Before we start, I would like to clear a few things up concerning this collection. It collection will consist mainly of one-shots (stand-alone short stories), unless specified otherwise. However, if I'm writing several chapters that occur in a chronological order, like an actual story, then I'll title the chapters as Part: 1, Part: 2, etc. I'm also a fan of a wide variety of pairings, so I'll be playing around with that. For example, in this chapter I paired Tharja and Libra together, but in another chapter I might pair Tharja up with somebody else. I'll list the pairings that will take place in the beginning of the relevant chapter (unless I want it to be a surprise) to prevent any confusion.

Lastly, if you find any errors-grammar or otherwise-or have any suggestions, then I would love to hear them! Just put what you want to say in a review, and I'll be sure to fix whatever is wrong.

Now that that's cleared up, onto the story!

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Fire Emblem: Awakening (or any of the games, really).

Hearts and Minds

Pairing: Tharja and Libra

Timeline: Future

Age of Noire: Approximately eight years old.

Noire hesitated at the first step, gulping as she looked down the stairs that faded into what seemed like a black fathomless pit. It was possible the pit could've led straight to hell itself.

But she knew better than that.

Even from where the little girl stood, she could hear the eerie echoes and bangs, the only signs of life at the bottom of the staircase. The sounds were coming from her mother's workroom. How long has it been since her mother last left her studies? A week? Two? Noire couldn't remember.

Ever since her father died, her mother has been working day and night to bring him back. For many days Noire was left alone in the house where her family used to live together. The home had been filled with such happiness and peace that even the dreaded war did not seem to pass through the walls. Nowadays the house felt empty, only a footprint of its former glory. The rooms that once filled Noire with a sense of adventure and mystery now only haunted her with bittersweet memories—echoes of a past that were harder to hear each day.

"Noire!"

Her mother's voice, cracked from disuse, rose from the bottom of the staircase and snapped the girl out of her thoughts. "Get over here!"

Noire swallowed when she looked down the pit, unable to see the bottom. For a moment the world seemed to shake—has Grima finally arrived?—but then Noire realized it was only her knees trembling. Taking a deep breath, she grasped the talisman her mother had given her. A sensation like electrical sparks surged from the charm and into her body, clearing her mind of fear.

It fueled her with just enough courage for her to take the first step into the darkness.

And another.

And another.

Soon it wouldn't have mattered if Noire's eyes were open or not—she couldn't even see her hand in front of her. "It's okay," she whispered, letting her fingers skim over the wall's jagged surface. "You've done this before. It's okay, it's okay… I just need to step carefully…and avoid the hairy spiders...and suffocating…and falling to my death…I bet my funeral wouldn't be very big… Would Severa even cry?"

The air soon turned chilly and thick with mustiness. Goose bumps rippled across her skin. No matter how quiet she tried to be, each step was amplified in the narrow space. She wondered if a crypt was like this.

At last Noire could make out a hazy light emerging from the darkness, signaling the end of the staircase. Aromas hinting of origins far away replaced the mustiness. Noire's footfalls echoed when she hopped from the last step and crept towards the room where light was spilling out. Though she was relieved to have left the nightmarish passageway, she wasn't eager to enter the next area either. Where most people would be happy to see a light at the end of a tunnel, believing their struggles were at an end, Noire knew the light was only a disguise to things more sinister than darkness.

Staying in the shadows, Noire hugged the wall and peered into the workroom. Her mother was a stone's throw away, her back facing the girl. She was hunched over a wooden table that was strewn with leafy herbs, bottles of all sizes, and aged books and tomes. She was focused on a volume thicker than Noire's arm. Its pages were yellowed and filled with symbols from an arcane language. Her mother's eyes scanned the semi-transparent pages with an almost lustful greed.

"Momma," Noire whispered, trying not to disturb her mother. "Can I help with something?"

Tharja whipped around with a surprised, wild look on her face. Then her eyes narrowed distastefully at her daughter, and Noire shrunk closer to the wall. The sorceress rushed at her. She grabbed her by the forearm; Noire yelped as Tharja's sharpened nails dug into her skin. The mother did not seem to notice the pain she was causing, or if she did, she did not care.

"About time," she hissed, dragging her daughter next to the table. She shoved the girl's arms against her sides before releasing her. "Stay."

Tharja strode to the gurgling cauldron. The liquids inside cast her face in a blackish glow as she peered at the contents.

All the while, Noire's heart fluttered in her chest like a bird. She fought to stay still like her mother had demanded, but her quivering limbs betrayed her. It's okay, she thought. Momma just needs my help.

Wide-eyed, Noire watched wordlessly as her mother grabbed a ladle from a hook on the wall. She dipped it into the cauldron. When the sorceress pulled it out, the spoon was filled with a thick, black liquid that emitted curls of steam. Careful not to spill, Tharja rushed back to her daughter. She snatched the girl by the chin, cutting small crescents into her skin.

"Open," the sorceress murmured.

The brew was so close Noire could feel the wisps of steam brushing against her cheek and could smell the foul odor as it choked her. Before Noire could make a sound, her mother shoved the ladle into her mouth.

"Drink."

The vile smell surrounded Noire as the liquid gushed down her throat, inescapable and overwhelming. It felt like hundreds of knives were stabbing her from the inside until she was doubled over in pain. Her eyes watered as she struggled to look up, searching for her mother, but blots of red threatened to overtake her vision. She struggled to cry for help but the words were stolen by violent coughs.

Soon she couldn't tell if she was standing up or lying on the cold, hard ground. Noire only knew the pain wouldn't stop stop stop.

*l*l*

Silent, Tharja stood by as she watched her daughter double over in anguish. She didn't lift a finger to help nor offer a word of comfort. Instead her eyes glinted hungrily, almost feral-like.

Suddenly Noire's writhing body turned still, rigid. Then the girl straightened, as if a string was pulling her up like she was nothing more than a puppet. A slack and empty expression swept over her face, smoothing any signs of agony into a blank mask. Noire's dark eyes blinked once, and when they reopened, the pupils and irises were swallowed up by a milky white.

The girl had all but disappeared.

Tharja pursed her lips as she waited for the next phase to take place. She couldn't help but frown as she looked at her daughter. Almost against her will, she stretched her hand and ran her slim fingers through the girl's fair hair, lingering slightly at the ends. Noire was so much like…him.

The sorceress yanked her hand away. She took a step back, as if hoping to distance herself from the girl, not only physically but emotionally, as well. It had to work. It just had to.

Tharja frantically searched the girl's eyes for any sign of recognition but they stared blankly ahead; open, but not seeing. Worries chased each other around and around the sorceress's mind the longer she watched her daughter's still body. What if it didn't work? What if I did something wrong? What if—

"Mmhh…"

Tharja froze.

Another moan, soft and low, escaped from the girl's lips, though her expression was just as empty. Then Noire's mouth opened.

"Tharja?"

The sorceress sucked in a breath. The voice that came from the girl was not Noire's quiet, timid voice, but a voice that was calm yet weighed with heaviness, as if the person had just woken up. It was a voice that haunted Tharja whether she was awake or dreaming. It was a voice as familiar to her as her own. It was…

"Libra."

Tharja's grip tightened on the book she was holding to hide her shaking arms. "You're here."

It wasn't a hallucination.

It was real.

It was real.

"I-I almost gave up," she stammered. "This connection is only temporary, I know, but a few more experiments and we can—I can bring you back to the living. The form is slightly off, but some batwings should—"

"Tharja," Libra's voice interrupted. "My love, you must stop this."

The sorceress's eyes widened in shock. "What are you talking about? Has death made you mad?"

"I'm perfectly in my right mind," he assured. "But I am not of this world any longer. There's no need for you to waste your life in a vain attempt to bring back mine. You Nobody can reverse death—you should know that more than anyone else. It's unnatural."

Tharja flinched as if she had been slapped. "Unnatural?" A dark aura pulsed like a racing heartbeat around her form. "I'm trying to bring you back to life! All of this—" She thrust her arms to the shadowy room around her, though Noire's eyes did not react. "—is for you! Don't you dare tell me that wanting my husband alive—by my side—is unnatural!"

There was a tense silence before Noire slowly opened her mouth again. "Do you remember when you first cast a hex on me?"

The aura that encased the sorceress slowly dimmed as anger gave way to confusion. "Of course." She frowned. "It's not everyday someone volunteers to be a guinea pig."

"Yes, and it wasn't long before you discovered my secret. I still remember the words you said to me after." Tharja could just imagine Libra's gentle smile while his voice echoed, "When hearts and minds come together, they sometimes change each other.'"

"I…might've said something like that." A blush covered Tharja's cheeks as the last of the aura faded.

"Even after death the change that happened between us will never disappear. It will always be there, connecting us."

Before her brain realized what her body was doing, Tharja raised her arm and threw her tome with all her might. Noire didn't even blink when the book hit the wall behind her with a deafening bang before dropping to the floor, its pages splayed out in disarray.

"YOU LIE!"

The scream rattled the shelves of jars and metal instruments lining the walls. Ghostly silhouettes rose from the cracks in the stone floor and stretched to the ceiling. Tharja's body shook while the aura flared around her once again, larger and fiercer than ever. "Those words mean nothing if you are not here! You left me alone—abandoned!"

"As you have abandoned our daughter?" Libra answered coolly.

"You're the one who abandoned her," Tharja spat. "Why did you do it? The arrow was meant for me and yet you stepped in front of it. Why?"

She could still see it: the assassin peeking from the bushes, an arrow notched; the terror on Libra's face as he jumped in front of her, screaming her name; his eyes wide with astonishment and the quick, sharp intake of breath as the arrow embedded itself not in her breast, but in Libra's. Even now she could feel the helplessness and unadulterated rage that itched at the edges of her sanity. It was a fervor that even revenge could not sate.

His voice became soft yet strong, the same tone he would use to urge her away from the dusty tomes she would spend hours poring over. "I sacrificed myself because I love you, and I would do it again a thousand times."

"Fool," she murmured, still vibrating with fury and sorrow. "We both know that you would've made a better parent for Noire."

"No," his voice hardened, not in anger but in determination. "I don't pretend to know the reasons of gods—even in the afterlife those remain enigmatic—but I do know that you are meant to be Noire's guide through her life. So I beg of you...let me go. Continue living your lives together. If you do not, then Noire will not only be fatherless but motherless, as well. Do you truly wish her to grow up with the same lack of love that we did?"

Tharja was speechless. With wide eyes, she stared at her daughter's face—so young, so innocent—as if seeing her for the first time. Whether she realized it or not, Noire had never given up on her mother. Even when the little girl was afraid, she would offer Tharja help with her experiments or cook her meals when she would forfeit food for a few more precious minutes of study. Noire was the only thing that had kept the sorceress' last shreds of sanity from slipping away. And how did Tharja repay her? By using Noire as a guinea pig half of the time, and the other half by pretending she didn't exist.

But that was going to change.

The shadowy figures that stretched across the walls suddenly dispersed, like they were nothing more than candlelight snuffed out with a breath. The sorceress's aura shrank back into her body. For the first time in so long, Tharja felt...whole again.

The girl's lips parted once more, and the voice that flowed out sounded almost wistful. "Does the little mouse still like to paint? Before I left, we were painting an angel together. She was having trouble with the wings…"

"I-I don't know," Tharja admitted, her bangs covering her face when she lowered her head.

"I see." There was disappointment in his voice, but it disappeared in a second. "Tell her that I'm sorry we never finished the painting."

Tharja knew what was coming. Holding back tears, she looked up. "Libra, I'll curse you in the afterlife if you leave me now!"

The voice continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Tell the little mouse that I'm sorry I was never able to stop the hexes you would always cast on us…" Libra's voice became fainter as if drifting to the opposite end of a long tunnel. "Tell her that I love her and her mother with all of my heart. Tell her that even in the afterlife I still miss her every second. And tell her—"

The voice cut off.

"Don't go…" Tharja moaned.

But there was only silence.

*l*l*

Noire's eyes were closed when she regained consciousness. The first thing she noticed was that the air was close to freezing; a sign that something supernatural had transpired. Her head felt heavy and…oddly fuzzy, like it had been stuffed with cotton. Then a sharp pain at her temple cleared away the drowsiness. Swaying, Noire cupped the side of her head and groaned.

"Nngh…w-w-what happened?"

A muffled noise forced her eyelids apart. Though she didn't realize it, the cloudy film that had appeared during the trance was melting away, revealing her natural eye color.

The area was cast in shadows like a dungeon. It took a moment for her vision to adjust to the darkness, and another to pick out an obscure hump in the center of floor. Taking a step forward, Noire realized it was her mother.

The sorceress was lying on the floor with her legs bent to the side. Her hand was touching the ground to hold herself up, while her other hand was covering her face. Her shoulders shuddered as she jerked her head away from the girl.

"Momma?" Noire's breath came out in a wisp. She knelt on the floor beside her mother, hesitating, before placing a hand lightly on her upper back—her skin felt as cold as ice. "Momma, did I do something wrong?"

For a long moment, Tharja did not move or say anything. Eventually the spasms subsided, and Tharja slowly lowered her hand from her face. Black strands of hair fell back when she raised her head, meeting her daughter's worried gaze.

Noire held back a gasp when she saw the moisture shining on her mother's pale cheeks. She had never seen her cry before.

"What happened?" said Noire in barely more than a whisper.

Tharja's voice was gravelly with emotion. "Your father said he misses his little mouse."

Then her mother did something that the girl had not seen in a very long time.

Tharja smiled.