No POV
The Exalt leads his strongest knights in a dire chase of soldiers attempting to capture a young girl, running from all of them. "Knights, be careful not to harm the child!" he shouts, raising Falchion in the air.
The Plegian soldiers pursuing the girl turn around and begin fighting back against the knights, allowing their stronger units to continue the chase of the innocent girl. The knights slaughter all who stand in their way, and the Exalt is no exception, as blood runs once more down Falchion's holy blade and sprays into his blue hair. When the force left to oppose them is annihilated, the Ylissean force moves on, picking up their pace to compensate for the delay. They soon hear panicked screaming from ahead, and come across a discarded bag, filled with papers and pencils.
"HELP!" the girl screams, and, throwing the bag over his saddle horn, the Exalt continues leading the rescue team, charging through the shifting sands of the Plegian desert to find a party of Plegian soldiers closing in on a small form.
"Grab her!" a Plegian General shouts, sheathing his sword, not noticing the Ylissean knights closing in on him and his men. "The King wants her unharmed, or all of us dead with her!"
She trips in the sand with a small yelp, and a soldier throws a sack over her head, eliciting a high pitched scream before he pinches a pressure point on her neck, knocking her unconscious.
From what he could see of the little girl, she was slightly chubby, weak and exhausted, maybe a few years younger than his son Chrom. A protective instinct takes its hold on the Ylissean ruler, and he charges with a war cry, Falchion drawn and aimed for the General's heart. "No prisoners! Rescue the girl!" he shouts as the General falls to his blade.
In the chaos, the man holding the girl manages to escape, running in a direction he knows is a cliff where he can use her as a hostage to get away. When they realize he had gotten away, the Exalt leaves his Knight Commander in charge of finishing up while he goes on to find them.
"Use caution, my liege!" he shouts, earning a nod of acknowledgement before the blue-haired Exalt gallops off, vanishing into the heat haze of the desert.
The sand bites into the exposed skin of his face and hands, making the sunburn sting even worse than before, but he doesn't dare to stop, lest he lose the trail. The chase lasts long enough to where he finds the man an hour later, clutching at his stomach and agony as a little speck vanishes over the next sand dune. Without hesitation, the Exalt slits the fallen man's throat, and continues on the little girl's trail.
He finds her standing at the edge of a cliff, staring down as she slowly backs away. "Child, get away from the cliff!" he shouts in worry as he dismounts, still holding Falchion.
She spins around and takes a step in the direction of the cliff, shaking in fear and shock, red from heat and sunburn, dripping sweat. "S-stay away!"
He puts his blade down, stabbing the point deep into the sands, and steps away, raising his hands to his sides as he slowly inches forward. "I'm not going to hurt you, sweetie!"
"Liar!" she shouts, eyes darting around wildly. "You're gonna take me away and hurt me! Just like them!"
The Exalt shakes his heads as he continues forward. "I would never hurt you! I'm fighting against them!" She takes a step back, and he stops moving forward in fear. "Please, just let me help you get back home!"
Her knees start buckling, and she is dangerously close to the edge of the cliff. "I- I don't believe you!"
She falls to her knees, and before she can blink, the Exalt is pulling her away from the edge, cradling her in his arms and holding a full canteen of water up for her. "You need to calm down and drink something," he whispers, pushing the canteen to her lips. She gulps down the slightly warm water almost painfully fast, leading him to wonder how long she's been running out here for. He then inspects her clothing, finding a fleece jacket tied around her waist, formal black shoes, a green, black, and white plaid skirt, and a white blouse. "Where are you from?" he asks himself in a whisper.
She pushes away the drink as she calms down slightly. "I want Mommy," she whimpers, hiding her face in his chest.
He rises with a groan, shifting the slightly heavy girl to one arm as he goes to retrieve Falchion from the sand, before returning to his horse. The large white gelding nuzzles the child as he rests before raising her into the saddle. "Have you ever ridden a horse before?"
She raises her head and gapes at the beautiful horse in front of her. "Yeah, at the carnival." She shyly reaches out a hand to pet the horse's nose, and giggles as the whiskers tickle her tiny palm.
The Exalt smiles for the first time in years, seeing such innocence that he had thought he would never again see after his wife's death soon after Lissa was born. "Well, here you go, hold onto the saddle horn, okay?" He raises her to sit side-saddle and gives her a moment to settle in, then mounts up behind her, wrapping an arm around her protectively. "So, what's your name, sweetie?"
"Becca," she murmurs, returning to hiding her face in his chest. "What's your name, mister?"
"I am Exalt Jackson of Ylisse, Becca." They ride on in silence for a while before her body relaxes suddenly. "Becca?" She gives no response, concerning the Exalt, until he looks to find her fast asleep. He shakes his head and goes forward until he smells the blood of his enemies on the wind, and sees his knights riding out to meet him.
"Milord! Are you alright?" the Knight Commander asks, worry making his whole body tense.
Exalt Jackson nods, holding Becca close. "She is in need of medical attention as soon as possible, George."
A war monk, which he had not noticed before, rides to the Exalt's side. "Dehydrated, exhaustion, sunburn, hunger, shock, several cuts which might be infected… she couldn't get any worse than this, milord. Would you please give her to me so I can work on her as we ride back to camp?"
Reluctantly, he lifts the girl and passes her to the monk, who gets straight to work on the cuts on her knees and hands. "George, do you have any information of as to why the Plegians would have wanted her unharmed?"
"We have nothing to go off of, milord, other than that she may be from a different world." George murmurs to his lord as they make their way back to camp. "But more than that, what are we to do with her? We have no room to spare in camp, nor much more rations unless a group goes back to Ylisstol for supplies."
The Exalt nods, but says nothing more until much later in the medical tent as he sits vigil over Becca as he has his sunburns treated alongside her. "I will take a group to Ylisstol for supplies, and take the girl there. She can't be in the way here, nor does she need to witness what we do."
George nods in approval. "I will remain and take command until your return, my liege. When will you be leaving?"
"Preferably tomorrow just before dawn." He looks to his Knight Commander with a rare concern. "Are you certain you would rather stay here? I know you have been wanting to see Frederick lately."
He shakes his head. "I will go on the next supply trip to have a visit with him, milord. Although, would you please deliver some letters to my son while you are there?"
"Of course, my friend. Gather a group of fast riders, and alert them to be ready to leave half an hour before dawn."
Three Weeks Later
The two older royal children wait in the courtyard for their father's party, Chrom standing next to his elder sister of one year in the shade of the entryway. "Chrom, just relax." Emmeryn gently chides him, seeing her brother fidgeting slightly.
"I know Emm, but we haven't seen father in so long!" he growls. In all honesty, he didn't really mind not seeing his father so much anymore. Before the war had begun, his father had been a bit of a recluse, mourning his wife's loss for the two years before declaring this war, practically ignoring his children who needed their father.
Emmeryn opens her mouth to answer, but gets cut off by the blaring trumpets announcing their father's arrival just as the gates allow him and several knights to enter the courtyard. At the head of the party is a slightly thinner Exalt than they remember, but with a gentleness in him they barely recognize, an arm wrapped around a bundle in front of him.
"Father," the siblings murmur, bowing in respect.
"Children," he responds, nodding his head, allowing them to relax slightly. "Chrom, would you come here a moment?"
The boy hastens to obey his father as the bundle shifts, and a head swivels around slowly, knocking away a makeshift hood to reveal shiny reddish brown hair, glowing in the morning sun over sleepy hazel eyes. "Are we there?" a tiny voice asks, filled with nervous tension.
The Exalt nods and seats her sidesaddle in front of him. "Yes. Chrom, would you please watch this young lady for a while with your sisters?"
The nine-year-old nods. "Of course, Father."
He offers a hand to the girl as she scoots to jump down, which she takes shyly before doing so, landing slightly crouched, but perfectly like any ordinary soldier. "Thank you," she whispers quietly, just loud enough for the prince to hear her.
"You're welcome," he murmurs in response, before turning to his father once more. "Has she eaten breakfast yet?"
He shakes his head. "Not yet, she was still asleep when we moved out this morning. Please do take care of feeding her and let the maids find her some more suitable clothes." With a final nod to his family, he dismounts to address his soldiers.
The siblings lead the small girl to their family chambers, where their three year old sister is waiting for them in their shared dining room. "Emmy! Cwom!" she shouts, running over to give them giant hugs, her blonde pigtails bouncing with each step. "Fwedewick won't pway with me!"
Chrom looks over to his stern faced eleven year old friend, whose glare rests on the little girl still clutching his hand, wearing her outfit that does not match with anything they have ever seen in their world before. "Frederick, couldn't you at least humor her for a while?"
He shakes his head. "I refuse to be used as a doll in such a manner, Chrom. And who is this girl holding your hand?"
The three siblings stare at the uniformed girl, who cringes and pulls her hand away from Chrom, finding the floor to be highly interesting. "I'm Becca." She mutters, not raising her gaze from the floor.
Emmeryn smiles gently and takes her hand again. "I'm Emm, this is Chrom, Lissa, and Frederick. It's nice to meet you."
A butler walks in with a covered tray of food. "Children, it is time for breakfast. Please sit at the table."
They all hurry to obey, Chrom sitting with the new girl in between him and Emm, spreading a napkin over her lap before turning to his meal. "So where are you from, Becca?" Frederick asks after a while, and they have finished eating.
The little girl, finally relaxing, gives him a small but sad smile. "I live in Maryland."
The older children trade worried looks, and Lissa pouts, feeling left out. "I'm booowweed!"
A maid steps into the room, carrying a bundle. "Miss Becca? Let's go get you washed up."
The little girl shoves herself back from the table before any of them can assist her, displaying odd strength for her tiny size. "Okay."
The maid takes her hand and leads her away, presumably to a room that was set up for her stay.
As soon as they leave, Frederick turns on the older siblings. "What in Naga's name is going on here?"
"Father brought her with him, and he didn't tell us anything about her. That's probably the most anyone might know about her right now," Emmeryn replies, a worried frown marring her serene expression.
Chrom nods in agreement. "Father just told us to feed her and let the maids take care of her after that."
This is a mix between our world and Fire Emblem Awakening, so be prepared for confusion. And there is a six year time skip between this part of the prologue and part two. I just couldn't tie them together all that well, and I wanted to have a little bit of something to tie the characters together, so I hope you enjoyed.
I do not own Fire Emblem Awakening.