hello friends! i have returned from the dead. i had a huge shed collapse, basically, and i was very very lazy and i cannot apologise enough. but basically this whole story has been rewritten, my pairings have been fussed over time and again, and i've tried to weave in sidestories and development from supports. i intend to add more layers to this than it just being another playthrough fic/novelisation (more of that in the next chapter... which is basically just a second prologue... whOOPS). one death has been decided for late-game (*gross sobbing*), some additional details/scenes have been added (again, there'll be more of that later!) and MU has had another name change to Eucleia because sourface here forgot about Ethlyn in genealogy and i am pulling my hair out over here AHH. regarding hair MU has the full fringe build 3 silver hair but let's pretend she doesn't have a fringe.

p.s i made this and the rest of the fic rlly sad and apologise wholeheartedly

a:apt v 2.0 for your viewing pleasure, with 87% more A/N!

mole out, thank you all!

The prince swung Falchion again and the sorcerer narrowly avoided the blade. He made to throw another hex, but Chrom parried the blow.

With her back against a pillar, the prince's tactician swigged from her vial of concoction, eyes on the fight. She tossed the vial to the floor, her wounds searing as they began to heal. Sparks crackled from her palm as she ran from behind her cover.

"Chrom!" She shouted, ready to hurl a large ball of lightning.

No sooner had she shouted, the sorcerer had disappeared. Her spell connected with the far wall- sending up a resounding boom.

The Ylissean prince, sweat on his brow, suddenly looked skywards. "Up there!"

Validar, elevated and enveloped in a shroud of dark magic, sent a powerful blast towards them. The blow struck the ground, throwing the two of them back. Chrom dived away from the blast just in time.

Eucleia, teeth gritted, was able to hurl a spike of bright magic at him before collapsing against one of the hall's pillars.

"You fools!" Validar howled, once again disappearing out of sight.

Chrom hoisted himself up from the floor, using Falchion to steady himself. "Eucleia!" He called, worriedly. The silver-haired tactician smiled at him, wiping bloody spittle from her mouth. Her head throbbed something terrible- fingers vaguely damp as they assessed the damage. She staggered to her feet- and then she saw the sorcerer muttering, a dark glow building in the palm of his hand.

She threw her arms out as the prince made to run to her. "No, Chrom!"

"Die!"

Chrom, running towards his tactician, suddenly turned to face the sorcerer. Another large ball of dark energy hurtled towards them.

Eucleia, having drunk the last of her potions, saw no other choice but to face the blow head on. She readied her Thoron, determination shining in her eyes.

She began to mutter an incantation of her own, bolts of energy flickering in her palm.

Before she could strike something slammed into her side- the two of them grunting as they hit the floor. The hex spiralled over their heads.

Chrom helped his tactician up from the ground, hand tight around her own. "This is it. Our final battle." He squeezed her hand, other on her shoulder, urging her to meet his gaze.

"Hiding, my dear?" Validar asked, voice resonating throughout the hall. His laugh bellowed through the building, tone grim. "Come out, you cowards!"

"You're one of us, Eucleia." Chrom told her, rousing her best as he could, "no 'destiny' can change that."

She nodded, face set. Chrom gave her a grim but determined smile. "Let's kill this dastard, and be done with it."

"Ha ha ha!" Validar guffawed, his red gaze settling on them as they neared the altar. "You fools! Struggle all you want."

Chrom tightened his grip on Falchion, the pair striding towards the sorcerer once again.

"You cannot unwrite that which is already written!" Validar shrieked, ready to meet them.

Eucleia flexed the fingers of her free hand. This has gone on far too long. Now it ends.

Chrom surged towards Validar, Falchion raised above his head. The flash of steel was swift, slashing through robes and skin, causing the sorcerer to howl in pain as he staggered backwards. He growled, seething as he shouted an archaic spell.

Eucleia quickly pulled Chrom away from the danger by his cloak, the ball of energy crumpling the pillar behind them. The prince ran towards the sorcerer again, plunging his sword into his chest with a final cry.

Validar's pained shouts resonated through the hallowed walls, falling to his knees.

"What... have you-" His breath hitched, expression wild. He reached for the wound, fingers wet with blood- and then he gave a rattling cry of pain. He fell to the ground in a fog of purple smoke.

The Ylissean prince turned to Eucleia, smiling- relieved. He started towards her- then stopped short at her furrowed brow.

"This isn't over! Damn you both!" Validar shouted, startling them both.

In a haze of murky smoke and magic, Validar threw one final spell.

Chrom ran for his tactician, frowning at her watery gaze.

She had to do it.

She dived forwards, pushing Chrom out of the way. He gaped at her, his fingers grasping at nothing as he fell. Her brown eyes were brimmed with tears.

The spell connected and she was thrown backwards, her body smacking against the cold tiled floor.

"Eucleia!" Chrom cried out, scrambling across the floor.

Validar, once again crumpled on the ground, had said his last.

Chrom rushed to his tactician's side, kneeling before her. His eyes frantically searched her bruised face, her cheeks wet with tears.

"Look at me." He whispered, gently reaching out. Her body was limp, lifeless as he brushed the hair from her eyes.

"You can't die. You can't." Her skin was pale, pallid and awash with the pain. Chrom could feel his blood boil, feel his eyes begin to sting. They hadn't come this far for nothing. He wouldn't allow it. She couldn't.

He shook her, muttering as his eyes began to cloud with tears. It did little more than display the finality of it all. Her head lolled back at an odd angle, her tears drying on cold cheeks. "You're not dead." He whispered. "You're not." His throat began to tighten, fingers digging harshly into her cloak.

They weren't supposed to end like this.

Chrom glanced to her face again, gloved hand gentle against her cheek. "I don't need more sacrifices. Not again. Not from you." Chrom muttered, thumb brushing over her pallid skin.

He could feel soft breath on his arm; faint and rattled. Her eyes, beset by long, thick eyelashes, slowly- finally- began to flutter.

He could only smile, however shaken it was.

She smiled weakly back at him, gaze soft and fatigued. One hand shakily reached out for him. Chrom gaped blindly, smiling, relieved; clasping a hand around hers. They'd seen this through. They'd done it.

She could make out his face now, yet the corners of her vision swirled with a dark, murky fog.

Eucleia groaned breathlessly, clutching her head.

"That's the end of him." The prince said, quietly, helping her up. Her gaze flashed red, crackling veins of it searing her eyes. She was unsteady on her feet.

"Thanks to you, we carried the day. We can rest easy now." He sighed, exhausted, but his voice was barely audible. "At long last." Chrom sounded as if he could hardly believe it himself.

She yelped in pain, almost doubled over from the force of it.

Chrom squeezed her hand, gingerly, frowning at her silence. "What's wrong?"

She struggled with another onslaught of the pain, her tears brimming anew.

"Eucleia?" His voice was raised a pitch in worry, brows knitted together.

She couldn't bring herself to move. Everything turned red. The pain seared the blood in her veins- made her throat thick with distress.

"Hey, hang on-" Chrom stopped short, gaping, gaze wide. He stumbled backwards, breath jarred, staring down at the bolt of lightening embedded in his chest. He gazed back up at his tactician, his friend, tears streaming down her face.

Eucleia lifted her hand, static still pulsating through her palm. She looked back to Chrom, sobbing as he clutched his wound, blood beginning to soil his gloved hand. "

This is..."

He stopped, breath coming hard to him as he staggered to remain upright. "This is not your..." He swallowed, thickly, "fault."

She couldn't speak, throat burning, crying noisily as the prince fell to his knees. She'd killed him. She'd murdered him.

"Promise me, Eucleia." He said, finding it hard to keep his resolve, "promise me you'll-"

He gasped and spat out a thin trail of blood, dropping to his knees, "escape from this place."

She began to move forwards, barely able to say his name as she sobbed. "C... Chrom, n-"

He held up his hand, urging her to stay in place. "Please." His tone was harsh, commanding.

She tried to sound out her plea, noisy and pathetic as her prince died before her.

"Go!"

She stiffened with a quiet sob, startled by his abrasive tone.

He glanced up at her again, for the last time- eyes that had trusted her, loved her- before falling to the ground.

Eucleia fell to her knees, light-headed and weak. She gazed back down at her hands, vision swirling before her. The hands that had felled Ylisse's prince, distorted by the tears.

He was warned.

Fool of a Prince; too contemptuous to say no.

She crawled forwards, cradling him in her arms. Her hands found his face, shaking so violently that she didn't dare to touch him. Her fingertips hovered above cold cheeks.

Fool of a Prince, she thought, they told you- I told you.

When she chanced to stroke a cheek, the blood streaked ugly patterns against his skin. The pain began anew.

Her blood blistered her insides- her cries echoing faintly across the hall. Eucleia retched dryly, still sobbing, her face a blotched, wet contortion.

And then, gazing upon the gentle face of her blue-haired prince, she began to laugh through her tears. They bubbled up from her raw throat and betrayed her crying eyes. Her body bristled with a new-found strength, blood thrumming against her skin.

She threw her head back, able to see nothing but red.

In the wake of the battle she sat alone, a murderer laughing before her victim- his blood still warm.

It could be nothing more than the laugh of a murderer. A sick, unearthly, victorious laugh.

And it was hers.