Title: Duty
Author: Korsriddare
Characters: Selena
Rating: K+
Summary: Outgunned and outnumbered, Admiral Selena of the Imperial Grado Navy contemplates.
Disclaimer: Fire Emblem is not mine.
A/N: A short drabble detailing Selena's thoughts before her ship is knocked out and landing her in critical condition (instead of death). Covers part of Ephraim's route's Chapter 13 "Fluorspar's Oath".
"I know you've spoken with Myrrh. Withdraw your ships. You must know that the emperor is not rational!"
"Yes, I know."
"Then why? Why do we still fight?"
"I am an Admiral of the Empire. His Majesty's word is law."
"That's ridiculous. You know the Emperor is deranged, and yet you follow his orders? Is that truly loyalty?"
"Prince Ephraim, you cannot understand. I know the path I'm on is foolish. Yet I am his officer, and I have no other."
The bridge was bathed in the dim, red light of emergency power. Selena thought she could smell smoke despite the air scrubbers, and sat calmly against her command couch. The air tasted like burnt plastisteel – No, it tasted like failure.
Her failure.
That strange…girl, Myrrh, was correct. She loved Emperor Vigarde. Perhaps not the love of romance in which many a tales were weaved upon, but love nevertheless. Once, she had shared his dreams, his visions.
"Admiral, Wanderer's Grace has taken critical damage. Captain Macro has powered her weapons down and begun evacuations," her tactical officer, Lieutenant Commander Weirburg reported.
"Good," she murmured. With her only other Dragon Lord battleship mission-killed… "Release our escorts, they are to either surrender or retreat back to the capital."
"Ma'am?"
Weirburg had been with her for many years now, and deserved an honest answer.
"This battle is lost. Continued fighting will only result in more casualties." Her words were spoken quietly. There was no one else on the bridge now anyway – she had ordered them to escape pods minutes ago, and the alarms were muted. Weirburg, Everlasting bless his soul, had insisted on staying against orders. It's not like you could court-martial me, ma'am, he had said wryly.
She had failed utterly. Not just her Emperor, but her fellow soldiers as well. She knew His Majesty was no longer rational, no longer himself. And her act of defiance against the allied fleet would not end well, but she did not…could not act otherwise. He was her Emperor, her savior, and she had no other, could do no other.
And her people… They followed her. Selena had expected someone, anyone to try and relieved her of command. None did. And she would be following many of them to the eternal dark. That was the only way she could repay them, for obeying her despite the odds.
She ran a hand down the side of her command couch fondly. The Fluorspar was given to her the day His Majesty presented her with her admiral's stars. Fitting that it should end like this.
She looked up at the tactical screen, her ship the only green icon, the last remaining active Imperial battleship in Za'albul March against a sea of red icons. Fluorspar was damaged, but many of her weapons remained active. Most of the crew had already evacuated, and she had to slave most shipboard functions to hers and Weirburg's console – effectiveness was down, but it mattered little now.
This was her last show of loyalty, of duty, of love. She pushed the thrusters to full, ignoring the shipboard warnings that the enemy had painted her with their targeting computers.
She had sworn an oath once.
"Let's go."