Through the Darkness
Wandering Cat

Rath/Priscilla? Rath...and PRISCILLA? One might want to know where this came from. Well, I stole it from IceBlade28...sorta. It all started back sometime before now, when Ice e-mailed me, stating that he was going to do a fic where Lyn dies and Rath is left desolate, and that he needed someone to pair him with. I thought about it, and I believe I suggested Rebecca, Florina, or Priscilla. IceBlade decided on Priscilla, I think for reasons that would spoil the story. Months later, he decided not to do it, so I took it upon myself. Because I can, and he gave me permission.

First, I invented Rath/Fiora. Now, Rath/Priscilla. I don't care if you turn back now, going "eeeeewwwwwwwwwww, original pairing!" like people must have done with A Few Seconds, because at least I'm straying from the common for a while. To make up for it, I put in...implied...Eliwood/Lyn...CURSE ME, CURSE ME! I'm never doing it again. Excuse random errors; I'm writing some of this while staring at YuYu Hakusho on the TV across the room, paying no attention to my keyboard. If it weren't for a crapload of Sierra Mist and the desire to see YuYu, I probably wouldn't be awake now.

Diclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. Cue random amount of hyphens.
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Rain poured from the skies, as if to shed the tears that he himself could not. Across camp, everyone was eqaually as dismal. The Lord Tactician stood leaning against a tree, rubbing his eyes with two fingers. Lord Eliwood, who Rath had been so jealous of, had now earned his pity, as the lordling sat doubled over, racked with sobs. Lord Hector did his best to comfort his friend, but was still unable to ebb the flow of tears. The others all grieved in their own ways, be it faking optimism or sulking.

The Lady Lyndis, daughter of the Lorca, granddaughter of the marquess of Caelin, was struck down in battle, and never to rise. Now, her body lay in the medical tent, where the two healers, with the added help of Lord Pent and Lucius, had tried to revive her, but to no avail. They were possibly holding the most strain, the feeling of guilt added onto grief. Even Serra was unable to smile, and was currently sobbing on a friend's shoulder.

Dazed, Rath stood and walked further into the woods. He didn't know where he was going, nor did he really care. He'd lost his feeling.

'Wyverns, coming from the west, milady!' Kent shouted toward Lyn.

She whipped her long hair out of the way, turning toward the impending enemy reinforcements. Lyn licked her lips nervously, exchanging her sword for a bow. She never fared that well against the beasts and their riders, being so small and without much weight to throw into her blows. Her skills with a bow were still that of a beginner, but enough to at least distract the riders.

There was a tap on her shoulder, and she turned toward it. Lord Eliwood flashed her his soft, reassuring smile. Lyn smiled back, her spirits rising with the help of his smile, and the Wyrmslayer in his hand. He reached down with his spare hand and squeezed hers, another encouraging gesture, and turned toward the fray. Lyn felt her cheeks warm slightly, and followed him. (author's note: GAAAAAHHHH!)

Eliwood broke into a fresh round of tears, breaking Rath's concentration. Rath could just barely see him through the forest he'd sat himself in. He reached up to his face, touching the cheek. Dry. If he cared so much for Lyn, why could he not cry for her like Eliwood?

The battlefield had become a forest of lances and swords, while the skies bled arrows. Rath finished the last soldier in his vicinity, yanking his newly acquired blade from the man's torso. It was then that he heard the knight's cry, warning his liege of ill news: wyvern riders. Feeling that his bow may be of use, Rath guided his steed toward the west. He just barely caught a flash of teal among the bright blues and greens (for it was a beautiful day not worthy of battle). At the same time, there was reddish orange, and to Rath's dismay, it was the hair of Eliwood, heading toward Lyn. He smiled at her and she smiled back. He took her hand and she blushed. Something close to anger swelled in Rath's stomach.

What was that feeling? Anger, hatred?...No. Try as he might, he couldn't hate or even blame Eliwood. Jealously? Yes, that was it. He was jealous of Eliwood, because Eliwood had Lyn and she had Eliwood. There was no need for Rath between them. Another pang of hurt hit Rath, and he looked at the lordling again. Still crying, still calling her name with that pitiful, choking voice. It had been hours and he was still at it. And Rath could shed not one tear.

'Lady Lyndis! Lady! Move!' shouted the thief Matthew, whose eyes allowed him to see through the newly settled fog. Said lady did not move much, just turned to her left at the whim of an eerie instinct. Bolting toward her was one of the wyverns, its rider's lance held high. Her breath caught in her throat. Several yards away, Eliwood did the same. The wyvern hit the ground hard, sending dirt and grass flying. There was no overly-dramatic pause, no hesitation. Just a quick, clean thrust of a lance, the flash of steel, and the beast was once again off the ground. Lyn's legs gave out beneath her, she fell forward gasping for oxygen. Eliwood was at her side in an instant, yelling at Lady Louise to find her husband. Rath had now approached, and froze at the sight of Lyn in Eliwood's arms, bleeding. He looked to the sky, spotting the wyvern floating smugly overhead, and in a spur of rage, savagely shot an arrow into its neck, and another into the rider's.

Rath took off his bandanna, rubbing his eyes, and sat down on a random log. The battle had been won, but at a huge cost. Even now, the tactician was composing a letter to house Caelin explaining Lady Lyndis' death. Replaying Lady...no, Lyn's death in his head also did not move him. His eyes were still dry. If he loved her so, why could he not cry?

Once again, he was unable to complete a thought. There was a rustling several yards away. Out of the bushes stumbled one of the healers. He thanked the heavens it was not Serra, but Priscilla. He'd never met her, aside from when she was healing his wounds. She had spoken to him only to give him instructions on how to care for his battle scars, and all he ever said was "Thank you." There were times where he'd be assigned to guard her in battle, or back her up while she attempted magic. But they were few and far between. You could hardly call their relationship friendly. You could hardly say they had a relationship at all. Priscilla sniffed and rubbed her closed eyes.

"...ah...lost?" Rath asked, his voice hoarse. He didn't know why he was offering. She looked up, startled enough to take several steps back.

"Oh...Sir Rath...? W-why are you out here?"

Rath remained silent and studied her. Her white skirt was dirty; she must have stumbled around quite a bit. Her legs were shaking, perhaps nervous or frightened. Both hands were now wrung together. But what stuck out the most were her troubled eyes, clouded over and red from crying, with barely noticeable bags underneath.

When he didn't reply, Priscilla shook more, and her lips tightened. Before he could even hope to understand the situation, she'd dropped to her knees, clutching the dirt. "I couldn't save her! I'm so sorry, I just couldn't!" she shouted, but her words were overcome by tears, and further distorted by her violent shaking. Rath found himself in a rather awkward position. He got off his log and gently patted her on the shoulder, trying to give her comfort. He could not stand to see a woman cry. Even one he didn't really know. Priscilla looked up, one hand covering half of her face, the other holding her up. Tears continued to stream down her cheeks, dripping off of her chin. He took the bandanna, having almost forgotten that he took it off, and wiped away the salty water.

"...After darkness...comes light. No matter how long it takes...that is one think humankind can count on. Believe in." Rath said. Priscilla sniffled again and swallowed. She may have blushed, but her cheeks and nose were already red. "Here." He offered her his hand, which she took and pulled her off the ground. Rath didn't let go immediately; his eyes dropped to the small hand in his large, calloused one. "Such tiny, delicate hands shouldn't try to hold all the hurt." Rath whispered, finally releasing her. This time, Priscilla surely blushed, and she looked away. Rath had hoped to cheer her, sort of, but Priscilla only began crying again.

"But Lyndis! She...she's g-gone now! How could in not hurt? She was my...my friend!"

Eliwood had Lyn, and she had Eliwood. There was no need for Rath between them. No need for Rath between them. He thought to how Eliwood had cried, and how he was unable to, for the woman he thought he loved. Rath had known Lyn for quite some time, and yet he was more moved by the grief of a woman he barely knew? Inside his heart, he'd known that Lyn was happy with Eliwood, and he could never, even if he wanted to, shatter that joy.

Rath looked down to Priscilla, almost a foot shorter than him and possibly only a little more than half his weight, and still much smaller than Lyndis. She was frail and weak, unable to handle even the basics of magic or take a wound that the Lady would brush off with the help of a vulnerary. He thought back to when he'd protected her in battle, to the way she cringed every time something died within her field of vision. Many times, in the back of his mind, he wished he could make it all stop so that she wouldn't have to wince, but was to occupied with Lyn to notice the urging.

He could not protect Lyn. She was impulsive and even when he tactician warned her, did what her heart said. It was not his fault she died. It was not Eliwood's, though Rath would blame him for a while, and it certainly wasn't Priscilla's fault.

He could not protect Lyn. But he could protect Priscilla, even off the battlefield.

Without really thinking, Rath took a step forward and wrapped his arms around Priscilla's shoulders. The touch caused her to start, but he urged her to keep crying and let her pain out, and she continued to cry into his shirt.

He would protect her. She would look out for him as well. Maybe she could stop her brother's wrath as well, but that would come in time.

They would see each other through the darkness and into the bright future.

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WC: Holy crap...I'm tired...Is this angst? Did I write something ANGSTY? No, I don't think so. Well...review? I really do want to hear opinions on this one, I'm quite proud of it.

Why does Priscilla come in so dang late? When the heck does this take place? How does the weather change from beautiful to foggy all of a sudden? Why do I sometimes use one space after a period, and sometimes two? How come every time I write a fic with Rath, he ends up wiping away some woman's tears, with his bandanna? Don't ask because I don't know.

notes: I'm pretty sure IceBlade18 said that he'd have Lyn killed by a wyvern rider...so I did, too. Also, my Lyn, wonderful as she was, didn't do so well against wyverns. She could take out a dang warrior, but not a wyvern rider...Oh, and the thing about tiny (, delicate) hands holding all the pain? It's from a Gundam Seed ending song, which I think is titled "Find the Way".