Fate has a way of playing things out. For Chrom it couldn't have gotten any stranger than the blood-soaked Plegian girl with little memory beyond her name. Her tactical brilliance makes her a valued asset to the Shepherds, especially as war against the Mad King seems all but inevitable. A bigger threat may be lurking in the shadows as the bond between the blessed prince and cursed tactician may be the only thing to save the future


Authors Note: Originally posted as SammieWrites


Embers
Prologue


"People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually — from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint — it's more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly... timey-wimey... Stuff."
— The Tenth Doctor, Doctor Who, "Blink"


Her head was beginning to swim, her strength was quickly diminishing. Everything it took just to get her, the battles and plannings, they were all beginning to prove to be a bit too much for her. She was worn out, both physically and mentally. As much as she would have liked to think she had grown out of that sort of thing by now; she just wanted to go home and sink into her mattress.

Rendered to her hands and knees, she knew she needed to get onto her feet. She was making herself a sitting duck like this. But her body was weighing her down, her muscles ached and screamed. She was yearning for a rest so much she could barely stand it.

A sudden battle cry caught her attention; she looked up and her blood instantly turned cold. A man clad in blue, white, and silver, with blue hair to match, held his magnificent sword at the ready as he went in for an attack against the tall, sickly-looking man. Struggling to her feet, she opened the tome cradled in her left hand.

The man in blue sparred off against the gangly man, they mirrored each other for several moments. The gangly man's magic seemingly caught the blue man's sword each time he tried to get a hit in.

Idiot!

Despite the man's speed in movement, all she could see was the jagged scar that traveled from his shoulder to his elbow on his right arm. The wound obtained years ago never fully healed, even after the fact. How often had it frozen up on him in the middle of a battle? She wasn't sure if they could get through this very battle if it were to happen here.

And yet he made it all look so easy. So what did she truly know?

Well, she knew she felt safe, so safe, in the company of the blue-haired man. She trusted him, trusted him with her life. She knew him so well. And there was a time when he could say the same about her. But now?

She wasn't so sure…

Suddenly she barely knew herself anymore; within the last half-hour, if even that, her whole world had been shaken to its core. If they made it through this battle…then what? Would anyone be able to look at her the same as they once did?

Would she have to die?

Gods, was that even a question? Of course, she would! It was the best way to end all this, lest the gangly man's desires come to fruition. One life weighed against the masses, there was nothing to discuss.

The two men continued to clash, the man in blue would go for a strike, then the gangly man would strike back with his dark magic. The process repeated itself as orange-yellow sparks began to flicker around her free hand and a page in her tome began to burn away.

The gangly man leaped up, levitating himself just below the banisters of the temple, but still high enough to cause damage if he fell. His hands were held up in front of him, ready to throw the dark magic he gathered at the man in blue. He threw his magic downward towards the man in blue, who successfully managed to dodge the spell.

The force of the blast, however, threw her off her feet. She cradled her tome close to her chest, careful not to lose it as she tossed her free hand at the gangly man. Yellow electricity sailed through the air, but the man had already vanished before the Thoron spell could even hit him.

Repositioning herself, she used her free hand to help slide to a stop. She looked back up at the blue-haired man, just in time to see blue electricity crash into him. She shouted his name, cold dread began to swell up inside her. He's fine, she told herself. He's fine…

Soon, the dust began to settle enough for her to see the blue-haired man pull himself to his knees. He was bruised, with thin cuts along his exposed skin. But, thankfully, he looked relatively unharmed. He was using his sword as a support as he climbed onto his knees.

She bit her lip as soon as she saw it.

The tremor in his arm; the tell-all sign that it was beginning to freeze on him. She knew he shouldn't have fought in this battle! She should have fought with him to sit this out! Why did she let him talk her into letting him fight?

Gods, how pathetic could she get?!

A sudden buzz of electricity caught her attention; the gangly man in the dark robes was preparing another spell. Not as large as one of his previous attacks, but still powerful. Cackling, the man threw the spell in the direction of the blue-haired man. "No!" she shouted, readying another Thoron spell.

The two spells of differing magic collided with each other. The room was momentarily filled with a bright light. When the light died down, she was offered the chance to exchange glares with the gangly man.

Everything was his fault…

Everything.

The situation they were currently in.

The deaths.

The monsters running loose.

The monster he wanted to make of her. It was his fault.

His fault. HisfaultherfaulthisfaulthIsFaUlThIsFaUlThErFaUlThIsFaUlT.

A gentle squeeze at her shoulder snapped her out of her thoughts. She half-turned to find the blue-haired man beside her, his sword still at his side. "You're one of us," the blue-haired man said, his gentle voice assuring her. Still as warm and comforting as she had always known his voice to be. "No 'destiny' can change that."

She uttered his name, holding her tome close to her chest. Warmth fell over her, replacing the cold dread. A sense of home that always followed him, and by extension followed her so long as they were near. How often had he been able to reassure her when all seemed hopeless.

But he was usually right. They always found a way to come out on top, this would be no different. "Yeah…"

"Why do you insist on rejecting the inevitable?!" snapped the gangly man. "You cannot erase what has been written! You are meant to stand here! At my side!"

No…

No. He was wrong.

The blue-haired man took off first, with her following at his heels. His sword shone brilliantly in what little light there was left. The blue-haired man and the gangly man ended up repeating their previous spat. No matter how the man of blue would try to go for a strike, the gangly man would catch it with his magic.

The man held a hand out blocking an oncoming sword from her, just as she had hoped. She had taken out her blade and gone in for the attack. Pulling her tome out, she opened it and allowed it to fall to the floor, another page beginning to eat itself away. Orange-red sparks danced around her fingers as she drove the Thoron spell into the gangly man's side. Just as the blue-haired man cut into his opposite side.

The gangly man pushed himself back by a couple of yards, safely away from the pair. Purple-black flames began to dance around his person. He dropped to his knees, sitting still for just a moment before he dropped flat onto the floor. He reached a hand out futilely.

Relieved, the blue-haired man looked back at her and smiled. Weakly, she could feel her lips pull back into a smile. Everything…everything was going to be all right now. Maybe she didn't need to die with this man already dead. Maybe…

She took a step forward intending to take the blue-haired man's hand. But a sudden voice echoed around them. "This isn't over…" the raspy, ragged voice of a man thought dead croaked. The gangly man suddenly prompted himself up with one hand, then extended the opposite hand towards the pair. "DAMN YOU BOTH!"

Her body started to act before her mind could catch up. She placed her hand firmly on the blue-haired man's chest. Putting as much strength in as she could, she shoved him out of the path of the gangly man's spell.

Under different circumstances, she would have thought this was an impressive feat. The man of blue easily outclassed her in the weight department. But right now, she was far more concerned about keeping him alive. Between the two of them, she was the expendable one.

She was nothing.

She was just able to catch the utter fear and confusion on the blue man's face. A moment of realization. The idiot actually feared for her.

Her vision went white as the spell threw her off her feet. She was momentarily weightless, unaware of her surroundings. Her chest soon burned upon contact with the spell. An uncomfortable tingle spread from her chest to her arms, to the tips of her fingers. A new form of pain brought her back to reality as her back hit the floor. In contrast to the burning, the back of her head and shoulders started to throb.

The blue-haired man shouted her name, prompting her to slowly crack her eyes open. Her mind was still fuzzy, her vision was blurred. She needed to blink a couple of times before it cleared. The blue-haired man sprinted to her as soon as she hit the floor. Finally, at her side, he dropped to his knees and wrapped an arm around her shoulders to help her sit up.

"You all right?" he asked instantly. Unable to find her voice, she nodded. Relieved, the blue-haired man looked back at the gangly man on the floor. He must have collapsed again after casting the last spell. His body began to disintegrate into a dark haze. "That's the end of him…thanks to you, we carry the day."

She brought a hand to her forehead, allowing the man in blue to hold her. She was still hurting; she was exhausted and she wasn't sure what happened now that the gangly man was dead? Did this put an end to his plans? Had she been overreacting?

Without warning, her breath caught in her throat, her head hurt from it's deepest crevices. The pain was so intense she hardly noticed the blue-haired man guiding her onto her feet; though she wanted to sit back down. She wanted to scream at him to help her back down, but she couldn't find her voice. "We can rest easy now," the man said, his voice so distant and muffled to her ears, "at long last."

Another spasm of pain pulsed through her head. She could feel the man's hand leave her shoulders, she grabbed a hold of it, instantly wanting the support. Her chest started to heave. She wasn't actually sure if she was breathing or not.

The man finally noticed the pain on her

face. "What's wrong?" he asked. Still, she couldn't find her voice, instead opting to squeeze his hand and hope he understood what she was trying to say. "Hang on! Hang-"

She could have fainted with the sudden absence of pain. Like a candle blown out in the wind, the pain was just…gone. She couldn't say how, or even why. She was just glad it was gone. The pure relief of it all was enough to make her want to sing.

To her confusion, the man sauntered back away from her on unsteady legs. Her heart stopped as soon as she saw the large orange-yellow electric volt penetrating his side. His hand held the volt, but he wasn't trying to remove it. Though it likely would not have done him any good; blood was seeping around the wound, darkening his tunic.

Her chest started to heave again, watching helplessly as blood started to drip at the man's feet. No… no, no. Not him. Not him!

How?

How?! It was just the two of them now! No one else could have… No one else…

Oh, gods, please no…

Now terrified and cold, she looked down at her right hand. Small traces of electricity danced between her fingers. Tears welling in her eyes she looked back at the man, shaking her head. "No…" she choked out, her tears spilling down her cheeks. "No… Chrom…"

Gods please, not him… not him… not by her hand…

The man took a step towards her, his free hand gently caressed her cheek, wiping the tears.

Don't…

"This is not your-your fault…" the man rasped. Blood began to drip out of the corners of his mouth. "Promise me… you'll escape from this place… Please… go…"

The light in his eyes died as they rolled into the back of his head. The man dropped to his knees before he collapsed onto the floor. Blood began to pool around him on the floor.

Both hands clasped over her mouth as she scampered back a step.

She stared, wide-eyed, at the man. He remained motionless as blood began to stain the white of his clothes. Hands still over her mouth, she let out a muffled sob before she dropped to her knees.

It wasn't supposed to be this way…

It wasn't supposed to be this way…

It wasn't supposed to be this way!

Why…?

Why was she still alive after everything?

Lady Emmeryn, Phila, Say'ri, Nowi, Donnel, Stahl, Gaius, Miriel, her mother… Weren't they all deserving of life? But they weren't alive. That was the way of it, people were alive until they weren't. Death through senseless acts of violence…

Why was this world still alive?!

A miserable land, just perfect for generations of miserable existence. How many wars did this world experience and did they ever learn their damned lesson? How many ended up dead as a result? The lands ravaged, people suffering and dying.

It was disgusting how they never learned.

And she was a fool for holding onto hope.

This world…was better off dead…

It was the rasped cackling that got her attention; a voice belonging to one she was sure was dead. Slowly, but surely, her shoulders began to shake, a smile forming behind her hands. Lowering her hands, she allowed a low chuckle to escape her lips.

They were better off dead…

ThEy WeRe BeTtEr OfF dEaD!

Euphoria started to bubble up within her the more she accepted the truth. This world was headed towards ruin, so why not help it along?

Her head tilt back, laughing alongside the voice. Liberated from her previous concerns she remained somewhat oblivious to the new pain on her temples as a pair of jagged horns began to grow out of her skull.