Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.


Reflet glowered at landscape surrounding them.

At the sand dunes off in the distance.

At the sandstone of the outer walls surrounding the Plegian castle.

At the sand shifting beneath her boots.

At the grit between her teeth that tasted like desert and sand.

Sand.

Sand.

Sand!

Sand!

SAND!

As much as she didn't like the reminder, she couldn't deny that if there was one thing Plegia was good at, it was accumulating ridiculous amounts of sand.

Really, it was quite staggering.

"Not happy to be home?" Tharja grinned at her with that knowing look in her eye that always gave Reflet the urge to do something big and terrible and stupid.

What it was didn't matter so long as it was big.

Whatever it was.

And reckless.

"Awww," Henry patted her head. "Why the long face? Shouldn't our return be caws for celebration?"

Tharja scoffed. Reflet rolled her eyes. And the murder of crows circling overhead broke out into raucous laughter.

Ra-caws laughter, even.

Reflet tapped her temples, her glare deepening. Now was not the time for puns.

Now was the time to do something big and brave and bold.

And probably a little stupid.

Tharja studied her for a moment, her arms crossed. "You aren't still pouting over the dragon thing, are you?"

Her words were asking a question. Her tone was laughing at her. And her expression was . . . irritating. Very, very irritating!

"It's not a thing," Reflet said, thumbing through her book for inspiration. "Dragons are people too, you know."

She scanned a page that had been splashed with red and vermillion ink to the point that she could almost see through the flames dancing across the page.

The sight of them only served to stoke her inner fire. She brushed a finger against the page, giggling at the way the flames curled round her finger like a little pup welcoming its mistress home.

"Reflet . . ." Tharja's voice was warm velvet that stifled her under the unforgiving sun.

"Ooh!" Henry leaned in to look at her book. "Fire's always fun!"

Irritation surged through Reflet's blood and buried itself in her bones. The sun was showing an unfriendly face. Tharja was trying to meddle again. The stupid king was intent on following his madness over the edge of a very tall cliff. The crows were to noisy. And Henry—well, Henry was an innocent bystander in all of this, and that only served to aggravate her even more.

"Uh oh. Looks like someone's all fired up!"

Tharja frowned at her, eyes narrowed. "Why are you feeling guilty?"

Reflet scoffed at her. "Guilty? Who's feeling guilty? I'm just tired of standing here doing nothing." Her voice had risen a full octave by the end, but there was nothing she could do about it now.

Without thinking, her gaze flickered over to Robin.

Robin who had so many plans. Each and every one stuffed into her coat until the seams of her pockets were all strained.

She had no idea what was coming.

And Reflet had no real way to warn her, because there were a few things even she didn't know. And even if she did have enough courage to say something, the probability that Robin would believe her and take the warning to heart was low.

As for proof . . .

"You have a connection to her, don't you?" Tharja said, following her gaze over to where Robin was still having a heated discussion with the blue-haired lord that reminded Reflet that her heart had been left behind in another realm completely.

Along with a good few years of her life.

She growled her frustration through her clenched teeth, and didn't deign to answer.

"Are you related somehow?" Tharja continued to prod.

"Nah." Henry grinned and pointed to the cloud of noise and feathers circling overhead. "They said the two of you don't emit the same kind of air pressure. Although," he paused, resting his chin on his hand, "a case could be made for similar harmonics in your voices."

"Birds for brains," Tharja muttered.

Henry nodded, his eyes lighting up. "Neat idea, right? I wanted to try it out on a few of the Risen, but I couldn't find any birds that were small enough to fit in the cranium, and watch out when their nesting instinct kicks in! Two perfectly good Risen are wandering around without half their heads . . . I guess that explains why they've been a little . . . absentminded lately."

Reflet blinked at Henry, then shook her head. She couldn't afford to get distracted now.

This was the battle that would set all else in motion. The Mad King would die here. Which would leave a space for that thrice-dratted dragon to begin clawing his way into power more earnestly.

Stupid humans. Hadn't they learned that dragons had problems enough of their own without their incessant need to meddle?

Even the Risen had sense enough to stick with what they were good at. Namely being dead, but not quite. You didn't see them quibbling about generations' old grudges.

Why couldn't—

Reflet took a deep breath. She hated coming home. Hated this place to her very last breath.

But that couldn't matter.

Not right now.

Now wasn't then.

It wasn't.

Her heart was still intact.

"Does she bother you?" Tharja asked, her eyes narrowed in Robin's direction.

"No." Reflet smiled as she felt the beginnings of a plan begin to take hold. "But I think it's going to be the other way around."

She didn't wait for Tharja to offer to hex Robin for her. Instead, Reflet pulled her cloak tight about herself and ducked into the crowd. Despite her bulk—mainly due to all the odds and ends she'd squirreled away in her pockets—she managed to weave her way through the soldiers.

"Psst—Nowi." She tweaked the manakete's pigtail.

"Hey! Watch what you're—Reflet?" The fire in Nowi's eyes turned back into golden embers.

Reflet twiddled her fingers. Robin would appreciate her efforts. In time. "I need some help with something."

"Sure. Sure." Nowi nudged the person standing next to her who was all hat. "Hey, let's go!"

Ricken waved a hand at her. "I can't see what they're saying," he muttered, his eyes never leaving the place where Robin and Chrom were engaged in a hasty conference.

Reflet squinted in their direction, impressed with Ricken's far-sightedness. She'd always took him to be a near-sighted type, because he was forever squinting at the tower of tomes he was studying.

That, and he had yet to grow into his hat.

"If I told you that you could be a hero and help Chrom out, would you be interested?" Reflet pursed her lips. The memories she had of nearly everyone who wasn't sporting blue hair and dreamy eyes were fuzzy and fragmented at best.

It was enough to make a person question what Naga and Tiki were up to. And why they thought they could pull off things like traveling through time without anyone else noticing.

They were just lucky that she was mostly benevolent. Imagine if—

No. She shuddered.

"A hero, huh?" Ricken did his best to sound worldly and nonchalant, but his voice quirked up at the end, and he couldn't hide the gleam of interest in his eyes.

Reflet nodded while Nowi grabbed his arm.

"Come on, it'll be fun!"

He looked at Nowi before glancing at Reflet. "Fun?"

Reflet twiddled her fingers a little faster. "Memorable. It will definitely be something no one will ever be able to forget."

"I'm listening." Ricken narrowed his eyes, and Reflet had to resist the urge to pinch his cheek. True, they were currently about the same age, but her soul was far older.

Reflet led them to the side where they could hunker down behind a pile of . . . sand. She snapped her book open to the page where vermillion flames danced languidly around the hex she'd penned in bright purple in the center of the page.

"So how is hiding behind the world's smallest sand dune heroic?"

The words that allowed her to pass her hand into the flames through the hex hissed like hot oil. Reflet grimaced as her fingers closed around something hard and unyielding with sharp corners and a perpetual sneer.

"It's not." She carefully drew her hand back, breathing a sigh of relief as her dragonstone came into sight. "We can't be heroes until after Robin orders the advance. But first, we have to be ready."

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" Ricken grumbled. He eyed her dragonstone as his misgivings darkened his expression.

"Because you're a little old man at heart?" Nowi giggled. "Just like Gramps."

"I'm being serious here!"

Reflet drew in a deep breath. "So am I."

They could do this.

They could.

Save a stupid human so mired in his madness that there was a chance he might come through to the other side.

Help Ylisse end her longstanding blood feud with Plegia.

So what if they had to do it all while tip-toeing past an ancient evil that was currently slumbering?

And hope that Robin gave her a chance to explain before she killed her.

Yup. That about summed it up.

Reflet polished her dragonstone with her sleeve for good luck. The way the light reflected off the gem gave her the impression that it was turning its nose up at her.

Beggars can't be choosers, she reminded it silently. And better her than some stranger that might have had less than noble intentions.

"So what do we get to do?" Nowi bounced in place, clasping her hands together. "Please say we don't have to chomp anyone. People taste awful!"

Ricken paled. "You . . . Are you saying that . . . ?"

Nowi held up her finger and thumb. "Just a tiny little chomp that was more of a nibble when I was a baby and didn't know any better."

She made a face at the memory.

Reflet eyed her with new interest, before reassuring Ricken. "No people chomping. Just . . . Sometimes it pays to think ahead and not act rashly."

"Awww!" Nowi frowned, crossing her arms.

Reflet ignored the pointed look the boy under the pointy hat was giving her.

"Not everyone who deserves death is fated to die. And sometimes the vacuum left behind makes space for something worse." The dragonstone sat prim and proper in her hand. Judging her. "Today, we are going to act in the best interests of both Ylisse and Plegia."

Nowi gusted a sigh. "Where's the fun in that?" She gave Reflet a suspicious look. "This is sounding like work. Boring work. Chomping people is at least a little fun. Until the aftertaste catches up with you."

"I did not sign up to go around eating people. Now, if you'll excuse me, I—"

"We're going to steal the king," Reflet blurted out. The dragonstone in her hand took on a distinctly smug air.

"The same king Chrom came to end?" The look Ricken was giving her was more than a little unloving. The coppery bits in his eyes flared for a moment before quieting down once more.

Reflet nodded.

Nowi furrowed her brow. "How is stealing the king going to help with anything?"

Despite her reservations, Nowi was unable to hide the spark of interest in her tone. Reflet grinned.

"He wasn't always mad," she explained. "In fact, he was once a lot like us."

"There's no way I am anything like him." Ricken turned away. "I get that you're trying to help, but the best way to do that is to follow the plan Robin laid out."

"I've gotta go with Ricken on this." Nowi gave her an apologetic look.

"The Mad King isn't the real enemy. Rather a pawn dressed up to take the fall. By snatching him away, we can reveal the one who's pulling the strings in the dark."

Reflet tightened her grip on the dragonstone. She couldn't do this alone, and Ricken and Nowi were uniquely positioned to be able to take a much longer view than normal humans.

"Evil doesn't have to be awake, so long as it has enough puppets to dance to its tune."

Ricken froze. The uncertainty clouding his brow changed as the copper in his eyes began to glow once more. He would know, more than most, how much damage even a single puppet could cause.

"Have you spoken to Robin about this?"

Reflet met the challenge in Ricken's eyes with one of her own. "There hasn't been time."

As she spoke, the air around them went from heavy to charged. The soldiers who had been waiting for the signal, all straightened, weapons clasped securely in hand.

"Are you sure about this?" Nowi nibbled on her bottom lip, her eyes wide and fixed on something only she could see. "Really, really sure?"

"I am." Reflet drew in another deep breath. Playing with time was a really good way to end an infinite number of worlds—usually by accident. But what was good for the goose, must also be good for the gander. "To catch the master, sometimes you have to shine a light into the darkness."

"So we get to set the castle on fire?" There was a disturbingly hopeful note in Nowi's voice.

Reflet sighed her regret. "I'm only going to add a few tweaks to Robin's plans, not dash them altogether."

She couldn't deny that a part of her—she was unwilling to consider how large a part it was—kind of reveled in the idea of setting at naught all the pomp and ceremony of strategy in favor of breathing fire at their problem and turning this horrid wasteland into glass.

"Why him, though?" Ricken asked. "How will sparing King Gangrel's life prevent a darker evil from taking hold of everything." He wrinkled his nose and shook out his robes, frowning at all the sand.

Reflet's spirits lifted. She knew he could be sensible when the situation warranted it.

"To catch the queen, sometimes you have to put the king in danger."

"The Queen of Plegia is the one behind everything?" Ricken cast a considering look toward the sand-bleached walls of the castle.

Reflet shook her head. "But she's one puppet closer to the one pulling the strings. Plus, like I said, he wasn't always mad."

"Talk. Talk. Talk!" Nowi grumbled. "When do we actually get to do something?"

At that moment, a great boom sounded. The ground rocked beneath their feet. Nowi yelped and had turned into dragon right before she lost her balance. She executed a few backward somersaults to find her balance, crying out with glee as she did so.

By the time Reflet had dusted herself off, the gate leading into the castle's courtyard had been torn asunder, its doors flapping uselessly like the torn wings of a butterfly. The soldiers all cried out as one as they ran forward and advanced through the gate.

Reflet tucked her dragonstone into her pocket and grinned at Ricken. "You might want to hurry up. I doubt they're going to leave us much time to save the king."

Ricken turned green around the edges, but he took his dragonstone out of his sleeve. With a resigned air, he channeled his power through it, morphing into a dragon that brought to mind peacock feathers.

"All right if I ride on your back?" she asked Nowi, promising herself that if she was ever forced upon this particular battlefield once more, she would throw caution and discretion to the wind. The memories she had of flying, of soaring through the azure sky and tormenting any cloud unlucky enough to lay in her way were not entirely her own.

But the bright kind of giddiness that came with them made her want to feel the wind rushing past her scales. To see the sky, not as a limit, but simply another horizon that only those with scales and wings could draw close enough to touch.

"Sure, sure!" Nowi giggled. She bent her head down so that Robin could scramble up onto her back. "Hold on tight, because we're about to have some fun!"

Reflet's surprised cry as Nowi swooped forward, seemingly going in five different directions at once, was lost beneath the battlecries down below.


Robin's blood raced, hot and heavy, through her veins. Her head went light with the weight of the expectations she had placed upon herself.

She would not fail again.

Not this time.

Not ever again.

She stepped to the side as Chrom lunged forward, Falchion winking with sunlight and impatient hunger. Her lips shaped the words she could never speak, and a bolt of Thunder flashed from her fingers to bury itself in the chest of a man who had raised his sword against Chrom.

Chrom grunted his thanks as he parried the blade of an axe before it could reach Robin.

Robin stepped back, her gaze sweeping across the courtyard. Miriel's experimental "fire flowers" had made short work of the gate, but she hadn't known what to expect once they dashed inside.

If anyone would have told her that the castle guards back in Ylisstol outnumbered those who were willing to stand with the Mad King, she would have laughed at them.

Even despots could inspire loyalty, and, barring that, surely they could command enough fear to keep their men under their control.

All the same, there was something decidedly off about those who stood against them. They were nimble enough to give the Ylissean troops a workout, but their movements were sharp and jerky. Grand and sloppy.

And all these "men" had an oddly colored pallor to their faces.

It was when the man she had taken down with the Lightning rocked back up to his feet that the uncertainty in her gut crystalized into dread.

No!

This couldn't be!

Fire sizzled from her fingertips, exploded against the man in a bright ball of flame. An odd kind of wailing came from lips that remained rigidly in place.

No, she realized as she drew close enough to make sure he never moved again. Not lips.

A mask.

A name slithered across her memory. Ran cold up her spine. Sent chills into her blood.

Grima.

He'd—somehow he'd marked these soldiers.

Turning them into something that was Risen, but also not.

The brand on the back of her hand burned, pulsing with pain as though she were the one in the process of being incinerated.

Her sword slid cleanly from its scabbard, and she set her teeth. With a silent cry, she swung the blade toward the wailing inferno before her with every bit of strength she possessed.

Robin's blade sliced cleanly through bone and sinew, and the head continued to cry out as it tumbled from fiery shoulders.

Bounced against the sand.

Where it burned itself into soot and ash.

The thing.

It hadn't turned to purple smoke.

What had hap—

"Look out!" Chrom shoved her to the side as Falchion took the blow that had been meant for her.

Robin blinked stupidly for a moment, before she was able to snap back into focus.

War.

They were in the middle of a war, and here she stood, dreaming.

Shaking her head, and her hand, she snapped out her tome.

Tell the others to treat these as Risen, she told Chrom, dispatching the soldier Chrom had taken down twice, with the fury of fire and the chill of sharpened steel.

Chrom nodded once before relaying the order.

The fire eating at her hand gradually made its way up her arm as Robin alternated between magic and what little brawn she possessed. She ignored the buzzing in her head as she and Chrom fell into step with each other.

The hiss of magic filled her ears.

Offset by the wailing of the Risen-like things.

The pain in her right side marched up into her shoulder like fire ants, biting at her every step of the way.

She set her jaw.

Shoved the feeling to the back of her mind.

Magic flashed.

Falchion sang a shrill tune as she exacted vengeance upon every Risen-thing they came across.

But the name slithered in between her thoughts.

Grima.

Cut itself into her movements.

Grima.

Whispered itself into her every moment.

Dry, brittle leaves.

The pale sheen of bone.

Fire.

Always, there was fire.

Through it all, she could almost make out the sound of her name, but the mark flared until it matched the shade and intensity of her eyes.

Smoke filled her lungs.

Burnt her throat.

Until it felt as though she was breathing fire.

The sound of her name came once more.

Like cool water.

Tiny drops of dew.

Until something slammed into her.

Or, more accurately, she slammed into something.

Robin stretched out her hand, only for it to stop against something as firm and unyielding as the name that had inscribed itself into her very bones.

"Naughty vessel," a girlish voice purred. "Why do you seek to raise your sword against your master?"

Robin raised her hand, gathering magic into her palm as a woman her age approached her. The woman's hair was a stark white compared to her own. Strange markings marred her skin, reminding Robin of the pictures Reflet had shown her once. As if someone had painted purple swirls all over her. The woman wore little by way of clothing, and a twisted black crown shaped like a tortured briar sat upon her brow.

Figuring they'd already come so far that diplomacy no longer held any meaning, Robin lobbed her magic at the woman.

The woman laughed as she swatted the magic, diverting its course so that it slammed against an invisible wall of nothing and died in a shower of sparks.

A word hissed from the woman's lips. A sound that made Robin's head grow heavy, even as the brand burned with renewed vigor.

Her heart beat in her chest. A caged bird desperate for escape.

But as Robin tried to raise her arms, only to find that she couldn't, the panic in her chest flared brighter than all the pain before. The name was still there—in the corner of her eyes, in the air she breathed, in every grain of sand.

She fought to move even the slightest bit as the woman drew closer to her.

Tutting at her as though Robin were a misbehaving child.

"I'm afraid you've been rather injudicious, coming here up in arms."

While the rest of her body seemed to have turned to stone, there was nothing wrong with Robin's face. She glared at the woman, shoring up her anger, her fury, to dampen her fear.

"If you wanted to get rid of that meddlesome king, you had only to ask." The woman laughed. Her laugh, a tittering sound like the mincing of her feet, grated on Robin's nerves and shattering her concentration.

"Have you forgotten the part you play in all of this?" The woman circled Robin, a hungry creature that enjoyed playing with its prey. "He will give you anything your heart desires, so long as you perform your role when the time comes."

Robin gritted her teeth, wondering what kind of magic the woman had used. If she could only—

Grima.

The name curled itself around her.

Protective.

Possessive.

Fear spiked itself through Robin until her heart seemed to bleed with it. She struggled with everything she had, but couldn't find purchase enough to pry herself out of this cursed hex.

"If you can promise to be a good little vessel, I'll allow you and that handsome lord of yours to leave here unchallenged." A smile curled across the woman's lips, sinuous and cunning. "Of course, the rest must remain behind. Our master must have his tribute, after all."

For a moment, Robin's helpless rage blotted everything else out. No matter how much she wanted to tell this woman exactly what her master could do with his tribute, her voice and her will had been locked away, far from her grasp.

Naga, she silently shouted, you cannot abandon your own!

Time slowed as the air grew thick and heavy, and Robin had a moment to consider that diplomacy might have had its place after all. But no sooner had the thought come, then time snapped back into itself.

The sand glittered with sunlight.

The sneer on the woman's face broadened.

And two dragons fell from the sky in a shimmer of scales and delighted squeals.


A/N: I hadn't gotten far into Reflet's part before it dawned on me what, exactly, she had in mind. My brain kind of stuttered when I realized she had actually come to save King Gangrel, not put an end to his rule. And, by extension, himself.

Why I raised my objections, she gave me a breezy smile, patted me on the head, and insisted that this was the right play. I resisted the idea for about two lines. It's a bit disconcerting to have an imaginary person launching into a battle of wits and logic against you-and win. O.O

So, yeah. King Gangrel won't die. Reflet has her reasons, although I'm really interested in learning about why she was so adamant that he hadn't always been mad and why that matters to everyone else. :)

As for Reflet herself, what she is exactly is a little more complicated than I'd anticipated at first.

The one thing I'm really looking forward to seeing is how Robin reacts to Reflet's meddling. And if Reflet has figured out yet that all she has to do to keep Robin from killing her is to direct a certain blue-haired prince's eyes in Robins line of sight. :D

Special note on the Risen: I'm thinking with how things are going, that this story is going to tweak the original lore a little bit. From what I can gather, the True Risen are dead and brought back to life by Grima's blood. The Risen-Like Things hadn't died before the mask with the (urk!) bugs had been placed on them. Because who doesn't want another category of the undead? (Says the girl who gets nauseous at even the thought of zombies. x.x)

Special note on Ricken's backstory: it will be addressed at some point. Not sure exactly when, but it has something to do with his family losing a lot of their status. Well, that and some of them being manaketes.

Special note on the woman near the end: a warm welcome to Aversa. :p

That should do it. :D

As always, thank you for stopping by, commenting, sharing, and for all your support. You guys are awesome! Have a great week! :D


MargaritaDaemonelix: So good to see you again! :) Haha! I'm about to reread again as well so I can update my Story Bible. There should be a badge or something for rereading from the start at this point. :p

Re: Ricken and Nowi: *nods* I didn't want there to be any unhappy endings-well, aside from Grima, and his ending is a little complicated-and it would be heartbreaking to be the character who outlived everyone. I'm assuming time is perceived differently for manaketes, but it would be a horrible fate to lose the people you've come to love, after loving them only for a little while, and for that process to repeat over and over and over again. Plus, Nowi and Nah need an intermediary, for a little while at least.

Awww, thank you! Chrobin is warm hot chocolate and freshly fallen snow, where the stars are bright and everything is quiet and still and just right. :) Haha! Yeah, Chrom almost forgot himself for a moment, but that's one of the things I love about the two of them. They are both very much in love, but also very aware that with their positions come certain responsibilities and restraints. While I do bend some conventions, I generally like my worlds to reflect the times they take place in so that it feels as real as possible.

Thank you so much! It's good to see you again! Have a great week. :D

DannyLAN: You're welcome! And thank you so much for stopping by. :D Have a great week!

Daisy Party: Haha! You and me both! Have a great week!

Kasu: Welcome! Awww, thank you so much-both for stopping by and for your kind words. :D I hadn't thought about it that way-the pacing contributing to the passage of time in the story-but that's a really good point. Thank you. :D

Re: the confusing bits: Haha! I'm really hoping so. Most of the time, I'm solid with the story. It isn't perfect. It's complicated and weird, but on the whole, I'm really happy with it. Yet every so often, there's that little insecure beastie in the back of my head that *sincerely hopes* the payout for your patience will be worth it.

And not a failed soufflé. O.O

Thank you so much for lifting my spirits! FRACTURED is so much better, stronger, and further along because of you and all my other awesome readers. I've been working harder and stretching and growing my storytelling abilities precisely because of all of you.

Thank you! And have a great week! :D