Author's Note: Fire Emblem is the property of Intelligent Systems and Nintendo. This is just some slightly angsty Tinny drabble, with a little bit of Arthur thrown in for good measure. It was written based on the time "Brother."


A slender finger traced an ancient pattern, sunken into the worn bindings of a tome she'd read cover to cover and learned to master long ago. It had been the one talent she was really proud of, she reflected, though even that pride had dulled and faded, like charred ashes on a lazy summer breeze, burned away like everything else over the passage of time. A simple thunder spell. If there were ever a symbol of familiarity for her, it was this. She'd often wondered, at times much like this, rare times when she allowed her mind to dust off its darkest corners, if she had taken so much pride in her talent because of her acute awareness that her ability stemmed from the blood her mother had given her. The heritage her mother had been blessed with.

Cursed with.

No, she mustn't think too hard on that.

Her eyes followed her finger, narrowed in concentration; though had she been asked what she was focusing so hard on, she would have found herself entirely unable to respond. She'd been given this tome to perform a task. She'd been ordered to use this volume of knowledge to defend her family, to pay back some of the debt she owed those that had raised her for their kindness. After all, they had been under no obligation to care for her after her mother's death. Not really.

They wouldn't have had to if they hadn't killed her in the first place.

She blinked, and her brows furrowed as she chased the thought away. Her finger halted along its familiar path, and her eyes slid shut for a brief moment. Thunder. Lightning, welling within her, and a feeling of euphoria that was entirely unfamiliar to her. Searing, cleansing light, crackling with power, with purest energy, arcing from her fingers and toward her foe. That was her heritage. That was her mother's gift. Her eyes opened, their depths filled with disappointment -- she couldn't really recreate the feeling, here, well away from any battlefield, closed off from any danger.

Perfectly safe, when she should have been perfectly dead. Like all the others. She could still recall the sound of their marching, the cool wind across her face as she marched with them, timed in step to face the Liberation Army that had unexpectedly arrived at their doorstep. Her mother had fought in an army like that once, she had noted, as she watched them approach.

A young man with soft features and bright blue hair. His eyes looked so kind... too kind to be those of an enemy. But his sword swung, and his eyes hardened, and her allies fell around her beneath his blade.

A harried looking man, with rich brown hair and flashing eyes, pools of purest determination. The eyes of a man who had lost everything looking out from the face of a boy who only wanted to make his parents proud. But he, too, carried a killing blade, a sword the swept and stabbed and destroyed, forever staining his hands with the blood of her allies.

A simply dressed man, with shocking silver hair the color of full moons and sleepless nights spent staring at the stars. Her eyes found his, and she gasped at their unmistakable familiarity. He carried no blade, and shed no blood -- where he pointed, her allies fell, ruined by the same power she had always called her own. He turned toward her, and their eyes met.

He pointed, and an electric shock ran through her. She had expected to feel pain, an end she was not entirely sorry to see, and instead, felt nothing but a tingle down her spine. The man's eyes had found hers, and his mouth had opened, not to call down the searing wrath of Tordo, but to, of all things, call her out by name.

Allies? They were all murderers, earning their due.

That thought was not so easy to suppress; hardly surprising, for if she were to pretend she did not believe it, what did that make Lord Celice? A criminal, for cutting down the people she had been sent out to command, the people whose duty it had been to keep her and her foster family from harm? She shook her head, slowly, a single tear tracing its way down her cheek. She noticed it only when it fell free from her face to shatter on the bindings of the book that appeared to fascinate her so.

She hastily wiped it away. Now was not the time for tears. That time had passed, given away to a future that was full of light, full of life she had never dared to hope might be hers to experience. She'd taken a chance; she'd made a decision she never thought she'd have the courage to make, and here she was, alive to live with that choice, while everything she had ever known lay cold and dead, never to be anything more than a fading memory. She was a traitor. She was a daughter. She was a sister.

Tiltyu, my mother... if you could see me now... would it bring a smile to that sad face? Would it stem those endless pools of tears... or merely serve to deepen them?

"Tinny?"

She shook her head, her pigtails swinging, the ribbons that adorned her hair fluttering at the sudden movement. Her mother would be proud to see her, now. She'd have wanted this, more than anything -- her daughter, taking a stand. Fighting in her name, for her memory. A smile found its way to her lips, and a warmth flooded her; a feeling she was only recently growing used to experiencing.

"Arthur."

"Hey, Tinny... you all right?" She turned to face him, looking into those eyes that had struck her speechless from the start.

For every time she'd seen them in the past, they'd been filled with tears. Endless tears.

"Yes, Arthur." She smiled shyly, anxious to reassure him. "I'm just... thinking..."

"Tinny, I can't tell you how happy I am to have you here..." Arthur was smiling back, and Tinny felt tears pricking at her eyes again. His smile reached his eyes, and it was everything she'd always wanted to see. A smile in those eyes.

"Arthur..."

"I've been looking for you for..." He sighed, placing a hand hesitantly on her slim shoulder, as though afraid if he touched her she might fade away like an illusion. "...for so long," He managed, giving her shoulder a squeeze. She raised her own hand to rest on his, and stood to face him. Her brother. Her brother.

"It's hard to believe, isn't it...?" She let the tears fall, and he blinked at her, a look of concern filling his features.

"Tinny? Hey, c'mon... don't cry..."

"How can I not?" She replied, reaching out to touch his face, to trace his cheek with that same slender finger. "You'll never know how happy it makes me, Arthur, just to see the smile in your eyes..."

He stared at her wordlessly, and she dropped her hand, blushing faintly. She probably sounded silly.

"There's still so much I don't know about you," Arthur noted, raising an eyebrow at her, the concern still there, though muted, now.

"We... have a lot to talk about..." Tinny agreed.

They stared at each other for a moment longer, and he took a halting step closer, so close that she could swear she could feel his heart beat in time with her own. His arms moved to wrap around her, and he pulled her close; she returned the gesture, happiness flooding her in a way that was entirely foreign to her. Entirely.

"When I heard those rumors that you were alive... I almost didn't let myself believe it..."

She nodded against him, her tears soaking the soft fabric of his cloak.

"And now that I've found you, I'm never, ever, letting you out of my sight again, you hear?"

She smiled, and nodded once more. She'd thought she had lost it all...

Her brother. She still could hardly believe that it was true.

Their embrace ended; she stepped away, taking a moment to collect herself before going on.

"I think... I'd like to start..." She took a breath. "...Arthur. I'd like to tell you... about our mother... Did you know that you have her eyes?"