Chapter One: Darkness
Darkness. An enveloping, comforting form of black. Embracing and warm. In this seemingly endless pool of darkness, it would seem that no light could be found. A pitch black, endless sea of encompassing Lethe. In short, it was pretty bloody dark.
Yet within this darkness, there was a faint presence. Some ebb of a primeval life force that refused to simply accept the darkness for what it was, and sought to fight against it. But this fight had been a long and arduous one, with noir clear reward.
The constant fight against the six-faced shadow that had accompanied him into the dark had worn him down; he could not bring himself to open his eyes, though doing so would not result in any measurable change. He could feel the constant pull of the absolution, but even now, the memory of the shadow that had surrounded him, invaded him, before relenting to the pull of the deeper emptiness, drove him to not accept the same fate.
The inviting magnetism to just give in, let himself drift, faced the silent challenge of words eked out on his lips, not producing any noise, but having a drastic effect all the same.
"We are not pawns of some scripted fate…"
Suddenly, seemingly in response to this silent declaration, a pinprick of light appeared, glaring brightly against his closed eyes. He opened them, surprised, if any feeling still remained, only to observe as a thread of golden light raced towards him. Stunned, it pierced him through the chest. Painlessly, wordlessly, noiselessly, another forty-six threads joined the first, implanting themselves in his body like an army of harpoons.
Now, despite the call of the deep, he was being pulled towards the source of the light, the threads tugging him inexorably closer. For the first time in a timeless period, the figure gave a start; his legs, started moving; his arms started moving, and without knowing it, suddenly he was swimming. The desire to live had returned, and as he moved slowly closer to that pinpoint of light, an exceedingly uncommon sight occurred
For the first time in what felt like years, Robin smiled.
Darkness. Slowly coming to awareness, the woman's head rose from the mite-infested pile of rags that served as a poor excuse for a bed. Her eyes, bleary from a sleepless night, opened to the sight of her apartment, if one could call it that.
A collection of unwashed dishes festered in a corner; a basket full of unwashed clothes reeked of smoke, alcohol and excrement; a small brown backpack rested against her legs, the worn leather smooth and cool against her skin.
One corner of the room featured a small desk, upon which lay a book, inscribed with a depiction of a stylised lightning bolt; a worn cover and dog-eared corners revealed that if one was to appraise the condition of the book, it would be described as 'well-loved'. Yet the shabby appearance of such a tome did not reveal its power, and as the woman slowly rose from her less than comfortable sleeping arrangement, the air hummed with an audible display of the book's power.
A seeming accompaniment to the book, a package wrapped in cloth leant against the leg of the table. Not much about the package was distinguishable, but it see me to almost resonate with the current exuded by the mystical tome.
With the electrical thrum in her ears, the woman began silently readying herself for the day ahead. Her sleeping attire, namely no attire, a situation borne out of necessity rather than choice, was remedied first, as the chill of the stone-walled room began to set in. She pulled bindings around the soft swell of her chest, and a loose sarong shimmied its way up her legs to her waist. More bindings, loosely made of bandages, were strapped around her feet and ankles, before being covered in a light pair of shoes, soles reinforced on the bottom with an extra strip of leather. A silky and loose top was place above the bindings on her chest, followed by a scarf that wrapped around her body.
The woman surveyed her living conditions with seemingly no emotion, as she moved without a noise to the desk and began depositing a few items into her backpack. First, a small pouch, presumably of coins, as it jangled when it was retrieved. A thin and grimy towel accounted the pouch. A final addition was that of a thin knife, the edge jagged and the handle made of bone. After all, a woman required some means to protect herself.
Before she finished, the woman observed her reflection in the mirror resting against the wall. Anyone would call her gaunt, her frame thin and wiry, many of the muscles that existed previously atrophied into nothing. Her hair, a grimy brown colour, was scraggly and required a wash, something out of the realm of reality bathing in public bathhouses. Her eyes were dull, no sign of life in them, and the lack of emotion displayed could have convinced an outsider that she was a Risen, if not for her lack of glowing red eyes.
As the woman collected her thoughts and portrayed an outer sense of calm despite her internal tumult, she turned towards the door. The black cloak with purple trim hanging on the back was like a punch to the gut, as it was every morning, as it was meant to be. She grimly set her mouth and reached out her hand to touch it. The unknown material stirred so many feelings in her, she snatched the hand back almost immediately, like a cook from a scalding pan. But, reaching out a second time she managed to slip the cloak off the hook and over her shoulders, the familiar weight providing a sense of comfort.
Indeed when she wore it as such, it was almost as if HE was still here, as if he hadn't left. As if she hadn't failed him, failed everyone.
She really was useless.
Her eyes downcast, and the hood of the cloak pulled over her bowed head, she pushed open the wooden door, thrown off its hinges, and locked it behind her. Then, she turned away from her ignominious home and started off into the darkness ahead of her.
She saw no pinprick of light.
Two hours later…
Bells tolled throughout Ylisstol. The day was here and everyone was aware of it. The laughter and shouting of children was readily heard throughout the capital and merchants excitedly hawked their wares. The atmosphere of the city was positively electric, the joy that could be perceived a clear indication of the redevelopment after the war had been concluded.
The people were indisputably grateful to their saviours, the Shepherds, the members of whom had taken on an almost legendary status. Whispers were spoken throughout town, omnipresent, but more popular on this day. Tales of how Cherche had bested a wyvern in single combat at age nine; of how the dark mage couple, Henry and Tharja could turn a person inside out with but one flick of their wrist; of how the Shepherds had waged three wars, once against Valm, once against Plegia and once against Grima, and yet there had been only one casualty, that of the man who was behind the live-preserving efforts.
The people also chose this day to not just celebrate, but to mourn. To mourn the loss of their loved ones who had fallen in any of the wars. To mourn the loss of their former Exalt. To mourn the loss of the brain of Ylisse. Yes, for many this was a day of mourning, to reflect back on the horrors of war, and to grant solidarity to their fellow Ylisseans who had all been touched by the conflict in some way.
But a visitor to Ylisse would have been hard-pressed to know that today was a day of reflection, the howling of children and the bustling of the streets seemed to indicate otherwise. Indeed, such a visitor would be able to view the merchants flogging their wares, banners up everywhere, and ribbons adorning houses.
Easy smiles conveyed the genuine happiness of the people of the capital to return to the rigours of everyday life, free for the most part from the previously omnipresent threat of impending worldwide catastrophe. In the absence of the worry and negativism that had pervaded Ylisstol for what had felt like forever, the streets today were reminiscent of the two years of peace following the first campaign against Plegia. The people were also flocking towards the castle in a similar manner to how they had at the news of the royal wedding, Chrom and Sumia's joining bringing a moment of joy to the previously embattled city.
Yes, this visitor might very well be caught up in the crowd racing towards the castle, swept up in the tide of the massive convergence of bodies. And as they valiantly fought against the current to pause and establish where on earth they were, they would be forgiven for not noticing the sign that one particular alehouse owner was about to put out in front of his venue, reading-
'Years since the vanquishing of Grima- 2'
From the walls of the castle, the recently crowned exalt watched over his people, like the proverbial shepherd to sheep. The irony of that thought didn't escape him, and wry smile graced his otherwise grim face. This was always a hard day for him, the date he remembered his sister, who had fallen so that others might live, and his best friend; as well as the scores of Ylisseans, Feroxians and even Plegians who had fallen under his command.
Weighing equally upon his heart was the task he had before him, an address to the entirety of his city, not an easy task for someone who resented public speaking. Yes, he could deliver a rousing speech prior to a battle, but how to console a still-grieving nation, while at the same time encouraging them? Not an easy task by any means.
Feeling a light touch on his shoulder, the burden became easier to lift though, as he was reminded of the support he had behind him. His wife hovered nervously at his shoulder, aware of the suffering and grief her husband was going through, and dealing with her own at the same time. Yet, her presence there made it easier for Chrom to cope, and turning around, he was reminded of the reason that he fought, and was able to win in the first place.
Behind him on the walls were the Shepherds, or rather the former Shepherds who had won the war for Ylisse and the world. Around forty of them, not all were able to be reached, but a vast majority of those who had fought with Chrom were there. Many of them were carrying little bundles of cloth, in which their young children resided. Proud parents were accompanied by their older, future children, whom had taken on the role of older siblings to the younger ones, who shared their names.
All the big names were there, dressed out in finery, and it was a game for many of the children among the city to try and pick out each individual member of the company. There were the two Khans, predictably arguing with each other over who could consume the most bear meat in one sitting; many who had been promoted to high-ranking titles after the war had concluded; emissaries from foreign lands, such as Say'ri of Chon'sin and Virion of Rosanne; and of course the members of the, now rather large, royal family.
But even among such a collection of individuals, a hole could be felt, that one key member had filled, but no longer. Gazing over the crowd, Chrom muttered to himself with worry written in his creased brow-
"Where is she?"
Responding to her husband's obvious concern, Sumia squeezed his shoulder.
"It is her choice if she comes or not, dear. Forcing her would not help with the healing process," she gently reminded him.
"I know, I know! But couldn't she be here, even for her kids?" he replied, directing his gaze to two figures standing on the periphery of the group.
"I've spoken to them, and they say they don't mind, although it's obvious that's not the case," she murmured, almost to herself.
"You've just had plenty of practice reading emotions on Lucina's face!" he directed towards her with a somewhat bemused expression.
"Me, daddy?" asked a small voice, accompanied by a tug on his coattails. The young Lucina was now almost five years of age, and was taking after her older counterpart in her desire to avoid any education in the aspects of royalty, preferring to run off and practice stick-fighting with the older Cynthia.
"Not you, Lucy, your sister," Chrom replied, addressing her by her pet name that had gradually been adopted by most of the Shepherds and her own family in order to distinguish her from her future self.
"Oh," she said, as if that answer sufficed the question. Turning to her mother, she said-
"Look, mummy! Look at all the people! They look so small down there!"
"Yes they do, darling, and they're all here to see your father speak," her mother replied, her needling at Chrom's nervousness accompanied by a gentle jab from her elbow into his ribcage.
"Thanks…" Chrom muttered under his breath.
"Why don't you wave to the people, Lucy? I'm sure they'd love to see you," his wife continued on, unabated by his quiet discomfort.
Holding her mother's hand, the young princess of the halidom moved towards the edge of the wall. Able to see the crowd gathered down below, she held her hand up and started waving to them. The crowd went wild. While many of them were unsure as to the specifics, Chrom had sent out a flurry of leaflets following the war about the future children, much to Lucina's horror, detailing where they'd come from, so that the people of the nation would be aware of their existence and the new additions to the royal family.
Yet, at the same time, this younger, more curious Lucina had captured the hearts of many within the city, often demanding her mother take her for walks throughout the entirety thereof, interacting with the merchants and people who lived there, much to Chrom's delight and Frederick's worry. Indeed, often when Lucina went missing instead of taking her lessons in etiquette and dress, her sisters would find her playing with the kids from a local orphanage in the less affluent area of the city, that Vaike had shown her one time.
As a result, the young Lucina was a familiar face to the people of the city, and her enthusiastic waving was met with many cheers and waves in return. Meanwhile, her father nervously shuffled the parchment with his speech written on it in front of him. Turning to begin his speech to the people of the city, he was stopped by a call-
"Father!" shouted Cynthia, the older Cynthia, not the one currently developing within Sumia. She bustled over to Chrom, seeming breathless.
"I just remembered something about being a hero!" she said, accompanied by her trademark grin.
"Well that's great, Cynthia, but now doesn't seem to be the right time?"
"No no no, father! You don't understand!" she said, snatching the sheet of parchment from Chrom.
"Heroes, such as yourself, don't read their speeches!" she declared as she cast the speech off the side of the castle walls.
"Speeches should be made from the heart! Delivered with passion and with fervour to a clamouring…" she continued excitedly, as her father watched in panic the sheet fall towards the earth, fluttering slowly and gently, tantalisingly close, but just out of reach. Suddenly a gust of wind swept up the hill, catching the paper and tumbling it out of sight into the distance.
"Cynthia!" her father exclaimed, before turning to face the crowd as the bells tolled in the cathedral, marking the start of the proceedings. He turned to his wife, in a panic. Ever the presence of calm and maturity, Sumia merely shrugged and gestured out to the crowd, indicating that they were ready for Chrom to begin.
The exalt sighed, and faced the crowd, without the foggiest idea of what he was supposed to say.
"Oh well," he muttered to himself, "here goes nothing."
Below lies a transcript of the speech Exalt Chrom gave on this occasion. Multiple interruptions of cheering were heard, and thus this is a word-for-word copy of what was said.
"Friends, Ylisseans, countrymen, lend me your ears!
"I come before you today, not as your ruler, not as your Exalt, but as your friend. I know that the years of war we have experienced have taken their toll. The physical scars are still present on many of you today, and I feel the pain of each and every one of them. To those of you who risked their lives fighting, defending their families, their country, I owe you a debt that can never be repaid.
"However, I know that the mental scars cut deeper, and last longer. All of you have lost someone dear to you, and I sympathise. Two of the people that I have been closest to in my entire life have lost theirs as a result of the constant conflicts that have beleaguered our nation for the past years. I would never diminish the sacrifice of those members of my forces that paid the ultimate price for their country, but I'm sad to say that I can't personally name every soldier that lost their lives for us, though I do endeavour to.
"At the same time, it is important we recognise the sacrifices and losses of our Feroxian friends, many of whom are present here today. Without their assistance and support, there is no way we would have been able to succeed in our campaign. However, funny though it may sound to say it, it is also important that we recognise the losses of the people of Valm and Plegia. Many of these people lost family members, who were never fully invested in their armies. It is important that we learn to forgive those people who we fought against, and work together in healing.
"I look to every sacrifice with the same attitude, a combination of pride and regret. Pride that there are so many of you who were willing, and would be willing again to lay down your lives for your countrymen and your country. But also regret that you have had to, and regret at every single loss we encountered along the way. So today, I would like to speak briefly about the losses of two people who were extremely close to me, my sister and my best friend.
"You all know of Emmeryn, and I don't have to remind you of the sacrifice she made for her country. It was, is, her actions and words that inspire me to strive to be a better person, to work hard towards the rebuilding of our country and continent. It was her words that enabled us to triumph in our first war against Plegia. With one sentence, she won a war, through her faith in the desire of people for peace. Her death just over five years ago was a great loss to us all, and without her Ylisse will never be the same.
"The other about whom I wish to speak is Robin, our tactician. I found him on the side of the road, with no memory, no identity. Yet within weeks he was my most trusted adviser, and within months one of my closest friends. Despite fighting against his past, against his better judgment and against the odds, he successfully navigated our way through three wars. Without him, it would be fair to say that the casualties in the war would have reached perhaps ten times as much. Ultimately, he paid with his life to permanently kill the Fell Dragon, a sacrifice which we can never truly repay him for.
"These are two people close to me that perished in the name of peace; that sacrificed their lives so that others may live. And I know they are not alone in doing so. So I today would like to say thanks to all of the people who sacrificed themselves for their country and in the name of peace. We owe them a great debt, and the only way for us to pay it off is to work hard at living; to keep living for them and to keep remembering them. Because for as long as we remember them, they are not truly dead.
"I would also like to extend my thanks to the soldiers and people of the armies of Ylisse and Regna Ferox who enabled us to triumph in the wars. Without your assistance, we would never have been successful. Despite us downgrading the size of our military significantly, I was personally touched by the number of people signing up for reserve status. Hopefully we shall never have the need to call upon you, but knowing that we can gives me both great comfort and even greater pride. I am honoured to be able to count you among my countrymen and women.
"The final thank you that needs to be extended is to the people of the Shepherds, the key unit of the wars. Through the efforts of Robin, none of their lives were lost, and even when children, adults children, from the future turned up, they took it in their stride and embraced them as their own. I am fortunate to be able to call such a fine group of men and women my friends.
"I know there are many legends about all of them, which I'll tell you now are all exaggerated and blown out of proportion. Oh, except for Gregor, he really does drink that much! But the thing that makes these people special is that they are normal people, who work hard and work together. Their efforts were instrumental in our victory. So while many of us have gone our separate ways, we remain bonded by our experiences.
"I'd like to finish by borrowing from a speech that a great man once delivered to me. All of you out there, aren't there by chance. The people in your lives aren't simply happenstance. We are all bound together by invisible ties, bonds that join us and make us stronger than we are individually. It is the strength of this city, nay this country that has enabled us to flourish after the conclusion of these awful wars, and I beg of you to keep working, because the job isn't finished yet.
"Don't be despondent! Don't give up! Because there are better things ahead. Don't let yourself slip into believing that nothing will ever change! We aren't the pawns of some scripted fate, we are individuals, couples, comrades! We are able to determine our future!
So thank you! Thank you all! And enjoy this day of both reflection and celebration!"
She was not there to hear the speech, indeed, she was not even on the streets with the crowd of people. She was currently indoors, sweeping the floor of the stage of the Royal Ylissean Theatre. She sometimes questioned why she worked here, so close to her dream, yet so far away at the same time. The only answer she could come to was one of a sense of penance; the need to punish herself for her failures.
They'd offered her jobs, offered her support, but she hadn't wanted it; she didn't deserve it. So here she was, scrubbing floors. She came to the theatre every day, cleaned out the stalls, cleaned the stage and attended to anything else that needed to be done. It didn't earn much, but it was more than enough to supplement her Spartan existence. She worked hard, didn't get any complaints, but at the same time, she never spoke, not even one word. It was almost as if she had forgotten how.
She worked herself up into a sweat, it was hot in the theatre, with very little ventilation, only compounded by her unwillingness to remove the heavy black cloak. Reaching into her backpack, she realised that she had not packed her flask of water. She didn't react to that; she would be going and getting some meagre lunch in the not too distant future. She finished mopping the stage and put away her tools, before heading out of the building via the rear entrance.
The theatre was strategically placed by a previous Exalt to be on the boundary of the more and less affluent areas of town. As a result, the higher class patrons were able to come in via the main entrance and sit in the balconies, while the lower class filed into seats down the front. While the days of such poignant class discrepancies were long gone, the system remained, and as such, when she left via the back door, she was immediately greeted by ripe stenches and a grubby alleyway.
Picking her way carefully along wooden boards that made up the elevated pathway, enabling pedestrians to avoid the muck on the ground, she made her way to a grimy food market, where she would be able to purchase a meal. The atmosphere of the normally bustling area was markedly different today, casting the dim passage in a gloomy and ominous light.
Not one to be intimidated, she continued to make her towards her destination, initially unaware of the shadows following her. She did notice them, however, when a crunch of a plated boot hit the ground behind her. Instantly, she turned and faced them, sizing up the situation immediately. Realising that she was not going to have much hope against three much bigger opponents, she drew her knife, and held it out in front of her protectively.
"Oi! Oi! 'Old up there lass, no need to be 'asty with it, is there? After all, us fine gentlemens only want a chance to get to know such a fine lady as yourself. I mean, it's a day o'celebration an' all. Why not let us cop a feel, eh?" The lead man snickered.
Within two minutes all three were curled up in the foetal position on the ground, two of them missing fingers. The woman wiped off her knife, both wordlessly and emotionlessly. Throughout the whole encounter she had not so much as uttered a sound. Satisfied that the would-be attackers were repenting for their actions, she continued on her way, wondering to herself what they had meant by the day of 'celebration'.
Emerging from the darkness of the alley onto a main street, she immediately realised. The cheering crowd, the banners, the atmosphere, it all indicated the one thing she dreaded.
It was THAT day. The day she sought to forget; when he had sacrificed himself for her, for her! Of all people, worthless her. Immediately, she turned around, her appetite forgotten. She headed back to the theatre, this time hoping for someone to jump her. She could use the stress-relief.
They were in a convoy of caravans and horses now. The new mothers, of which there were a few, were huddled together in one such transport, exchanging stories and ideas for how to manage their new children. The rest of the company were straddling horses, with the exception of a few pegasus-riding and wyvern-riding members. They were en route to a particular location of Chrom's deciding, in order to have a private service to remember Robin.
The exalt was riding up the front, himself, leading the way, accompanied by his sister and his oldest daughter. At the present, they were just passing through Southtown, where many curious citizens had come out to see the convoy ride through and wave to their royalty. Of course Nowi had delighted in swooping low over the convoy, for the express purpose of stressing people out; much to her enjoyment, and her daughter's disapproval.
"Chrooooooom! Where are we going?" Lissa asked, somewhat perturbed by having to leave the castle while pregnant.
"Yes, father, you have been somewhat cagey about the whole purpose for the exact location of our visit. I know it's a service to remember Robin by, but why not have it at the castle? Or in the cathedral?" Lucina seconded her aunt's concerns.
"Well, you of all people should know where we're going, Lissa, after all, you were there!" Chrom replied snickering. Lissa clued on at that point, and promptly stopped complaining, but her niece still did not have her curiosity sated, and directed a pointed look towards her father.
"Don't worry, you'll see soon enough," Chrom said, as a familiar green hill came into view.
"Everyone!" he called, turning towards the convoy, "we've reached our destination." Barely two hours ride away from the capital, the convoy stopped. Libra began to unpack his materials, and Frederick started organising all the horses into a group out of the way. As Chrom began to head up towards the top of the hill, his daughter ran up behind him.
"Wait! Father! I still don't understand!"
"This, seemingly innocuous, hill, is the place where me and a certain white-haired tactician met," he replied, smiling wistfully.
Within the darkness, he had been struggling for what felt like an eternity. The golden threads that had attached themselves to him were pulling him out of the soft and warm nothingness in which he found himself. Far from struggling against them, he was actively trying to assist, striving to reach the single point where they originated.
There was no pain in the darkness, but at the same time, the effort of the exertion was beginning to wear him down. Yet, despite the stiffness of his joints and the phantom pain of his body, he continued pushing nonetheless. After all, she would have expected that of him.
As he reached the point of origin of the threads, the tiny pinprick of light expanded to an all-encompassing, blinding flash. Wincing from the exposure of his eyes, closed for so long, Robin was unable to give a proper account of what he felt.
However, at that time, that key point, when he was able to change his destiny, he gained the impression of a solitary, fleeting flash of regret. He regretted that he was coming back, after all the pain that he had caused. Maybe instead of having to say goodbye to him twice, it would be better if he never came back at all. But as soon as those thoughts rose, he quashed them, unwilling to let them dominate his being.
He had to return, for them, and specifically for her! There was more to be done. His story had not ended. And so, finally being pulled out of the all-consuming black, Robin was able to gain his first new impression.
Light.
A/N- Well, hello there! I suppose I should introduce myself, I am Shadowspree, though I'll sign as S, and I've decided to undertake the monumental task of writing something. This is the first time that I've ever written a piece of fanfiction, or really any extended piece of writing other than an essay. I'll just briefly introduce myself a little more here, but if you don't want to read that, skip to the bottom of the page for a quick summary on where the story is going.
I'm 18, I'm a boy, and I've just finished my final year of schooling in Australia. Of course I could just be making that all up I suppose, but I'm not, so believe me if you want to. Now that I've finished school, I wanted to challenge myself to do something, and so I decided to write this. I never really knew anything about the Fire Emblem games, so I only learnt about their characters through Smash 3DS, but after playing as them I wanted to have a go at Awakening. (As a result of the Lucina trophy in the game, the plot was a liiiiiittle spoiled)
I loved Awakening, it's one of my favourite games I've ever played, and the characters in it were fantastic. I've played through the game three times now, on each difficulty (except the easy one), and to be honest MU/Olivia was a pairing I never used (I used Cordelia, Tiki and then Lucina), although, giving thought to it, it's a pairing I like a lot.
I like the idea of Robin building up Olivia's confidence and enabling her to grow, only for that progress to be lost when he disappears, rendering her pretty much mute. This story is going to take place two years after Grima is defeated, and I will try to indicate when any time jumps occur. However, I might do some flashback chapters detailing the start of the relationship between the two leading characters.
Anyway! I'm really excited to write this piece, and I'll try and make the updates fairly consistent, though the length of the chapters may vary. My A/Ns will probably be long, but I'll keep them at the end of the chapter so you can skip them if you want.
Please feel free to leave reviews and comments about what you liked or didn't like, and leave any ideas you have for characterisations or future chapter ideas. I'm intending to make this story mostly linear, but it might become a little episodic. We'll see.
Also, by all means PM me with any suggestions or questions, and I will do my best to get back to you as soon as possible.
Until next time!
S.