All Alone
It was dark.
That was interesting. Dark was dark, but it was still something. It was proof of reality, not an absence.
He concentrated. There had to be more than the dark, right? It wouldn't be dark without the contrast of light. He needed something. He needed to feel.
Silence was his only answer.
Then, something. The whispers of sensation—a tingle, which grew to discomfort, which grew to burning.
He glanced down, attempting to pinpoint the source of the pain. His chest, of course—he didn't need to see to tell that much.
See. He was seeing. He had sight, which meant eyes, and a chest, which felt like it hurt quite a bit. That was feeling, which meant he was alive.
Life. That meant food, shelter, water—
Oxygen.
He was drowning.
As soon as he noticed, he couldn't possibly comprehend how he hadn't noticed. Everything burned and ached, and for just a moment he wondered if he cared so much about living when it brought about this much pain. Then he remembered he was drowning, and very likely wasn't in any state to ponder the merits of existence. He could feel, but even that was fading now, he needed to breathe—
And all at once, it was over.
Wet. Soaked, really. He could feel more things now—heat and cold. Mostly cold, really—a frigid chill that seeped through his cloak and into his bones.
Cloak. That was new. Important. He made to move his hand, reaching inside a pocket, but then he felt like he was drowning all over again, and he decided he rather liked laying motionless on the cool stone floor. The pain was far from bearable, but screaming would just hurt more. On the bright side, it helped him feel more. Legs for walking, mouth for eating, nose for smelling, ears for—
"We'll have to do something, dear. He's surely a spy, I can't imagine how he made it this far."
A woman's voice. That was new, and so far he'd liked the new things he'd discovered, or could at least glean some value from them. Sure, he could've come up with a less painful, more productive way to achieve results than drowning, but he also wasn't quite sure that had ever been up to him. Though that begged the question, what had gotten him into this situation?
"What would you propose, Camilla? The man clearly isn't Hoshidan, and that clothing is more than the common rebel could afford. Not to mention he's a wreck; he'll need the devil's own luck to pull through."
It really would've been more convenient to lay here and ride out the pain as he worked up a strategy, but these two were accelerating the schedule; if only he had some damned silence.
"Milord, Milady, If I may be so bold to presume you'd rather keep Iago... out of the picture, I can ensure the man is given more private accommodations."
Well, a good tactician didn't get anywhere without thinking on the fly. Time to take stock of the situation.
Three voices. A milord and a milady—nobles or royalty. The third was a man, deferential to the others. A retainer, most likely. This Iago character was the real mystery, but eavesdropping only went so far.
"...Very well. Niles, inform me the moment he's conscious. If he's familiar with the Dragon's Gate, he could very well be more dangerous than he's worth."
Well, that's not good. He may not have had any idea what this 'Dragon's Gate' was, but that didn't mean they'd believe him. At least, not without assurance, and by the generally suspicious tone of the conversation Robin wasn't at all convinced their methods would land outside of the 'persuasion-and-or-torture' category. The pain was finally fading, and he had no desire to bring it back anytime soon.
"Very decisive, Leo! I must say, my baby brother makes such a dashing commander."
Robin? Was that his name? It felt right, and he supposed that was all that mattered in a name. Maybe this amnesia thing wasn't quite so permanent as he'd pegged it.
"A baby, Camilla? Well, that's just splendid."
Heavy footsteps against stone reminded him that he did not, in fact, have all the time in the world to reacquaint with his sense of self. He maneuvered his hand as silently as possible into one pocket, fingers curling around the aged blue (I literally cannot see it, how do I know it's blue?) cover of the tome... Treatise? Manual? His head swam with groundless knowledge, little of it solid enough to make bets on—the way he was right about to. And a one, and a two...
Robin shot out with his other hand, grip tightening around an oncoming ankle. "ELTHUNDER!"
The man—Niles, presumably—toppled to his knees with a groan, and something clattered to the stone floor (A weapon? Too light for an axe or a lance, not the right clang to be a sword... some sort of bow). Robin leapt to his feet, pulling the tome from his cloak and finally taking the opportunity to get a good look at his surroundings.
Huh. Are these guys following an evil overlord checklist or something?
The first word that came to mind was dark. Dark stone walls surrounding the circular chamber, dark arched ceiling fading into the shadows, dark banners of black and violet spanning nearly every surface. The many-eyed dragon busts alight with flame in their stone maws certainly did not help to improve the picture, and Robin shivered involuntarily.
Right—bearings, escape route, that's what's important. One hallway dead ahead, (not dead just ahead), heavy locked door, no windows. Older architecture behind me, decidedly not dark or evil, rest of the chamber built around it? Not enough time to weasel out of another gambit, explosive exit might be in the cards...
His brief moments of observation were spent, and the woman—Camilla—hefted a wicked-looking axe at him. "Drop the tome, mage. You'll leave this place stinking of blood for weeks."
Robin smirked despite the fact that his racing heart was beginning to drown out his thoughts. "Tactician, actually. First rule of tactics, never play your hand early."
Leo glared at him from her side with a smug smirk, and in that moment Robin was reacquainted with hatred.
"Well said."
Robin's biting retort was drowned out by a roar, and a dark shadow plunging from the ceiling.
Foreign element, that is not fair!
Then the wyvern landed on his chest, and Robin slipped back into darkness.
"AGH! Curses! How could you feeble heroes lay me low! I am... the Dark Dragon! The, ah, the end of all!"
She scanned the battle-weary courtyard frantically, seeking a means of escape that would not reveal itself to her. As the air hummed with tension, two figures stepped forth from the gloom.
The taller of the two grinned triumphantly, his hands poised with dramatic flair. "O Noble Divine Dragon, fallen from grace! We come to bring your evils to an end! For I am Odin of the Dark!"
The man's shorter companion rushed forward, limbs flying into some rough approximation of the former's bravado. "And I, Elise of the Light!"
"By my solemn fate!"
"And my pure love!"
"FINAAAAAL FLAME!"
Before she could so much as blink, a shower of embers erupted from Odin's hand, and she toppled to the ground with a yelp.
"Curse you... vexing humans..." she hissed, propping herself up onto one arm. "One again... you've..." With an exaggerated flourish, Corrin flung herself to the cool grass once more. The dastardly heroes may have vanquished her, but she couldn't hide the smile spreading across her face.
"That. Was. GREAT!" Elise exclaimed, clapping her hands together with excitement. "You were like VWOOSH and I was like WHAPOW and then we were like VVVRAAAGH!"
Odin chuckled, bowing his head. "You flatter me, Princess of Twilight! Even a darkened soul such as I must strike back against true evil when it threatens the land. Which, might I add, is a role you play wonderfully, Lady Corrin," he continued, offering his hand—she gladly accepted, and he hoisted her to her feet. "Not that, er, it is your destined path! Some of the greatest heroes must be tempered in the steel of shadows—stare into the abyss unflinching as it stares back!"
She smiled, stretching out a final crick in her back. "Oh, ah, thanks, Odin! I think? Really, it was nothing." Sure, Odin was a little, well... Odin. But he never failed to bring a smile to Elise's face, and Corrin was fairly certain she and a good half of Nohr would die for that smile. She'd been disappointed to learn Camilla and Leo hadn't been able to make it to visit her—"Don't tell that I told, but supposedly they're on some kind of secret mission," Elise had whispered to her shortly after the carriages had arrived that morning. But if her skills had improved, and she had more than a little luck on her side, starting tomorrow she'd finally be able to come to them. She was grateful her siblings had at least sent Selena and Odin, Corrin had known the two retainers so long they were practically fami—
"ODIN! If you're done 'rending the darkness' or 'scrying the astral waves' or whatever, you can come unload these crates with me like I asked an hour ago!"
Elise doubled over into a fit of giggles, leaning against one of the fortress walls to stop herself from toppling completely as she watched the color drain from Odin's face.
"A-ah! I'll be right there, Selena!" and now Corrin joined in, unable to maintain a semblance of composure.
"Odin!" Elise gasped when she could breathe again. "Did you forget all about your girlfriend?"
Corrin was fairly certain if Odin could "slip through the mortal veil, traversing the earth amongst the gray shadows of yore", he would have well and done so by now.
"She's not my— we are fated companions, bound together by—" he began, before his eyes met a flash of red hair just as Corrin's did. By the way he raced to her, Corrin very nearly considered the involvement of veil-slipping until her thoughts were cut off by another round of laughter from Elise.
As the two retreated, Corrin could barely make out the whispers of hushed conversation, heads bowed and pace brisk—far from the bout of scolding she'd expected.
"What's the matter? You weren't actually rending the darkness, were you?"
"What? No, it's— I don't know. I feel like we're missing out on something."
The sounds of crumbling stonework and screeching Risen vanished in an instant, and at last Lucina allowed herself to breathe.
In, out, in, out. She knew she could not afford relaxation, not now. Just because she couldn't hear her enemies did not mean she was free from danger here.
She glanced up, brow knitting in confusion behind her mask. Where was here, exactly?
Her breath abandoned her as quickly as it came.
"It's beautiful," she whispered, mostly to reassure herself she was alive.
An endless expanse of blues and blacks stretched before her. She had only the vaguest memories of the night sky before it was drowned out by ash and death, but surely the nights above Ylisstol had never looked like this. The stars were what truly enraptured her, countless sparks of white light piercing the void—standing in stark defiance of any who would drown them out. This was... this was the sort of world she was fighting for. That they were all fighting for.
Lucina broke from her reverie with a start, as she realized she wasn't on solid ground.
No, that wasn't entirely right either. She wasn't falling, and it didn't seem like she was going to start. It was solid, she just... couldn't see it. Now that she focused she could almost feel it, the faint outlines of a tunnel guiding her through the abyss.
I must still be inside the Outrealm Gate, she reasoned. She had been holding the line alone until the temple collapsed; her companions must have already proceeded through the bizarre dreamscape.
It was these things that gave her strength, the reminder that she was not alone. Soon she would reunite with her friends in the past, and they would change their fates—together. She had no time to spare on childish indulgences. The now-swordsman (Marth, she reminded herself. Not a princess or an exalt, just Marth,) set off at a brisk pace, slowly growing accustomed to the silence.
"That's the end of him. Thanks to you we carried the day."
Lucina's breath hitched.
"Father?"
She whirled around, frantically searching the stars for meaning. Silence continued to serve as her only answer.
It was... he was coming from far away. Perhaps this realm is some form of confluence. I must continue down the path Naga has left for us.
She was running now, heart steeled. Distractions could not be afforded, she could pay whispers and ghosts no heed. The future (or rather, the past) was ahead of her, at the end of the star-lit road.
"I believe that you and I are tied together, and what binds us together is stronger than all else."
"Damn the gods! Damn their fates and their destinies! I will have true freedom!"
Keep moving.
"We are all the masters of our own fate! That is why I am not like you, nor could I ever be."
"So dark... A sea of black..."
Keep... moving...
"—MY DAUGHTER, NOT YOUR—"
All at once, the silence and the stars alike were shattered by a roar of sound and force. Lucina barely registered she was falling, and by then it was far too late and she was slipping down, down, down...
Lucina collapsed to the ground, and without hesitation she was a blur of motion, leaping to her feet.
High above, the Outrealm Gate lingered for only a moment, before winking out of existence.
What... what was that?
No matter, she'd have time to ponder the nature of time travel later. She had to make sure—
Her blood ran cold.
Risen.
It didn't take long to realize they weren't aggressive. They simply... lay there, at least a score. It was as if their fell magics had abandoned them. Nothing but corpses.
Lucina frowned, and prodded the nearest with her boot before unsheathing Falchion. She planted the blade deep into its heart, and the creature disintegrated without so much as a murmur—as they were supposed to when slain.
Perhaps they are no longer a threat, but there can be no shortage of caution she reasoned as she continued her grim work. Come to think of it, how did they arrive here in the first place? Perhaps they'd followed her, but she'd seemed alone in that strange realm, save the voices. Opting to take in her surroundings as the last Risen crumbled, she looked up—
—and figured her mask was quickly becoming an essential asset in masking her emotions.
This land was alive.
Bright green swathes of vibrance accentuated the pale blue sky, fluffy white clouds lazily drifting across its expanse. Small pockets of crumbling structures were scattered between the rolling hills, rich with wildflowers.
This... can't be Ylisse, can it?
Lucina turned, taking in the great ravines and sinkholes splitting through the earth, and the ground stretching up into the heavens as if it were a warped shield. Chunks of land were actually floating, drifting through the skies like tiny worlds of their own.
This is not Ylisse.
Her instincts kicked in. She was in unfamiliar terrain, under unfamiliar circumstances. She could not drop her guard simply because this place was brighter than her ruined world... those homes must have been abandoned for a reason. The silence was nearly stifling, now. She had expected birdsong, rustling wind, some form of life to match the alien beauty surrounding her.
Not another moment passed before she pivoted, bringing up her father's blade with years of instinct to parry the axe that had aimed itself at her head.
It was some sort of specter, Lucina reasoned. She had heard tell of Grimleal priests consorting with the souls of the dead—when there were still living Grimleal to do so. But this... thing felt much too physical, despite the fact that she could barely see it. She had to focus on the faint vibrations of the air, the disturbed grass on the earth, and then it was all too clear—a ghostly, violet echo of a man. She hesitated no longer, pushing him back with a shout and running Falchion through his abdomen. The creature made no sound as it vanished into the wind. It was silent, like everything else in this foreign land.
There were more now, pale shadows emerging from behind shattered stones and groves of trees. They approached slowly, with none of the mindless rage she had come to expect from Risen, though she couldn't imagine they were much more intelligent. Raising Falchion high, she allowed her mind to slip back into familiar patterns as she met the wave. Slash, duck, parry, impale, deflect, slash—
An arrow met her forearm, and she hissed. She was a fool to underestimate an unfamiliar foe—many of the Risen in her time had foregone weapons entirely. Their forward guard had been a tide of brute force—a distraction, as mages and archers set up on the hills above.
I cannot fall here.
Yet, she had no avenue of retreat.
Instead, she resolved to meet her fate head-on, as she always had.
"You are the ocean's gray waves..."
Lucina dropped into a roll in her mad dash for cover, dodging arrows that never came. Ducking around a wall, she hurriedly took in her surroundings once more.
A lone woman had arrived in the clearing—a living woman. Bright blue hair drifted down her back in droves, accentuating a pale white dress. A golden lance was gripped tightly in one of her hands.
"...destined to seek, life beyond the shore, just out of reach..."
The phantoms seemed to waver, pausing in their assault—some taking slow, labored steps back, others vanishing entirely.
"Yet the waters ever change..."
Whatever her strange magic was, it failed the deter the immense, ghastly wyvern swooping down on her from above.
"NO!" The words escaped Lucina's mouth unconsciously, and she leaped into the air—Naga's fang bared in a technique she'd practiced time and time again.
With surprising, yet ever-silent resistance, Lucina landed atop the wyvern, wrapping an arm and leg around its transparent neck as she buried Falchion into its skull. The two skidded to the ground, Lucina dropping into a roll as the wyvern disintegrated in her wake.
The urge to remain there, laying amongst the grass, was tempting. But she knew she could not afford rest yet. She had thought herself spent defending the gate, but now her body felt brimming with strength—senses heightened beyond any reasonable measure. She had faced far worse, and she would face worse still in the days to come. She had to.
"...flowing like time..."
The wyvern rider stood as she did, an immense brute outlined by shimmering armor. His helmet seemed to almost mimic his demonic steed, curved horns accentuating its menacing, empty gaze. He rushed forward, swinging his greatsword down in a two-handed motion designed to cut her in two. Lucina could tell the man was much stronger than her, but her fighting style was fast and powerful. Father had trained her in taking advantage of her strengths combined with the exalted techniques—using lightweight finesse to deflect brute force whilst expending little energy.
And that she did, trading blow after blow with the towering knight. She ducked and weaved beneath him, wondering for a moment how such a monster could fly without forcing his mount to the ground. Then she locked blades with a blow inches from her face and chided herself for her lapse in focus.
"Kill them... all... Kill the... out... siders..."
Lucina grunted, pushing back on the blade with all her strength, slowly sliding Falchion down its length as she moved closer to the knight itself.
"My path... does not end with you, fiend!"
With a golden flourish trailed with blue light, Lucina yanked the blade away, ducking beneath the knight as he pitched forward at the sudden shift in weight. Falchion glinted in the sunlight, and she cut the rider in half at the abdomen. The creature passed without a sound.
Lucina spun around, searching for her next foe, buut the field was clear—the other phantoms long gone. The other woman leaned against her polearm, breath labored. Lucina approached slowly, Falchion drawn but lowered to the ground.
"You are a skilled swordsman," the woman noted, gasping for breath. "...and you saved me. Thank you."
Lucina nodded, mouth tilted in a frown she hoped was stoic. "You did the same for me. We are equals, you have my thanks."
"Who are you? How did you come here?"
Lucina grimaced beneath her mask, offering the girl a hand before sheathing Falchion. "You may call me Marth," she began, carefully avoiding the second question. "What is this place? Are you familiar with the Halidom of Ylisse?"
The songstress shook her head, nodding in thanks as she rose, pulling her lance from the earth. "You would... be better off not knowing. My name is Azura. I can show you where to hide from those monsters, and how to exit this land. This land is connected to the kingdoms of Nohr and Hoshido... I've never heard of any Ylisse."
Severa smiled at her, and if Lucina hadn't been wearing the mask she would've rubbed her eyes to assure herself it was Severa.
"That's right, Lucina. Because no matter how far apart you think we are, our souls will always be together!"
Lucina chuckled, bitterly.
"I may have come to the wrong place."
me: One short story a month is a pretty nice pace, keeps my skills sharp, and I always have a couple ideas in the work
also me: Let's commit to a self-indulgent potentially lengthy crossover!
This is my first foray into anything more then a one-shot or D&D item card descriptions in a long time. I've been burned enough by incomplete fics, so as long as people are reading and enjoying I'll do my best to keep delivering. This actually started with a one-shot to canonize the Awakening amiibos without involving Smash, and grew to be... quite a bit more.
Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy what's to come!