A/N: Okay, hello! A little backdrop to this: Upon playing FFT, I instantly fell in love with Agrias. She seems like such a noble character, but there's so little of her origin story in the main game, so I thought it'd be a good idea to try my hand a fanfiction for the sake of it. If you're not familiar with the world or it's lore, don't worry! I'm attempting to write this in a way that eliminates a need for most game knowledge.
And of course, all characters and names (unless stated otherwise) belong to Square and the respected parties.
"Happy birthday, Agrias!" she hears the cheer of her mother before she can see the strikingly golden locks, neatly tied in a braid about her head. She's greeted to the waking world with smells of freshly baked bread and her mother's happy smile as she urges the child from her bed. "Hurry and dress, go, go! I know you wanted to play before the party and you might not get another chance before the neighbors get here." she giggles and lays the platter of bread down on a wooden wardrobe, giving the girl her space to prepare for the day ahead.
The 1st of Cancer is an auspicious day for her. Little blonde girl with eyes as wide as saucers and a dusty yellow dress that was once her mothers. It's itchy, and she feels heavy cloth sticking to the skin exposed beneath her frock as the 12 year old makes her way downstairs, saying a thanks to her still snoring father before dashing out the door and through the streets of Dorter. It's a big day, a really big day because her mother was at the kiln earlier than usual, humming a song to herself as she prepared firewood. Their house and the area around was sweltering in the heat of the oven, but little Agrias was clever enough to leave, to venture to the edges of the town, the docks where cool air and a cooler river were. She'd be safe from the heat here, mostly. And as she passed the fishermen, one patted a wicker hat over her head, laughing as she giggled and skipped off to the waters. Today is a good day!
12 years a civilian. Later in life, she would remember this birthday, because it had been the last time she had worn a dress of peasant design. The knight was many things. Agrias was intuitive and devout to her beliefs in ways that nearly made her a heretic. She was loyal to her friends and her country, to her princess. But like many knights of valor and glory, she had less than pleasant beginnings.
This little girl is once again away at the docks, a week later. The wide brim of her wicker hat protects fair skin from the harsh suns. It's once again, a good day. Studies are done for now, and her parents had given her permission to explore on her own. So she did something bold, thought that she would try her hand at swimming. She didn't hear the explosions because her golden locks and fair skin were buried beneath the water, as she played by herself. She didn't notice anything amiss until she heard the distinct patter of hooves against Northern soil, and the whinnies of a horse, the barking of cavalrymen. Unlike so many orphans, loss wasn't something that hit her so hard. So upon seeing the thick plumes of smoke off in the distance, undeniably coming from her homestead, she gasped, jumping out of the water and redressing in her gowns, anxious and scared because this never happened. The Trade City was peaceful, the lands were prosperous, right? She had heard tale of a war ended and lives saved. This didn't happen anymore, it just couldn't. None of it made sense to the preteen.
So engrossed in shock, she didn't notice the approaching men. Agrias wasn't saved, or found in rubble. She was picked up like a sack of potatoes. She squawked indignantly, flailing her arms and legs helplessly before taking a good look at her 'captor'. Her fear became somewhat quelled as she recognized the banner of their army, the White Lion. The man's eyes were curiously sorrowful. Like he wasn't sure of the situation, or what to do with her.
A burly man with years behind him, silver pauldrons and a blue cape inscribed with the army's crest, had stepped off of his steed bending down to the brat who was soaked from head to toe. Why were there Knights here? Why couldn't she breathe even though the smoke plumes were a distance away. Tears stung her eyes because even before she heard the news, she knew. She was smarter than the knights gave her credit for, and the General was not well versed in how to handle children. He knew how to handle war-orphans, but the burning of a simple trade-town wasn't the beginning of a war. It was backlash from one ended by uneasy armistice.
"I'm not... going to see them again, am I, Ser?" her voice quivers with fright because her parents had told her, never address a solider unless addressed first. It was rude and children had no reason to speak with knights anyways.
But the knight didn't seem to mind the words at all. Instead, he gave her a small smile. "You may see them yet, lad. Paradise is closer than you'd expect, and their spirits will guide you in the coming days. So never think them gone. Simply out of your reach."
The words are honest. No one has ever spoken of death with the young girl, and she barely understood the concept. Yes, knights of noble blood died for noble cause. She heard stories of the Hero Belouve, Barnebeth who's steady hand and genius mind guided the Ivalice in their battle against their foes. How such a hero was now on his deathbed, and would be missed dearly. There were knights of lesser status who still fell in battle, and she snuck books from the library archives on this topic, forever curious on matters which young girls should show no interest. People died for less noble cause, too. Famine, the result of war, claimed the lives of people not born to go to fight.
But none of this explained the flames, the soldiers with sword drawn and ready for combat, as they descended upon some unseen foe.
She doesn't respond, and Weiss takes this as a sign to continue. "And what of you, young girl? Do you have relatives in other lands?" she shook her head, her family was small and not of great name. Oaks they had been, and now that the trees were burnt to ash, the last Oak she was. "Well what would you like?"
It was a weird question. Typical protocol dedicated that children found on battlefields be shipped off to either the nearest church, or orphanage. Those who didn't favor the word of Saint Ajora would find their penance in the streets and wilderness of country. These children weren't given options simply because there were none.
"W-what do you mean?" she hiccuped and wiped her tears, surprised that her voice came so easily. The solider was somewhat surprised to, how solid she sounded. This girl was resolute, surely. Most children would be in hysterics at hearing this kind of news, but she seemed to be ready to move on already.
"I mean, what of your ambitions? Were they burned with that town?" it was a simpler question, even if cruel. The commanding officer would have his head, if he was to hear of this. But he just... couldn't leave another orphan to fend for themselves against the cruel world that greed-filled nobles had created.
She shook her head, single braid flopping in the motion. "I..." her voice was stronger, and she dared to lift her head to the man. In the young brown eyes, the general could see the pain of loss not mourned, but the courage to step forward in spite of it. "I wish to get stronger. I don't want... this to happen to anyone else." suddenly, she was bitter and upset. Her entire life was spent under the frock of her parents, who would watch her every move, scared for their precious little daughter. She couldn't wander too far on her own, nor speak with anyone deemed 'roughish'. She didn't have any training or knowledge to survive on her own or protect anything.
She wanted to at least gain the power it took to stand on her own.
"I misspoke, Ser. Strength isn't something I seek directly. I just want... I want to protect what's left. Whatever did this, I wish to be strong enough to stand against them, to protect those who cannot." words wiser than any child should have known, too noble for her. And yet, it was just what Weiss wanted to hear.
The fat nimbus clouds above, gray with an oncoming storm, flashed as lightning struck overhead. The grizzled veteran let a smile slip, despite the circumstance. "You may have your chance yet, young one. Tell me, have you ever heard of the Akademy, in the Magick City of Garland..."