Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu. The characters, story elements, and setting are owned by Nintendo and Intelligent Systems.

Chronicles of a Swordswoman

Chapter One

The blast of electricity lit up the clearing like a beacon, one that sealed the fate of an older man in the center. His hands clasped his silver sword tightly as the pillars of elthunder spells fell upon their prey. He rolled forward, dodging the first round of spells and dashing for the edge of the clearing. To his astonishment, something resembling a door appeared before him, while the spells started to swirl like wind around them. A single man walked in, dark purple armor covering his body and a helmet that showed only the person's eyes.

"So you come to finish the job yourself?" the swordsmaster asked, lowering himself into a defensive posture.

"They should have been able to kill you. Without the Balmunk, you are nothing," the armored man stated without emotion.

"Fool."

The swordsmaster dashed at the armored man, the sword arcing towards his neck. Even though he carried a sword, the other did not draw. Instead, he stepped back, far faster than any man in that thick of armor should be capable of. "I did not wish to resort to this," he lamented, a dense ball of electricity forming in his right hand.

"A toron spell?" the swordsmaster asked as he closed in once more, his sword held back and parallel to the ground.

I have one chance.

He thrust the katana-like silver sword at his opponent from almost point-blank range. However, with a speed the man's eyes barely caught, the baron evaded without a care. "Perish," the man commanded, and let the spell detonate right against the swordsmaster's chest.

A sensation of falling struck the swordsmaster, as if he were plummeting deeper and deeper into nothingness. The feel of grass below registered, but quickly faded as every sense became numb. "Marricle... Ayra... Shanan..." he choked out, just before a sword fell upon his neck.

Gran Calender 757

Summer

Her sword flashed through the air, crashing into her partner's wakizashi. He staggered back, but thrust forward while the swords were still in contact. The woman leaned to the side, spinning behind her opponent, and turning her sword to halt just behind his neck. "It's over," she stated, before withdrawing her sword.

"Ayra..." the younger swordfighter complained, "I can't learn like this..."

Ayra, a woman of average height, let a sigh escape from her lips. She slipped the blade into its sheath at her left thigh, before speaking. "Shanan, this is how I learned the sword."

The five-year-old turned around to face his aunt, a pout on his childish face. "You have a natural talent, Ayra, I just don't," he whined, his shoulder-length hair stuck to his cheeks from sweat.

Shanan... she thought, you're too young, I guess...

Ayra knelt down, looking at her nephew directly, her dark blue eyes boring into his dark brown ones. "You are the Prince of Isaac. You are the one who will inherit the Balmunk, and you have the potential to become the greatest swordsmaster of the land. When first learning the sword, it is difficult, but as you get stronger, it gets easier," she stated, before setting a hand on his shoulder. "Ever since I started training you, you have been able to block my attacks, and even counter them..." Ayra stood up, smiling down at the young prince. "I think this is enough for the day, Shanan."

His face broke out in a smile, and he quickly sheathed the short sword. "Thanks, Ayra!" he blurted out, and sprinted towards the castle. His sword also fell from his side, but the child did not seem to notice.

Ayra shook her head as she left to pick up the sword. "You didn't even tie it to your sash correctly?" she exclaimed, exasperated. She knew he could not hear her, but it helped just to say it out loud. "He's still too young..." she muttered to herself, bending down to pick up the short sword.

I started training when I was seven, and even then, it was against my own peers. Shanan doesn't have that luxury... she thought, turning her head to the west, seeing the narrow plains framed by dense forests. Verdane cannot feel like home to me. I would have rather stayed in Isaac... the swordswoman sat down, laid the short sword beside her, and untied the sheath of her katana from her sash. Ayra set it beside the wakizashi, and lay back on the grass. Her thigh-length, black hair was tied into a ponytail, and she adjusted it to lay to the right of her back. It has been almost two months since we arrived in Verdane...

Gran Calender 757

Late Winter

"What?" Ayra exclaimed, flames of outrage framed in her eyes.

Mariccle, her older half-brother, motioned for her to sit down. "Calm down, Ayra."

She glanced down, realizing that her haste knocked the chair behind her to the ground. "Oh..." an embarrassed blush tinted her face red, as she knelt down, and returned the chair to its initial position. She sat down again, her right hand balled into a fist. The Isaacian princess took a deep breath before she spoke again. "You must be joking..."

Mariccle shook his head, a broken look in his eyes. "I wish it was..."

Ayra felt her fist tighten, as the anger slowly began ferment inside. "King Mananan... our father... is dead?" she asked, her voice shaking as she spoke.

Her half-brother paused for a moment, before answering, "Some of our guards along the border noticed abnormal flashes of light in the distance, only a day after our father passed into Grandbell. They decided that it was something no regular spell could create unless there was an intense fight, and sent two soldiers to investigate. They... found him there, with burn scars all over his body, and multiple sword wounds..." he stated, before pausing as his voice cracked.

"Who was it?" Ayra spat out, as her body began to shake. "Do they want us to think it's an independent action? Then why was it on Grandbell's territory?" she began to scream, until she saw the pain in Mariccle's eyes.

"We don't know... all I know is that it was Grandbell that assassinated him," he stated, before standing up from his own chair, and walking over to the window, before speaking again. "I... We will not let them get away with this. First they blame us for the actions of those barbarians in Rivough, and when our father went to explain..." he placed a hand on the windowsill. "If it is a war they want, then Isaac shall respond in kind," he finished, a mixture of pain and anger in his voice.

"Let me lead the army," was Ayra's blunt request, standing up while her hand was grasping fruitlessly for a sword hilt that was not there—she set it aside when she went to meet with Mariccle.

Silence. Ayra clenched her hand in place of grasping her katana, feeling more and more uneasy as the time passed. After two minutes of silence, the older prince looked at his half-sister. "I cannot, Ayra... I have a far more important request for you," he replied, as his face took on an anguished look. "Grandbell is far stronger than we are... even if I lead the army with the Balmunk in hand, we cannot win," he stated, and then took a deep breath. His next words struck Ayra like a Toron spell. "Isaac must be reborn, even if it is decades after my own demise. Take Shanan with you and flee the country."

No response. Ayra's face went blank, while her eyes widened to saucers. After a brief pause, "What?" she asked, disbelief evident in her tone.

Mariccle averted his gaze from the young swordswoman, focusing on some point on the wall. "Take my son and flee Isaac. The country needs a leader for the future... and Shanan must take our father's place when he is ready," he replied, before looking back at Ayra. "I can only trust you to take care of him, Ayra. Shanan's mother died two years ago, and I do not trust any other member of the royal family to protect him in this way..."

Ayra collapsed into the chair behind her, still unwilling to believe her half-brother. "Do... you not trust our family, Mariccle?" she asked, in an accusing tone.

"Not in this manner. They would protect my son, but only to a degree. You are the only one I can trust to do this... the others, well... I believe that at some point they would abandon Shanan and turn him over to Grandbell, all to gain the throne," he responded. He then walked back to his chair, and slowly sat down. "I know how close you two are. Shanan sees you as his mother."

Ayra closed her eyes, and crossed her arms over her stomach. "Why? Why do you want me to do this?" she asked, finally aware she could not dodge the question any longer.

She opened her eyes, and looked directly at the Isaacian Prince, begging for him to take back his request. The look in her half-brothers face spoke volumes.

"Ayra, I'm getting tired," Shanan whined as the light of the sun disappeared over the horizon. It was the second day of their trek, and thankfully the young prince was taking the situation seriously. She only guessed that his father spoke to him quite a bit before they left.

"We can't stop yet, Shanan. People are bound to be searching for us this way, even with your father misdirecting them," she explained, "If we find shelter deeper in the woods, we can stop."

"I still don't know why we couldn't use horses," he continued, not wanting to concede his argument.

"Too obvious, I told you already."

"But isn't this more dangerous?"

Yeah, he takes it seriously until he realizes he's not getting a good bed for a long time. Lovely.

"No. Yes, there are animals out here, but you know they're not hostile down here. If we don't bother them, they won't attack us. It's that simple."

He stayed silent, the child's cloak wrapped around his small frame. They continued walking for a few more minutes before Shanan spoke again, asking, "Ayra, what happened? Why do we need to travel like this?"

"Your father doesn't think it'll be safe for you in Isaac. We also need to make it look like you vanished without a trace, so Grandbell doesn't try to find you," she went on to elaborate, "If they know you are still alive, they will not stop until you're dead. This is for your own safety."

He did not seem convinced, but at the moment lacked the energy to argue with his aunt. It took another thirty minutes of trekking through the woods for Ayra to concede to Shanan's demands, and rolled out the small cloth for them to sleep on once they found some smooth ground. The five-year-old went to sleep without words, the drastic change in diet and lack of sleep exhausting him. Ayra, however, was left to her thoughts. Mariccle... is this really the right decision? This... hell? We should have enough to get to Rivough in just over a week if we move quickly, but Shanan... Odo, let something help us...

On the fifth day, they left the forests for the worn-down road. Ayra thought it was far enough away from Isaac that it became relatively safe, and Shanan would not stay quiet about his insistence on the easier route.

It's odd... I would expect many more messengers between Rivough and Isaac right now, given the impending war. I haven't seen a single one. Maybe the rulers there fled to Darna... I don't know.

"Can we stop to eat lunch?" Shanan asked, much more polite than the day before.

"Sure," she responded, crouching down to let the bag with their provisions fall gently to the ground. Ayra turned to pull out their rations, which thankfully Shanan had stopped complaining about the day before. The find of a wild rabbit in the winter was a blessing, and the cooked meat, while small, provided a welcome change. As they rested, an odd sound caused the swordswoman to tense up immediately. Shanan heard it as well.

"What's that?" he inquired, almost leaping to his feet.

"Calm down," she muttered, rising up with a hand on the hilt of her sword, "We need to be careful." Ayra glanced to the west, then east, and made out a group of figures approaching from the latter direction. She identified the sounds as horses, four each pulling a carriage, a total of sixteen animals. The swordswoman relaxed, moving her hand from the weapon's hilt slowly. "A merchant convoy, I guess..."

"Do you think we may be able to travel with them?"

Ayra waited to respond, tightening a hand around Shanan's right shoulder and pulling him towards the edge of the road. "Maybe," she responded, a tinge of wariness in her voice, "We'll have to see."

It took a few more minutes for the convoy to reach them. They're slowing down. The head of the group jumped from the carriage and approached the two, pushing his hat to angle more towards the back.

"What are you two doing out here?" he asked, an accent coloring his words. Ayra found herself unable to place it. "It's becoming dangerous for anyone to be in Isaac, much less by yourselves."

Shanan began to speak, but the swordswoman quieted him instantly as she took over, "We're heading to Rivough. We want to get out of here as soon as we can."

The man glanced down, noticing the two swords she wore. "I thought men and women wanted to fight," he whispered with an accusing edge to his voice.

"I just want to get my nephew out of the country."

"You're afraid of the war?"

Ayra paused for a moment. How to answer this... it's not that simple.

"I'm worried for his safety, and getting out of Isaac is the best chance we have."

How vague...

The merchant raised a hand to his lips, engrossed in thought. He spoke after a very tense minute, "You've got something you don't want to say, which I understand. If you want out of the country, we could help. We're a bit short on guards, so if you agree to help protect us, we may have a deal."

Shanan, unable to restrain himself, spoke first, "Of course! Right?" He looked up at his aunt.

Thanks for that, Shanan...

"That I can do. I'm Ayra, and this is Shanan."

"Bradley. 'Tis a pleasure," he responded, and gestured towards the front carriage. "Shanan, you can ride in here. Ayra, the left side one is a bit empty, so that would be ideal."

"I understand," the swordswoman replied.

The oceans were always said to look blue, but the Gulf of Manster defied expectation. It took on a slightly green hue, an event which pleased the ship's crew. It did seem confusing, until the sailors pulled up their small fishing net.

"The green is from organisms in the ocean. We don't know why, but it means that there are more fish in the gulf. Maybe it is something they feed on, but it's more food for us," the captain told her when asked. Cooking them was another problem altogether. The few cooks kept the fires heavily controlled, and when they were preparing meals with flame, not another person was allowed in the mess hall. Still, that did nothing to help Ayra's own seasickness.

It's like riding a horse, except you can't get off the damn thing... Some days were worse than others, and thankfully, this was a relatively calm day. For some of the rougher days, the swordswoman could not keep food down, the ship's undulations proving too intense. Ugh... I've tasted nothing but that burning ever since we boarded this abomination. Shanan's too damn lucky that he's not sick from this... She looked off the starboard side, seeing the vague outline of the Yied Desert to the North. It was about nine kilometers away, she guessed. The common practice usually followed the Yied coast down the gulf, to avoid any possibility of raiders from greater Thracia, as the peninsula was usually called. We've been on this damn ship for almost three weeks now... we have almost another three to go until we reach Melgen. I can't wait to get off this wooden deathtrap.

Ayra looked up to the crow's nest, the scout periodically scanning the horizon. What he did in the spare time, the swordswoman did not care to know. Right now, however, he seemed focused on something to the southwest. Then, his cry shook the seagoing veterans to their core. "Thracian Dragon knights off the bow! Ready battle positions!"

The response came almost instantly. Sailors rushed up from below deck, and stowed the two masts in moments. Ten to fifteen sailors came on deck with bows in hand and quivers slung around their backs. Even more came from below with axes ready, each taking positions at strategic points topside. The captain walked over to Ayra, carrying a steel bow in his hands. "Unless you have experience fighting dragon knights, I suggest going below-decks."

"Why do you say that?"

He shook his head in disbelief. "We're in their element. Out at sea, they're the most dangerous pirates you could find."

"Don't they only do mercenary work though? I thought they wouldn't bother a merchant ship," Ayra muttered, hand clenched around her katana's hilt.

"You don't understand how poor Thracia is, then. They'll do anything for extra recourses, even if it means becoming despised by everyone," he responded. "Can you fight?" Ayra drew her sword, nodding once. "Then get to port, and guard our archers. And be prepared for anything." It took almost ten minutes, Ayra estimated, before the archers noked their bows. The dragon knights were now clearly visible, and closing in quickly. There were at least fifteen of them, maybe more. The back half were preparing to throw their spears. The swordswoman started to shake, waiting as the dragon knights began to circle overhead.

"Draw!" a sniper at the bow shouted. All of the archers pulled back their strings, and took aim. The dragon knights started to spin, and the first half dove, the second half throwing their spears down at the ship. "Fire!" Arrows shot into the sky, felling three of the dragon knights in the first volley. Ayra heard a number of the sailors curse, and heard the cry, "Fire at will!"

The archers scattered as the dragons screeched their war cry. The archer next to Ayra jumped back as one of the dragon knights pulled out of the dive, the rider's lance stabbing at the greater threat to the flyer. Ayra lunged at the dragon, her sword stabbing at the dragon's side. The sword glanced off the mount's skin, and the dragon snapped at her in response. Ayra fell backwards, grimacing as she hit the wooden deck. The rider spun his lance around, and stabbed down at the swordswoman. She rolled to the side and spun her legs around to get back on her feet. The lance swung around at her, and Ayra swung up, diverting the weapon from her head. The dragon lunged at her, its claws tearing for her neck. Ayra dove to the right as its talons passed overhead. She spun back onto her feet, just as two sailors sank their axes into the dragon itself. The creature called out in pain, and an arrow sank into its eye. One of the sailors plunged his knife into the rider's side, and pulled him off of the dying dragon with the hand-held weapon as leverage. The rider tried to fight back, but a quick twist of the knife sent him to the ground in pain, and the sailor stomped down on his neck. Both rider and mount went limp, and the three that assisted soon turned to fell the next dragon knight.

The battle went better than the sailors expected. They suffered only seven fatalities, but at the cost of ten wounded, Ayra among them. Thankfully, her wound was not severe, only a cut along her left arm. She did, however, need it wrapped along with a sling. Lying down, the sling was not necessary. Now that the seas were rough once more, Ayra refused to stand up. Shanan, unrolling a new set of bandages, stood next to her.

"How is your arm doing?" he asked, a pitiful look on his face.

Ayra turned her head to look at him, and reached over with her right arm to pat him on the head. "Still stings, but it'll heal. Only my arm getting hurt was a stroke of luck for me," she replied.

Shanan's face fell a bit more at her words. His eyes flit to the ground, staying silent. Ayra rolled onto her back, her right arm falling to her side. She slowly moved her left arm to the side of the bed, and felt her nephew start to unroll the bandages. The dull ache started to intensify. Shanan moaned. First time he's seen something like this... then again, it is the first time for me too... It took another few minutes for the bandage to come off completely. Ayra glanced down at the wound, and immediately regretted it. A 'cut' did not fit. The lance used cut deep into her left arm, even cutting into the muscle... Don't throw up... please don't throw up... She pushed the skin of her arm together for Shanan to start wrapping the wound. The rest of the 'ritual,' as Ayra preferred to think of it, passed in silence. Her nephew finished the bandage with a tie near her elbow, where the wound ended.

"I... I never want to fight, Ayra..."

"This happens to everyone eventually, Shanan. You'll get used to it. I just had bad luck."

The young prince averted his head, and walked out of the room with his head hung low. Ayra looked up at the ceiling, the undulations of the ship not helping her wound-related nausea. He said I did the stupidest thing possible up there. Never attack a dragon knight's mount with a sword, ever. You won't do anything to it. That's why he was able to wound me. Need to be more careful, for Shanan's sake.

Gran Calender 757

Summer

She breathed in sharply for a second, and then sneezed.

"Shanan must be talking about me..." she muttered to herself. "And the air here doesn't help... I've had to use some herbal remedies from the Blaggi Church every week to keep my eyes from itching."

Ayra took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Well, it could be worse. Those officials at Miletos came close to questioning us, but thankfully the expedition chief stepped in for us. He seemed to be wary of Grandbell too, and he even suggested our appeal to King Batou. Her face slowly took a hard expression as her mind wandered. Keh... who knew that the rulers of Verdane were such idiots? Prince Kinbois turns us away, even with proof that Shanan is of Odo's line, and then comes back, telling me that if I work as a soldier that he'll provide lodgings at Genoa for us. I still think he has some ulterior motive for housing us, even if we are generally left alone. She closed her eyes, and started to breathe heavily. I may as well rest while I can, I guess...

"Lady Ayra?" a voice asked, pulling the swordswoman from her rest. "May I speak with you?"

The Isaacian Princess moaned, slowly becoming aware of her surroundings. That was a decent nap... how long was I out for, anyway? She sat up, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. She noticed the person speaking was standing in front of her. His identity did not register until she saw the dark green tunic of an archer and the man's white bandanna.

She stood up as fast as she could, bowing her head as she addressed him, "Prince Jamuka, is there something I may do for you?"

The archer chuckled lightly, scratching the back of his head, before replying, "You don't need those formalities. We're of equal rank, and on the field of battle, we are the same as any individual. Besides, it feels... awkward."

"It's habit more than anything else," Ayra replied, while she raised her head back up. "Isaac has many traditions, and I adhere to them."

Jamuka nodded, a slight smile on his face. "I guess so..." he muttered, as the smile slowly faded away to a grim expression.

The swordswoman raised an eyebrow, her gaze fixed on the Prince of Verdane. "What has happened?" she asked, a cold tone creeping into her voice.

The archer let out a deep breath before he spoke, "Prince Gandolf has invaded Grandbell with a sizable army."

Ayra felt a chill run down her back as the implications started to take form. "All over again..." she whispered, as Jamuka continued to speak.

Shanan... now we need to run again. But, now we have Kinbois to deal with...

"I heard from their first reports back that they seized the castle of Jungby... and that my brother," he paused, venom lacing the most recent word, "decided to take the hand of Jungby's Lady Eddin by force."

"... did you know why they decided to invade?" Ayra asked, as her body began to shake. She bent down to pick up the two swords as part of an effort to mask this nervous twitch.

"My father's newest advisor convinced them that Grandbell was planning to invade. Gandolf is already power-crazed, and only needed a little prodding to jump at the chance. Plus, from the first moment he saw her, he dedicated himself to taking Lady Eddin as his own..." Jamuka explained. Ayra noticed the malice in the archer's words... but also the hesitation.

Ah... so this time, it's the advisor. Well, maybe... I wouldn't expect anything less of those megalomaniacal scum in Grandbell, but that prince is an intelligent as a gnat. Force a woman into marriage, and rape her as well. Brilliant, just brilliant...

"I can't stand to hear any more of this..." she muttered, loud enough for Jamuka to hear. "Shanan and I will need to leave. I'd rather stay and fight, but I promised my brother that I would protect him."

Jamuka looked down at the ground, away from the swordswoman. "I... am afraid that isn't very likely. You see... Kinbois is planning to lead a second invasion of Grandbell alongside Gandolf once Lady Eddin is safely moved to Marpha. Part of his plan is... well, when he found out about your heritage, he decided to make you a key player in his strategy."

I knew that bastard was planning something else... Ayra balled her right hand into a fist, and punched it into her left.

"Meaning what?"

"He placed you in charge of a small band of axe fighters."

"Why was I never told about this?"

"I don't know. I was only told of this when a messenger told me the story in place of my father. After that, I traveled here to demand answers from him. He finally decided to inform me of his strategy once we learned that the knights of Chalphy mobilized to aid Jungby. He said that I would be the commander of their archers if I cooperated with him."

"Which entails what, exactly?" Ayra spat out, starting to crack her knuckles.

Jamuka looked back up at the swordswoman, a sad, yet resolute look in his light-brown eyes. "That I ensure the transportation of Lady Eddin to Marpha, and keep you uninformed."

Ayra blinked for a few seconds, before responding, "Why keep me uninformed?"

"'To make sure you do not try anything funny' were his words..." Jamuka muttered, shaking his head. "As for myself... I can't stand by this. Sandima is a manipulative dreg, and he has my father under his finger. All I can do is try to hinder their plans my own way..." he continued, looking towards the forests in the northwest. "I've already recruited someone that can help me out..."

Hmph... not much he can do for me now.

"You are going to side with Grandbell?" Ayra asked, with a loathing that seemed to shock the Verdanian Prince.

"I am going to make sure Lady Eddin returns to her home, and I will not lead Kinbois's army," he replied, a harsh expression forming in his features. "I will not betray my country. I am only doing what is best for Verdane itself."

Ayra nodded once, seemingly satisfied with his answer. "I am to pretend as though I have not seen you then, correct?"

"Yes."

"Very well..." she replied, as she turned towards Genoa. "I wish you luck in your endeavors, Prince Jamuka."

"Yours as well, Princess Ayra," he returned, as the swordswoman started to head back towards the castle that may have been her home.

Grandbell is going to invade... damnit, I won't be able to get Shanan to safety. Kinbois is going to use him to control me... That 'second invasion' will never happen. Odo above, the fact that Gandolf decided to retreat of all things because he's too damn aroused to think clearly guarantees that... Chalphy, he said, will come after them. No, not even Chalphy, but possibly someone far more dangerous. She laughed harshly shaking her head in disgust. Jamuka's going to side with Grandbell, I can tell. He likes Eddin as well, but at least the man has some sense of dignity. How the hell is someone like that related to those two idiots, anyway? Ayra let out an angry sigh, and let her left hand grab the hilt of her katana. No matter... the real problem is to figure out what I can do about this. She stopped walking for a moment, and then felt her hand fall from her sword's handle. Nothing. All I can do is fight Grandbell myself, and die cursing their existence. Mariccle's words ran through her mind once again, and she spoke them aloud.

"I will die in this war," she stated, without a sense of hesitation. "Yes... you and me both, Brother. You'll have to forgive me... I failed in my duty."

Author's Note

Well, it's finally up. Sorry it took so long, call it a lack of motivation along with school and other related items taking up my time for what caused the delay.

As for the story, it is a total of 14 chapters, and focuses on Ayra the entire time. Hopefully I didn't do a poor job on this chapter, as it was the first I wrote, and the start is always difficult.

Please leave a review, and let me know of any criticism, ideas, etc, because it really does help.

*I promise that the rest of this story will not take a long time for me to get done. Editing can take a long time, but I'll make time to work on this.