Hello!
For my Golden Sun readers, this is not a GS fanfic! It's Fire Emblem. You can't expect a paralyzed mind like mine to write only one thing.
This is indeed a DRABBLES, so expect more in the future. Also, all my tacticians will be called "Tom." If you are name-ist and decide to completely hate the name, well, move on.
Emphasis: NOOOOOOOO FLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMES!
I do not own Fire Emblem, or Lyn, or campires, or potatoes, or bandits, or vulnararies. Fire Emblem and Lyn belong to Intelligent systems, and mebbe the vulnarary too, but I don't know who potatoes belong to. Or campfires and bandits, and I seriously don't care. They're just there for us to enjoy, have fun with, microwave, slaughter, burn, put out, and roast.
L/T Drabbles, Ch. 1: Names
The last thing he remembered was bandits. Hordes of them everywhere as he looked around.
He'd fought, as much as he could, but it was hopeless. After raiding the Sacae villages, nothing else was in sight.
Except a lone, unnamed tactician traveling through.
BK
When he woke up, he saw an olive-haired girl bustling in the kitchen. He was lying on a cot.
He attempted to move, to get out of a prone position, but all he could do was shift his body into a more awkward position.
The girl noticed, and headed toward him, warily.
He could do nothing but watch, calculate, and plan, like he'd done so long before.
She stopped, a few feet away from him, easily out of reach of any weapons.
They looked at each other for a while, and finally, she said, "I found you unconscious in the plains."
"Yes, apparently, you did. And thank you for it."
"Are you feeling all right?"
He didn't like this line of questioning. Eventually it would turn to his name, his past. He had to avoid that.
He moved all his body parts. "Sore, but nothing missing or broken. Do you live here?"
She frowned. "Yes, I live here. I used to be with the Lorca tribe, but the bandits that attacked you have…" she turned away, with the excuse of tending the fire. When she turned back, her eyes were dry.
"Anyway, what are you doing here?"
"I'm traveling through."
She opened her mouth to respond, but was distracted by loud clanging outside. She glanced outside an open flap and saw two bandits. She looked back at him with a grimace.
"Can you heal? Can you fight?"
"I can fight, a little, and I know a bit of herb lore, but mainly, I am a tactician. If you're going to fight them, allow me to come with."
She looked at him suspiciously for a minute, then shrugged and began to get ready.
Silently, he slipped out of bed. He took a cloak that was offered to him and grabbed a dagger from a nearby table.
She put a finger to her lip, telling him to be quiet. It wasn't necessary, but he obeyed anyway, slipping out of the door after her, silent as a jaguar.
He looked around the terrain, then told her to go to a patch of trees near them, silently. For a minute, she felt like snapping at him that she knew what to do, but then she remembered that he was a tactician.
He took out his dagger in case he needed to use it as they ran to the copse of trees. Autumn foliage surrounded them, and they were forced to be extra silent to avoid attention.
He focused on the enemies. Two bandits, still pillaging a warehouse that had already been burned. Not the brightest bandits alive, obviously.
"I don't think their leader will leave the entrance. He's too busy stuffing his pockets with junk." She told him. He thanked her.
His mind was buzzing with this new info. "So, he'd probably send his goon after you?"
She nodded.
"All right, then. Show yourself. Pretend to be an easy target.
She shrugged, his her sword, and presently began to make a little purse-like thing out of her cloak. Within seconds, she seemed an innocent, half-rich woman traveling the plains.
He whistled admiringly. "Where'd you learn that?"
She shrugged. "My dad sometimes ran little skits for the children. I came and watched some of their practices."
"Okay. So, when the goon gets close enough, strike, then get out of reach. Lead him over, but keep out of range. When he gets too far away, go for the boss. You think you can beat him?
She squinted at the larger barbarian, then nodded.
"All right. I'll take care of the smaller one. If you get hurt too much, use a vulnerary."
She nodded, then did as he told her to.
The attack went perfectly. The girl, whose name, apparently, was Lyn, drove the first bandit onto the point of a dagger, and then proceeded to completely beat up the leader.
When it was all over, Lyn looked at her newfound companion with respect. He looked pointedly away.
They spent time at her house, and an unknown love blossomed between them. When they decided to leave (actually play Fire Emblem for the reason) they went together, with no destination in mind.
The first night out, Lyn found herself deeply troubled by the new emotions for her companion. She decided to talk to him about it, but soon lost the nerve. Instead, she decided to ask him about himself.
Glancing across the campfire at him, she asked, "Why won't you tell me your name?"
Not looking up from the potato he was peeling, he simply replied, "'Cause I don't have one, maybe?"
She smirked. She'd heard this, what, a million times in the last week?
"Oh, fine then. I'll give you a name."
He froze, or at least, attempted to freeze. A quickly moving knife cutting a potato's skin off, however, is not easy to freeze in mid-motion.
"You're what?"
She ignored him and began to dig in her knapsack for a book to read names out of.
He watched her with a suspicious eye. When she had flipped through the book several times, she grinned a mock evil grin and said, "I chose the dumbest name in the book."
He sighed. "If it's not Bill, Bob, Howard, James, Harold, Arthur, or Gus, I'll be happy."
She looked at the random name she had chosen. "Nope. It's Tom."
His jaw dropped in astonishment. "You have got to be kidding."
She laughed, and grinned her evil grin. "Nope."
He rolled his eyes and made a beeline for the woods, but not before she caught him by the scruff of the neck and brought him back. He sighed and resigned himself to him new, very horrendous name.
"Tom." He muttered under his breath. That is a…a screwed name."
She shrugged. "Your loss. Not mine."
"You owe me one. No, you owe me a couple."
She sighed, raising her hands in submission. "Oh great king," she said sarcastically, "I am yours to command. What will by thy first act?"
He stood up, dusted himself and said, "This," before enveloping her in a passionate kiss."
Her eyes opened with astonishment before she recovered and kissed him back, somehow, without breaking the first one. He tugged on her gently toward the tent, and she went along with him.
The fire burned, ignored by the two lovers.
And there you have it, Lyn/Tactician Drabbles, Chapter 1.
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