The View From A Glass Kingdom

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

Summary and warnings: Set during the early chapters of Book Two of Monshou no Nazo. Includes a character from Shadow Dragon because I felt like it. Features both Marth/Caeda and Abel/Est, but that's canon so I hope you all don't mind. Rated for mild violence and some offscreen character death.

Altea, in the second year of Emperor Hardin

Each day, she climbs the winding and narrow stairs of the topmost tower of the castle, and from its height she looks westward. She looks over the sinuous curves of the Alicante River, over and past the river until the green land of Altea meets the horizon in a pale blur. Visibility is poor today, and she can only see about seven miles out. Less than ten, for certain. The wind twines around her bare legs and she pinches her long skirts more tightly around herself to form a barrier.

Back home in Talys, it was in her favor that she could ride and hunt and wield both lance and sword. Not so in this country, though Altea has a tradition of women in the knightly ranks, of female archers and female cavaliers. But the expectations are different for women of royal blood; from the highest to the lowest, Alteans think of queens and princesses as stately sages or bishops. A queen should nurture and heal, and her sphere of influence should be the palace and the temple, not the field of battle. And so, she has put away her sword and donned the robes of a virtuous Altean maiden. In the back of her mind, she hasn't accepted it yet- without her sword, Caeda is not ready for the world. She is not prepared.

With peace crumbling, one nation at a time, she cannot afford to be unprepared. That the unrest in Grust required not only Altean knights but the personal intervention of Altea's prince should have been a warning. That Princess Minerva's rule in Macedon has tumbled into chaos is as clear an warning as the signal-flares that burn atop the hills of Talys to tell of attack. Altea may be an island kingdom, but it is not a world apart. Nestled just to the north of Macedon, to the east of Grust, accessible from the mainland by bridge... it has been conquered and retaken already in the last five years, and if the tide of violence surges up from the south and the west, it will not be ready. Prince Marth and his sister Elice have only begun their reconstructions from the last war. If these rebels take it upon themselves to become conquerors, Altea may well be the first to fall.

-x-

"I wish you were coming with me. Between the two of us, I'm we could convince General Lorenz to avoid any more bloodshed."

But Emperor Hardin's orders were clear; Caeda and the Talysian men who served her were not a part of this fight. She could fight, but she must remain behind, along with Princess Elice and Sir Cain. They were needed, though- Elice to be a nominal Regent in Marth's place, and Cain to do the detail work of governing the land. Caeda, the fiancée whose wedding had just been postponed by this military expedition, was next-to-useless at the Altean court. Her words carried no authority there, and the best she could say for herself was that she and Elice were developing a proper sisterly bond. But to be Elice's dear sister was all the world asked of her at the moment, and so she would meet the role and its demands.

"You've always been my luck, Caeda. I think I'll be constantly looking over my shoulder, expecting to find you there."

"Pay attention to your surroundings and don't get killed."

She almost regretted her tart response, but her words had done the job. He'd veered at once off the course of melancholy, had assumed his best never-say-die expression and had asked the knights for a song as they left. Caeda would gladly have followed them on her pegasus, would have followed them to the very borders of Grust if she'd been allowed to. But she'd stayed there, rooted to the spot in her stiff embroidered gown as they disappeared into the west. Some trick of the clouds cast a ghostly image above them, an image of an heavenly army following the same course.

Caeda did not even have to ask Princess Elice to interpret the omen.

-x-

Communications from the western front have been sparse. Marth sent her a two-sentence note upon his arrival in Grust, then came a terse note announcing the end of the mission in Grust, followed by a hastily-scrawled letter in someone else's hand that explained they'd been redirected to Macedon to quell the revolt. Since then, nothing. No word of safe arrival in Macedon, no news of any kind save rumors that Princess Minerva has been either killed or abducted by rebels. It troubles Caeda greatly, and on a personal level it troubles her that she has not yet been offered an excuse, an explanation, for the death of General Lorenz. To rebel against Emperor Hardin was an automatic death sentence, but to lose her father's dearest friend, to lose the man who sat her on his lap and told her wonderful stories, to lose the man she once called Uncle... it hurts. She cannot deny it and feels no shame in expressing it. And if Marth had a personal role in his death...

She longs to hear his explanation, she'll accept whatever he tells her, and the last thing she wants is for this to be as a shadow between them. But without knowing the truth, without really knowing anything save that a man she cared for has died and her fiancé was somehow caught up in it, she can only wonder. And suspect. And argue with herself.

And so she climbs the tower daily and gazes westward, in hopes that she will be the first to see the knights of Altea marching home victorious. She believes, or at least has nearly convinced herself, that she and Marth share a connection, an unbreakable bond that links one heart to the other. She believes, or has convinced herself, that if her fiancé were to fall, she would feel in that instant a great void in her soul. Caeda has not felt that void, not felt the sense of a light inside of her flickering out, though she does feel a sense of nagging apprehension that grips her a little more with each day that passes.

What will happen next? What terrible surprise will tomorrow bring?

She watches Sir Cain depart the castle on his normal round of business. Today he is bound for the western villages to settle yet another dispute, this time involving the grandson of one village elder who has pelted his rivals with eggs and stones. She watches Cain's flame-red hair until he fades into the grey haze. To the north and south all is quiet; farmers go about their own business in the fields. When Caeda turns to face eastward, though, she sees something out of the ordinary.

She comes down from the tower at once and changes into her riding-costume. On instinct, she retrieves her short-sword from its resting place on the wall.

"Good day, Princess."

"Good morning, Abel."

Abel has been a familiar and reassuring presence around the castle since Marth's departure. Though not an active knight anymore, during the Great War he was one of the finest cavaliers in any of the seven kingdoms. His Macedonian bride Est is a former pegasus knight, swift and lethal in spite of her sweet face and bubbling little laugh. They have both donned armor again to guard Altea as a precaution while the main body of knights is on campaign. Caeda appreciates their sacrifice; Abel and Est both fought bravely in the war, and now all they ask is to live quiet lives, the lives of private citizens rather than heroes. As soon as Marth and the others come home from this crazy expedition to the other islands, Abel and Est should be able to put down their weapons for good.

"I'm taking a ride, Abel. Would you please ask Norne to have Eanna ready for me?"

"At once, Princess. I'd ask if Est might accompany you, but she's trying to teach a few of the squires how to hold a lance."

He smiles, but it's a rueful smile that admits how weak the proud Temple Knights currently are, and how many years it'll be before they're at anything close to full strength again. If Marth loses even one of his men down in Macedon... if he's lost any already in Grust... it'll be a harsh blow to the order. Right now, they're so short-handed that Norne, one of the new archers, is more or less running the stables. At least Norne has figured out how to handle a pegasus, and she quickly has Eanna ready for Caeda.

"Keep an eye on the clouds, Your Highness. It'll rain tonight."

-x-

Caeda can feel the breath of the oncoming rain as she glides the six miles to the vanguard of the armed men that she glimpsed from the castle tower. This is no mere expeditionary force such as Marth took with him to Grust. It's a vast number, enough to subdue a small nation, and the snapping banners tell Caeda that Aurelis and Gra have lent their knights to supplement the Archanean cavalry. This show of cooperative power is not unusual now, as Emperor Hardin has often called upon the kingdoms to pool their resources for the greater good. But an army of this size hasn't been seen in two years, not since the end of the Great War.

An assumption forms instantly in Caeda's mind, but she will not let herself complete the thought. Not now.

"Princess Caeda, I believe."

"Correct, sir." A young woman flying around on a pegasus and wearing the colors of Talys here in the heart of Altea could hardly be anyone else.

"I am General Eibel, under orders of His Imperial Majesty." The man has a high, nasal voice, colored by the accent of Leifcandith Valley.

"A pleasure to meet you, General. May I ask as to the nature of the mission?" She exaggerates her own speech and does her best to ladle on the Isle-of-Talys charm. She's learned men don't necessarily respect it, but they do often respond.

"The situation in Macedon is more complex than previously believed," he says, looking straight ahead rather than at Caeda. "The Emperor has decided to send in a more substantial force to subdue the rebellion."

"Ah," says Caeda, for there is little else to say. His answer fits perfectly with her own initial assumption.

The general has the thin angular face often seen in the Archanean nobility. Though he can only be a little past forty, his thick hair is entirely silver. He makes a grave and impressive figure, she thinks. Caeda reflects on what she has heard of Eibel- what he accomplished during the war, how he has served under Emperor Hardin- but cannot member anything notable. This is not necessarily to Eibel's discredit, as many high-born Archaneans made themselves notable in the war as traitors and scoundrels.

"I wish to see the princess Elice," says the general, still looking down the path ahead of them. "I have news for her."

Caeda hears the careful neutrality in his voice; it has the curious effect of imbuing his statements with menace rather than making them innocuous. She looks at the general's attendants; their faces are impassive. Eibel, likewise, is stone-faced, and he says no more to her. Caeda can connect the general's two statements easily enough. More force needed in Macedon. A confidential message for the princess. A question burns in her throat, but it goes unasked. She is not the queen of this country, but a guest; she cannot command Eibel to give her the news meant for Elice.

She forces Eanna to trot as she follows the column the remainder of the way back to Altea Castle. Eibel's apparent second, an Aurelian bishop with the odd name of Willow, proves more talkative than his superior, though not much informative. He asks her some questions about the croplands and about some of the towns and fortifications they pass, and she does her best to answer honestly. The emperor's men should have all that information anyway, based off last year's great census. She mentions Marth once, in passing, and a spark of interest in flares Eibel's eyes. Yet Willow's face creases in what Caeda can only interpret as pity. She meets the bishop's gaze for several moments, then looks down and away.

-x-

"Tell the princess that General Eibel of Archanea seeks an audience with her."

Caeda does not bother to change again to a gown; she remains in her riding-costume- and she keeps her short-sword. Elice does not keep Eibel waiting long, though Caeda almost wishes that they could delay this audience until Cain returns from the villages. Something has gone terribly wrong, and it would be comforting to have Marth's most trusted knight with them when Eibel delivers his message.

Elice looks beautiful upon the Altean throne; though she can never sit upon it as a reigning queen, she makes a perfect Regent, and is everything the Alteans want in a princess: graceful and solemn, her robes spotless, her hands immaculate. Caeda cannot help but glance down at her own hands with their calluses and clipped-short nails.

"General. I was not expecting to receive the Imperial Army this day."

"Forgive my haste and my lack of advance notice, Princess. I bring you tidings from Emperor Hardin regarding your brother's mission to Macedon."

Again, Caeda notes that deliberate neutrality and its strangely ominous undercurrent.

"Speak, General. I am most anxious for word of my brother."

In spite of her claims to anxiety, Elice is as composed as a statue. Her eyes are calm and probing as she tries to analyze this strange emissary from the emperor. Caeda wishes that she could pull Elice aside for a moment to share their impressions, but there is no time for that. No time at all.

"Princess, I extend to you my apologies. This news will be difficult for you." Eibel allows a lengthy pause, and he in turn scrutinizes Elice. It reminds Caeda of an engineer examining his earthworks for cracks. The silence draws out for long seconds, and Caeda watches the interplay between the princess and the general to keep her own mind from leaping ahead to the next inevitable sentence. When Elice's hands betray her with an ever-tighter grip on the arms of the throne, the general continues. "Your brother Prince Marth has taken up arms against the Emperor."

A murmuring hiss circles around the chamber, but the general does not pause again in his speech.

"He and his knights have defied their orders from Emperor Hardin and he has recruited rebels from Macedon to his side."

As incredible as the news may be, Caeda finds it strangely plausible. She's steeled herself for word of her fiancé's death, and hearing him pronounced an outlaw and rebel instead actually comes as a relief. Well, she thinks, it would hardly be the first time.

"His Imperial Majesty is a gracious man, but he cannot excuse such flagrant treason. Your brother has been stripped of his titles and privileges and his life is forfeit henceforth. In the name of Emperor Hardin, I am taking custody of this castle and its estates. You are free to travel as you like, Your Highness. Empress Nyna would be happy if you were to join her in Pales."

Elice has paled, and her grip upon the throne has warped her hands to claw-shapes, but her voice is soft and steady as she questions Eibel.

"What are the current whereabouts of my brother?"

"We believe him to be still in Macedon."

Macedon. Marth knows Macedon well enough, Caeda thinks. He knows it better than Eibel would, for certain, knows the places to hide, in the forests and mountains. These other rebels, they can only be old friends, old allies. Marth will be fine. He always is, and always will be. It can't be any other way.

Caught in her thoughts, she is unprepared for Eibel's cold gaze to swing upon her.

"Princess Caeda, I am afraid you must remain with us. The Emperor believes that Prince Marth will be more likely to see the error of his ways if we have you in our keeping."

For a moment, she is frozen. Her will is to bolt, to fly clear of this room like a bird flushed from cover, but her limbs will not obey.

That's why they looked at me with pity.

Not because she was left a widow before her wedding day, but because she was about to be taken hostage.

"That is not necessary, General. I intend to remain in Altea with my people. I believe my presence here will be enough to give my brother second thoughts about his actions."

Caeda does not share any preternatural connection of the heart to Elice, but in that moment, their minds almost seem to function as one. Caeda takes the opening that Elice has given her, almost before Elice has finished speaking. She darts away from the men who have stepped forward to restrain her and runs in pell-mell fashion to the left, to the right, in a broad circle around the throne. More soldiers step forward to stop her; she kicks one, strikes another with the flat of her sword. She has to reach the door behind the throne.

It's the same as any hand-to-hand combat; she can't see more than six feet ahead of her at any given moment and doesn't know if the people she's knocking aside are Alteans or the emperor's men. She just has to get to that door, has to press in the right piece of stonework to release the secret panel, has to slip inside and jam the door closed behind her before someone can grab her. Her mind is racing so fast she's rehearsed each of these motions three times in her head before she can enact any of them, and her heart is racing too by the time the panel closes behind her and she goes momentarily blind from the darkness.

She's broken her sword in her attempts to jam the door mechanism, but behind the throne is a compartment with a variety of weapons. Caeda takes a new sword and a fine lance that she clutches carefully as she squeezes out the small exit to the outer wall. Only a fairly small person could even use the exit, and Caeda is glad to be small and wiry, glad to be so low in stature. From here, her feet move as though of their own accord as she runs to the stables to get her pegasus, surprising Norne who is still brushing Eanna down from the last ride.

"Get out of here, Norne. Don't fight, just run. We're under attack."

Now she's quite glad that she made Eanna travel on the hoof on their return to the castle. Eanna is itching to fly and bursts into the air with such force she leaves a couple of feathers behind.

Outside the castle, a melee already rages. The knights of Aurelis, Gra, and Archanea have taken on the small number of knights available to defend the castle. Caeda can think of only one word for it: ambush. The intention was never to send those three columns to Macedon. As she takes in the full horror of the battle around her, her heart fills with something that isn't fear anymore. She looks around, hoping to see Cain returning from the villages, hoping to see someone with a fighting chance against Hardin's knights. The young recruits, the new squires and pages... they'll be slaughtered. Some are sitting on the ground already, weapons at their feet, waiting to be killed. And she can't take the chance of trying to save a single one of them.

Caeda hears a familiar shriek to the left, a Macedonian war-cry. Est swoops through the air on her own pegasus and knocks one of the Gra knights out of his saddle. Below her is Abel, on foot, slicing a bloody path with his sword. Caeda calls to him at the top of her lungs.

"Stand fast, Abel! I'm going to get the others." Why or how, it doesn't matter- her promise is as true as it gets in a mess like this.

"Good luck, Princess!"

She hears him shout, but does not dare look back. On and on she flies, through blue and gray and blinding white. She momentarily forgets about Est and Abel, forgets about Cain, forgets even about Elice. She can think only of Marth, and she prays that the bonds of their hearts are strong enough to lead her to him, in Macedon or wherever he may be. As panic subsides, her soul is filled with an eerie calm, the like glassy surface of the sea in the heart of a raging storm.

As long as he lives, she will find him. As long as they both survive, there is a way out of this. And no matter what he has done this time, she is behind him. In that moment, high above the white-capped waves, she has only her pegasus, two weapons, her wits, and her faith in him to sustain her. Caeda is not placing any bets on which of these will give way first.

It can't be any other way.

The End

Author's Notes: This is actually a part of my "Tales of a Unified Kingdom" series of FE2/3/11 fusion stories, set in between "Motherland" and "No Direction Home." I was stuck on it for months until I read The Last Stand by Nathaniel Philbrick, my source for the detail about the "ghost army" in the sky. It's a real phenomenon, and General Custer's wife Libbie saw just such an effect as her husband and the Seventh Cavalry went off to their doom at the Little Bighorn. Once that detail was lodged in my head, the rest of it finally fell into place. The image of the raw troops sitting on the ground waiting for death comes from Sioux accounts of the "Last Stand," also.

Norne's "It'll rain tonight" is inspired by Macbeth, for no other reason than to add to the gathering layer of doom. And Norne, obviously, is there because I want her to be.

Also, if Shin Monshou no Nazo contradicts any of this, I don't care.