( A/N: H-Hey everybody! Long time reader/first time writer at fanfiction dot net/girl who clocked over 200 hours in FE:A here. My MU's character is named Lumin, so I went ahead and used her in the fic. So that's who she is. But enjoy, I guess! Ahaha... oh man, this is nerve-wracking. )
1. Breakfast
Lumin couldn't stop checking her hands. She circled around under the canvas tarp that had been propped up as a makeshift kitchen, inspecting the breakfast stew and settling into a rhythm: she stirred the cauldron; she checked her hands; she sliced up some bread loaves; she checked her hands again.
No scales, she concluded each time.
Her hands remained her own—calloused and peachy, with a six-eyed brand on the back of her right hand—but last night's dream told a different story. She could still hear her own horrified screams from her dream pounding in her ears no matter how much she wanted to block it out. The image of her own palms covered in jagged, umber scales haunted her every step.
It was only a dream, she assured herself. Even so, she couldn't shake how utterly real that dream had been. Her russet eyes reflected a listless, not-quite-there stare. Her fingers shook and tingled.
Nope. Still no scales.
The only thing anchoring her to reality was the hearty aroma swirling from the pork stew in front of her. It bubbled; it thickened; it sang in rich, salty tones that charmed her in a way no smooth-talking man could—the tactician was notoriously useless with most chores, but she knew she nailed this one. She had gotten up at the crack of dawn to cook, after all. Two hours after tending to her aromatic creation, it was ready.
She ladled a bowl, sank a chunk of bread inside, and promptly ran into a sleepy-looking knight whom had suddenly wandered under the tarp. "Ahh!" she exclaimed. The scalding hot stew tipped from her fingers and collided against his verdant chestplate before magnificently splattering into a hundred bits of pork and vegetables and soup onto the grass below. "Oh, gods, I'm so sorry, Stahl!"
"It's all right," Stahl responded with an easy chuckle. "No worries. This kind of stuff happens all the time." Lumin shot him an awkward grimace. His emerald gaze, still fluttering between awake and asleep, radiated with sympathy.
Something about Stahl's stare yanked at her heartstrings. Hard. Hollow fear washed over her, and her bones couldn't help but chatter. His gaze resonated with an unsettling familiarity. It was as if she had known him in a distant time, maybe in her blank slate of a past... All she knew was that something was wrong.Something was very, very wrong.
Her shoulders tightened as he reached over and patted her head, ruffling her long, brown hair. "Hey, don't feel bad," Stahl tried again. He grabbed a washcloth from beside the cauldron and wiped the stew's carnage off his armor. "See? I'm okay. Here, let me help you clean this up." His brow lifted in concern when she didn't answer. "...What's wrong?"
"N-Nothing," she replied. His rich baritone yanked her out of her daze. "I'm fine." She bit her lip and snatched the cloth away from the knight. Gods, this man was so infuriatingly helpful. "D-Don't worry about it. I'll take care of this. You just..." She whirled around for a solution, finally settling on the cauldron. Frantic and nimble, she ladled some stew into a new bowl and thrust it into his arms. "Just eat your breakfast, okay? "
The knight sighed, throwing her an inquisitive look. "Are you sure?" he asked. His eyes flickered momentarily towards the stew, lingering a bit, then back towards her. His next words were slightly hesitant. "No, I can't just leave you here to clean by yourself, especially after you woke up so early to make this meal."
Lumin blinked. "Wait, how did you know I woke up early?"
Stahl let out an easy chuckle. Her stomach contorted into a mess of knots. "Well, no one could have made such a great-smelling stew in just a few minutes." He turned towards the steaming bowl in his hand and pointed at each of its components. "The pork looks so tender, you must have worked on preparing it since sunrise. The potatoes must taken forever to peel, and all these vegetables... how long did it take for you to cut them all up by yourself? I mean, you've got carrots and onions and..."
Her lip quivered. For one agonizingly long second, she was left speechless. Behind her, as if to cover the silence, the cauldron's contents tumbled and turned, bubbling with pride. And then, upon realizing that she looked completely silly standing there just staring, she reached up and grabbed the knight by his arm and gave him a gentle shove away from the tarp. "J-just go, okay?" Her cheeks burned as fervently as the fire kindling beneath the stew. "I can take care of this."
Stahl looked as if he was about to say something, but as their eyes met, he uttered a quick "thanks," then left with his breakfast.
Once she was alone again, Lumin scanned the ground. The fallen bowl had left trails of pork and potatoes on its way to the grass. Her hand twitched. She wondered how she could have grown so clumsy all of a sudden. Her sleepless stupor must have left her bumbling.
Or maybe it was the dream.
She checked her hands again. Nope, no scales.
Lumin grabbed the washcloth and scooped up the remnants of splattered soup. She made sure to clear up the scene before anyone else showed up to witness it. Once everything was cleaned up, she ladled herself a fresh bowl of stew and grabbed a book on war tactics she picked up back in Southtown. She tucked herself into a corner of the tarp, pressing her knees to her chest as she read and ate and wished her earlier blunder had never happened.
When the green-clad knight peeked in his head into the tent fifteen minutes later, she had dozed off. Her nose was unceremoniously planted against the book, while her empty bowl sat undisturbed beside her. Narrow shoulders spiked up in shock as his footsteps approached. "Milady?" Stahl called out. "That stew was phenomenal." He paused for a bit, scratched his nose and grinned a sheepish grin. Lumin tilted her head in response. "Mind if I get seconds?"
She couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye. "Go ahead," she said. "Made extras just in case."
"Thanks. You're the best." She buried her face back into her book to conceal the blooming flush in her cheeks.
Huff... huff... huff....
The pattering of white wings loomed dangerously nearer, nearer. In gasping breaths that clenched at her throat, Lumin swiveled through the woods, setting dead leaves aflight in her wake.
Running for dear life.
Breakfast seemed like a distant memory at this point. As soon as most of the brigade had gotten up, a horde of Risen ambushed the camp. They left tears all over the tents, scattered the Shepherds into disarray, and even knocked over the remains of her stew... but now wasn't the time to get angry over spilled food.
Lumin glanced behind her at the pair of Risen pegasus knights that tailed her. The writers of her war texts would be rolling over in their graves if they knew she allowed herself to be singled out without cover, but the attack had been so sudden that she got corralled away from all her comrades. She took off to the woods, hoping that the trees would hinder the opponents' wings. The Risen were ruthless, though, and they hacked away any obstructing branches with easy flicks of their lances.
Lances that thirsted for her blood.
She shuffled through the pages of her Wind tome. Her eyes darted around the runes as she chanted faster than she ever chanted before. She could feel the air around her kindling into sharper currents.
It took a second for her to realize that the cutting breeze didn't come from her spell, but from the wings of her opponents' mounts.
At the last second, she raised her tome to shield herself. The tome wasn't as lucky, though, as the spearhead ripped a hole into its center. Eyes ablaze and heart racing, Lumin tossed away the now useless tome and reached at the scaffold fixed to her belt.
...Had her hands really been shaking this much? Her fingers curled around her sword's hilt, but panic stopped her from gripping it properly.
Oh no.
Monstrous wings spread over her as the one of the Risen reeled her arm back and readied herself to strike. The tactician sprang to the side as her opponent brought her lance downward. A sharp pain seared her left side. She stumbled. Her hand wandered to the pain and touched something wet. Wet and red. Blood. Oh gods, she was bleeding. Her opponent's mount swooped over her as she scrambled backward to regain her composure. Her leg caught in the underbrush, flinging her off balance, sending her crashing against the foliage.
She was cornered.
"H-Help..." she gasped out. She reached for her blade with feeble fingers, loathing the words that escaped her lips, loathing her carelessness. Widened, russet eyes wouldn't break focus from the pegasus knight, her soon-to-be killer. "Oh, Gods, somebody..."
Amidst the throbbing, dizzying pain, she half-expected a knight in shining armor to burst from the woods and rescue her. That's what always happened in the storybooks, right? Someone so desperately familiar that she couldn't conjure his image... her eyes latched onto the lush, green foliage around her, as if to yank a figure from within it.
But nobody came.
Instead, the other Risen swerved to her side and drove her lance into the tactician's right shoulder. She shrieked a blood-curdling shriek. The world pulsed and swirled around her. The pegasus knight withdrew her lance, and Lumin scrambled to hold her wound shut. Her vision flickered into flashes of red. Suddenly, images of what looked like crimson veins trickled into her eyesight. Her head bowed downward, giving her a glimpse of her ashen, blood-soaked hands and...
"Scales," she whispered.
They covered her hands, gleaming and umber. Breaths left her lips in rapid pulses. She wasn't sure if the scales were real or just an illusion her mind conjured in her wretched state. Suddenly, the pain dissipated from her wounds. She hoisted herself back onto her feet, stumbling, then stable. Scaled hands found their way to her blade, and she lunged towards the pair of Risen with strength she never imagined she could attain, dancing a half-aware sword dance like she was dreaming.
The undead collapsed before her before she could figure out what was going on. The inhuman lights in their eyes dimmed into nothingness. Sheathing her blade, Lumin staggered back towards the entrance of the forest, but she only managed to take a few steps before she lost her footing and planted head-first against a mess of dried leaves. The scales faded from her palms. Her wounds once again began to pound wildly, screaming to be treated. She tried to lift herself back up, but her body wouldn't respond. Instead, she gazed hopelessly forward, listening to the crisp trees shaking in the wind, waiting for death to claim her.
...Clip clop, clip clop.
The harmonious trot of horse hooves cut through the rustling trees. What if it was another Risen coming to finish the job? What a morbid way to die—letting an opponent march up to her and run a weapon through her heart without being able to lift a finger to retaliate... and then she heard it—a gasp; breathing. Breathing! The rider was alive. Not a Risen, but one of them. Her eyes darted towards her palms to make sure the scales were gone. "Milady!" exclaimed a panicked baritone. Her lips curled into a weak smile. It was Stahl's voice.
She was safe.
His arm snaked around her back, propping her up. Lumin winced. She wished she could just wipe that pale, worried look off his face. The knight pressed her body against his armor; she felt warmth rushing through her body, and it wasn't just from that searing hot pain that tormented her shoulder and her side. "It's going to be okay," he said. "The Risen are all gone... let's get you back to camp so Lissa can patch you up." His other hand slid under her knees, and she felt herself lifted into his strong, stable arms. "Thank goodness... we've been looking everywhere for you."
Lumin bit her lip. Patches of blood smeared against his verdant armor. Gods, she really wasn't winning any favors with him today—she had spilled stew on him at breakfast, and now her own blood had found its way onto him as well.
"I'm sorry," she breathed. The words shook in mangled agony as they escaped her lips. "I promise, I'm more than just these blunders."
"It's all right," Stahl replied. She didn't deserve that warm smile of his, not after all her follies. "Just hang on... you can't die on me yet." He hoisted her up onto his horse, then nestled himself onto the saddle behind her. He rested an arm around her waist, propping her securely against his armor, while his other hand took the reins.
The world began to swirl around her again.
"If you're making promises, though," the knight added after a little pause. "Promise me instead that you won't run off into danger by yourself."
"...Sorry."
"Otherwise, I'll never be able to take my eyes off of you."
Lumin's face lit up, rosy and sizzling and utterly embarrassed. She wanted to protest, to say that she didn't need anyone looming over her, but in her condition, she figured she had no right. "Okay," she responded, forcing a sheepish smile onto her lips. "I promise." She looked him in the eye to show that she was serious. As her wincing gaze met his worried stare, she felt not the hollow fear from earlier, but warm and secure. Even though she was still bleeding to death, she figured she would be okay as long as he was there. "Thanks for finding me."
"Thanks for breakfast," he responded. He reached his hand over the back of her head, giving her hair a playful ruffle.
She closed her eyes with a smile, shutting out the dizzying world around her until nothing was left but to the pattering of the horse's hooves and the rhythmic breaths of the man holding her.
And that disappeared too, as she fell limp in his arms.