A/N: Hey guys! this is my first fanfiction, I started reading some and felt like why not give it a try myself. I'll be writing this as I progress through the game, so bear with me if sometimes updates are slow! Please R&R, as this is my first time trying my hand at this, constructive criticism is appreciated! Flaming, I guess, is okay, if you feel that strongly, but if you do, please give me suggestions as to how to improve! This IS a community, and I'm sure you'd all want the same thing if you were me. With no futher ado, please enjoy!
-unicornkaskade
The midday sun shone bright over the grassy plain, accompanied by a light breeze. Each blade of grass seemed to be dancing, swaying in the wind, a rhythmic, mesmerizing back and forth that never seemed to end. An azure haired man stood in the grass with his companions, a yellow-haired girl a couple years his junior in a plain yellow dress, and a fully armored, chocolate-haired knight mounted on his steed, wearing a serious look on his face as he scanned the surroundings.
"Chrom, it's so nice today! Why can't we just stay for a bit and eat lunch here?" The girl seemed to have made up her mind without putting much stock in how her blue-haired brother would respond.
"Yes, Lissa, I think a short break would be in order before we head home." Chrom sat down next to her, running his fingers through the waltzing grass and enjoying a rare moment away from the hustle and bustle that came with being the Prince of a halidom. He closed his eyes as he lay in the field, and let his mind wander to the few fond memories he had that did not involve fighting and life-and-death scenarios.
"Milord! I believe you should see this."
The knight's call jolted Chrom from his reverie. As he trudged over, slightly frustrated over the lost moment of bliss, he instinctively palmed the hilt of his sword, Falchion. The girl followed, and they let out small gasps as they neared the great knight. In front of them lay a man, fully clad in dark robes.
Suddenly, the mystery man's eyelids began to flutter, and it became clear that he was waking from his slumber. As he opened his eyes, he heard voices above him.
A girl's voice: "Chrom, we have to do something!"
A man's voice in reply: "What do you propose we do?"
"I..I don't know!"
At this point the man's eyes had completely opened. Chrom addressed him directly, chuckling. "There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know. Give me your hand." The man accepted the hand, revealing a purple, six-legged brand on the back of his palm, and stood up. He was about Chrom's height, a little shorter, and with a mop of light blue hair, in addition to the black robes he was wearing.
"You all right?" Chrom asked the strange, eyes filled with concern. It wasn't every day that you found a man passed out in a field at midday.
"Y-yes, thank you, Chrom." The stranger suddenly stopped, eyes widening as the blue-haired man's name sprang unbidden from his lips, this man whom he had clearly never met before. Chrom seemed to take it in stride.
"Ah, then you know who I am," Chrom asked without missing a beat. Most people HAD heard of him, being the prince of Ylisse and all.
"No..actually, I..it's strange...your name...it just...came to me," the stranger managed to mumble out. He himself was mystified by how he had managed to pull the man's name out of nowhere. Chrom wasn't exactly a common name, and trying to gather his thoughts and speak at the same time was overtaxing his just-awoken brain.
Chrom raised an eyebrow, signaling a mild disbelief, but decided not to press the issue with the clearly drowsy stranger.
"Hm..curious. So, do you have a name?
The mystery man replied again. "My name is..err..what?" For some reason, he couldn't even remember his own damned name! He thought to himself, by the gods, what is wrong with my head? Somehow, he didn't even know where he was, much less how he had gotten here. He wondered to himself how he had gotten in this situation, while vaguely following the conversation going on around him. The girl was saying something about amnesia, but it was the knight's reaction that startled the man back to attention.
"It's called a load of pegasus dung. We're to believe you remember milord's name, but not your own?" The knight was fuming, and in the blink of an eye his silver lance was out and its tip was pointing accusingly at the newcomer. The robed man broke out into a cold sweat; he had no idea of his whereabouts, who he was, or anything, really, and now he was being threatened by a fully armored knight who looked capable of easily skewering him without a second thought?
"B-but, it's the truth! I swear! Gods, please don't run me through," was the only counterargument his panicked mind could muster. Luckily, Chrom stepped between them, conferring until the knight finally agreed with the plan to take him back to town to ascertain his true allegiances. They took off down the path, presumably towards the town, and the robed man was quick to follow. He couldn't say why, but he felt a distinct pull towards them. He shrugged it off as an effect of Frederick's glare, which followed every step and movement he made.
As they continued down the path, the man tried to collect his thoughts. He was so focused that he completely failed to notice any of his surroundings, save for the occasional grunt of anger from the knight behind him.
"What will happen to me," he asked Chrom suddenly, alarmed at this prospect. He hadn't done anything wrong, or anything that he could remember. What if they just threw him into the dungeons and he was stuck there forever with no knowledge of why?
Chrom let out a quick laugh as he replied. "Ha! We just need to establish that you're not an enemy of Ylisse, and then you can do what you want to your heart's content.
"Is that where we are? Yli-"The man stopped as he was suddenly cut off by a violent snort coming from behind him. He wasn't sure if it had come from the horse or the man riding the horse, but that was soon clear.
"You've never heard of the halidom? Ha! Someone pay this actor. The furrowed brow is especially convincing…" Frederick noted as he inched his lance closer to the man once again. Chrom sighed, turning again to talk to the man.
"Frederick, peace. This land is known as the halidom of Ylisse. Our ruler, Emmeryn, is called the Exalt. I suppose proper introductions are in order..My name is Chrom, but then, you already knew that. The delicate one here," he gestured at the girl in the yellow dress, "is my sister, Lissa." At this, Lissa responded with a stomp on the ground and a well-practiced pout.
"I am NOT delicate! Hmph. Ignore my brother, please. He can be a bit thick sometimes. But you're lucky the Shepherds found you! Brigands would've been a rude awakening!"
Something Lissa had said caught the robed man's attention.
"Shepherds? You tend sheep...in full armor?" His face held a quizzical look, wondering what kind of sheep they were herding. Oh gods, I'm stuck somewhere with no memories, no knowledge of anything, and on top of that, apparently the livestock here are so dangerous that they need to be dealt with in full armor? Just what is happening to me?
Chrom laughed at the look on his face. "Heh, it's a dangerous job. Just ask Frederick the Wary here."
Frederick let out another legendary snort as he acknowledged the jibe, "A title I shall wear with pride. Gods forbid one of us keeps an appropriate level of caution. I have every wish to trust you, stranger, but my station mandates otherwise."
The stranger put up his hands in sympathy. "I understand, sir. I would do no less myself. My name is Azemar. Huh, I just remembered that. How odd. I suppose that's one mystery solved."
Frederick narrowed his eyes at him again. Azemar had the feeling that Frederick was about to tackle him to the ground out of suspicion, but before that could happen, he heard Lissa shrilly yelling, "CHROM! Look, the town!"
Azemar caught a whiff of a burning smell in his nose, and he knew what he would see when he looked in the direction that Lissa was pointing at. Chrom cursed under his breath, running off with Lissa and Frederick in hot pursuit. Azemar stood there for a second, indignantly yelling after them, "What about me?" When it was clear that they were preoccupied with the situation, Azemar decided to follow them. Why, exactly, he could not say, but he felt as if it was the right thing to do.
Azemar caught up to the trio just as they were about to take on the bandits. It was a small band of seven, and it was clear who their leader was. He was in front of the church, which lay across the bridge over what must have been a sparkling blue river. It was now tinged with a maroon color that could only be one thing. Azemar shuddered as he thought about what that substance was.
"Azemar? What are you doing here?" Chrom turned around to see that the newcomer was not another bandit.
Azemar himself was puzzled; he could not explain what exactly had spurred him to come, only that his instincts had told him to follow. "I..I'm not certain myself, but I know my way around a fight, if you'll have me." Chrom grunted his assent, and the battle began.
One of the bandits overextended, not realizing the range that Frederick's horse and lance could cover, and found himself with a lance growing out of his stomach. One down, Frederick thought to himself. Suddenly, Azemar stopped.
"Wait!" The other three looked at him.
"What is it? We don't have much time," Chrom yelled as the next small group of bandits made their way over to the four of them.
Azemar quickly revealed to them (and to himself) that he could somehow size up the enemies at a glance; he could see what weapons they were wielding, their strengths, the flow of battle..it was almost like he was playing a game of chess, and he could see exactly where and how to strike the enemies best.
"Frederick and Chrom, you need to stay ahead between those two." Azemar pointed towards two large carts that seemed to be abandoned market stalls. "Since we're outnumbered, we want to bottleneck their troops and keep the fighting to one on ones, two on twos and the like." Frederick grunted his approval, and steered his horse towards that point. Chrom hesitated a bit, before smiling as he realized the wisdom of Azemar's words.
"Lissa, can you fight?"
"Not really, but if any of you gets hurt, I can get you guys feeling better in a jiffy! We'll see who's delicate THEN, Chrom."
Azemar collected this information, then made his decision. "Alright, you stay with me behind Frederick and Chrom, and we'll support them from the back. It's a small group so we should be able to see if any try to sneak around, and we'll take care of them before they get close enough to do damage."
"Err..if you don't mind my asking, Azemar?" Chrom managed to ask as he almost carelessly thrust Falchion into an approaching bandit swordsman. Two down. Five more. "What weapon are you using?"
"Ah. I'll be using this," he replied with a glint in his eye, pulling out a dusty tome from his robe. Chrom's face took on a questioning look, before he understood the implications of that book. Azemar could use magic! This fight suddenly felt a lot easier. The bandit leader sent two more swordsmen over, only to have them quickly meet their end at Frederick's lance and Falchion's tips. His eyes widening, the bandit leader seemed afraid to advance; instead, he seemed content to wait in front of the church. Three more.
I guess we'll have to take the fight to him, Azemar thought. Frederick and Chrom seemed to echo his sentiment. The four of them began moving across the bridge, towards the church. As the leader saw them approaching, his eyes widened for a second in fear, but it passed unnoticed as he called upon false bravado to serve him.
"Here, sheepy sheepy! Come to the slaughter," he roared as Chrom and Azemar approached. Azemar was slightly faster than Chrom and had the additional benefit of a ranged attack, and got the first strike on the leader.
"Thunder!" A yellow bolt jetted out from the tome and into the bandit's chest as he staggered back, clearly hurt by the blow, but not defeated.
"Heh, you think that's enough to stop me? I'll show you real strength," he yelled as he reared back and threw his hand axe with all of his barbaric might and fury. Azemar could only stand there in shock; how had this man taken his spell straight to the chest and lived?
"Azemar!" A blue blur tackled him before the axe was to about to strike his head. He did not escape unscathed, however; a good portion of the axe sliced cleanly into his shoulder, prompting a scream of agony. Chrom got up, and they made quick eye contact, Azemar acknowledging what Chrom had done for him. In no time at all, Chrom had covered the short distance back towards the bandit, who had another hand axe equipped and ready to throw. Azemar closed his eyes, not wanting to see how this would end, and when he opened them, the bandit leader was kneeling on the ground, Falchion embedded in his stomach.
With the battle over, Azemar sighed and lay down to rest. He had only been lying down for a few seconds when he heard someone running over, and before he could open his eyes, a heavy thwack had him alert and awake instantly.
"What were you thinking? You just stood there and watched the axe flying towards your face! Now let me see your shoulder.." Of course it was Lissa. She had mentioned that she could heal..he felt an odd tingling sensation over the gash in his shoulder, and suddenly it wasn't screaming in pain anymore. He experimentally rotated his arm; either he had been extremely lucky and avoided any structural damage, or Lissa was one hell of a healer.
Chrom walked over, offering his hand. "I guess that's the last of them. For now. But anyways, Azemar. After seeing you fight, I have a proposition. How would you like to join the Shepherds?"
Frederick cleared his throat, about to voice disapproval, but Chrom simply held a hand up to cut him off. "Frederick, we could use someone with Azemar's talents. Would you really have us lose a tactician of his abilities?" The knight opened his mouth to protest, but could see he was going to lose the argument, and therefore let the matter rest.
The villagers had come out of hiding in their buildings, and at the sight of their heroes, insisted that the four of them stay the night, offering rooms and food and whatever else their humble lives gave them to spare. Lissa was all ready to take them up on their generosity, but her brother and Frederick rejected the offer with, reasoning that although they would love to, they really needed to be heading home. As they left the gates of the city, the villagers gathered to bid farewell to their heroes.
"Alright, ready to go, Azemar? The capital isn't far." Chrom turned one last time to wave towards the adoring crowd.
"Yea, let's go," was all he could say. His mind was still processing all that had happened to him in the few hours that he had been awake, and Lissa's pouting and stomping next to him was definitely not helping.
And there's my first chapter! Sorry if it seems like the dialogue is just following what goes on in the game, that's not what I intend to do for most of this story; I just felt like there wasn't as much space for creative dialogue in the opening scenes, as the game's dialogue serves to introduce the characters well. As the story progresses, and I get to know the characters more and more, I'll be straying further and further away from the standard in game dialogue and adding my own! Thanks for reading, and please leave comments (good or bad!)