Title: A Glimpse in Time
Author: Empress Dotdotdot
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Spoilers for chapter 19xx. Likely some death. Very dark.
Notes: It's never stated what nationality Nergal was before he went to Dragon's Gate, so I filled in Ilian on a whim, and in relation to later chapters.
Disclaimer: I don't own FE.
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Ninian pressed her hands against the portrait on the wall, carefully tracing the pint lines of the dragon's head and long neck. Her fingers then wandered further down the painting, following the contours of a man's face, wrinkled with a smile.
They were standing together in peace. Not fighting, as some part of her said was natural for humans and dragons.
A faint memory bubbled in the back of her mind. Herself and a young boy, watching a man leave from the gateway of the ruins. A small pack. Food enough for ten days.
That was all that came.
She knew the picture was important. She had seen the man before—more than once, said her mind—but she could not recall where, or even why he was important.
"Ninian?"
She turned to see the three people who had brought her here; she believed they were named Lyndis, Eliwood, and Hector, but was not sure.
"Are you ready to go? Dragon's Gate awaits us."
She nodded, and the three lords turned and began to walk away.
Ninian paused, took one more look at the picture, and then followed the lords.
Only moments after she had left, Nergal found himself inadvertently teleported to the ruins.
"Where is this?" he muttered, shaking his head. "I am supposed to be at Dragon's Gate now. Why am I here?"
He took a few steps forward, and his eyes brushed over the now-empty shelves in the ruins. He knew that once, dark tomes had lined them.
"Ah, yes," he said. "This place. I studied dark magic here years ago."
His cloak rustled as he took a few steps more, gazing around at the ruins.
"And I left something here . . ." he said, closing his eyes. His head began to pound. "It was . . . something important . . ."
The pounding in his head escalated to throbbing, piercing pain that filled every corner of his mind. He groaned. "M-my . . . head . . ."
And then, as suddenly as it had come, the pain was gone. He stood up again, putting away all thoughts of what he had left behind in the ruins.
"Whatever it was," he muttered to himself, "it can't have been very important, since I never came back to get it."
He glanced at the Ereshkigal tome tucked under his arm. "And besides that, I have power now. That's all I need."
He cast the teleportation spell again and was gone.
The unliving eyes of the dragon and the human in the portrait watched him go.