A/N: It's been literally years since I've posted here. The real world caught up with me, and I just don't have time to write anymore - nothing seems to grab me like it used to. Still, the skills are there, so I was struck by this idea and actually got round to it this time! In playing Fire Emblem Fates, Azura reminded me a lot of Ninian. So that's what reminded me of this scene.

Words: 796
Characters: Eliwood, Ninian, (Hector)
Time: After Chapter 28 (Valorous Roland)
Genre: Angst

Fear was something one felt when confronted by obvious danger, by a seemingly insurmountable task. Fear ran deep, chilling your veins, clouding your mind. But over time, fear settled in your bones, and it became bearable. The state of things. War was the father of fear, and Eliwood was no stranger to it now. It was his boon companion, his bedfellow; fear weighed upon each of his steps and danced in his dreams.

It was not in fear, therefore, that he gazed upon the gleaming, roaring beast before him. One became accustomed to fear, after all, its burden ordinary and constant. In the way a heavy pack strengthened the muscles after days and weeks of a slow, plodding journey, so too did fear sharpen his senses and strengthen his resolve.

This was not fear.

Something entirely different seized him. Something beyond fear. It was closer to the realm of terror, he supposed, storming through his soul all at once in a fierce rush. His body was no longer his to control. He watched from afar as he lifted Durandal high and rushed toward the monster.

Fear he felt only for himself. Terror he reserved for those around him, behind him, believing in him despite the evidence of all their senses that they were doomed. This monster before them had the power and the desire to kill them all.

Terror empowered him to drive his sword through the beast's chest, roaring through the spray of blood and twisting through skin, muscle, and sinew. Terror made his vision go black, the screams in his ears grow faint. He hardly noticed as the resistance against his blade began to weaken. He must have reached the soft inner organs, his sword slipping between the thick bones of the dragon's ribcage.

With a fierce grunt, Eliwood withdrew Durandal, and the weight of it jerking free made him stagger backwards, nearly losing his footing. His vision was returning in patches, blinking black and silver as if he had stared at the sun for too long. The beast dropped to the ground with a high-pitched cry, and the grass shook, and this time Eliwood did fall. His sword clattered away. Splayed on his back, Eliwood lifted his head to see the shimmering dragon.

In another world, in another realm, it could have been beautiful, he supposed. White scales like stars, claws and teeth glowing blue like a frozen lake, deep and still. Its blood was as red as his own, and as hot, clinging to his skin.

It is done. We are safe.

As the terror left him, the dragon seemed to shrink. No longer a threat, the monster became merely a pathetic, dying creature, small and helpless… too small. It was barely as big as he was now, and trembling. Its tail shrank back into its body, the bright claws and scales becoming dull as they transformed into fingers, into hands, pink and soft.

She was tiny now. Pale blue hair, the same icy blue as the dragon's claws, fanned across her bare body in a graceful arc. The ends began to drag and soak in the blood still pumping slowly from her stomach.

Terror returned, a viper striking his heart.

"No," he breathed, and it was another voice that he heard, wracked and broken. "Ninian…"

Somehow, he dragged himself toward her. Carefully he scooped up the shivering, shaking girl. Immediately her blood covered his hands, his chest, sticky and reeking of death. Behind him, a blue cloak - Hector's? - fluttered through the air, and his oldest friend helped Eliwood cover the dying girl as gently as they could.

"My... lord," Ninian gasped. A trickle of blood fell from her lips. "Eliwood. I am… so sorry."

His hand still burned with the ferocity of Durandal's thirst. He was afraid to touch her, afraid of what else he might do, though, said a dark and desperate voice in the back of his mind, you can't hurt her any more than you already have. Trembling, he tried to brush the blood from her chin, but his hands were stained red too, so he only created a larger smear. There is nothing you can do.

"Please…" he begged. He didn't know for what. Live? Forgive me? "I… What have I done?"

"I am glad… that you are unharmed."

Her eyes glowed with hope, with love, warm and glistening. The same red as the dragon's eyes, the same red as her blood pouring across his hands, but happy and calm. He drank them in, willing them to remain bright and sure, but no force of longing could keep her eyelids from fluttering closed, or a final sigh from escaping her lips.

Eliwood clutched her body to his chest, touching their foreheads together, a strangled sound emerging from his throat. Terror given voice, violent and uncontrollable. More than terror, even; his heart felt as if it was slipping away from him, crumbling into dust, crushed by the force of his despair.

She was gone.