Author's Notes: Doubtlessly, if you've talked to me in the past few months, you've heard me at least mention this little thing. The musical project, I've called it, simply because I didn't have a title besides Fire Emblem: The Musical! …which, honestly, sounded like one of those fics where the game has been rewritten to include musical numbers. Nothing against those fics, but that's not what this is. Oh, no. This is… well, it's sorta-kinda an AU. There are more details about that below. Basically, it's (attempted) calmly-written crack. With a plot. And slash.

Doesn't that sound fun?

Details: A couple hundred years has passed on Elibe. A modern-like civilization has developed. On the theatre scene, an up-and-coming director/writer, Mark (yes, the reincarnation of that Mark), starts working on a historical musical. The event it's based on? The journey of Eliwood's Elite. Unknowingly, Mark ends up with a cast consisting of the reincarnations of the actual Eliwood's Elite. He is unknowingly influenced by Ninian and Nils, who seem to be the only ones to remember their past lives.

Disclaimer: Pity, still don't own it.

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The Musical Project

Chapter One

By Amethyst Bubble

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Mark had to admit, it probably wasn't his greatest idea. After all, when he'd come up with it he'd gone two days without much more than an hour nap and was on his eleventh jumbo-sized mocha.

The idea had struck him like a bolt of lightning, effectively startling him out of his game of trying to find patterns in the cracks on his ceiling. Quickly, he scrambled for the large history book that propped up his coffee table.

Twenty minutes later found him laughing like a maniac. Later, he would look back and hope that the particular fit of madness had been due to all the coffee in his system.

He got up, fully intent on running to the library for more research materials-- ignoring the fact that it was currently three in the morning-- and promptly tripped over his cat.

The next morning, when he regained consciousness, he was pleased to find that he still remembered his idea and had not smooshed Mr. Fluffy.

---

"Well, I don't know…"

"I'm telling you, it could work!"

"But wouldn't you have to cut down on the story an awful lot? After all, it's such a long legend."

"…I, err, hadn't actually thought of that."

"…Oh."

"Wait, wait! We could skip over some parts of the story easily! I can make it work!"

"Mark, you'd have to fit this into a three hour play. Do you really think you could compress the story that much?"

"Well, yeah--"

"And still make it good, I mean."

"…Shut up."

"Well, at the very least it'll be amusing to see if you can pull this off."

"Ah, what does a kid know about the theatre anyway?"

"I didn't say it was a bad idea."

"Thanks."

"I didn't say it was good either."

"…Would you please just put your sister on the phone, Nils?"

---

"The journey of Eliwood's Elite?" Ninian repeated as she took a seat on Mark's ratty couch, a cup of ice tea cradled between her pale hands. "That's quite a tale, Mark."

A moment passed in silence. Mark's cat seemed more attentive to what she had to say than the young man himself. Ninian frowned.

"You know, it's not exactly easy for me to come visit you," she said, pushing a lock of her long hair behind her ear. "I have to find a sitter for Nils and he always complains about how he's too old to have a sitter. And he's technically right, but all the same, for the sake of appearances, I have to. And I could say anything at this moment because you're not listening to me at all. Mark, the pancakes are conspiring to eat all your clothes and leave you trapped and naked in this apartment."

"Hmm?" Mark hummed, not even bothering to look up from the large volume of history in his lap.

"Oh, let me see that." she pried the book from his hands and, marking his place with her index finger, flipped it back to the cover. "A history of Elibe… Oh, Mark, this book is nonsense. If you want a good account of Eliwood's Elite, you should have just asked me. You know that I'm an expert." After all, she thought to herself, I was there.

Mark shrugged guiltily, an embarrassed smile on his face. "I… hadn't thought of that, actually. But, Ninian, what I really need is an in-depth account written by someone who was there! Not just a detailed overview!"

Silently, Ninian huffed, but she kept her expression calm and simply crossed her arms loosely as Mark continued.

"Are there any accounts of the events written down by, I don't know, someone who was there?" Mark ranted, taking out his frustration by yanking at his hair.

I was there, she thought incredulously, but kept her mouth shut on the subject.

"Because the history books are just so vague!" Mark moaned and, presumably imitating what he thought a history teacher sounded like, went on in a dry, flat tone, "And so Lord Eliwood of Pherae set out on a journey to find and retrieve his father, Lord Elbert, the marquis of Pherae. Along the way, he accumulated an army and ultimately ended up defeating the evil Nergal who planned to take over the world by summoning dragons."

"You skipped a lot of detail," Ninian pointed out. "Like how Nergal imprisoned and ultimately killed Lord Elbert, who helped the mysterious children escape. Or how Lord Eliwood joined forces with his longtime friend, Lord Hector of Ostia, and Lyndis, the granddaughter of the marquis of Caelin. Or the time Nino tried out Elfire for the first time and accidentally set your cloak on fire."

"…What?" Mark blinked. "Who? Cloak?"

Ninian fidgeted, mentally beating herself over the head for letting that slip. She hadn't even thought about it, she had just spit it out! Oh, that hadn't been smart. "Um," she looked for a way out. "I'm sorry, I've been reading this fascinating series of novels lately and I think I must have accidentally quoted one of them." She said it slowly and carefully, suddenly finding the arm of the sofa as interesting as that supposed series of novels.

It would be so much easier if Mark had remembered. That Nino thing should've have gotten a laugh, or at least a wince.

"…Oh." Mark said after a moment, disbelief dripping from his tone. Ninian put an extra ounce of innocence into her smile.

"So, you were saying…?" Ninian prompted, breaking the awkward silence. She folded her hands in her lap and tried to look attentive.

"I was saying," Mark's attention snapped back to his former topic and Ninian gave a little internal sigh of relief. "It's really a shame that there isn't a written account by someone who was actually in the army."

Ninian nodded. Then a realization hit her like a ton of bricks. Oh, the things you forgot after several hundred years… "There is."

"…There is? There is what?" Mark asked, confused.

Ninian leaned forward, "An account of the war written by someone who was there."

Mark just about fell off the sofa. "What? Who? Where can I get a copy of this?" he said all in a rush, leaning over the rickety coffee table to stare at Ninian with a mad hunger in his eyes.

"The tactician kept a detailed journal," Ninian explained with a small smile. Memories involving rants about dog-eared pages and smudged ink flooded her. "He even wrote a record of the travels of Lady Lyndis, the events that would eventually lead to her joining up with Lord Eliwood of Pherae."

"Oh, yes, yes, yes!" Mark jumped up, pumping a fist in the air. "What was his name? Are their copies in print? Can I buy it anywhere?"

Ninian held up a hand against the tirade of questions. "It hasn't been in print for several years, but I think I can get you a copy and you'll probably be surprised to hear that his name was Mark."

He blinked. "What, was I named after him or something?"

She pushed a few locks of long hair behind her ear, "Hmm, something like that."

---

Eleanora was certainly surprised when she first heard about it, but more and more she found the idea growing on her. In fact, she found herself rather wanting to be involved in the actual production.

"There are auditions taking place this weekend for the most interesting sounding play," she announced innocently enough to her husband and son one morning. The reactions she got were less than satisfactory. Elbert raised his newspaper up a little higher so that it hid his face, while Eliwood visibly paled.

"That's, uh, that's nice, mom," Eliwood said shortly. He then became extremely interested in his eggs.

Eleanora frowned a little bit. "The auditions are open to everyone," she said, pouring herself some more orange juice. Elbert's newspaper was raised just a tiny bit higher.

"Mom, you promised you'd stop after the last fiasco!" Eliwood exclaimed, his expression pained.

"All I'm saying is that maybe it would be fun to audition," Eleanora replied. "But if you don't want to…" she continued with a small sigh.

The angle at which Elbert's newspaper was now held had to be uncomfortable, Eliwood thought as he observed his father, but it did none the less shield him from the sad expression Eleanora wore. Eliwood swore to start reading during breakfast himself when the expression was turned on him.

"Mom," he said as steadily as he could. The look in her eyes was not making this easier. He started thinking of extra-nice Mother's Day gifts to squash the guilt. "I really, really don't want to audition."

He waited for the guilt trip.

"If you say so, dear."

…That was not it. Eliwood waited for another moment. Nothing. "…Really?" he finally asked, blinking. Elbert lowered the newspaper just a tad.

"Of course," Eleanora answered, focused on her breakfast now. The newspaper went down another inch. Eliwood's fork was frozen in mid-air. "It's your decision-- after all, you're not a child anymore."

There was a mumble of something that sounded a bit like "oh lord" from Elbert.

Eliwood's shocked expression slowly melted into a smile. "Well, thanks, mom." He was reaching for his glass of orange juice when her next remark, complete with wistfully sorrowful tone, cut through him like a knife.

"After all, you're almost all grown-up now… you'll be going off on your own soon, and you won't have me or your father around to assist you all the time."

Elbert's newspaper was once again converted into a shield, rendering Eliwood's pleading glances in his father's direction rather hopeless.

"Mom, don't," he tried, but it was useless.

"No, no, dear," Eleanora cut him off. "You should hear this. Like I said, your father and I can't really run your life any longer, not like when you were a child. And you were such a cute child, too."

"Mom, please…"

"I just hope I raised you right, what with all those times your father and I had to be away on business--" Elbert coughed from behind his paper-- "and sometimes I think I should've been home more. I guess it's too late now."

…I'm going to give in, aren't I? Eliwood thought, vaguely panic-stricken underneath all the guilt. "Mom," he began, his remaining bits of independence mentally kicking him. "Do you want to go to the auditions this weekend?"

Eleanora practically beamed. "That would be lovely!" she exclaimed and fixed her husband with a look that Eliwood was sure could penetrate Elbert's paper shield. "You'll come too, won't you, Elbert? We'll make a day of it."

There was a pause and then Elbert's voice mumbled, "Yes, dear."

---

It was around noontime when Matthew wandered into the little coffee shop and, as usual, he was promptly ignored by the boy behind the counter. Well, he'd just have to do something about that, wouldn't he?

He quickly made his way over to the counter, blocking a customer from retrieving his cup of coffee. The customer, annoyed, reached around him and gave him a rude look while grabbing his coffee. After that, the man promptly stormed out.

"Aren't you going to say hello to me?" Matthew smiled winningly.

Guy looked like he wanted to throw the nearest cup of boiling milk at him. "You're blocking the customers, Matthew. And you were already in here once today. Why don't you ever, I-I don't know, order something?"

"Now why would I do that?" If it was possible, Matthew thought, Guy would have set him on fire with that look.

"See those people?" Guy hissed, leaning forward. "Those are customers. They wait on a long line and then they pay good money for things. Now get out of their way!"

Matthew blinked and took one small step to the side. Guy silently fumed, knowing that that was as reasonable as the other man was going to get.

"Do you want anything in particular?" he asked as he finished taking an order.

Matthew drummed his fingers on the counter, looking perfectly innocent. Guy's suspicions only grew. "I may have a nice piece of news for you…"

"Y-Yeah? Like what?" Guy had the urge to take a large step backwards and he probably would have if it wouldn't have meant bumping into his rather scary coworker.

"Hmm, then again, you might not be interested," Matthew said with a glance at the ceiling. Guy got the urge to throw something at him again.

"Matthew," he tried not to whine. "That's not fair!"

"What does fair have to with it?" Though Matthew's smile stayed innocent, the smirk was more than evident in his voice.

"You w-waltz in here," Guy lowered his voice. "You don't order anything and you hold up the line! You're probably trying to get me fired and even then you won't tell me what you came in here to tell me in the first place? You're--you're going to drive me crazy!"

The chuckle Matthew gave implied that, yes, that had been his intention all along. "Alright, alright, don't tear your hair out," he paused. Guy glowered. Matthew figured that just because Guy hadn't thrown scalding coffee in his face yet didn't mean he wouldn't so he'd better start talking. "Open auditions for a Broadway play this weekend."

Guy gave Matthew a blank stare. "…So?"

"I thought you might want to audition." Matthew suggested with a cheery grin.

"Well," Guy huffed, busying himself with actually doing his job and making some coffee. "You're wrong. I'm not interested and I don't want to."

"If you get a part, it would pay a lot."

Guy paused, a look of dawning realization on his face. "…H-how much?"

"A lot," Matthew repeated, keeping it simple.

Guy was quiet for a moment as he handed a customer her coffee. "It--It doesn't matter anyway. I can't act."

"Sure you can," the older man replied, eyes dancing. "You're good at it, too. Every time your manager pops in between her cigarette breaks and I pretend to be actually interested in the purchasing of coffee? The way you pretend not to hate my guts is brilliant. Sometimes, I can't even hear you grinding your teeth!"

The dark-haired boy glowered. "That's not funny!"

"What's the harm in trying?" Matthew asked, propping his elbow up on the countertop.

"Well, none, I guess," Guy consented with a small sigh. "But you h-have to audition too!" When Matthew's eyebrows rose, a just slightly flustered Guy continued, "Well, it w-was your idea in the f-first place, so it's only fair!"

"Fair, eh?" Matthew appeared to be giving it thought. "Well, I guess after all the times I've tormented and tortured you… Fine." He grinned, and suddenly Guy wasn't so sure if demanding Matthew audition as well was such a good idea.

---

Nino knew she was in trouble when she saw the look on her mother's face. It wasn't the dreaded "you didn't get the part, you untalented brat!" look, luckily. Instead, it was more of a manic gleam in Sonia's golden eyes, one that made Nino want to turn tail and hide behind someone. Like Linus or Lloyd or Legault. Unfortunately, none of them happened to be around at the moment.

"Nino, come here."

Not wanting to disappoint, Nino immediately did as she was told and scurried over to Sonia's side. "Yes, mother?" she asked, wide-eyed.

Sonia's eyes glinted again and she reached out, hesitated a moment, and then patted Nino on the head in a very slow manner, as if doing so actually pained her. "Nino, I have a new audition lined up for you."

"Oh!" Nino's attention was instantly captured. She bounced up and down on her heels a bit, "What for? Is it another commercial?" She liked doing commercials; usually, she got to gesture dramatically towards the product in question, which was always fun.

Sonia made a face; her opinion of commercials was obviously quite different from Nino's. "No, none of those…" she flapped a hand, as if shooing the very notion from the room. "What I'm talking about is the theatre. One show there will get us more recognition than a dozen little commercial spots."

"Theatre…" Nino repeated dubiously. "Like, as in a play? But I've never been in a play before!"

"That hardly matters," Sonia answered with a toss of her hair. Her dark curls tumbled over her shoulders, standing out against the stark white of her low cut blouse. "There are auditions this weekend. You're going."

"O…okay!" Nino agreed and, despite the butterflies that flapped around in her stomach over the prospect of new territory, she was excited. And then, curiosity overwhelming, she asked, "What's the play going to be about?"

---

Nergal was just thinking about how much he enjoyed tea-- the real kind, mind you, that you needed a strainer for or else you got a mouthful of leaves, not the kind in the bag-- when Ephidel entered his study carrying a folded piece of paper.

"How goes your writing?" he asked Nergal, eyeing the stack of note-cards piled up on the desk and the laptop in the older gentleman's lap.

"Oh, lovely," Nergal responded flatly. "Provided that I can get this damned machine to ever turn on again and get over my addiction of scribbling designs for gigantic, yet collapsible and therefore portable, catapults."

Ephidel just stared.

"Enough of that," Nergal coughed, dramatically sweeping the pile of note-cards off his desk. Ephidel thought he saw a sketch of a bunny in a field of daisies, but it was quickly disappeared into the rest of the pile rapidly forming at the foot of Nergal's chair. "Where is your sister?"

"Limstella offered to drive Denning to his speech therapy session," Ephidel explained.

"Ah," Nergal made an appreciative sound. They lapsed into silence for a moment before Nergal spoke up again, idly prodding at his keyboard. "Was there something you wanted?"

Ephidel seemed to hesitate for a moment. "Well," he finally began. "It's just like Sonia said when she last visited. This writing business isn't for you! You've been saying you're going to write the greatest novel Elibe has ever seen for eleven and a half years now. You could get back into the theatre easily, if you'd just make the effort--"

"The theatre is dead!" Nergal announced, bringing his hand down on the desk with a terrific bang. A moment later, he drew his stinging hand back and tried to think of ways to emphasize his points that weren't quite so painful. "Sonia should know that. What is that girl of hers currently doing, anyway? Still those silly commercials?"

"She's been doing those silly commercials for well over five years now," Ephidel noted.

Nergal shook his head, a look of disapproval on his face. "It's about time she stopped! What is she now, twenty? Twenty-five?"

Ephidel interrupted before Nergal could make another far off guess. "She just turned fourteen, father. You had Limstella send her a card."

"Well, how am I supposed to remember things like that? It's not like Sonia ever brings the girl over…"

Ephidel started to remind Nergal that Sonia had just brought Nino over for a visit two weeks ago, but figured that it was useless.

"Father, Sonia just had this delivered. You should probably look about it, because she'll never let it go otherwise…" he held out the sheet of paper, waiting patiently for Nergal to take it.

With a scowl, Nergal took the offered sheet and scanned it for a moment. "A musical?" he spat after a moment, looking disgusted. "Sonia expects me to take part in one of those? Does she know who I am? I took part in some of the finest productions of this century, and she expects me to--!" He was abruptly cut off when the phone rang. "Ephidel, get that annoying contraption, would you?"

With a long suffering sigh, Ephidel reached over and grabbed the phone from Nergal's desk. "Yes, hello?" he listened for a moment and then wordlessly shoved the phone towards Nergal. "It's Sonia."

"Good lord, what is she, psychic? I swear, she got that from her mother's side…" Nergal grumbled, taking the phone. "Hello, Sonia. Yes, Sonia, I got your letter… Yes, Sonia, I did read it. No, Sonia, I will most certainly not be participating." There was a considerable pause. Several feet away, Ephidel was able to catch most of Sonia's response.

"You're letting your name go to waste! Your talent! I remember when the Black Fang theatre group was at the top of the industry! Besides, this musical is going to be about your favorite legend. How many times did I hear you say that you'd love to be in a production about it? This ridiculous phase about writing a book has got to end! You belong on the stage."

"You'd better do as she says," Ephidel whispered. "You know you'll never hear the end of it if you don't."

Not for the first time, Nergal regretted having children.

---

Serra had been singing ever since she had heard the news. In the shower, walking down the street, talking on the phone, before bed. Every waking moment, save for when she was eating (she was too much of a lady to talk with her mouth full), she was singing. Out loud, under her breath, sometimes even humming… she just wouldn't stop.

It was driving Erk insane. He had told her so repeatedly. She either didn't care, or couldn't hear him over the sound of her own voice. He was willing to bet on option number two, though he was pretty sure that even if she had heard him, she wouldn't have stopped.

"Serra!" he had finally been reduced to screaming when she had started a rhyming recount of her day. Apparently, he had been loud enough that even Wil had looked up from where he had been chattering excitedly to Rath. Serra, annoyed at the interruption, finished her line and hummed under her breath, a sign that Erk was allowed to momentarily interrupt her song. He cleared his throat.

"Serra," he began again, softer this time. He was all too aware of the fact that Wil and Rath were now staring at him in addition to Serra's sharp violet gaze. "Please, please stop singing. Just for a little while. I'll pay you." He added the last part as her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"But I must exercise my singing voice!" Serra sang in reply. "If I'm to get a part, I simply have no choice!"

Erk banged his head against the table two times. He was starting to think that one of the vilest things in the world was rhyming. Serra watched him with something akin to joy.

Erk stopped banging his head somewhere around the time Priscilla walked in, Serra noted with mild annoyance. She decided to lift her spirits with yet more singing.

"Here comes Priscilla! Will she order coffee with vanilla?"

Priscilla gave Serra a blank look, sitting down in an empty chair. "Has she been…?" she trailed off, giving Erk a curious look.

"Yes. All day." He mumbled, giving Serra the evil eye. The pink-haired girl gave him a bright smile in return, lapsing into a spree of humming.

It took Erk a moment to realize that he had started humming along. A look of horror crossed his face and he quickly began to bang his head against the table again. Priscilla, trying to hold back a giggle, gave him a comforting pat on the arm.

---

Auditions began the next day. Underneath the all the jumping-off-the-walls-couldn't-keep-still excitement, Mark was vaguely nervous. Only vaguely. The fact that he had chewed off a good deal of his fingernails and had rearranged all his books and furniture was completely unrelated.

His cat watched him pace from atop the kitchen counter, one amber eye fixed on his restless form. The feline was giving his owner a look that distinctly said, "What are you doing, you ridiculous human? Stop that and get me tuna."

Mark paused, then swung himself on top of the counter and moved his legs back and forth, trying to work off excess energy. He glanced at the clock. Two in the morning, it read in bright letters. He sighed. He really should get to sleep, but he was too excited. Too excited and just not at all nervous.

Not one bit.

He wondered absently if the first batch of actors would be any good. Would any of them fit the rather distinctive parts? It was a large cast, after all. They needed a good deal of actors. Good actors, too. He really wanted this show to make a splash.

He had no idea what would unfold.

---

To Be Continued

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…DUN DUN DUN. Aha, yeah. Nothing much happened in this chapter. But that's mainly because it was written in a rush. I still haven't packed for my vacation and we leave early tomorrow. I should go do that, after I type up the rest of this.

Important Notes: Some of the theatre-stuff is almost certainly wrong, because my research skills? They suck and they're lazy. But let's just remember-- this is the Elibe theatre-scene, not actual Broadway. Except it sort of is. Now I'm confusing myself. Never mind.

Looking for crackish, cheesy lyrics, please! I have most of the music that I need, but I'm still looking for lyrics for the following plot points: The arrival at Dragon's Gate/Elbert's death (melodrama would be appreciated with that one), the group's first meeting with Athos, the defeat of Nergal and/or the fire dragon. If anyone wants to write these for me, please do so and e-mail or PM them to me. It'd be most appreciated. Thank you very much to everyone who has already submitted lyrics!

And I don't think I had anything else to say, so, as always, reviews are very appreciated, so please leave one. I'm offering invisible cookies again!