To Freely Serve

volunteer: a person who voluntarily undertakes or expresses a willingness to undertake a service; as one who enters into military service voluntarily

Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon or any of its characters.

Warning: There's a war going on, and some characters die.

Chapter One: Strange Goings-On in Port Anri

The temple bells rang out the ninth hour as Norne stood at her post at the north wall of Port Anri. She'd been there since daybreak, bow in hands and loaded quiver on her back, ready to fend off invaders. Mind, there just wasn't much in town to take over. Port Anri, despite the grand name, wasn't much on a map. Nothing compared to the Twin Towns in Western Altea, the ones that shut their gates against each other. Even Castle Town, hiding in the the shadows of the royal fortress, was larger. But Port Anri was Norne's home, and she was sworn to defend it if it meant standing here for hours with a terrible itch between her shoulder blades.

"I wish I had company. It's mighty peaceful on this side of town."

Yellow eyes shimmered at her from the shadows, but Norne didn't flinch. There weren't any dragons or dark creatures lurking in the back alleys of Port Anri.

"Nice little kitty, eh? You be a good kitty and eat all those dirty rats. We don't want the plague this year." They had enough troubles, thank you, with this war bubbling up from the south. In the last few days, a strange mood had taken over the town, sparked by travelers who came to the tavern bearing awful rumors that King Cornelius had died on the battlefield, that the Castle was taken and the whole royal family slain. There wasn't any confirmation yet, and Father Harald hadn't made a statement on the rumors other than to order the watch to double its shifts. A few people packed their things and left on the next ship east, but Norne wasn't going anywhere until Father Harald said it was time to scram.

And then, this morning, the ding-dong of battle reached the very gates of Port Anri, and so Norne was on guard until further notice, in case enemies of the Crown tried climbing the walls. All Norne saw climbing was the sun in the sky. She figured it was close to ten when light footsteps came up behind her, the sound of one person without much in the way of armor.

"Halt, in the name of the King!"

"Norne! Stay your arrow!"

Norne squinted into the gloom.

"That you, Brion?"

There were dozens of boys in and around Port Anri with that height and build and thick mop of dark hair, but Norne would have known him on sight even without recognizing his voice. There was just something unmistakably Brion about the way he held up his hands.

"They've called off the watch, Norne. The battle outside is done, and they've opened the gates."

"Who won?"

"We did. Well, our knights, I mean." Those being the knights of Altea, of course, as Port Anri didn't have anything besides the Village Watch to defend itself. "But Norne, they were fighting soldiers from Gra."

Gra. Altea's sister-kingdom and ally.

"Aye. So the rumors are true, then. Gra has turned its back on us." Norne lowered her bow, though she didn't immediately put the arrow away. "I wonder if the rest of these mad rumors have truth to them."

"There were sky-riders, Norne. That doesn't sound like Gra... that could be Macedon."

Macedon. Home of the fierce and beautiful Pegasus Knights, and the dragon-riders too. Norne held her arrow in a beam of light so that its head reflected the sun.

"Well, not much point in standin' around. But, if it's all the same to you, Brion, I'll keep my own guard up a while yet."

-x-

It was Norne's day off from the stables, so she had hours to herself before her regular evening watch. Since she was out and about, and the day was fair, it seemed a waste of the sun to crawl back to her room at Master Nick's. She decided to take a walk outside Port Anri and see the battlefield for herself, now that all the fighting was done. On her way toward the village gates, Norne passed three strangers going in the opposite direction. Strangers was truly the word for them, as something about them caught Norne's attention even though there was nothing specifically odd about them. The leader of the three was tall man with silver hair; he had the hard, lined face of a man who'd seen his share of sun and bad weather, but the way he carried himself said that he wasn't any farmer. The old man had a pair of boys tagging behind him. One looked to be a few years older than Norne, and the other was a couple of years younger. Norne watched the elder of the boys with interest.

"And they call my hair red," Norne muttered to herself. "That boy has hair redder than dragons' eyes."

The old man had a fine steel sword, the redhead an iron sword, and the little boy had a full quiver on his back- and a steel bow to make Norne's heart spark with envy.

"Ah, they have money. Must be another lot looking to take the next ship east."

They had travelers' cloaks, but Norne thought she saw dark blood on the leg of the redhead. Had they been involved somehow in the morning's battle?

Then, a bang from inside the apothecary. Green light flooded the windows, and greenish smoke began to curl out from the windowpanes that were already cracked.

Norne sighed. It was just Master Syd's apprentice messing something up again. Young Gale always kept wanting to be creative, and creativity often ended with explosions and fire and terrible smells. Norne was used to Gale's mishaps, and so her interest was really caught by the way the younger boy whirled to face the source of the bang. He didn't react as a trained archer might- instead, his right hand went to his belt, like he was reaching for an invisible sword.

-x-

Norne went into the apothecary's to give poor Gale a hand in cleaning up the mess. When she came out into the light again, the temple workers were bringing in the morning's dead. Father Harald was having an agitated conversation with an old man in fine bishop's robes. Norne didn't know why such an grand figure would be in Port Anri cleaning up after a minor battle, and in between this old man and the one with the kids, something strange was going on. Well, Norne of the Village Watch was duty-bound to investigate; she drew close enough to hear the conversation that Father Harald was having with the bishop.

"This is a terrible thing, terrible. Some of them are little more than children." To Father Harald, who took personal responsibility for the care of every orphan and neglected child in Port Anri, child-soldiers were a mark of a depraved world. Sending someone Norne's own age into battle was barely acceptable, and sending anyone younger should have been criminal, at least to Father's way of thinking.

The old bishop said something back to Father, very quietly. Norne's ears had a hard time understanding his accent. Court bishop, she thought. This was getting stranger by the second. After another exchange with Father Harald that Norne couldn't make out, the bishop turned toward a much younger man.

"Abel, supervise the men. I need to bring Father Harald up to date on the current situation."

That sounded bad, at least to Norne's ears. She considered slipping along behind them to find out what the news was, but there were too many people about for her to pass unnoticed. Instead, she looked to the tall young knight that the old bishop left in charge of the ugly business. He was slender, not a muscle-bound brute, and had nice features and fine armor to go with his splendid green tunic. Cavalier, thought Norne. Temple Knight, maybe. Good old King Cornelius sent his own men up to protect little Port Anri, and in the midst of a great war, too. Norne loved her king in the same way she loved the fire gods and the wind gods. He wasn't quite real to her in the way that Brion and Father Harald were real, but the thought that King Cornelius might've sent some Temple Knights to watch over the corner of Altea that Norne called her own... well, it was enough to make Norne vow to go down to Castle Town at the next festival and shout out her thanks to the king, personally.

Young Abel didn't seem to be having a good morning; there were quite a lot of bodies, more than Norne expected really, and more than Father Harald's crew expected from the looks of things.

"May I be of assistance?"

The cavalier whipped around, the narrowed eyes and look of irritation giving way to a softer expression when he caught sight of her bracer and chestguard.

"You're a soldier?"

"Not a knight of the King's army such as yourself, sir." Even if he wasn't one of the Temple Knights, he'd be flattered to be taken for one. "Just a member of the Village Watch."

"An archer?"

"Aye. If you need a hand with this sad piece of work, I'll lend you my own."

Abel looked her over, sizing her up in the way a man did when he wasn't sure a girl was up to the task. Norne held steady; she knew she didn't have the quickest legs around, but she had a good back and a strong pair of arms.

"I'll get you a shovel," said Sir Abel of the Temple Knights.

-x-

Norne ended up instead with a needle and thread, fitting the dead with their shrouds. All in all, she would have rather handled the shovel. A strange lot of people'd given up their lives outside the village gates. Two mages in scarlet robes, and some foot-soldiers, and a pair of girls about Norne's own age. They weren't archers, though.

"Well, I'll be. Brion was telling the truth about those sky-riders." Norne once dreamed of being a Pegasus Knight until she realized that there was no such thing as a bow-using Pegasus rider. A Pegasus Knight would sooner spit on a bow than shoot one. After that, she dreamed of being a mounted archer, but that was a style of fighting foreign to Altea. So Norne had to give up her dreams of being like the legendary plains-riders of Aurelis, and the closest she was going to get to being a horsewoman was shoveling out filthy hay from Master Nick's stables.

"No, I don't know any of their names," Sir Abel was telling Father Harald. "They didn't take the time to introduce themselves before attacking. This alone is one of our own."

Norne looked at the body the cavalier was pointing to. It was- or had been- a boy about Norne's own age.

"But that's a Gra uniform," Father Harald was saying.

"It's a stolen uniform," Abel said impatiently. "His own clothes were ruined before the battle. Look, I can give you his history if you promise to try and contact his family."

Norne took a second look at the dead boy in his stolen uniform. It was plain to her eyes what he'd been before his untimely death- he was wearing a bracer and chestguard, and an archer's glove too. The chestguard hadn't protected him any. Norne felt a pang of sadness over the archer, something deeper than the mere interest she'd had in the foreign Pegasus Knights. He was one of her own kind, in a sense.

"His name was Gordin. G-o-r-d-i-n. Apprentice archer, lived at the Castle with the rest of the trainees. Father was a captain in the King's army. Missing in Grust, presumed dead. Mother lives in the village of Westhaven with her younger son... I believe his name's Ryan."

Once all the bodies were decently wrapped in their grave-clothes, Norne abandoned the needlework to lend her hands to Father Harald's men. It took hours for Norne and the men to dig and fill all the graves. Father Harald said prayers over each of the dead, giving as much care to the nameless he did to the little archer Gordin. Friend or enemy, they were all part of the cold earth now. Norne lingered for a moment at one grave, just long enough for the men to be out of earshot so that she could say prayer of her own.

"And may the gods grant rest to the souls of young archers."

-x-

The old bishop gave Norne a few pieces of gold as payment for her help. Norne washed the muck off her hands there at the temple and then went off to the Sword and Crown for a bit of supper.

"Afternoon, Norne."

"Afternoon, Adam." Norne slipped onto an empty stool at the counter. "I'll take my usual."

While Norne waited for her supper, she saw a few familiar faces pass through the door out of the corner of her eye. It was the rich visitors, all right- the old man and two boys. Adam set the platter of bread, cheese, and butter down at the counter along with a cup of ale. Norne flipped him one of her new coins.

"Put the difference on my account, Adam."

"A real Golden Rose?" Adam turned the coin over so he could see the design in the dim light. "Where'd you score this, Norne?"

"It's what I get for lendin' a spot of help to an old man." Even as she was speaking to Adam, Norne was keeping one eye on this other old man. He directed the younger boy, who was still clutching that steel bow, to sit at the counter in the place next to Norne.

"You'll wait here while I make the arrangements. We'll have a meal sent up to the room."

"Yes, Grandfather," the boy said, so softly Norne could hardly hear him.

For a second, Norne saw a deep kindness in the old man's eyes. Then his white-caterpillar eyebrows drew back together in a frown, and he addressed the older boy in a voice more gruff than he used with the little one.

"Cain, I want to speak with you."

"Yes, Gramps," said the redhead. He'd been staring at the list of Adam's daily fare with a look of plain hunger on his face, and didn't sound pleased to be dragged away.

"Huh," Norne snorted. "Attitudes like that is what gets our kind in trouble."

At the words "our kind," the archer boy turned his head ever so slightly, just enough that Norne could tell he was watching her. Hoping he didn't take it the wrong way, Norne smiled at him and pulled at a loose strand of her hair.

"Temper. Red hair. You've heard the stories, I'm sure."

He didn't talk, and just gave her a glance from a pair of the widest, longest-lashed blue eyes that Norne had ever seen on a boy. Pretty eyes, smooth pale skin, and hair that was as far from red as it could get- he didn't take after Gramps, that was for sure, or big brother either. Close-to, Norne saw a great deal odd about him. He wasn't wearing the right equipment, for a start. Not even a bracer. His cloak was common cloth, but his boots were fine leather. Even so, they were covered in filth, and there was a bit of cobweb in his hair, like he'd been crawling through that hulk of an abandoned prison to the southeast of the village.

"You're an archer, too, eh?"

"Not a very good one." He said it without looking at her.

"Ah, you must be. That's a fine steel bow there." Norne would love to get her hands on such a thing. She could use one, but she couldn't afford one. Three Golden Roses wouldn't land her a steel bow, that was for certain.

"It's not mine. It's a gift. I meant to give it to one of my... friends."

"Ah." From the way he talked, the boy was upper-class, maybe even a noble. That would explain the fine sword Gramps was wearing. As fine-spoken as the archer boy was, though, there was something strange in his voice. Strange to Norne's ears, anyway. "And your friend's not in a place to be needin' a bow, now."

"I certainly hope not."

Norne looked over him again. That was a lot of bitterness to pack into a couple of words, especially with one of those words being "hope." Then again... if Gramps was looking after him, his parents were probably dead. Norne had been there, all right. She was thinking over whether she should try talking to him any more, or just mind her own business and supper, when yet another newly familiar face came in the door.

"Marc!"

So... Sir Temple Knight knew Archer Boy.

"Is it over, Abel?" Again, said without looking.

"Yes. It's over." Like Gramps, Abel sounded a lot softer around young Marc. Norne had suspicions about whose steel bow that should've been, but now she was sure of it. If little Gordin the Apprentice Archer was Marc the Not Very Good Archer's friend... well, Marc'd just had a very bad day. And Gordin'd had rather a worse one.

"I should have been there," Marc was saying.

"Trust me when I say you wouldn't want to be," Sir Abel began. Then Cain the Red showed up, his hair ruffled and a sulk plain on his face. He greeted Sir Abel with a nod, and Norne noted that, too.

"Come along, Marc; we'll be staying here the night. Grandfather says we'll leave in the morning, as soon as the tide's in our favor."

"Coming, brother."

Norne quickly spread butter on the last her round of bread.

"Catch, Marc!"

He was quick. Caught it butter-side up and everything.

"You shouldn't have," he said, in that same strange voice.

"I've plenty. Good luck." In truth, Norne could live on buttered bread and cheese for weeks with the remainder of that Golden Rose. She might even treat Brion a couple of times, as he'd been looking a bit thin lately.

"Thank you," Marc said in the end, as his brother dragged him off.

-x-

Norne still had a few hours to fritter away before her evening watch. She was planning to borrow one of the stable horses and take a nice ride along the shore when the word came for all citizens of Port Anri to assemble in the village square.

"Norne!" Brion again, calling to her to stand by him when Father Harald gave them the news. And Father Harald gave it to them straight and gave it cold, despite the fear in his eyes. They'd been betrayed. King Cornelius was dead in battle. The Gra soldiers they'd buried were only the first scouts of an entire occupation force. The Castle was taken, and nobody knew where the queen or her two children were. Port Anri was to open its gates and surrender peacefully so that no more lives would be lost.

"Well, I guess the Village Watch is out of a job," Norne said, for lack of anything better to say. "It's not like I'll miss the gold, seein' as we did it for free."

"I don't care if we're not allowed to fight," said Brion. "I'll pick them off in their sleep, the swine."

"Somebody's going to be fightin' back. Our knights aren't just going to lie down like a pack of tired dogs." A glimmer of an idea was shaping up in the back of Norne's head.

"You heard Father Harald. Our knights have been slaughtered, down to the man."

"Not all of them. I've seen a couple of them in town," Norne said, but Brion was onto other things already.

"It makes me sick to think of the poor queen and the prince and princess."

"How old were they? The prince and princess, I mean?"

"Princess Elice was born a year to the day before I was," Brion said without having to think about it. "Prince Marth is thirteen... no, fourteen now, he'd be."

"What'd they look like?"

Brion gave Norne a glowing account of the fair Elice, whom he'd seen at a procession at one of the festivals in Castle Town. He went on about the princess a little too much for Norne's liking- the exact color of her hair, and the shape of her nose, and all of it. Of Prince Marth, Brion only could say that he "looked like Elice, mostly," and seemed small for his age.

"It's a shame, Brion," Norne said, shaking her head. "Listen, I have to run back to the tavern for a moment. I need to collect something from Adam."

Norne headed right back to the Sword and Crown; she passed at least a dozen people fleeing the village, headed for who-knew-where with their arms piled with wine-jugs and loaves of bread.

"I'm staying," said Adam. He stood at his counter with the defiance of a guard at his post. "I'll sell ale to the Dark Dragon himself before I give up this place." Adam's folks had been running the tavern since Port Anri was a half-dozen buildings named Westport Crossing.

"Well, from what Father Harald said, you'll be entertainin' the Sable Knights before long. Better get out your best ale. I hear the Grustians are picky about their drink."

"If you've ever heard that, Norne, it's because I've told it to you." They were chatting like the world wasn't falling into ruin.

"Adam, who're those travelers stayin' the night in the inn? They struck me as a strange lot. Are we sure they're not spies?"

Adam chuckled and set down the glass he was polishing.

"They're not spies, Norne. I can't tell you more than that."

-x-

Norne's last stop for information-gathering was the docks. The south pier there in Port Anri didn't have answers, so she decided to try her luck at the north pier up the coast. It was used by fishermen, mostly, but a strange pack of travelers looking to skip town in a hurry might find the lonely dock a better place to escape from. She'd get farther on a horse, so Norne took Isolde, her favorite mare out of Master Nick's stables. Isolde was a lovely chestnut with a white star on the forehead, and she had a fine gait and fine temperament to match her looks. Norne left Master Nick her remaining Golden Roses along with a note, just as an insurance against charges of horse-thieving.

Norne's hunch that she'd meet someone interesting down at the docks paid off. That someone turned out to be pacing around as best as his armor would allow him to pace. This wasn't armor stitched together from leftover bits and pieces; it was a whole shining suit, the sort of armor Norne saw once at a shop in Castle Town.

"He's one of the King's men, for sure," Norne said. "Come on, Isolde. We'll get to the bottom of this one yet."

She tried to slick down her hair so as to make a fine appearance for the knight, but in between the wind and the ride, Norne feared her hair was beyond fixing. Her best smile would have to do for charm.

"Pardon me, sir, but might you be one of the Temple Knights?"

He looked down at her.

"Yes, miss. Is something the matter?"

He talked fancy for a big bruiser, thought Norne. But he had a nice face- not handsome like the Abel the cavalier, but a kind face. Also odd, for a bruiser.

"Norne the archer, at your service. I want to do whatever I can to help our kingdom."

"What is your background, Norne?"

"Lived here in Port Anri since I was six. I've been workin' for Master Nick of Tower Street since I was eleven, been a member of the Village Watch for two years now. Father Harald can vouch for me, as well."

"That sounds fine, Norne. You have your own horse?"

"Aye, sir." I do now, thought Norne.

"Well, here's your first mission, Norne. I need you to ride to the northwestern fortifications and make contact with the garrison there. Ride back to us straight-away with your report, and be here by daybreak. We'll sail when the tide turns, but I would like word from the garrison before we go."

So Norne had her orders, and the knight (Sir Draug was his name) gave her a map, and she was off. It was no small job, either. Norne reckoned it was as likely a test for her as it was something that wanted doing, but she rode west into a blazing sunset, rode through purple twilight. Black smoke and orange fire lit up the skies to the south, and Norne knew that Castle Town was burning. Norne couldn't take a direct route across the open fields, and so she dodged hills and trees, keeping covered in case any Macedonian Pegasus Knights were on the lookout.

This is as close as I'll likely come to being a horsewoman, she thought. Not that she was able to shoot anything. Isolde was a smooth ride, but not that smooth. It took Norne the better part of four hours to make it to the nearest fort, as she didn't dare risk abusing Isolde just for the sake of speed. It took another half hour to convince the garrison there to give her the message; with Gra going traitor on them, nobody trusted anyone. Then she was off again, into the darkness, and she had to measure the time by the height of the moon. The going back was tougher, as Norne's whole body felt battered by then, and Isolde was tired, too. She was going by instinct, mostly; in some moments, she dozed off in the saddle, and twice she rolled under some bushes for a catnap while Isolde grazed. The lightening sky to the east drove her on, though, and Norne made it back to the docks just before the first rays of the sun broke above the horizon.

The already-familiar shape of Sir Draug was waiting for her. Norne handed Isolde over to the first available person- Cain the redhead, she thought- and dashed up to Sir Draug with a burst of new energy. Only then did she notice Draug had somebody with him

It was the boy archer from the Sword and Crown- and this time, he had both the sword and the crown on him. Norne might have felt embarrassed at the idea that she'd given a piece of dark bread as charity to the Prince of Altea, but it was really the kind of day that turned notions of what was right and proper all inside out and backwards.

And first, she had her mission to complete.

"Draug, sir! The enemy has crossed the border from the west! They'll be upon us, soon."

"Right, we're on our way." Sir Draug looked down at little "Marc" and addressed him in a tone of voice no common archers merited. "Sire, this is Norne. She caught wind of our struggle and wishes to fight for Altea."

The prince looked at Norne directly; he recognized her for certain, despite the general look of shock in his eyes.

"Prince Marth, 'tis an honor. By your leave, though, I'll be saving the curtsy-bobbin' for later." He stared back at her with those wide blue eyes, lost for words this time. "Quickly, sire!"

When the prince was safely inside the ship, Norne stepped back, a woozy feeling coming over her. Relief and the need for sleep made her feel as limp as a rag doll, and her empty stomach growled in a way that wasn't polite. She saw that Sir Abel was leading Isolde up to the ramp, but didn't quite grasp the importance of him taking her horse.

"Norne, get on the ship!" Draug's shout woke her from the daze.

"Er, oops." Norne scrambled up the gangplank.

-x-

After all the shouting and running around, it was quiet, and they'd nothing to do. Norne stood on the main deck, gazing out at the little line of walls and roofs that made up Port Anri. She could see the temple tower, and was straining to pick out more landmarks when a small voice came right at her ear.

"Norne?"

"Yes, sire?" She'd nearly jumped out of her skin when Prince Marth spoke to her.

"You'll make far better use of this than I," said the prince, and he handed her the steel bow.

"Oh... ah..." The words just didn't come, at first, and Norne felt her face getting hot until it likely matched her hair. "I'll do my best, sire!"

Norne followed her promise with a salute. The curtsey-bobbing could wait; right now, Norne of Port Anri was a soldier, not a court lady. She was the one and only archer serving the Crown.

Prince Marth wasn't in a mood to talk, and when he left, Norne held her new bow in the sun, admiring every curve of it.

"Ah, Brion. I wish you could see me now."

Only then did it occur to Norne that she might never see Brion or Adam, or Father Harald or Master Nick or any of the rest of them again.

"Well, Adam. I hope you have yourself a time with my Golden Rose, as I won't be needin' that account anymore."

Norne felt tears pricking at her eyes as she spoke; she'd been so caught up in the mystery under her nose that she hadn't thought to bid anyone a proper goodbye.

"Goodbye, Brion. Goodbye, Father Harald... oops."

As Port Anri, and Altea itself, became a dark smudge on the horizon, Norne's tears flowed over. On a normal day, it was beneath her as an archer to be seen crying like a little girl, but today just wasn't normal. The open ocean lay before her and this "Talys" place she knew nothing about.

"Gods have mercy on the souls of archers," she said again, as she clutched the steel bow meant for another's hands. Poor little Gordin was staying in Port Anri forever, and Norne was sailing off in his place. It was a funny world, Norne thought, though not funny in the sense that she could smile about it. She might smile, or even laugh one day, if any of them lived long enough. Right now, all Norne had to her name was a horse, a couple of weapons, and her tears.

Well, all that and a duty, Norne thought. The traitors took everything but her reason to fight, and a fight she'd give them when she set foot in Port Anri again.

End Chapter One

Author's Notes: Time to take a break from the miserable mess of cute boys from Altea and the Peg Knights who love them. I thought the best little archer in Shadow Dragon deserved a turn in the spotlight; her main line of dialogue shows a surprising amount of personality, and those big turquoise-hued eyes are just too adorable. Anyway, nosy Norne finds herself on a one-way boat to Talys... what's it going to be like there, cooped up in a castle with a bunch of teenaged boys? Stay tuned for Chapter Two!

Rundown of facts 'n' stuff: Frey did his canon-sacrifice thing, and Gordin died in the narrative equivalent of Prologue Chapter 4. The "court bishop" who gives Norne the gold is Malledeus the tactician. Norne's friend Brion looks like (well, is) the generic villager-boy found throughout the land in FEDS. Norne, in this story, is an orphan (no reason to stay in Altea) who works as a stablehand. It's not too dainty a job for a volunteer soldier, and it gives her a useful skillset for her new life in Marth's army. As for "Marc the archer"- remember that Prologue Chapter 4 is the point where, when Marth enters a village, the villager-lady tells him it's too dangerous and that he needs to get out of Dodge. Hence the splitting up and disguises. Additional notes to go on my DA account as per usual.