Rex Hasta. Then with a great wind, they darted straight past the front line.
"HEATH!"
The green haired knight could only hear the wind in his ears and feel his heart thumping furiously in his chest. His sight was only fixed on the brawl before him. With a last pat to his faithful steed, he let go of the reigns. Hyperion was in full control now, relying on his natural instinct instead of human commands.
Strike hard and fast before they can flame! If we get caught in their flames it's all over!
In a remarkable show of skill, Hyperion weaved among the crashing limbs and flailing tails. His wings strained and twisted as he adjusted them at blinding pace to avoid getting hit. Heath just clung tight to the saddle, eyes at a squint and praying to every god he had ever heard of. The dangerous maneuvers couldn't stop the reckless grin from gracing his face, he hadn't been lying when he said they would have to fly like they never had before. The sheer skill they were pulling off, spinning and diving and redirecting themselves with twitches of wings, Heath throwing his body weight behind the maneuvers, was exhilarating like nothing else.
The instant something not black came into view, Heath's blue eyes narrowed and he lashed out with the powerful lance, driving both arms and Hyperion's momentum behind the strike. He knew he hit home when one of the smaller beasts howled and pulled back from where it had been harassing Mark.
The open maw was a clear invitation, At least three heavy arrows slammed into the opening. They were closely followed by the slicing winds of Excalibur cast by Priscilla. The searing light of the divine spell of Auroela was accompanied by the dark flames of Gespenst. They were cast by Lucius and a gleefully cackling Canas, respectively.
There was a thunderous explosion as all the high powered spells were stuffed down the fire dragon's throat in a magical cocktail of destruction. The sheer force sent Heath flying, crashing Hyperion behind the front lines with a pained yell. Mark let out a startled roar but only had to glance at the mangled form of the fallen dragon to realize he only had two opponents to deal with now.
"He says to hit one with everything when he gives you a clear shot!" Nils shouted out, translating his elder dragon kin.
"Heath, you okay?" Hector bellowed, not taking his eyes from the fight before him. Armads was held deceptively loosely in his arm, readying to spring into action at a moment's notice.
Heath grunted as he swung himself back into the saddle. "Nothing serious!"
"Ready!" Eliwood commanded, raising Durandal.
Then the smaller war dragon took a telltale deep breath. Mark's head instantly snapped to the creature, ignoring the talons digging into his flesh. A harsh shove sent the bigger one staggering backwards. Moving faster than something with that much bulk should move, he threw himself in front of the warriors. There was the sharp snap of leather and his wings expanded to their full spread, shielding the people behind him. The raging flames washed over him harmlessly, warming his resistant scales. As the fire faded, He hurriedly closed his wings and pounced back into the fray.
Dragon blood stained the ground, Mark himself was being overwhelmed by the stronger Alpha Fire dragon and his lackey. A startled cry was ripped from his jaws as flaming jaws clamped around his shoulder, dangerously near his neck, digging cruelly. A lash of his bladed tail shoved the minor dragon away, scoring a deep gash across its snout. Pained ruby eyes met Eliwood's clear blue.
"FIRE!"
The dragon fought back well, protecting its weak points and making itself a thorough nuisance. Its flames, while not as strong as the leader's, was still powerful enough to drive the Archsage's Forblaze back. They struggled, spells splashing against its hide, Raven's Regal blade biting deep and Lyn's Sol Katti slashing whirlwinds of slices across its face. It was madness, dodging claws with a hairsbreadth to spare, and sometimes not making it. Their magic user trio switched rapidly between healing injured comrades near death and dishing out their own Molotov cocktail of explosions. Light, Anima and Dark magic were simple not meant to be combined in the manner that they were doing in desperation. Rebecca's heavy bolts littered the dragon's back, driving themselves into the armour by the sheer force she possessed as a skilled sniper. Eliwood and Hector in tandem struck the final blow, decapitating the mad beast out of its misery.
Heath let out a panicked shout and they realized, they hadn't been paying attention to Mark's battle. They turned instantly, exhausted by their own long battle but ready to aid their friend. The floor was splattered with thick rusty dragon's blood, claw gauges marring the intricate patterns.
Mark was only weakly on his feet, blood oozing out of a serious savaged wound at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Nobody could tell if the other dragon had ripped a vein, but the injury was tickling rivulets of blood down Mark's chest armour. One wing was held at an awkward angle and claw lacerations had been dug into his chest and sides, digging up scales and armour plates.
The other Fire dragon that towered over Mark, grinned with grotesquely bloodstained fangs and eyes intent. It took a threatening step forward, sick satisfaction in its eyes as Mark took a wary step backward. The muscles of the other dragon bunched as he prepared to spring.
There was a flash of blue, and suddenly, Ninian was there. Ninian who was dead but suddenly wasn't. There in all her powerful oracle, ice dragon glory. She took down the worn dragon with grace and style that had been lacking the previous desperate brawl. The Dragon's body crashed to the ground and lay still. The ice dragon reverted to pale, beautiful, alive Ninian, looking the same as she had before her death. She smiled slightly, mostly at Eliwood who was struck speechless at the reappearance of his lost love who he had been forced to kill.
"Braimond did something and brought me back with his life." She smiled, making her way over. "He said it was redemption."
She paused before she stepped into reaching distance, looking unsure. "I-"
Eliwood didn't even hesitate to rush forward and enfold her in a hug, closely followed by Nils and Lyn. They were elbowing each other, arms all in awkward places, armour poking uncomfortably and tears of pure joy on their faces. They didn't really care that much.
Because she had been dead.
They had mourned her.
Wept at the terrible tragedy.
And spent all the time thereafter keeping strict eye on her grieving brother and heartbroken and guilt stricken lover.
For a shining moment the world was bright and shining and full of hope.
There was a beat of silence.
Someone opened their mouth to cheer.
Then Mark finally collapsed.
It was like watching a tower fall. First, he leaned, reaching over his center of gravity. Then his legs buckled and his body collided with the floor with a loud thud that shook the ground. Last to hit was his head, heavy with exhaustion, ruby eyes hazy in pain.
The large body of a Black Dragon lying limp across the alter glowed softly, before receding, leaving plain old Mark behind. He lay sprawled across the cold stone like a broken doll, Cloak fanned around his body, blotted with crimson.
There was a rush of motion. The Lords raced forward, followed closely by all of Mark's other friends. Eliwood reached him first, falling to his knees and easing the Tactician over carefully. Mark's face was ashen and bright blood was dripping from the corner of his mouth. The entire shoulder of his beloved green cloak was stained the muddy wet dark red of cloth soaked in blood. His breathing was sharp and quick as he tried to fight back the pain, and he couldn't help letting out a soft snarl at the pain of moving.
"Priscilla!" Hector called frantically, his brash voice even louder with panic.
Though she was still worn from the difficult battle she nodded and began using her strongest stave on their beloved friend. Canas and Lucius equally scrambled for their staves, even more exhausted than Priscilla and less skilled than her. That didn't stop them from unloading the remains of their energy in an attempt to help heal the black dragon. Fogged ruby eyes fluttered open.
"Mark, you great idiot." Eliwood whispered.
Lyn, sitting right by his side, squeezed his hand tightly like a lifeline. He tried to squeeze back, but the very motion caused all the remnants of muscles in his ripped shoulder explode in pain. Mark had to choke back a scream. Hector clung to Eliwood's shoulder tightly as he stared at the tactician, his knuckles white with pressure. If it was hurting him, the Pheraen Lord gave no sign, his hand smoothing back Mark's sweat soaked hair.
"Breath through the pain." Hector counseled.
The tactician took deep breaths, suddenly feeling dizzy with how utterly wiped out he was. He hadn't had a fight like that in years, if at all. His jaw ached with amount of pressure he had to use to punch through the other dragons' armour.
Mark smiled faintly and slightly loopy. He looked exhausted, even more so than usual. This was an exhaustion far worse than an all-nighter strategic planning session. Pale and drawn and so very fragile like spun glass fallen from a ledge, appearing whole until someone tried to pick it up and it disintegrated under fingertips.
"Is it...?" He whispered, barely audible, but in the silence it echoed in the shrine.
"Yeah, it's over." Heath smiled, Hyperion leaning over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of his second favourite person in the world, crooning a low bass rumbling purr.
"...I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner," Mark croaked weakly, blinking rapidly. "I'm a... dragon..."
"Yeah," Raven choked out a laugh. "Yeah, I think we got that."
The group tittered and smiled fondly at their Tactician, crowding closer to offer unconscious comfort. White knuckles around weapons and other's hands betrayed their fear at his condition, even as they kept their faces warm and without any form of judgement for their tactician. Nils sat by his shoulder, single-mindedly pressing down with his sash against Mark's shoulder wound. Ninian eased his head onto her lap, to hold his spine still in case any part of it was broken.
"It's alright, we understand." Lyn said softly, stroking his black locks tenderly. "You're our friend and our Tactician. We trust you with our lives."
The dragon leaned into the caress with a faint smile.
"It's kinda cool, you know!" Rebecca smiled reassuringly.
The Tactician huffed quietly in amusement, his eyes hazy and drooping closed.
"Mark…" Raven warned. "Don't close your eyes."
The dragon forced his eyes open at the Cornwall mercenary's sharp demand.
"This…is my fault," he sighed quietly. "This gate is my responsibility."
"You were the dragon left behind to guard the gate." Eliwood realized.
"Y-yeah, I did such a good job too." He choked on a laugh, tasting blood on his tongue.
"Don't say that." Hector commanded. "None of this is your fault."
"I left my post." The tactician argued weakly.
"But you probably had a good reason." Hector argued back bluntly. "And I you were here by yourself, do you think you could have held back Nergal AND all of those creepy zombie people?"
"I…maybe?"
"Uncle said he smelt another dragon when he was doing his yearly fly over, so he changed into a human to look. But he got lost for a few years and he never found the source. Then he started smelling us! So he started to look for us."
"Wait, so you're saying that there's another dragon in Elibe somewhere?" Heath yelped.
"Dun wor'y," Mark slurred. "'sa divine drag'n. pacifist."
"Mark," Hector said sharply, with a hint of panic. "Keep your eyes open."
He just blinked slowly and uncomprehending up at them, his eyes faded to a dull pink. He coughed lightly, blood dribbling down his chin.
"'M tired."
"Come on Mark, stay awake!" Eliwood bit his lip and slapped Mark as hard as he dared, trying to stop him from drifting off.
"Ow" Mark muttered. "'M sleepy, lemme sleep."
Mark's eyelids slipped closed over dull crimson and didn't open again.
"Mark? Mark! MARK!"
X
X
(Spoilers, he lives)
Yeah, I'm not that cruel to just kill off my fluffy and hopeless tactician.
As you can probably tell, my favourite unit is Heath, the wonderful flying tank that he is. Aside from the fact he rides a DRAGON, he was the guy who cause my favouritism of wyvernknights, I care not for arrows(or lightning? The new games are weird), I just leveled them up until I could throw them at mobs and sit back and laugh as they killed everything. It wasn't even a factor of defense or anything, his attack and speed was just really high.
I can't remember how his story ended after the end of the game but I remember I hated it and no social links I tried made it any happier, that happened to a lot of my favourite characters in FE7.
So this will be a collection of fix-its and sequels to the butchering canon did to my first FE units.
