EDIT: Double dashes revert to single dashes when I upload these documents, and I cannot be asked to correct every single one. Subsequent mistakes are not because of my writing style! I apologise for any doubts or confusion whilst reading because of this.
A/N: There are some headcanons going on in the intro to this chapter, but none that I haven't seen others assume before. According to the official manga, I think, Chrom was actually four years old when Emmeryn took the throne.
Some of the lines are taken directly from the official manga for FE:A. You can view it on SerenesForest, but beware that Lucina's, Marth's, and Chrom's chapters contain massive spoilers!
Do not read them if you are unfamiliar with this plot!
Good news here, too; a fan translation of the Fire Emblem Fates Drama CDs is currently being uploaded on YouTube! There are already some up for Fire Emblem: Awakening, but they'll RUIN your spoiler-free experience of this story! I'll let readers know which are safe to view as the story continues, but know that it will be a while yet.
A HUGE thanks to my two best friends! Having studied the language, they could latinise the spell chants below.
"O evil intentions, you shall burn in the fires of hell," and, "Holy breath." The last one, which I translated by looking up the origin of the word, is for "Vengeance".
"Your father said the same thing."
Chrom growled in frustration, still boiling in his rage in the nighttime courtyard of Castle Ylisse. The prince knew he had reacted brashly to their selfishness, but their reasoning had been far from righteous or even sound-their duty was to the people, not their own desires, especially in times of conflict! He also knew that his father had acted equally aggressively, though for different reasons. He had not needed that stabbing reminder.
Unlike his father, Chrom sought peace and justice. Apart from their blue hair and gift to wield the Falchion, they were nothing alike. Chrom had once condemned his hair colour, merely because it showed his heritage-not only that of the Hero-King, but that of the last exalt. Emmeryn and Lissa had their late mother's blonde hair, thank the gods. He could have bleached his to the same colour, but his equally sapphire blue eyes would have remained. Emm bore the Brand of the Exalt on her forehead, and he on the shoulder of his sword arm. Unlucky.
Lissa was the fortunate one. She was not the exalt, and had nothing to externally mark her linage. Just a little girl, who had only been a newborn during their father's reign of tyranny. She was innocent in every way.
"Your father also called Plegia a 'land of barbarians'."
How dare that man compare him to his father! He had said that in retaliation to Chrom's claim, true, but it had been a low blow. A scolding to a naughty child, an innocent child who bore the legacy of a criminal. In other people's eyes, one man's reputation would always reflect upon the heir, no matter their own efforts, and no matter how hard they fought against it.
Others would only ever associate Chrom's behaviour with his father's, no matter the context. The same, only worse, had once applied for Emm, too, but she had beaten it. Chrom was her brother. He had sworn to protect her. And yet she was always the one protecting him, protecting everyone. She was the strong one, not him.
"Chrom?" The older male jumped and turned, a hand instinctively moving to grasp the Falchion's hilt. He relaxed when he saw Robin, right arm in a sling and left raised in a show of surprised surrender, but otherwise standing upright. The prince could see bandages wrapped around his torso beneath his shirt, but the boy seemed alright. Emmeryn truly was a prodigal healer, despite originally having been a mage rather than a cleric like Lissa. Self defence had been the only reason.
He forced a smile. "Ah, it's good to see you're alright."
Robin tilted his head to one side innocently. Chrom had never considered himself good at reading others, but even he could see the sharp glint of intelligence and cunning in the tactician's eerie silver eyes. "What are you doing up so late?" asked the boy.
Of course, Emm had probably asked him to come, knowing her brother wouldn't want to face her yet. Robin already knew exactly what was wrong.
Chrom sighed, and turned away. "Just...duelling with some unpleasant thoughts..." He hesitated, before he decided to continue speaking. "Tomorrow we march to Regna Ferox to request additional soldiers, but there's something you should know first."
The prince realised it was selfish on his part, his wish to dump his knowledge on Robin's shoulders. But at the same time, as had been the case with the existence of ghouls, the tactician had the right to know. Even if Chrom weren't to tell him, he was certain Robin would just ask Emmeryn or Lissa. And whether to sate innocent curiosity or not, Chrom couldn't bear the thought of his sisters reliving these memories.
Especially Emm, who already bore a burden greater than anyone.
"...Not everything Gangrel said was a lie."
He waited for Robin to react, but the amnesiac remained silent. He heard Robin's slightly unsteady footsteps approach until he was just behind the prince.
"The last exalt, my father, waged war on Plegia for many years. A 'Holy War', he called it, one of many that have been raging between our nations for centuries. Since days of old." He paused. Robin listened silently. "It was a brutal campaign, ending only in his death fifteen years ago. Plegia rightfully remembers their suffering, but his war was no kinder to his own people."
Chrom's face contorted into one of remorse. "As the fighting dragged on, our army became more and more diminished. Farmers who could barely wield a pitchfork were conscripted and sent to their deaths. Soon there was no food at all, and the kingdom began to collapse. I was young, only four years old, but I remember those dark times." He took a shuddering breath. "...I know how they affected Emmeryn."
"Such an experience would change anyone," Robin murmured sadly.
Chrom gave a nondescript grunt. "Indeed. When our father died before her tenth year, he left her quite the legacy... Plegia's desire for vengeance... Our own people's unbridled rage..." He clenched his fists. "My sister became a target for blame from all sides. Her own subjects began to hurl insults-and stones. She still bears the scar from one... But she never let them see her pain. Only Lissa and I understood."
He remembered her lying in bed, exhausted and fatigued beyond belief, bandages wrapped around her head. Chrom remembered what he had said back then, and regretted it deeply until this day.
"Emm, you should stop appearing in public. It's dangerous."
"It's alright, Chrom," she'd said without looking at him, only at the ceiling. "Surely they will understand... It's just that... It will take a little time."
Back then, all the prince could remember feeling had been disdain and rage.
"What's peace, anyway? It's just empty words! What's real is that you've been hurt, can't you see that?!" he'd yelled, scaring poor Lissa, who had still been too young to understand the gravity of the situation. He had been, too.
"Chrom, one cannot let hatred rule their hearts. I must speak of hope! You see?" his sister had said with a small smile.
Only Emmeryn had ever been able to calm his rage. Only she had been able to guide him off the path so similar to the one his father had taken, so gently that he'd hardly even noticed.
He heard Robin's voice waver. "It must have been so hard..."
Chrom shook his head to clear the old images, and kicked a loose pebble. It did nothing to placate him, and he took a calming breath before he continued, "I cannot claim to know how she does it, Robin. I could never meet such hostility with warmth and patience. While our people mocked and vilified her, she reached out and healed them. She brought soldiers home to their families. She ended the war. And when Ylisse's spirit was mended and the people 'forgave' her?"
His tone turned questioning, and he looked Robin in the eye. The boy shook his head to say he didn't know.
That day, when the stone had struck her forehead, the guards hadn't seen where it had come from, so naturally their first suspect had been a cloaked figure, one with amethystine eye-markings running down the sleeves; Grimleal. However, he now understood that that person could have been innocent regardless of religion or origin. But back then, with hatred still running hot through everyone's veins, nobody had thought of that at the time.
"What are you doing?! Seize him!"the head guard had yelled, pointing at the shady person. The suspect had reached down to grab something bundled in cloth, then ran.
"Don't! Let him escape!" Emmeryn had ordered from her crumpled-over position. Despite their efforts, the Grimleal had escaped unharmed that day. And no matter how many other suspects the guards had attempted to arrest, Emm had ordered them to stand down.
So Chrom stated simply, "She never resented them for it. She represents the best of the halidom-the part worth most protecting. She IS peace."
He faced away again, bitter. "But some men would take advantage of that. Men like King Gangrel. The day he understands peace will be the day death gives it to him."
He clenched his fists, gritted his teeth, and knew that, in that moment, he must have looked just like... No. Stop.
He grasped the Falchion's hilt meaningfully. "...So perhaps I must be death's agent," he concluded. "Emmeryn would never order him killed, nor would I wish her to."
At his following silence, he felt Robin squeeze his shoulder, the one with the Brand. Gods, the boy was too good to him. Even after being dragged into this war, he still remained so...loyal. Of course, as he'd said, he had nowhere else to go, but he was certain that Robin could have started anew if he so wanted to. He had no sins of forefathers to bear. He had no past to condemn him. He was innocent.
He knew Robin would disagree if he said it aloud, but his amnesia was true bliss.
"Well spoken, sir," said a new, male voice.
Chrom looked up, hand again moving to his sword's hilt, only to see an identical one in the newcomer's sheathe.
"Marth..." he murmured.
The masked young man took a small bow, and said in that same, reserved tone, "Good evening to you."
Chrom frowned. He had no reason to fear this person, but he felt like he ought to keep a 'Frederick-level' of caution this time. With war having officially been declared, security was tighter than ever. He would have believed someone getting in unnoticed to be impossible.
"How did you get in here?" he asked, noting Robin tense beside him.
Marth didn't so much as flinch. "That cleft in the castle wall, behind the maple grove."
...What?
"There? But how would you...? Ugh..." Chrom groaned.
"You know the place, Chrom?" Robin asked curiously, leaning in a little around the larger male, and hissing at the stinging pain that punished him.
The prince looked him over for any sign of the injuries worsening, but saw no blood seeping through his shirt. "Yes. I bashed in part of the wall while training the Shepherds. It's only a small hole, and I'd thought it well concealed, but..."
Robin stifled a chuckle. "You broke the castle wall?"
Chrom chose to ignore the comment.
"Your secret is safe with me." Marth promised, bringing their attention back to him. "I come here only to warn you."
"Warn us?" Chrom questioned, feeling his stomach coil in dread.
"The exalt's life is in danger," stated the swordsman evenly.
"What, Emmeryn?" Chrom blurted, before he calmed himself. There was no need to get upset. "That's absurd. She's guarded at all hours."
At their disbelief, Marth remained silent for a moment, seemingly debating his next words carefully.
Eventually, he sighed before he spoke, "What if... What if I told you I have seen the future? Would you believe me? A future where Emmeryn is killed. Here. Tonight."
Chrom's eyes widened in horror, but he then furrowed his brow. That was impossible. "Seen the future? Have you lost your wits?" he asked incredulously.
Marth lowered his head, navy locks brushing over the mask. "Yes, I expected you wouldn't believe me. So allow me to prove it."
He cleanly drew his sword and held it in front of him in a simple stance. He did not appear to be threatening the prince, even with his eyes covered, but Chrom reached for the hilt of his own Falchion regardless. From the corner of his eye, he saw Robin, who was not carrying a weapon, take a few steps back, but still appearing ready from battle.
"I'm about to save your life," Marth stated plainly, then tilted his head towards the bushes not far behind him. "From him."
A cloaked man burst from the bushes, steel sword glinting in the moonlight.
Marth's Falchion spun as he threw up into the air, before jumping up after it. Chrom could only watch as the assassin made to horizontally slash across the prince's chest, before Marth grabbed his sword in midair and landed down behind the killer, cutting down the length of his spine.
The assassin jerked as the fatal hit landed, before his knees buckled and he collapsed lifelessly to the ground, blade inches from the prince. Marth straightened, slashing his sword through the air to rid it of the blood.
"I trust this proof will suffice?" he asked.
Chrom stood stunned for a moment, before he uttered a hesitant, "Yeah..."
Robin suddenly gasped, eyes on something Chrom couldn't see. "Marth, look out!"
Another assassin leapt from the bushes, blade rushing to meet Marth. He spun around to block the attack, but his foot slipped on the steel blade of the fallen intruder. He fell back, just as the man's steel sword came down.
The mask was sliced in half. Blue hair that had once been held in place by the mask, unravelled from beneath the shorter top layer, framing a girl's revealed face.
Reacting on instinct, Chrom rushed forward to the crouched assassin and cut him down with a clean slice across the chest, and the man collapsed.
He heard shifting as Marth's got up behind him, and raised himself from his stance to face his saviour, sword lowered.
"Wait, you're..." he stuttered. "You're a woman...?"
After a moment of hesitation, Marth turned to face him, hair that fell to just beneath her shoulder blades flowing with the movement. Contrary to what he had expected, she was actually a very young girl, Lissa's age at the oldest. However, her deep blue eyes were hardened by what could only be combat experience that surpassed even Frederick and Phila's, as her skill with the sword had already suggested. Even as she looked at him with her true face bared, her expression was hard to read, distant and stoic.
"And quite the actress, too," she replied, voice no longer faked, yet still reserved and mature beyond her age. "Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't figure it out until just now."
Chrom was about to retort, but a nearby explosion, followed by the rumbling sound of falling stone that shook the ground beneath their feet, stopped him. The three had needn't utter a word before coming to an agreement, and all started running towards the nearest castle entrance, Marth taking point.
"Which way to Emmeryn's chambers?" she yelled back to the prince once they were inside. Alarm bells started ringing throughout the castle, gathering everyone to mobilise. If the explosion hadn't alerted the other Shepherds to the danger, then this definitely would have.
"Follow me!" Chrom called back, picking up his pace. He found it surprisingly difficult to keep up with the girl, despite being older than her. Legions of guards and pegasus knights were running past them, some already injured and the sounds of battle echoing through the halls.
When they reached Emmeryn's suite, all the Shepherds had already gathered outside the door, fully equipped. Chrom searched desperately for his sisters among the gathered crowd, ignoring the questions the others posed as he barged through.
"Emm!" He finally spotted her and being tightly embraced by Lissa, who was close to tears and being comforted by Maribelle. Chrom swiftly joined them in the group hug, before the eldest spoke up firmly.
"Chrom, grab Lissa and get everyone out of here."
The prince gasped and stumbled back from her in shock. His expression then quickly contorted into one of fury.
"No, Emm! I'm not leaving you here to die!"
"Chrom, please! Flee while you still can!" Emmeryn pleaded, then addressed the gathered group. "You each have but one life, and I do not wish it weighed against mine!"
Phila shook her head vehemently, stepping forward. "No, Your Grace! We will stay here and keep you safe at all costs! What of the people if you were to fall?"
The exalt looked like she wanted to argue, but came up with nothing.
"Have a little faith in us, milady," Phila said again. "We shan't fall." Her voice was firm, and Emmeryn reluctantly nodded.
The tactician finally recovered from the run, though he still panted heavily, and stood up straight. He held a strong gaze as he spoke. "If we take out the leader, the assassins should scatter."
"Not 'we', Robin," Emmeryn interrupted, voice scolding. "You are in no state to fight right now-you need to heal." After a brief moment of thought, she sighed and turned to her brother. "Chrom. Robin and I shall retreat into my room. Phila will be your tactician."
Chrom and Phila nodded in agreement with her suggestion. Robin did not.
"No! I can fight. I have to!"
Frederick stepped forward, scowling at the tactician. "Even if your wounds were healthy enough, you haven't done any physical training for days. You've lost in muscle tone and must regain your strength first. As it stands right now..." His gaze wandered over Robin's smaller stature as he scrutinised him. "You cannot hope to hold a tome and cast a spell at the same time efficiently, never mind holding a sword properly."
Robin looked between Frederick, Emmeryn, and Chrom desperately, with a slight hint of betrayal. Emmeryn had explained Robin's possible association of tactics, his only solid memories, with the comfort of control to Chrom. With the boy unable to fight, or even see the battle to come, he would have no way of knowing or changing what was happening. Seeing the concern in his sister's gaze, he knew that this could prove problematic in keeping Robin calm for the next few hours.
A sudden flicker of light from the corner of his eye made Chrom incline his head to Marth.
The sight left him breathless in awe.
Suspended in midair, from the centre of the tear-shaped hole at the base of the Falchion's blade, a pale azure light was glowing. It was radiant enough to light up Marth's face in blue. Given the sudden alarm in the present mages' eyes and the tingling of his own skin, Chrom could only assume that extremely powerful mana was emanating from the glow. So strong that even his blunt senses could detect it.
"Falchion is gleaming..." the girl murmured as she stared at the light. She looked dumbstruck, too, wide-eyed and fascinated, as though it were some omen. Their was a glow in her own eyes, the first clear emotion Chrom had been able to discern since he'd met her-yearning hope.
"What's wrong?" Chrom asked after checking his own blade. His Falchion was the same as always, no glow or energy emanating from it.
The girl shook herself out of her daze, lowering the still-gleaming sword. "It's not your concern."
Chrom sighed. "Seems like nothing ever is with you."
She lowered her head. "My apologies." For the first time, she sounded truly sincere, no shroud of stoicism concealing her feelings.
Chrom smiled as thanks. "Just stay by Emmeryn's door. We'll handle the killers." he ordered.
Marth locked gazes with him for a split second, then nodded and moved to her new post.
"Good luck to you all," Emmeryn said to the Shepherds. She moved to Robin, just as he finished explaining his defensive strategies to Phila, who had been listening attentively. The exalt then grabbed Robin by the arm and easily pulled him with her, though he only offered resistance for a moment.
He was clearly reluctant, as proven by the pleading gaze he sent Chrom. The prince shook his head solemnly. Robin stared for a moment, and the man could only watch as the tactician lowered his head in defeat, before the doors to Emmeryn's chambers were shut and locked.
"Work with those you feel strongest with." Phila's commanding voice rang loud and clear as the falcon knight mounted her alicorn. "The ones who are vulnerable to attacks stay behind the front lines. Healers, treat any and all injuries and potential curses as soon as possible, so long as there is no immediate danger to yourselves. We mustn't let anyone reach Exalt Emmeryn's chambers, at all costs! You swore to protect the exalt with your lives? Then prove your loyalty!"
There was a collective cheer from the Shepherds and guard forces present, and everyone worked with those they felt closest to, which happened to be the pairs Robin had previously arranged.
Chrom noted Phila's warning to watch out for potential curses. So she, too, was working under the assumption that the enemy was Plegian. He could only agree-the Mad King had been clear on his wish, even if it meant killing Emmeryn. He hadn't seen any emblem on the assassins in the gardens, but there was no need for one.
He had little time to think as he engaged with his opponents. They came from every corridor, from all sides, every corner and every shadow, forcing the Ylisseans to take a defensive formation whilst the Plegians kept pushing their offence. Despite their clear organisation, Chrom couldn't notice a commander among them. Either they had none, or their leader was lying in wait. Most likely the latter.
As he and Sumia cleared another hallway, Sully and Stahl engaging the next, the prince noted the presence of someone not joining the fray.
He seemed to be about Chrom's age, with bright ginger hair, emerald eyes, and a black bandana wrapped around his head. He wore dark clothing that seemed comfortable and easy to move around in, with only a little leather around his chest and forearms to serve as light armour and a cloak falling from his shoulders. All that considered, including the immense sack thrown over his shoulder, Chrom could only conclude he was a thief by profession. He was probably better at picking locks than fights, and was just waiting for a chance to loot a chest and run with his tail between his legs. What Chrom found odd, however, was the fact that he seemed to be permanently sucking a lollipop, occasionally twisting it to the other side of his mouth with his tongue, and that he had a couple more sticking out of his breast pocket, most noticeably one looking like a strawberry-flavoured bear.
Chrom raised his sword at him. "Drop your weapon, or die where you stand!" he challenged, startling the thief.
Reluctantly, he dropped his sword and held his hands up in surrender. "Easy there, blue blood. I'm not here to hurt anyone," he said, voice a deep grumble.
Chrom didn't lower his blade. "...Yet you run with a band of assassins?"
The thief shrugged carelessly, dropping his arms. "Believe it or not, just trying to make a living. This lot said they were trying to break into some kind of vault." Where the Fire Emblem was kept no doubt. "No one said anything about murder. I'd just as soon sit this one out."
As if to prove his point, the redhead did just that, sitting down and slouching against the wall, still sucking the lollipop in his mouth.
Chrom hummed in thought, and lowered his weapon. "Then perhaps you'd be willing to prove your good intentions?"
The thief looked up disinterestedly. "Beg pardon?"
"We need all the help we can get to save the exalt's life. You appear capable, and we could use any information you have about our foes," he elaborated.
"Oh, right-THOSE good intentions. Fine then. I'll prove my sincerity." He shrugged nonchalantly before standing up. He still leaned against the wall with crossed arms, but he was at least showing a little interest. "...If you sweeten the deal."
Chrom scowled. "You want gold? Fine, you scoundrel," he spat, and reached for a pouch at his hip. "Let me just-oops."
A decently-sized bag was knocked loose and fell off of Chrom's belt to the floor. It immediately caught the thief's interest, and he snatched it like a cat would a mouse before the prince could do much as bend down.
"Looks like you dropped something. What's in here, mmm?" He glanced back up at Chrom, hands opening it and searching inside.
The prince felt a smirk pulling at his lips. The man would find nothing of value in there. "Nothing-sweets from my little sister. I'm sure you-"
The thief began fervently rummaging through the pouch for its contents. "'Sweets'? As in, sugar sweets?" he asked, voice suddenly hectic.
Chrom raised an eyebrow at the other's question. "Well...yes, I assume they'd be sweet? But-"
The redhead's face lit up. "IT'S A DEAL!"
Chrom stepped back in confusion. "You'll risk your life for us if I give you...a bag of sweets?"
"I said 'sweeten the deal', didn't I?" the male mirrored Chrom's earlier smirk, spiting him. "Don't get me wrong, I'll take your gold, too. Later. Unless you've got more of these. Name's Gaius, by the way." He stood up and stuck a chocolate in his mouth. Gaius' face brightened even more, and he grinned as he savoured it. "Have you got more of these?!"
An amnesiac tactician of questionable origins, a taciturn Feroxi myrmidon who apparently feared women, and now a thief who would risk his life for mere sweets... Just what was Chrom going to do with these new recruits?
"Um... I'll ask Lissa."
"Your grip on your sword is wrong, Donnel. Hold your hands slightly further apart, and you will have more control over your blade." Frederick explained to the village boy.
Honestly, the knight couldn't quite tell what his lord had seen in the teen. He was no younger than Robin, true, but their tactician had shown studious knowledge and wisdom beyond his age from the beginning. This boy, on the other hand...
Donnel had a lanky build and round face that lacked in toned muscle, skin tanned from manual field labour. He had not been prepared enough for this attack, so he wore nothing to protect himself other than his day clothes and a dented pan he had brought from home to protect his head of unruly plum-coloured hair. His only scar was a cross on his left cheek, which he had explained to have been from a slip-up with a pitchfork.
Frederick watched as Donnel followed his instructions and landed his blows much more easily than earlier, though the great knight still had to assist him.
"How wazzat, Your Knightliness?" asked the boy in his thick accent, and Frederick nodded.
"You learn quickly. However..."
Before he knew what happened, Donnel was pushed aside and watched as Frederick impaled another three assassins in quick, easy succession. The great knight then turned his stern gaze back to him. "Never turn your back on an enemy. It may cost you your life next time."
Donnel gulped, and nodded shakily.
The two turned to the direction where they heard approaching footsteps, and the great knight only lowered his guard when he realized who they were.
Chrom and, by the looks of it, a red-haired thief ran to Phila, who was stationed near Emmeryn's room for the moment. The sound of pounding paws hitting the floor caught Frederick's ears, and he turned to see a brown mass storming down the hallway towards them. He was seized with fear when he caught sight of the beast.
It was bigger than any bear he had ever seen, yet did not resemble one. In fact, is was closer to a giant rabbit or hare. It was covered in ragged chocolate fur, only its face, ears-drooping and as long as Chrom was tall-, and lower legs bare. Its pupil-less eyes glowed carmine, a low growl emanated from its throat. However, along its shoulders, upper legs and waist were velvet armour plates, strapped around its body with leather. Clearly it had to be owned by someone, but Frederick had no clue as to who would even breed such a monstrosity.
That last thought was discarded when it, the rabbit-like beast, spoke. He was certain he would have had a cardiac arrest by then.
"I knew there was wisdom in slipping in with those rogues," it murmured, eyeing the battle nearby and long ears twitching at distant sounds. The voice was garbled with an underlying growl, but clearly female. "Look how these man-spawn claw at each other like savages! I will repay my warren's debt and then wash my hands of their race."
Prince Chrom wisely gripped the hilt of the Falchion, as did the thief with his iron blade in a reverse grip. The beast then stormed off, barrelling down the invading men and creating deep lacerations with its dark, monstrous claws, biting at their napes and ignoring hits that could not even penetrate its hide.
Frederick gulped down his fear and prepared to lead his armoured mount into a charge, when Marth's voice stopped him.
"Hold! Panne is not your enemy."
Frederick could only turn and stare. That feral beast had a name?!
His lord seem to sense his stress, and held up a hand. Prince Chrom then turned back to Marth. "You know her?"
She hesitated. "I know...of her, and I knew she would come here tonight."
"Quite the prophet, aren't you?"
She gave him an aloof, yet apparently trusting, stare. "As you say. And I swear to you, Panne is an ally."
After a moment, the prince nodded. "Good enough for me." He faced the rest of the Shepherds, who were mostly still engaged in battle, but had all noticed the monstrous rabbit mowing down all who crossed its path. "Alright, Shepherds! For now, we leave this Panne character be!"
The beast paused momentarily to give the prince a look, before it-she-seemed to scoff and return to combat.
Frederick had never liked how his lord seemed to blindly trust people. He had never known it to have been misplaced, but did not enjoy the prospect of that changing any time soon. Who knew these days? Anyone they meet could be an assassin. Granted, Robin had done all he could to prove his loyalty despite his circumstances, but the next person could be an entirely different matter.
"Are you sure that is wise, milord?" he decided to ask.
Prince Chrom regarded him with a look of mild annoyance, and Frederick could have quoted what was going to be said word for word. "Marth has earned our trust. She enjoys her secrets, I know. ...Like her gender, for one, but she has also saved our lives. Twice. And that's enough for me."
Frederick could only sigh, rubbing his temples. Marth, too, seemed lost for words. "Chrom... Thank you," she almost whispered.
His lord nodded firmly and drew his sword. "Now, to the matter at hand-driving these scoundrels from our castle!"
"Yes, milord."
Outside the main castle building, near where the hole had been blasted in the wall, Validar rose from the sigil he had traced in the ground, the violet glow of it fading. His skin was tanned an unhealthy shade of muddy grey, his pitch black hair slicked back in a fashion that seemed to elongate his already sharp, viper-like visage. He had protruding cheekbones and his crimson eyes were shadowed by his angular brow.
He wore a golden crown-like ornament that curled around the back of his head with two spines along his temples. His clothing was black and lined with amaranth, skin tight from his neck down along the sides of his lean, chiselled torso and flaring into a long robe beneath his waist, the purple lines decorated with eye shapes. A cloak hung from his shoulders, attached across his chest by a golden ring, and was split in two from below his shoulder blades, lined with more gold. The hip and tail bone of a large animal hung from his own, and his claw-like fingernails ran through his thin goatee as he pondered his next course of action.
He had been tracking the presences of his men, and it had come to his attention that despite his advantage of sheer numbers, and that his men had had the Ylisseans surrounded, they were all but wiped out. He had sent two skilled assassins, yet the prince had nary a scratch, one of his men had turned cloak despite the promised reward, and a shapeshifter, a female taguel, had joined the Ylisseans.
Not to mention that the Fire Emblem was not in his hands, and Emmeryn was most definitely not dead on the floor.
As he took a step forward towards the hole he had blown in the castle wall, he froze when he detected another presence, pacing in the exalt's chambers. Young, distressed, full of potential, half-human, half-ghoul.
A grin distorted his face, a laugh bursting from his thin lips. "Ho ho! Could it be?! After years of searching... Tonight, fate truly piles the gifts at my feet!"
And yet, why was the half-ghoul not partaking in the battle? Was he waiting for a chance to pounce upon the exalt and devour her? ...Ah, no, that wouldn't happen. Then perhaps he was simply too cowardly to reveal himself, even though he could easily slaughter them all if he really tried. His distressed aura did not lie.
The Plegian sorcerer's expression darkened. What had that damnable harlot been thinking, bringing him to Ylisse, of all places? They would spurn and kill him if they knew what he was. Binge Eater considered herself a powerful ghoul, one to be reckoned with, and yet how foolish she could be for someone so intellectual.
Even so, they had remained well hidden. Even after so many searches, her wandering tendencies must have kept her and her son from his detection. But she wasn't here, for whatever reason. Did she end up abandoning him on some unfortunate Ylissean ghoul's doorstep after all?
Regardless. Even in her absence, if the half-ghoul was indeed loyally affiliated with the Ylisseans, or at least willing to form a temporary truce, that could prove a problem. If all was as it should be, he would far exceed his mother in power, which could push Validar to his limit. Even so, as long as the Fire Emblem was taken and Emmeryn was dead, then fate's course was assured.
Besides, he had defeated her once before. He could defeat her spawn.
His dark robes glided behind him as he walked, avoiding hallways filled with Ylissean forces and incinerating those who remained in his path. He quickly reached what appeared to be Emmeryn's chambers, guarded by only a single girl. The others were finishing off his pawns.
Their gazes locked. Their eyes widened.
"You!" she growled, unsheathing the blade that was Falchion, the prince's possession, and glowering at him in a fashion that would have probably left Risen squirming.
They had never met before, yet her eyes and aura were unmistakable.
"How dare you," Validar sneered back at her, opening his Elfire tome. Despite her strength, he would not need more to defeat her. "Emmeryn was supposed to be an easy target... You will pay for interfering in my designs!"
The girl charged with a battle cry, eyes filled with a powerful rage he had seen equalled only by one. She unsheathed her Falchion as she ran, and only then did he notice that it's blade was glowing.
So Naga herself was praying for the brat's success.
"O malefica cogitatio," he chanted, pages of his tome fluttering and burnt orange runes coiling around his being. "In flammis infernalibus incendenda es." He raised his hand, palm facing the girl. "Elfire!"
Flames exploded around where her torso had been as she rolled, the fire singeing only her hair and cloak. That blow would have been enough to defeat her if only she hadn't dodged. Regardless, he sidestepped her ire-fuelled swing by a hair's breadth, the energy of the blade irritating his skin and making him hiss in pain.
He stepped back from another strike as he began chanting, and then noticed her stance. Another dodged attack, and he was certain.
This girl fought just like that whore-blinded by emotion and fuelled by such useless, powerless 'love'. Or, in that infuriating woman's case, lust.
He cast another spell, but the girl sensed it in time and leapt back from the sudden burst of flames, the Falchion deflecting the rest.
"I won't let you kill the exalt!" she yelled, underlining every syllable with a swing and finishing off with a lunge.
"Fool," he chuckled, the Falchion only just managing to tear his robes.
He grabbed her by the wrist, his long fingernails digging into her glove. Her eyes widened, but she would not dodge this time.
"Elfire."
She did not scream. She gritted her teeth and bore the pain of the flames licking at her arm, focusing on trying to escape his grip with a trembling hand. Another incantation, and her legs also caught fire. Next was to be her heart.
Validar's eyes widened. He turned and kicked her to the ground, before retreating just in time to dodge the beast's claws.
"Panne!" the girl gasped, patting out the fire.
The beast gave a guttural growl as she stood up from her pounce, glowering at Validar with gleaming crimson eyes.
"Stand down, man-spawn," she ordered the girl.
"Nngh, no!" The girl grasped her blade like a crutch, but her legs trembled too much for her to stand. "I must keep fighting...or what purpose have I served...?" she whimpered.
"Do not go senselessly wasting your life," the beast woman chastised, never moving her gaze from the man. "I owe the exalt a debt, and I intend to repay it."
When her legs gave way, the girl relented. "...A-alright... Don't l-lose, Panne..."
Panne scoffed. "On my pride as a taguel, I shall not die here."
She pounced at him, but Validar swiftly blasted her back with a wall of Elfire. He moved back just as the coney's jaws snapped at where his neck had once been. Panne snarled in frustration and charged at him.
She dodged a burst of flame, then swiftly circled him as her claws met his left shoulder from behind, piercing the skin. She leapt back-
"I tire of this," Validar growled.
And a circle of occult sigils and hieroglyphs formed beneath her feet. Panne gasped in horror.
"Nosferatu."
A deep violet glow emanated from her torso with an ear-shattering, electric burst. Panne screeched in pain, her hide doing nothing to protect her from the dark magic draining her life force, her magical resistance as low as it was. She stumbled back, spasming body morphing as the taguel began to revert into her humanoid form. Validar bathed in the green healing light enveloping him, powered by Panne's energy, sealing the minor wound she had inflicted. A tomeless spell was extremely detrimental to his stocks of mana, but he had too much of it for it to be truly harmful.
The imposter wielding the Falchion could only cry in despair as Validar turned and headed for the door.
"Oh gods, no!"
She struggled up, hobbling over as fast as her legs and sword could carry her, yet Validar ignored her. They both knew what was about to happen.
"No, no, no! GODS DAMN IT! NOOO!"
Her crusade against fate would end tonight, along with Emmeryn's life, and Ylisse's ownership of the Emblem.
"Robin, please, calm-"
"How can I stay calm?!"
"They'll be fi-"
"How could you know that?!"
Emmeryn sighed. Robin had been inconsolable all night, pacing back and forth restlessly, one hand grasping the iron sword he had armed himself with, the other running through his hair. She had occasionally managed to calm him enough for him to still and sit beside her for a few minutes, her hand firmly clasping his for comfort, before a distant noise would set him off again. On one occasion, he had grown aggressive, and he had yelled at her to arm herself, not relenting until she had grabbed the most powerful tome in her possession. She already felt uncomfortable just holding it, knowing the chaotic, volatile power inscribed in its pages.
"Robin," she whispered gently, standing up again and leaving the spell book behind. He didn't stop moving and muttering frantically to himself, so she grabbed his hands firmly and forced him to look at her. He flinched and yanked himself out of her grasp, eyes reflecting sudden panic as his thoughts tapered into reality. She gripped his shoulders, looking him in the eye. "Robin, you know how strong they are-"
"Not against this enemy!" he cried, trembling in her grip. "They're losing!"
Emmeryn sincerely hoped that, whatever his advanced hearing was telling him, it was wrong. She pulled him close, resting his forehead on her shoulder-for the third or even fourth time that night-and rubbed his back comfortingly.
"You don't understand! You don't understand!" he repeated those words again and again, like a mantra, shaking his head weakly. She knew what he was referring to, but neither of them would have dared to say it aloud.
"Why w-won't you believe me?!"
She hushed him when his breathing wavered and grew close to sobs, whispering reassurances to calm his terrified whimpers and whines. Like every time before, he gradually relaxed and reciprocated her hug almost desperately. She spoiled him with everything she could to ease his fright. She had fifteen years of practice behind her, and treated him just as she would have Chrom and Lissa, referring to her experience with both in order to deal with his sensitivity.
After all those years, Emmeryn finally felt like she was beginning to uphold her vow to protect and comfort him.
Robin suddenly flinched at another sound beyond her perception, eyes wild as he whipped around to the door, breathing heavily. He tore herself from her hold, jittery.
The sounds of battle had stopped, and they heard the lock click open. Emmeryn grabbed her Mend staff and was about to greet whoever was coming in and heal them, when she, too, froze-she had not heard the telltale jingling of keys.
When the door creaked open, her senses were overwhelmed by an oppressive aura, a portentous amount of mana, and the sounds of many footsteps and shouts rushing in the halls.
A sorcerer with a snake-like affect strided in, without so much as his tome open or a spell chant leaving his lips. He regarded the exalt disdainfully as the doors slid shut with his magic, before his gaze was interrupted by Robin stepping in front of Emmeryn, iron sword unsheathed. With the feeling of upcoming combat, his composure had apparently returned.
Emmeryn silently lamented how someone could find solace in battle.
The sorcerer's lips contorted into a wicked smirk, baring his teeth. "Well, well... Ha ha ha! Oh, I know you..." If it was possible, Robin tensed even further. "Submit to me, and perhaps I might honour you with the truth!"
Even from behind him Emmeryn could tell Robin's guard was lowered by the words. The intruder was clearly Grimleal, therefore Plegian, his robes lined with the same amethystine eyes as the amnesiac's cloak. Did he know Robin? Or was this merely a ploy? Just who was this man?
A female grunt and the sound of metal scraping against stone resounded just before the doors to Emmeryn's chamber shut. The exalt gasped when she saw Phila standing from her crouched position and picking up her silver lance. A few locks of ice-blue hair were loose from her tight bun and falling over her shoulders. Her golden breastplate and pauldrons had a few notable dents, her pale blue uniform sash was torn, and her lance was bloodied. Yet she still stood tall, her red eyes burning into the enemy as much as his did her.
"Exalt Emmeryn shall not come to harm!" she roared and charged the sorcerer. She swiftly thrust her lance, nicking his shoulder as he dodged, chanting and releasing a spell from his Elfire tome.
Normally, direct exposure to flames would lead to third degree burns, but Phila's magical resistance meant she could stand with only mild burns, her armour shielding her from the rest. She pointedly ignored the fire and charged the sorcerer, lunging with her silver lance.
"Don't!" Emmeryn yelped.
"How pathetic," spat the sorcerer as he sidestepped Phila's attack and a wavering slash of an iron sword from the boy. He then kicked Robin in the gut, eliciting a cry of agony. The force, along with the existing injury sent him reeling back towards the wall and onto his knees. The ghoul clutched his gut with both his arms and doubled over, his forehead meeting the cold tiles. He coughed, blood splattering onto the floor, and a sharp muttering that could have only been a curse left his mouth.
Phila rushed to blindside her opponent, only for her lance to pierce thin air and pain lace up her forearm as the sorcerer dodged again and burnt her dominant arm.
She didn't falter, gritting her teeth and slashing her silver weapon at the sorcerer. She was too fast for even him to dodge, and her lance left a deep gash across his torso. She quickly retreated, but she knew he would not be able to heal himself too quickly. He did not carry any other tome, and tomeless magic was especially dangerous to the user. Not to mention that everyone in the room had high magical resistance, meaning his gain in life force from them would be minimal, a waste of mana.
He straightened from his hunched posture, blood running down his chest, and smirked.
"Vindicare."
Emmeryn paled. "Phila!"
Pale violet flames spread from the sorcerer's body, rising high up to the ceiling and lighting up the room in a purple glow. He raised his open palm to Phila.
"Elfire."
It was too late.
The falcon knight cried as another Elfire spell erupted from her torso, and clutched her chest as she suffered an additional half of the injuries she had inflicted upon the sorcerer. The fire did nothing to cauterise the gash that opened underneath her breastplate and clothing, but they only gave her second and third degree burns across her body.
She gasped as her legs gave way beneath her, panting erratically from the pain. She used her lance as a crutch to stand up again, and did so shakily, only for the back of the sorcerer's hand to meet her cheek in a harsh slap. It was strong enough to knock her onto her side, and a silenced scream escaped her as the exposed skin, which was already starting to blister angrily, hit the edge of the coffee table, before she collapsed onto the floor.
The man looked over the pathetic remnants of the fighters that had assaulted him. One crippled in agony, the other unable to stand or hold a weapon well with her injuries.
Emmeryn retreated until she was away from the set of furniture, the table separating her from the sorcerer. She tucked her staff beneath her arm and opened the Bolganone tome, the most powerful Fire spell available to her, staring up at the man making his way over to her. Bolganone created a rupture in the ground, allowing lava to burst forth from beneath her target. However, using it would doubtlessly destroy much of her suite, and almost certainly injure Phila and Robin, who would be helpless against it.
She would be placing them in danger if she used it. Great danger. The sorcerer smirked as she faltered, but she couldn't bring herself to attack. Not at the cost of her friends and ideals. She had sworn long ago not to fight-it had been the only way to win the trust of her people, and was the only way to break the cycle of pain between Ylisse and Plegia.
"Even now, you won't fight? Even with your life in danger?" the Plegian asked as he stood before her, though he did not seem to expect an answer.
She gave him one nonetheless, maintaining and even gaze despite him towering over her. "If it were to hurt Robin and Phila, I could never forgive myself."
He quirked a brow, and glanced briefly at the boy behind them. "If only you knew."
That Robin was a ghoul? She did know, and her answer remained regardless.
"I suppose this only makes this easier," he mused, before grasping her neck and pulling her up. She choked for air as he strangled her, dropping her tome and trying to loosen his grip around her neck.
"Y-Your Grace...!" Phila gasped, trying and failing to stand and fight.
"N-no!" Robin gritted out as he straightened, then cried in pain and doubled over again.
"Now then, to find the Emblem."
He muttered a spell, and Emmeryn felt wisps of mana in her head, prodding around her memories. She couldn't stop them prising the image of the Fire Emblem's location from her recollection, and paled when he smirked.
Only then did she feel dread. If she fell, and the Emblem was taken, the halidom would fall into disarray, and her brother would have to carry the burden of the crown. But she couldn't bear for all these wonderful people to give up their lives just to save hers, she had made that much clear.
Words rang in her head. Words from that day.
No, Robin's mother had not saved her life for her to die here! Even Binge Eater had known that her reign would become one of peace. She had protected her. Robin protected her. Phila protected her. A sovereign's duty was to protect the people, not the other way around.
She would not stand idle as she was killed. She would no longer be the protected. Even if she could not fight back anymore, having dropped her tome, she knew the one person who could yet defeat the Grimleal.
She untucked the Mend staff from beneath her arm and tightened her grip on it. It would require all of her power at such a distance, but she would continue to have her mana flow from the staff to Robin. She had no choice. He was the strongest person in the room-no, the castle. And all she had to do was heal a single organ.
She raised it, pointing the orb at Robin. The sorcerer faltered for a moment, then hastened the incantation he would use to kill her.
"Halatio sancta...! Mend!"
She hadn't expected using a short range staff at a distance to be so painful. Staves were designed to guide the flow of mana gently, lending power from the gods above, but this one was not made to have mana flow through so much air and earth. Her mana flow was sporadic and uneven, some shreds of it straying to the nearest body beside her, that of the enemy, and healing him instead. She couldn't only rely on pointing the staff's orb in the right direction, but she had to guide her energy with pure willpower for it to flow to the right person. It felt like her very strength was being drained from her core, as though she were cursed.
"Your Grace!" Phila cried when she noticed her liege's pain, but the exalt persevered. She had to heal him as fast as possible.
Robin should have been starting to feel the effects by now. Kakuhou were intricate organs for her to heal, having never learnt how to, but the general structure was the same as any other. She sensed the fibers stitching themselves back together, beginning to be aided by the Rc cells, which formed the kagune itself. The tissues clashed and collided, the Rc reinforcing their own structures and forming new vessels for them to run through across the lacerations, speeding up future regeneration no doubt. It was far more breathtaking than human tissue repairing itself.
And as the only human to knowingly and willingly heal a ghoul, perhaps Emmeryn would be the only one to ever witness it.
Robin gasped when the kagune sac was around eighty percent healed, no doubt feeling the sudden spike in Rc activity, staring at the exalt with a hint of apprehension and fear.
"Stop this, Your Grace!" Phila screamed when Emmeryn started feeling faint, struggling to continue the magic. The sorcerer's spell was almost complete, but that didn't matter.
She had won.
"Robin! I've healed it...!" she gasped out, letting the staff slip out of her weak grip and clatter to the floor. Her vision was darkening at he corners, but she fought off the drowsiness licking at her senses.
His eyes widened. In disbelief, dread, terror.
Their gazes locked and, with the last of her strength, she screamed. It was the closest she would ever come to a battle cry, and only then did she understand why soldiers so often did it.
The force of a mere voice, of even a single word, could be truly empowering.
"The KAKUHOU!"