Legend

I do not own Fire Emblem or any of its characters

All songs are one song, and that song is, 'Don't forget'...

The Tragedy of the Earth Lance

Ethlin had a nice bedtime story picked out for the children, but when she sat down with Altenna, Leaf, and How the Pegasus Was Tamed that evening, Altenna squirmed off her lap and went to take a very different story from the bookcase. Ethlin frowned at the sight of the maroon leather binding of the Tales of the Twelve Crusaders, and her frown deepened when it became clear what tale in particular Altenna wanted.

"No, sweetie. That's not a good story. Why don't I tell you a happy story instead?"

Altenna's rosy cheeks puffed out and darkened; Ethlin knew from hard experience that her daughter was on the verge of a tantrum. Ethlin bit her lip and looked at each of her children in turn. Leaf, though quiet in her arms, was looking up with the wide eyes of a babe months old, instead of one newly born. If Altenna started howling, Leaf would cry, too...

Ethlin sighed and reached for the Tales, and the sad story of Dain, Noba, and the Earth Lance. Strange that Altenna, only three years old, should be drawn so to the tragedy of her own ancestors.

"'For Dain and Noba worked as closely as the right hand works with the left...'- see, just how brothers and sisters ought to be."

Leaf let out a little sigh, and Ethlin could feel the warmth of Altenna, curled up beside her on the couch. Ethlin concentrated on the dear presence of the children as she read out the terrible story, but even though she knew the tale by heart, she still felt a pang of dismay when Dain was compelled to duel with his brother-in-law- and a twinge of genuine fear when Noba's attempt to stop the fight led to her own husband's death upon her lance.

"Noba tried to carry on, for the good of her young son, but in the end grief seized her and she took her own life. Not long thereafter, King Dain died on a hunting trip; though he was surrounded by his most loyal knights, by the end of that outing the great crusader lay dead on the earth, an arrow through his heart."

Leaf was sleeping now, but Altenna was looking up with those great dark eyes. They were neither Cuan's eyes nor her own, thought Ethlin. Noba's eyes, perhaps. Neither of the children showed the mark of Noba's bloodline yet, but at times like this, Ethlin was convinced that Altenna was the carrier of the holy blood, the destined user of the Earth Lance.

"The Earth Lance, stained with blood, is a lance of love and sorrow. Ceaselessly it calls to its brother weapon, the Heaven Lance, and it is said that once day Thracia and Lenster may yet be united... on the day that Earth and Heaven again are joined by love."

Altenna nodded, as though she understood every last word.

"Not that you would know anything about any of that." Ethlin shut the book and kissed her daughter on the brow. "Enough of stories- it's bedtime, now, and this time I do mean it!"

-x-

The Lost Princess

Liza secretly yearned for the day when the children would hunger for real literature, for the beautiful stanzas of the Lay of Lenster and the poems that Anri himself had penned. Elice would be ready soon enough, as she gravitated to books the way that other children desired jugglers and puppet shows, but Marth was scarcely old enough to write his own name... which meant that Liza was going to be reading stories like The Taming of the Pegasus for at least another year to come.

At times like this, she cheated, resorting to books like the Aurelian adaptation of Lenster's saga, the ancient poem retold in prose that children might understand. The prose took away the churning rhythm of the poem's great moments, but even so Liza felt the intensity of the Prince of Lenster's reunion with his long-lost sister.

"'Sister, look at me!' the young man did plead. 'Take but one good look at me, and know that I do speak the truth.'

And the warrior maiden was not so moved as to put down her lance, but she did stay her hand and take in the sight of the youth who claimed to know her. And then a strange thing did happen, for in his eyes, the maiden thought she saw the loving gaze of the man she'd once called 'Father.' Long-buried memories did assail her, and she fancied she recalled the warm embrace and the scent of the woman she'd known as 'Mother.'

'How could this be?' she cried. "I want so badly to condemn you as a liar, but... I cannot.'"

Liza looked then at her children, each of them listening from their beds. Elice had her hands folded upon the covers and was paying attention as though Liza were giving a holy-day reading of the Raman Bible. Marth had pulled the blankets up past his chin, and all Liza could see of her son was a shock of thick hair and a pair of wide eyes.

"'And the youth cried out in joy, and reached out to embrace his newfound sister, but already she was rising from the earth, borne heaven-ward on her terrible dragon. She called down to him in a voice rough with tangled passions.

'I must speak with my father, and know the truth from his own lips.'

And the wings of her dragon carried her away from the battle, and from her young brother.'"

That was a good place to leave it, with all hanging yet in the balance and the battle not yet won.

"That's enough for tonight," said Liza as she closed the book.

"Thank you, Mother," said Elice, and she obediently closed her eyes, awaiting her good-night kiss. Marth, though, still had the blankets clutched tightly in his small fists.

"She comes back, doesn't she?"

"Of course she does." Liza smoothed back her son's tumbled hair. "Everything comes right in the end- but it's the journey there that matters, not just where everyone ends."

Of course, happy endings were in truth mostly a matter of careful editing, but the children would learn all that in their own time.

-x-

The Secret of the Ice Temple

Deborah had a surprise for the children, a gift from Queen Rowan of Frelia- a handsomely illustrated version of The First Pegasus, gilded and bound in calf-skin. Though meant for children, it rivaled any book in the royal library of Renais in craftsmanship, and it surprised her greatly that the children seemed not to care for it.

"Tell us about the Ice Temple again," said Eirika.

"No, that one's boring," said Ephraim. "Tell us about King Siegmund and the gorgon!"

Deborah chose to indulge her daughter, mostly because Eirika had showed at least polite interest in the costly present from the Frelian queen. The children sat at her feet, surrounded by a scattering of leaden knights, while Deborah told the ancient tale.

"Long before the age of the stones, and far across the seas, there was a princess. She was a great and powerful princess, the heir to deep magics from the dawn of time itself, but she wasn't a happy princess, because day and night she lay in an enchanted sleep..."

Eirika curled up, her bright eyes filled with interest even though she'd heard this story a dozen times. Ephraim seemed more interested in continuing his game of Castle Siege with his lead knights and the couch cushions, and so Deborah added a little more description to the scene where a prince finally came to wake the princess from her lonely sleep in the Ice Temple. A few more decapitated monsters would keep Ephraim engaged, she thought.

"And the sound of his voice broke through the prison of her unhappy dreams, and the despite the cold that surrounded her, the princess felt that she'd been placed in a beam of sunlight. And so at last she opened her eyes, and the prince lifted her up from her bed of ice. And the princess was very weak at first from her long sleep, so the prince had to carry her, but in the fresh air and the light she grew stronger, and soon she spread her white-feathered wings-"

"Did he marry her?" asked Eirika, as though this must be the entire point of the tale.

"No, he did not," replied Deborah, and Eirika wrinkled her small nose at this unexpected twist.

"Why not?"

"Because old stories are very strange. When I was a little older than you are now, I asked my family's priest, Father Boris, why so many old stories made so little sense, and he told me..."

They weren't listening. Ephraim had already scooped up several of his toy knights for a battle, and Eirika was watching him with keen attention.

Deborah just smiled. A few more years, and they might understand.

-x-

The Two Bracelets

Books written in beorc language were scarce in Gallia, but Elena had her imagination with which to entertain the children. Stories came so easily to her that sometimes she wondered if she truly invented them, or if she was somehow... receiving... fragmented tales from some other source- strange histories of how world formed and how pegasi came to be. It was not something she discussed with her husband, of course, but the thought did lurk at the back of her mind as Elena spun out another tale for the enjoyment of Ike and Mist.

"Long, long ago, in a land far away, in the time before the great flood, there lived a brother and sister..."

And she told them the adventures of the prince and princess of this ancient land, a story that centered on a pair of magical bracelets. Perhaps that was only her imagination, taking the ever-present thought of the medallion she carried and making something more of it. Perhaps not.

But Ike and Mist enjoyed her stories, as they always did, and looked up at her with bright eyes and curious smiles as the telling grew more elaborate by the minute. Elena let her son "play" the role of the good knight who went bad, which made Mist laugh. They huddled around her, though, when she reached the climax of the tale.

"And the prince and princess raised the bracelets over their heads, just as the general told them to. Both bracelets glowed with a beautiful light that filled the throne room, and with a great creaking of metal and stone, the royal throne moved aside, and revealed to them a long and winding set of stairs that went deep underground."

Elena paused, prompting Ike to ask, "And then?"

"That's a story for tomorrow night," she said, as the children protested through their yawns. "Off to bed, now- Mist can hardly keep her eyes open."

Imagination was a strange thing, Elena thought. She always felt as though there were more to these stories than she could possibly say.

-x-

The Hero's Journey

The firelight had burned down low, and the glowing embers painted the white sheets of the children's beds with vivid rose. Roy poked at the hearth, but didn't add another brand to the fire; the tale was nearly done, and it was time for the children to sleep.

"And, at the end of his battles, the renowned hero took his dearest companion, the one who had aided him in all his struggles, and together they traveled over the seas to unknown lands that had never heard of their names or their great deeds. And there, the hero lived in peace and contentment all the rest of his days."

Roy paused, expecting a comment from the children. Sure enough, a little wrinkle appeared between Ella's dark eyebrows.

"So they just left everyone else behind?"

"Well, yes. But they didn't need anybody else... and, just as important, the people didn't need their hero any longer. His work was done, and it was time for others to take up the task of rebuilding and ruling the country."

"People like Mother," Bertrand observed.

"Exactly. I think the Three Queens of Terius were women very much like your mother." Like Lilina, and Guinevere of Bern, or even the great hero of the Western Union.

Ella, though, was not pacified.

"But he even left his sister behind!" Roy reached out to ruffle his daughter's hair.

"Sweet, sometimes people who love one another dearly have to travel separate paths. It doesn't mean there's not a happy ending for them both. If your grandmother hadn't decided to leave her land and her people to marry your grandfather, the three of us wouldn't be here right now."

"I guess..."

Ella pouted, though, and now Bertrand spoke up, a fretful sound in his voice.

"When is Mother coming home?"

"By the end of the week. The road from Thria is easier than it used to be, but it's not a short one..."

How strange it seemed that he'd traveled so many of the roads of Lycia- and Etruria, and Ilia, and Bern!- when he'd been not that much older than Bertrand. It seemed mad, looking back, and it seemed madder still that sometimes Roy felt the itch to leave behind the stout walls of Ostia and go a-traveling once more. He'd feel that urge quiet down once Lilina was home, he was certain, but still...

Long after the children slept, Roy watched the living fire crawl across the surface of the embers, and he wondered at himself. He pulled a book from the shelf, a battered copy of The First Knight of Ilia, and traced the fading lines of his mother's name on the inner cover. Maybe it was something in the blood, this strange restlessness, this sense that, in scattered moments, there was something more to the world than what he could see and feel and breathe upon Elibe.

He fell asleep with the book open in his lap, and dreamed of the worlds that lay beyond.

The End (Maybe)

A/N: Any canonical nitpicking is rather besides the point of this story, so please allow for a little mythical license this one time.