Description: Everything Myrrh once loved is gone. Her friends, her family, Caer Pelyn, and… him… I'm not really sure how good it is. I'm awful at reading my own stuff. Please tell me if it moved you. Otherwise, tell me if it is overly dramatic or confusing or whatever.
Rating: Rated T for angst, and a non-graphic death.
Couplings: All this fic has is Ephraim and Myrrh, but I sincerely hope it's not creepy like you'd expect a relationship between a little girl and an older guy to be. It'll make sense later.
Disclaimers: I don't own Fire Emblem.

The sky was clear that day, clearer than it had been in nearly two weeks. There were a few tufts of cotton clouds on the horizon, miles out into the sea. A gentle breeze drifted through, a testament of the cliff's nearness to sea. Indeed, waves crashed in the distance, all across the wide ribbon of blue that was the vast swathe of ocean. There was an oak tree nearby, its long branches hanging over the cliff, swaying in the wind. Occasionally, one of its leaves would detach from the limb and float upon the draft, down, tumbling down to the roaring sea below. Every so often, one could hear the noise of the sea beating against the rocks at the base of the cliffs.

A young woman stood beneath the shade of the oak tree, completely motionless, in spite of the breezes that enwrapped her. She was of a fair complexion, with soft plum hair that cascaded down her back, several inches past her shoulders. Piercing eyes of warmest crimson gazed out from a sculpted face quite unlike that of any mere human's; it was too sculpted, too exquisite to be human in origin. She wore a dress of white and scarlet linen, trimmed with gold, so pristine that it appeared it had been woven on her very form.

Perhaps what might have been most striking about this woman was the pair of folded wings that extended delicately from her back. Though perhaps the wings of an angel or a bird may have accentuated this woman's elegance wonderfully, the folded wings were not feathered or delicate in any way. Rather, they resembled those of a dragon, covered in leathery skin that was the color of bronze. They were built for power, not for grace.

She clutched a glowing stone in one hand, which seemed to be reacting to the aura that emanated from her. Regardless, she did not heed its call, and rather ignored it. Around her neck was a beautiful golden chain, on which was hung a ruby pendant. It glittered faintly in the sunlight.

Whereas the appearance of the girl was picturesque, the look on her face was far from it. Her eyes, once so full of excitement and lust for life, exuded great sorrow. Her lips, which would have looked so beautiful if drawn in a smile, looked as if they had not expressed joy in decades. The way she stared longingly outwards, past the blue swath of sea, into the beautiful sky… It was enough that anyone could have seen just how miserable this beautiful maiden was.

If there had been anyone there, of course.

The woman glanced down for a moment, at the glowing stone in her hand. She stared at it, her face reflected on the stone's spotless facets, and her grip tightened. She walked slowly, as if part of a funeral procession, towards the edge of the cliff, nails digging into the stone, though none but her eyes had changed. No longer completely sorrowful, they now held light glimmers of anger, as if she were furious against some injustice she could not change, no matter how she tried.

She stood at the edge of the cliff, now. She stared down at the stone in her hands. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting a passing breeze blow through the silken tresses of her hair.

Father…

With that, she hurled the stone out towards the sea, with much more force than one would expect in a woman of her slight physique. She watched it glow one final time in the sunlight, before tumbling down to be lost in the waves below.

The anger in her eyes vanished, to be replaced with sorrow of a much greater intensity. Tears formed gently and slid down her cheek, to drip silently to the sea far, far below.

Her fingers, now empty of the stone, pressed the chain around her neck. She clasped the pendant that was there, fingering it with the caution of a child. She lifted it from its resting place above her chest and stared at it as it glittered in the sunlight, and a weak smile graced her lips, awakening muscles in her face that had long stayed dormant.

Tears formed on the very edges of her eyelids as she remembered how she had obtained it…

That day… It had been the resolution. Prince Lyon of Grado, the unwitting avatar of the Demon King, had been finally stopped; afterwards, the Demon King himself had been taken care of and vanquished from the face of Magvel forever. She had been apart of that final battle, the frantic rush against the lord of darkness himself… She had done what had to be done.

They had a massive celebration that night in Rausten Court, at the insistence of Princess L'Arachel; everyone who had joined Ephraim and Eirika on the course of their quest was there, for obvious reasons. She had not wanted to stay. She didn't want to have to do… what needed to be done. She did not want to confront him…

She had finally found him staring off into the distance, at the moon, in the courtyard of the eastern wing of the palace. Tentatively, shy as always, she approached him, eyes never wavering from his form. She could see the lines in his face, the lines that had not always been there… The ones that had been etched there by strife, by conflict, by worry, by doubt. She saw the glow in his eyes, the way the moonlight glimmered upon his hair…

She knew that what she felt… She had never felt before.

"…Ephraim…"

Ephraim turned and looked at her, and a grin found itself upon his lips. The very sight lifted Myrrh's spirits, but only brought them down further as she realized what still had to be done.

"Hello, Sister. I was just reflecting on the moonlight—"

"Ephraim… I need to talk… to you…"

Ephraim glanced at her, puzzlement in his eyes. "What about, Sister? I can't help but notice you haven't been calling me 'Brother'—"

"Please, Ephraim… Do not… make this harder… than it needs…" Myrrh paused for a moment, swallowing back the sorrow that was threatening to make itself known, "…than it needs to be."

"What are you talking about… Myrrh?"

Myrrh glanced up, deep into the eyes of the royal son of Renais, and mustered the courage to do what she so dreaded to do.

"I… I cannot go with you to Renais."

Ephraim looked crestfallen.

"The Darkling Woods… It has been my home for so long. Now that the Demon King has been defeated, the woods will begin to return to the haven it once was… I must… aid in its reconstruction."

Ephraim sighed. Myrrh stared at the ground as the final words left her throat.

"It's unfortunate things had to be this way, Myrrh… I'm sure you would have loved it in Renais."

"I—I'm sure it would have…"

Tears rolled down her cheeks, to fall silently to the stone path below her feet.

"Myrrh… Don't cry…"

Ephraim knelt and embraced the girl, and she cried softly into his shoulder. His embrace… It was so soft. She never wanted to let go. This very thought spurred her flow of tears, and although she did not openly sob, tears fell freely to be soaked into the soft fabric of his cloak.

He… would always have to kneel. He would never see her as she wanted to be seen. He would always see her as a little sister, a girl that could be a friend, a companion, a lifelong comrade… but never as… as…

Myrrh's heart swelled with sorrow.

Her heritage… She had been cursed. For the first time in her life, she saw her wings, her powers, as a curse, not as a blessing to help those she cared for. She recoiled at the selfish thoughts, but they came to her anyways. Her… Her abilities, her immortality, they robbed of her of the things she wanted, the things she needed, at the expense of saving those she loved…

"Myrrh… It'll be all right. I'll come to visit you. You won't be alone."

Myrrh smiled softly at the thought.

"I… I'm not sure if that would—"

"I will come visit you. You won't be alone. I'll protect you…"

Myrrh smiled.

"No matter what happens, Ephraim… I'll never forget you." She wanted to say so much more, but she knew that nothing good could come of it.

"Don't talk like we'll never see each other again, Myrrh. You're my sister, remember? And my friend. I won't let you be lonely."

"Ephraim… I… love you…"

"I love you too, Myrrh. You've been such a help…" Ephraim kissed her on the forehead. The kiss seemed to linger there forever…

"Ephraim… Thank you. Thank you for everything, I—"

"Myrrh…" Ephraim said with a smile. He reached around his neck and unclasped the golden chain that hung there. "Here, Myrrh. Whenever you feel lonely, just hold this pendant, and remember me."

"Prince Ephraim! That, that is—"

"Yes, it is. One of the royal heirlooms of Renais. The solar brace. It holds no more power now. There is no point in me keeping it. I want you to have it… so you can remember me."

"Ephraim…"

She wanted to tell him that no matter what, she would never forget him. Never.

He hooked the pendant around her neck. Myrrh smiled, faintly, trying to hide the sorrow she knew would soon be returning…

"Thank… Thank you so much, Ephraim…"

"No problem, Myrrh."

Myrrh smiled and turned away, so that he would not see the tears running from her eyes…

True to his word, Ephraim had visited her often in the Darkling Woods. Those visits had been happy and joyous, but only in Ephraim's eyes. Myrrh only saw them as glimpses at a life that could never be hers, when she was the object of Ephraim's whole affections, when she was his and he was hers. A life of a human, a mortal… A life that was not hers.

Ephraim's visits grew less and less frequent as the years passed on. To him, there were months and years between visits; to her, there was an eternity of solitude to face before she could see him again. His final visit had been when he was a king of forty years of age, and although age had taken its effect upon him, it never reduced him in her eyes. To her, he was always that earnest prince, her hero, her only, only love.

Some months after that final visit, Saleh came and told Myrrh that the mighty King Ephraim of Renais was dead. She had never felt such pain, such agony, until that very moment. No matter how many wounds battered her body in battle; no matter how many times she was struck by an enemy's lance or sword… She had never felt such anguish. When Saleh left her to dwell upon the subject, she had hidden away in the most reclusive corner of the forest, and cried.

The years passed on, without meaning, without purpose. The only thing that changed about Myrrh as the years passed on was that her physical form developed, so that she no longer showed herself as a young girl, but rather an exquisitely beautiful young woman. It was as if time was trying to spite her. When the thing she wanted most and could never have was gone, she finally was given what she needed to have it. The irony drove her into deeper nihilism. What was the purpose of living on, now? She was doomed to an endless life where everyone she loved, everything she held dear, died before she did. It was an unending cycle.

Slowly but surely everyone – every single one – of her former comrades fell into the cold embrace of death, to be replaced by sons and daughters, or not at all. Days became weeks, weeks became years, years became decades, decades became centuries. Myrrh kept living, while all her friends, all remnants of the life she once had, fell to dust.

Three hundred years passed since the defeat of the Demon King. All that remained of Caer Pelyn was forgotten ruins. She knew nothing of what had happened to the other nations of Magvel, nor did she care. She lived quietly in the Darkling Woods as it slowly blossomed to its former glory… but it had no effect on her.

Her father was dead. Her friends were dead. Caer Pelyn was gone.

Ephraim… was gone.

What more did she have to live for?

For years she pondered the question, and now, three hundred years had gone by… She knew the answer to the question.

She had nothing to live for.

Now she stood on a cliff overlooking the sea, a grown woman devoid of purpose, trapped to a world that no longer held any significance to her.

She could never be with her Ephraim…

She held the pendant between her fingers. Just as he had said those many, many years ago in the courtyard, she remembered him.

She saw his smiling face in her mind's eye.

"Ephraim," she spoke, addressing the open stretch of sky and sea before her, "I never got to tell you… but I love you, more than anything else, beneath heaven or above earth. You… I love you…"

She returned the pendant to its rightful spot, and stared out at the sea.

Myrrh smiled. For the first time in her life, she truly smiled, a wide grin that was reminiscent of her old self. Ephraim… He was the only person who had ever made her do so.

"Ephraim… I will see you, again…"

Myrrh thought of him one last time, and leapt from the edge of the cliff. She closed her eyes...

Ephraim…

Nothing remained of the young Manakete who had so fervently loved her prince. Nothing, save a stone that lay glittering at the bottom of the sea.