Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem.
A/N: Thanks, Wolf, for beta'ing this story.
Dragon Song
Do you think they can ever understand? What we are, what our music is truly meant to be?
Long ago when man was still young and dragons already old, dragons shared their gift of song. Their music could soothe the weary heart, gentle the harshest storms, call forth life from rocky soil. For an age, these songs were sung, and for an age, they brought peace and prosperity.
But war drove the dragons from this land. The songs were silent, the wonder and joy they brought—gone. Humans forgot the dragons in the ages that passed and never knew how much they had lost.
Then the dragon siblings came, lured by a magician that wanted their power for his own.
We only wanted a glimpse, just one glimpse of the world we left behind. We never asked for this.
They escaped and fled in the guise of a human bard and dancer to search for a way home. But the world they had wanted so badly to see was not kind. They were chased by pitchfork-wielding villagers afraid of their crimson eyes and strange music; fled from rich barons with greedy hands and lecherous eyes; recoiled in horror from a village razed by bandits.
How could one race be so willing to destroy, so quick to hate?
But when they were captured and held powerless in the magician's grasp, they found hope in one who showed them that men could be kind and good. They escaped with his help and continued their journey in the company of his son.
Together they fought pirates on the open seas, saved villages from marauding bandits, even rescued a prince. In their quieter moments they shared warm meals by the evening fire, counted stars with the daughter of the plains, played with the fierce-hearted lord in the desert sands, and grieved with the son for the death of his father. Because of him, the dragon dancer made an unexpected discovery.
Dragon and human may not be so different after all. We, too, feel anger and despair. We, too, feel sorrow and joy. We, too, can love.
Warrior and leader he might be, but he only fought because if he did not, people who depended on him would suffer. She knew all too well how heavy that responsibility was, and what began as empathy grew into something more. She began to dream of a different future, a simpler destiny, without a power as much a burden as it was a gift. But it was not to be.
She was a dancer whose dance renewed the strength of those weary from battle. She was a priestess who brought plentitude to a land normally bare, coaxing life from seeming death. She was a dragon whose duty called her home. She could do no less, even if, in the quiet solitude of her heart, she longed to be with him.
Is it so wrong to wish for something that can never be?
There was only one choice to make and it could not involve him. So she stayed by his side and hid the truth, not letting him see, not wanting him to know, for fear that it would weaken her resolve. But she could not hide it forever.
--
She walked alone on a bluff facing the sea, fists clenched tightly at her side. It was a beautiful night, but she didn't notice. The chill breeze cut through the gauzy wrap about her shoulders, but she was too distracted to care. She stopped and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to grasp a peace of mind that was proving as elusive as the wind.
"Ninian, what's wrong?"
She gasped, but breathed again when she saw it was Nils who stood nearby, concern written on his face. She forced a smile.
"I'm fine, Nils. There's nothing wrong."
"Then why did you leave so abruptly? There's dancing tonight…and someone is looking for you."
She winced. "All the more reason for me not to be there."
"Ninian…" Nils came forward and took both her hands in his. His hands were much warmer than hers, or maybe she was just cold. "Tell me."
"No," she said, shaking her head.
"Ninian," he said again. His voice was firm, but his eyes were gentle and knowing. She may have been his elder, but they had spent most of their lives together and there was little she could hide from him. He probably knew already, she thought, but long moments still passed before she spoke.
"I tried to tell him tonight. I wanted him to know the truth about us, about who we are and why we're being hunted, why his father died." She stumbled on the last. "I wanted him to know the truth and thought that, maybe more than anyone else, he would understand. But in the end I couldn't. I looked at him and was suddenly so...afraid."
"Of him?"
"No, no of course not. Even if he knew the truth, I knew that he wouldn't hate or blame us for what has happened. He's not like that. No, what I was afraid of most was...myself." She lapsed into silence. Nils said nothing, but the comforting grip of his hands urged her to continue. "I think I kept it from him all this time not because I was afraid he wouldn't understand, but that he would understand too much--and still not enough. If he knew that you and I were dragons, he would probably accept us completely. He's not the kind of person to cast away his friends. But if he knew that you and I were planning to leave this world, he might try to convince us to stay. I was afraid of what my answer would be if he did."
"Is that what you want?" he asked, his voice subdued. "Do you really want to stay here?"
"You know as well as I why we have to go back," she said quietly. "Our people need us. Our world is too barren, too unforgiving, to sustain life without help. If there were many others with our power, it might be different, but there are only you and I. We have to go back. We must." She knew that clearly, even if she wished it were not so.
"But what happened then? If you didn't tell him, what could have happened to upset you so?" Nils' eyes widened as he realized the only thing it could have been. "What did he say to you?"
It took her a long time to answer, and when she did, it was only a whisper. "He reached out for me and said, 'I don't care what your secret is. Whatever it is, it won't change how I feel for you. Whatever troubles you, let me sweep it away. Whatever it takes, tell me what I can do to make you happy.' " Her voice broke. "He said, 'I love you, Ninian. So please…don't cry.' "
"Oh Ninian…" Nils wiped away the tears falling down her cheeks. He wrapped his thin arms around her and held her tight. "But why does this make you so sad? Don't you feel the same way?"
"Don't you see, Nils?" she said. "I can't feel the same way. Because if I did, how could I bring myself to leave? How could I go home after telling him that? If I returned his feelings, I'd want to stay with him always, and I can't." She forced out those last two words. Maybe then she would remember the many reasons she had to go-- and forget the one reason that made her want stay. "I have to go back."
"No, you don't." He pulled away from her, a flush in his cheeks and his fists clenched. Her feelings temporarily gave way to surprise. Why did he look angry?
"Nils?"
"I can go back alone. I can close the Dragon's Gate and somehow support our people on my own. I can do it. You don't have to do this." She couldn't answer, confused as she was by his change in manner. "This wasn't your fault. You shouldn't have to suffer because of it."
"There is no fault here, Nils. It's my responsibility—"
"It's my fault," he said, and suddenly she understood. "I was the one who said we should go through the Dragon's Gate. I was the one who said it would be all right. 'Just one glimpse,' I said." He shook his head angrily and couldn't seem to meet her eyes. "I was a fool, every bit the boy the elders said I still was. It was that foolishness that led us into that trap. Now with this…you were always trying to hide it, but I could see the way you felt for him and knew how much that would hurt you in the end. And I still couldn't do anything to stop it. So it's my fault that you're hurting now, too." He looked at her then, eyes full of guilt. "We never should have come here. We never should have walked through the gate that day. We never should have left home--" She knelt and drew him into a tight hug.
"Hush," she whispered. "I know you don't mean that."
"But I do," he said stubbornly. "Don't you regret coming here?"
She smiled, only a little, but a smile that for the first time that night was not forced. "How could I regret it? It has been difficult, but I am so glad we came here. If I hadn't followed you through the gate that day, I never would have known this world could be even more beautiful than our stories tell. I never would have learned that humans and dragons are more alike than I thought, that we could live in peace. And never meeting him, never knowing him…Nils, I would never take that back."
"Truly?" He searched her face intently, looking for what, she did not know. "Even knowing you can't stay, even knowing how it has to end, you don't regret it?"
She was a dragon; her heart, once given, belonged to that person forever. But if asked to choose between that and never having known him, never having loved him, she would always choose to love.
"I regret nothing."
Nils must have seen whatever he needed to see because a smile slowly grew on his face. "I don't know how you do it, Ninian. I should have known that I would come here trying to comfort you, and end up being the one comforted instead."
"Well I am your sister, after all," she said, smiling.
"Well then as your brother, let me do something for you." He pulled out his flute. "Do you feel like dancing tonight? I think I know just the right song."
"I'd be happy to," she said as she rose to her feet. She turned to face him, but was suddenly struck by the sight of the full moon hanging low in the sky, bathing the land and sea in a silver light. It was beautiful. She was still smiling when she looked at her brother. "I didn't want to dance earlier, but now I do. Thank you, Nils."
He grinned and then, putting his mouth to the flute, began to play.
--
It is said that a dragon's dance is a reflection of her soul, that her every movement is an expression of the song inside her. The song that she danced to that night was one of hope, invoking the memory of the moment when darkness first turned to light, and of joy, when life first sprang from seeming death. Her song swept through trees still held in winter's grip, over earth still cold and hard, around creatures still and sleeping. And though ages had passed since a dragon's song had been heard, this world remembered.
Trees stirred at the feel of sap rushing through woody veins. The earth rumbled and shifted, allowing the first shoots to raise their heads from the soil. Creatures of the forest awoke from their long sleep. Clouds began to gather, full of the rain that would fall on the morrow. But at that moment the moon and stars shone more brightly, illuminating the dancer with light of silver and gold.
It is said that even people heard the song that night. What would they have seen, one must wonder, if they followed the music to that isolated bluff. Those who looked with their eyes alone and hearts that had long forgotten would have seen only a young woman, little more than a girl, dancing to something they could barely hear and couldn't name. Those who had not lost the innocence of youth might have seen a faint glow around her and heard whispers of music more enchanting than any they had heard before. Few, if any, would have seen a dragon giving voice to her song on that bluff facing the sea.
It was a song of hope, of light banishing the darkness. It was a song of joy, of spring ending even the longest of winters. The people may no longer remember, but as long as it lives and breathes, this world shall not forget.
This was her song.
