This will probably be my last FE11 fic for a while. With my pre-order all nice and set, I probably won't even be writing a FEfic beyond this until Awakening comes in and I start writing FE13 jazz.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

There was no moon tonight. No celestial orb to reflect light for the benefit of Macedon as the darkness of night crept in. This was the ideal time for bandits to move, and indeed, some clans most likely were scoping out villages to prey on. Most of them, however, could do little more then scope, as the knightly orders that swore fealty to the Macedonian crown patrolled the villages, and their strength was not something the bandits could match.

As the people took to their beds, they were able to trust the Macedonian royal family unflinchingly. They would be protected by the knights that the King and his son had commissioned to guard the villages, and even accompany and protect those wandering outside the safe walls of the towns and cities.

For the people, life went on as it always did. Chores to complete, talks to be had, and the protection of the knights made all this possible. None of them were aware, none of them knew anything about the fearful whispering among the nobility.

Michalis looked down on the castle town. It was the place of residence patrolled the closest by the knights, and those knights were a great example of Macedon's belief in the safety of its people, but…

Michalis wrinkled his nose and looked up. There was no moon tonight, there weren't even any stars out on this night, chilly even by Macedon's standards. The night was dark and cloudy, but not nearly as dark as Michalis' swirling thoughts. He was aware of what was being talked about among the nobles, very troubling reports involving events that started in Dolhr, and were spreading to Altea, Gra, Khadein, Grust, and even Archanea. The reports had been investigated, and the words of the scouts confirmed them.

The Shadow Dragon of legend had returned. His mere presence seemed to somehow make Dolhr an unstoppable juggernaut with the zeal he put into his followers. Archanea was on the verge of being ruined, Altea was already shattered and occupied, while Grust and Gra and Khadein had run to Dolhr's loving embrace.

So far Macedon, and Aurelis and Talys for that matter, had not been affected, but anyone who had caught even the slightest whiff of these developments knew that Macedon would get involved sooner or later. Michalis stood at the balcony and wondered… how should his nation proceed?

He was the prince, not the King. His words could influence his father, but ultimate power truly lay in the King's hands. He had no more influence then his two sisters, the well-intentioned but blunt Minerva, and the naïve little Maria. That fact raised his hackles, for he had precious little good to say about his father's style of ruling.

Once, there was a time he would have been content to wait until his father passed to become King. Publicly, he still said that, but in the dark thoughts that he didn't share with anyone else, none save his black Wyvern, he was becoming increasingly less patient. The last few weeks had only eroded his patience even further. Dolhr was on the move, Macedon's next actions would decide if the nation would continue to exist or if it would be eradicated. The King was content to wait and see how Dolhr would respond to Macedon. This was just a long string of occasions where the King's conclusion as to how to proceed had stroked Michalis' ire.

Minerva did not always agree with their father's way of thinking, but she was always supportive of him. Maria naively believed that father could do no wrong. Michalis saw it differently, and to him, Macedon would only benefit from the King's death.

Macedon was stable. Macedon was safe. But Macedon did not progress. The King and the nobility did not seem to mind that other nations were outpacing Macedon in technology and military power. Macedon's only strength anymore was the Dragoons that Michalis led, the armada of Wyvern Riders that was the core of the military strength.

He sniffed the cold air. Macedon's Wyverns and Pegasus preferred the cold climate, and so the wild creatures lived in Macedon in considerable number. The creatures factored heavily into Macedon's military. Michalis himself rode upon a strong black Wyvern. The Wyvern was exceptionally intelligent, perhaps as intelligent as a human. For Michalis, it was a more trusted confident then any of his vassals. And it was upon the back of this odd advisor of his that he led the Dragoons.

As he fought right alongside the rank-and-file, Michalis had earned much fame, and was loved by his people. He was not oblivious to the fact that many people of Macedon, a great amount of the peasantry, and almost the entirety of the military, were more likely to follow him over the King. Perhaps some of them yearned eagerly for the day Michalis would become King himself.

There was little, really, that Michalis could do to harm Macedon. And there was much he could do to inspire and strengthen the country. He would be a strong King, he had already been named heir. Even if he hadn't, few would have sought a Macedon ruled by Minerva, who preferred to fight with an axe and not a quill pen, and had no understanding of political subtleties. Maria… was simply too young. Factual stories of competent child rulers were not unknown, but Maria's shoulders were not broad enough to handle the responsibilities, and she was far too naïve. The senators and other nobles would love a malleable puppet like Maria.

Slowly, Michalis reached to a sheath on his waist. He pulled out a curious knife, its gem encrusted handle made it clear that it was not something Michalis would normally use. It seemed more fanciful then practical, used for public ceremonies rather then for when stabbing, swiping, or cutting were desired.

It was very… Archanean, in design.

Acquiring the knife had been difficult. It had been more difficult to keep his acquisition of the knife a secret from his father and sisters. Someday, the knife might have been useful. Very, very useful. He kept it on his person at all times, but only unsheathed it in the most private of circumstances. Not even Orridyon, the knight who swore fealty to the King publicly but swore fealty to Michalis in truth, knew about this knife.

He had no particular plans for the knife. Nothing immediate, at least. It would likely only be used once, and then never again. What he used it for would have to be selected very carefully. Moreover, when he used it, he did not, under any circumstances, want Maria to be effected by whoever it was plunged into.

Maria… idolized both of her siblings, but seemed to want to emulate Michalis more then Minerva. She would have to grow up eventually, but Michalis didn't want Maria's naivety shattered overnight. Even so, if he had to choose between Maria's feelings and what was best for Macedon as a whole, he-

"Prince Michalis!"

It was the first words Michalis had heard in hours. He turned, and at this late hour, was surprised to see that Orridyon had approached him. Michalis quietly put the knife back in its sheath, Orridyon gave no indication that he had seen the weapon. "My prince… the King, your father, has decided to no longer watch and wait to see what unfolds in the ongoing incident."

Michalis blinked. He imagined his father, a weak man who had made up his mind, would have stubbornly insisted on playing a waiting game up to the day that Dolhr was approaching the castle for his head. Some of Michalis' annoyance ebbed, but he remained wary. There was a chance his father was now leaning toward intelligent, decisive action, but these days he had precious little faith in the King's decision making skills.

"What is he planning?" Michalis asked, turning away from Orridyon and crossing his arms. Orridyon was accustomed to this sort of response, and spoke evenly.

"The King reasons that no human regnant could or should stand by and let Dolhr have its way. Therefore, the Macedonian army will readying to march. One moon from now, we will come to the aid of Archanea."

Michalis jolted at the words. Orridyon's breath caught as Michalis snapped back around.

"What?" Michalis' eyes widened in shock. Orridyon could not fight the urge to draw back at Michalis' composure briefly snapping. "Archanea has almost been destroyed. Altea, the only nation apart from Archanea that could have credibly challenged Dolhr and its allies has already been broken by a single act of deceit. Macedon will only suffer if we march to the aid of a doomed nation."

Orridyon swallowed audibly. "Princess… Minerva, is in full support of this decision. She took great pride in the fact that we would move against Dolhr and aid Archanea."

How, Michalis wondered. How did they not see the obvious mistake in this? Archanea was destined to fall, and if Macedon tried to swoop in and save a doomed nation, they would only succeed in becoming the next target of Dolhr's wrath after Archanea crumbled. If opposing Dolhr was really the King's wish, it would have been wiser to feign obedience to the Shadow Dragon, and wait with a knife ready to plunge into the resurrected tyrant.

A knife…

Michalis looked down at the sheath he kept the Archanean knife in.

No. No, he could not allow this. His father's decision would destroy Macedon, completely and utterly. Perhaps the King and Minerva would have said that they would never sacrifice their pride and honor and let Dolhr do as it did with the nations it defeated. Michalis thought differently. Honor served nothing if it hurt his nation and his people. This decision had to be stopped, and he knew his father would be stubborn about this, and so…

He looked at Orridyon again. "Has the King publically revealed this?"

"No, prince. He has shared it with no one save princess Minerva and I so far, and he sent me as a messenger to inform you. I imagine no one else knows as of yet."

Michalis nodded. Good. That would make things easier. He simply had to move before his father publicly announced his flawed plan. "Tell my father to meet me in the throne room." He spoke with a never before heard chill in his voice, his hand brushed the sheath the knife was kept in. "Tell him that something has gone wrong, and I must speak to him immediately."

Orridyon wasn't sure where the words came from, but bowed all the same. He had always trusted in Michalis before, and would continue to do so tonight. "I shall inform him immediately." Confused but still loyal, he turned to leave.

The knight departed. Michalis turned around and looked up into the night sky. There was a flicker of doubt, of shame, but he tossed it aside. The well-being of a single person or of a single family, was meaningless when the existence and prosperity of a nation was in the balance. He had given his order to Orridyon. He could only walk the path he had placed in front of himself to walk. With no second thoughts, he turned and started to walk into one of the castle's long corridors.

The minutes ticked by as Michalis waited in the throne room. His arms were crossed, and though he wanted to say that he had no qualms about this, the inner reservations still came. He knew that this was necessary for Macedon, but even so, an act like this did not sit entirely well with him. Primarily because he knew how hard Maria would take it. His choice had already been made, of course. His father could not be allowed to continue ruling if he was only too happy to send Macedon to its destruction.

He grew calmer as he reviewed his rationale. His father would destroy Macedon, he, on the other hand, would keep the nation alive and see it through this war. The nation was stagnant enough because of the current King, there were few worse options.

The doors swung open. Michalis took in a deep and long breath.

"My son, what is it?" The King entered the throne room, genuine worry and concern in his voice. Michalis heard it, but was unmoved. Slowly, he turned, then began to walk toward his father as one hand began to approach his waist.

"What is it? What has gone so wrong that you had to speak to me at this hour?"

Michalis suddenly thrust an arm forward. "It's not what's gone wrong, father…"

The King gagged as a pain shot through him, then looked down. He could see, plain as day, that he had been stabbed-

-in the chest-

-by his own son.

He looked up at Michalis, straight into the son's utterly unrepentant eyes.

"…it's what's being made right."

Considering how little screentime he got in Shadow Dragon, I have to wonder how I became as fond of Michalis as I am. The fact that he's a Dracoknight probably plays into it, being my favorite FE class from an aesthetic viewpoint. While I didn't care much for Vaida in Rekka No Ken, I'm quite fond of all the other recruitable Wyvern Knights.

Please review.