Min: Finally updated! School started four weeks ago and I've been busier than ever.

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to the Fire Emblem videogames. I do own the rights to Irene and Felix Wu. Well, they own rights to themselves, I guess.

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My head throbbed, sending sharp spikes of pain through my mind. I couldn't feel my back; only a heavy, aching pain told my brain that I still had one. Something heavy was on top of me, like a beam or a large piece of rubble. I lay there on the ground, my cheek pressing against the dirt. It was hard; I felt little pebbles dig into my skin.

It was dark, but not as dark as it had been when the bandits had attacked. What had happened the night before? I struggled to think, but my mind was a haze, floating just out of reach. The village had been destroyed, but what next? Was anyone still alive? Or had the bandits killed them all?

Something shifted nearby; hands moved through my pockets, rummaging, digging in search of something valuable. That got my attention. Someone was trying to rob me!

I stirred, unable to move completely without my muscles screaming in protest. Someone yelped. A blond thief leapt back, a dagger in one hand. "Milord Hector!" he called. "This one's alive!"

A familiar-looking Sacaean woman, a mounted girl with a feather tucked behind one ear, and a heavily armored axbearer made their way through the smouldering wreckage that had once been a living, thriving village. I watched the girl's chestnut horse pick its way daintily towards me, its pretty white-socked hooves clopping over dirt and scattered hay. It looked so absurd in the middle of the filth and debris that I would have laughed if I could force my abused lungs to function.

"Good heavens!" The axman squared his shoulders and hefted the end of the beam. With a grunt, he heaved the thing off of me. I felt the weight lift from my back, but cried out when I tried to move. A searing pain lanced down my spine. What was wrong with me? Was my back broken?

Placing the beam on another pile of rubbish, the axman turned his attention back to me. He leaned close, running his hand through his close-cropped blue hair. I flinched away when I saw his weapon. "What have you dug up now, Matthew?" he boomed. "Some hardened criminal, a man-slaughtering bandit perhaps?"

The green-haired lady standing next to him stiffened. Her hand strayed to the katana-style weapon buckled to her side. "A bandit?"

The thief called Matthew snorted. "More like an innocent traveler by the look of it. Stop teasing, Lord Hector." Gently he propped me up in a sitting position. I bit down hard on my lip to stifle a moan of agony. Even the slightest movement sent sharp spikes of pain jutting into my back. I heard him suck in his breath as he saw the damage. "Good heavens, little one, you've a bump the size of Ostia on the back of your head. And your back- my word! Who did this to you?"

"Please, Sir Matthew," interjected the girl. "If you'll excuse my intrusion, perhaps I will be able to be of some assistance."

The axman raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you're up to it, Priscilla? Do you have enough energy left from the skirmish at Castle Caelin to do this?"

Priscilla bowed her head. "Yes, Lord Hector. The battle has taken some out of me, but I will be fine. I must help however I can." She looked up at him with green eyes awash with compassion. "Please…."

He smiled ruefully, chagrined. "You don't have to look at me like that, Priscilla. Do it."

Pricilla bobbed her thanks and knelt beside me, raising a staff topped by a glowing blue stone. Her lips moved soundlessly, chanting words that I could not hear. A soothing blue aura enveloped me, washing every worry I might have had from my mind. A cleansing force moved through me, healing my very soul. Skin and tendon knit themselves together; bruises faded and cuts closed. She lowered her white-gloved hands and the glowing light drained from me. I reached and felt the back of my head with hesitant fingers. The bump was gone. The pain in my back had faded to a soft, persistent throb.

The man whom Matthew had called Lord Hector hunched over beside me. "Now, lass, what were you doing here, and why is it that we found you here among this wreckage? Were you attacked when the village fell?"

A wave of dizziness swamped me without warning. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. As I swayed, spots dancing before my eyes, Matthew reached out a hand to steady me. A word forced its way past my dry tongue. "Felix…." I croaked.

Hector frowned. "Felix? Who is that?"

"Lord Hector!" Priscilla said. "Please! It's too soon after the healing-"

"Felix…. I… couldn't… save her…." My voice was slurring. My tongue refused to work; my breathing became heavier, my lungs feeling as if under heavy weights. The world became a swirling mass of blurry colors. Someone said something about a stretcher and I sank into blissful nothingness.

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"So you're finally awake."

The voice belonged to a young man who looked to be three or four years older than me. In his hands he carried a tray of hot, steaming food. The click of his boots echoed hollowly on the stone floor; the hem of his crimson cloak whispered softly as it brushed against the ground. As he came closer, I could see that the color of his tunic was the same dark blue as the sheets of the bed I was in.

A bed?

Tentatively, I touched the sheets, then the pillow. They were the softest I had ever seen or been in. I glanced around, taking in the great stone walls of the spacious infirmary. Rows of beds lined either wall, all empty save mine. A merry fire danced in the hearth, lighting up the darkened room. The draping curtains of green and gold brocade were pulled shut.

The young man halted by the side of the bed, regarding me with eyes of an unusual shade of purple. Dark violet locks of hair tumbled down around his shoulders, giving him an almost effeminate look. "Hungry?" he asked, setting the tray down on a mahogany night table beside me. "It's evening already."

That got my attention. I sat bolt upright, ignoring a warning stab of pain from my back. "Evening? What? How long have I been asleep?"

He shrugged. "A day or so, in and out. Lady Lyndis and Lady Priscilla have been taking care of you the whole time. Lady Priscilla has hardly left your side since you came in." He was being carefully polite; I could see that by the wary way he looked at me out of the corners of the eyes.

"Lady Lyndis and Lady Priscilla," I mused, watching the fire leap up and down in its stone prison. "Well, you sure don't look like a Lyndis or a Priscilla. What's your name?"

He reddened. "I'm not Lady Lyndis or Lady Priscilla. My name is Erk. I'm a student mage. Lady Lyndis is the princess of Caelin, this region. Lady Priscilla, my employer, is a red-haired young woman blessed with a gentle touch, a gift of healing, and great beauty. I doubt I fit either of those descriptions."

So that was Priscilla who had healed me in the village. Oh, right. My brother had shown me a picture of her before. She was some kind of, of… trooping door? No wait, troubadour. That was it. The striking Sacaean woman of before had to be Lady Lyndis. I wondered what he meant by 'employer'. What was he, some kind of janitor?

I had to grin in spite of myself. "No, you don't. Lady Priscilla is much prettier than you are, anyway."

His face twitched; he smiled, relaxing a bit. "Do you know what a mess it would be if she wasn't?"

A soft knock on the door interrupted our conversation. The door slipped open a crack, and a small, pale face with wide green eyes appeared, peering into the room. The door continued to open, and Priscilla stepped into the room. Timidly she approached. Erk turned, and, seeing her, bowed. "Ah. Lady Priscilla." His voice was blandly reserved again. "Good to see you. Weren't you in the castle infirmary tending to Marquess Caelin?"

Priscilla shook her head. "Oh no," she said. "Lady Lyndis wanted to be alone with Lord Hausen for a while." She seated herself in a chair next to my bed and laid a hand on my forehead. "Ah, good. You're much better now. The fever's gone down considerably. That bit of rest did you a world of good."

"Thank you, Lady Priscilla," I said. Wincing, I reached up under my shirt to feel my back. My fingers met soft cloth underneath where skin should have been. I gasped. "Ah! My back-! What's wrong with it?"

"Apparently a burning piece of debris fell on you before we reached you," Erk told me. "It did some damage; a couple of ribs were fractured and your back's burned pretty badly. Lady Priscilla mended most of it, but you'll need time to heal. It won't scar, but it'll hurt for quite a while." He nudged the tray towards me. "Eat something. You'll feel better."

I tried to push it away. "I'm not hungry, thanks."

Erk inclined his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Liar. Your stomach's growling."

Resigned, I picked up the spoon and took a bite of the strange lumpy substance inside of the bowl. It was porridge, sweet and tasty. "Wow, this is good!" I managed through a mouthful of porridge.

He laughed. "I'll tell Lowen you liked it. He takes his cooking very seriously."

"Lowen?" I asked. "Who's that?"

"Cook and cavalier. He's quite talented." He looked at me. "So, Girl Who Likes Lowen's Cooking, do you have a name?"

"Irene." I took another bite. "This stuff sure beats Felix's cooking. He'd burn a salad if left alone with it for more than ten minutes."

"Felix? Who's that?"

Suddenly wary, I peered at him over the rim of my bowl. He was watching me intently, his eyes dark and intense. What was with the sudden interest in Felix? And how did he know who my brother was? "Why?" I demanded suspiciously.

"You kept calling out for him in your sleep. 'Felix, Felix, I'm sorry…. I couldn't stop them…. Please, Felix…. I want to go home.'"

The memories of the night before came back to me in a rush. Running, terror thick in the air as it clogged my senses. People screaming, flailing, dying in the streets, staining the dirt a dark, dark red. And the young woman-

My appetite was gone. I placed the spoon back on the tray and handed it back to him. I flashed him a false smile. "Thanks, Erk, but I'm full." He looked sharply at me, and I could tell he wasn't fooled.

"You only took two bites!" Priscilla protested. "You won't recover fast if you don't eat."

I sighed. "I'm sorry, Lady Priscilla, but I really can't eat any more."

The troubadour took the mug from the tray and stirred the contents. Then she offered it to me. When I opened my mouth in protest, she put her finger to her lips. "Drink," she said gently but firmly. "This is a special tea. It'll help you get better. It induces sleep and prompts your body to heal itself naturally."

I nodded and held out my hands for the mug. As I sipped, I could feel my eyelids growing heavy. Hands took the mug from me, and I slept.

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My dreams were plagued by scenes of the village raid, replaying over and over in my head. I would wake up screaming in the middle of the night. I whimpered into my pillow as the horrific images of the slain villagers haunted me, reaching out to me with cold, dead, rotting hands. Their expressions were ones of shock, fear, and hatred, frozen for eternity on faces blackened by burns and stained by blood. Filthy brigands holding sacks of loot slew the helpless civilians with rusting axes and battered swords. Their faces were lit up with the savage joy of killing.

In my dream, I ran through the streets again, searching for someone. Frantically shoving through the crowds of frenzied people, I called out until my voice felt raw, but still I saw no sign of her. The world flipped, and I was falling again, shrieking as the two halves of the ladder plummeted to earth above me. I felt like a rag doll, a small, insignificant thing, helplessly falling from the edge of a cliff. This time there was no haystack. I hit the ground hard, feeling and hearing the loud crack! that sent a spear of pain jutting down my back. The bandit loomed over me, grinning with broken teeth. I couldn't move as I watched the ax come slicing down-

And suddenly I stood from afar as a spectator, watching as the bandit raised the ax high. The young woman I had tried to help shrieked and stumbled to her feet. I tried to run towards them, tried to make some kind of noise, but my throat wouldn't work, and my feet wouldn't move. The woman had run only a dozen feet or so when the ax sprouted from her shoulder, cleaving her in half. I screamed as the two pieces of her corpse fell to the ground. The bandit caught his hand ax and turned towards me, bringing it back for a throw-

"Irene! IRENE!" Hands were shaking me awake. I sat up with a gasp, tears coursing down my face. Erk held my shoulders, staring at me with that same intensity I had seen during his first visit two days ago. I didn't recognize him at first and let out a cry of rage and fear. "You animal!" I flailed at him, but his arms were longer than mine and I couldn't reach him. I spent my energy and collapsed, sobbing.

"Irene! It's okay; it was only a dream." I turned away, my eyes wild and uncomprehending. He shook me. "It's me! It's Erk! Remember? Come on, Irene! Snap out of it!"

I stared up at him. "-Erk?" I asked, my voice quailing. "Erk? Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me. You're all right, you're all right," he soothed, like one would comfort a newborn babe. I continued to sob, burying my head deep into my arms. I wanted to burrow under my blankets and die of shame.

We sat there in awkward silence for a few minutes, the quiet broken only by my muffled sniffs. Erk turned to gaze out the window as I collected the shattered remains of my pride. As the sounds died away, he said softly, "Why don't you tell me what you saw two nights ago in the village?"

So I did, telling him of the events that had occurred, from when I climbed the ladder to when I was knocked unconscious by one of the bandits. "I couldn't save her," I whispered, staring down at my sheets. My hands clenched; the blanket crumpled. "That girl- I tried to help her, and they killed her only a few seconds later."

The mage said nothing. I wanted to rip the blanket to shreds, so intense was the memory. "Why didn't I do anything?" I cried out, furious at myself. "I wasn't strong enough, wasn't-" I stopped abruptly. There was nothing more that I could say.

"Why do you think people go to war?" Erk asked me at long last. There was no sarcasm in his question. "Not the nobles in their silly disputes. The common soldiers, the village people? Some of them enjoy fighting, but they're a small minority. Most of them would rather plod away in their little vegetable gardens, tending their crops and enjoying life's small pleasures."

I listened silently. The moonlight filtered in through the soft cloth under the decorative drapes, which had been pulled back, barely illuminating the room.

"Some fight for glory, some for wealth. The majority, though, have no desire to throw their lives away for a cause so obscure that they cannot see before their eyes. Why bother with what might happen tomorrow, or in a month, or in a year? they wonder. No, they don't do it for themselves. They do it for their friends and families. If they go to war, then their families will be safe.

"You say you're not strong enough. So make yourself strong. Protect those who cannot protect themselves. So what if you're not a hero? Not many people are. I believe it's something you're born to be, and very few have the gift the way Lord Eliwood, Lord Hector, and Lady Lyndis do. Everyone else? They're just normal, mundane people like you and me.

"You see? That is why we fight. We fight-" His eyes slid away, out the window, and I knew he was thinking of the red-haired troubadour. "We fight to protect those we care about most, so that while we are here, no one will hurt them ever again."

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I stayed in the infirmary for about a week, healing and listening. Once, while I pretended to sleep, I overheard voices outside in the hall.

"Do you really mean to secure passage to the Dread Isle, Eliwood?" It was the voice of Lord Hector.

"Yes." An unknown male voice with a hint of authority spoke. This must be Eliwood, son of the missing Marquess Pherae. I had often heard Erk and Priscilla speak of him in low tones when they thought I was asleep. "My father… He's there. I have to find him. He knows the truth."

The truth? I wondered. The truth about what?

"I still can't believe Laus is preparing for war," said a person whom I identified as Lady Lyndis. "It all seems so unbelievable."

"Erik, the Marquess's son, always was a lout," Hector snorted. "Even back in our school days. Traitorous cur."

"Lyndis," Eliwood said gently, "maybe you had better stay behind. For your own good."

"No!"

"But Lyndis-"

"Is it because I'm a woman? Is that it! Is this some sort of Lycian chivalry?" Lyn's voice rose. "Are you trying to protect me, Eliwood! I can handle combat just as well as you, and if you think I'm willing to just sit by and watch-"

"Are you trying to wake the whole castle?" interrupted Hector. "Because the way you two are going at it, I wouldn't be surprised if the entire staff came running in thinking you were being killed."

Eliwood lowered his voice. "All I'm saying is that Lord Hausen might need you by his side while he recovers. You're his only family left, Lyndis."

"He'll be all right. He's recovering quickly, and I told him I would be leaving with you." Her last sentence was a whisper that I could barely hear. "And I… I can't do anything else for him. I'd just be in the way."

Eliwood's footsteps crossed towards her. "Lyndis…."

She broke away. I heard her run until her footfalls died away down the corridor. After about a minute of silence, Eliwood sighed. "Lyn…."

"Go back to bed, Eliwood," his friend advised. "Get some sleep. You can worry about Lyndis later."

"Ah, of course." But he sounded unconvinced. "Good night, Hector."

The sounds of their footsteps faded softly away, leaving me alone in the dark with a ravenous curiosity and many new things to ponder.

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Min: Don't worry; Irene won't be paired with anyone. I tried to make her too young to be romantically involved with any of the others. She might have thoughts, but no romance. Will y'all do me a favor and tell me if she turns too Mary-Sue or if personalities start to wheel off track? Oh, and please leave a review on the way out. Reviews are kind of like getting letters; it makes you feel warm all over when you get a personal message from people who care. Thank you, Aesahaettr's Might, Sir Geroff of the Wind (and I do think it would be easier to write in third person, too, but it's a bit late for that now, isn't it?), Lemurian-Girl, and Link015, for reviewing for me!