I do not own Fire Emblem: Fuuin no Tsurugi.

My Father

It was an unusually clear night. As the full moon shone down on the forest, a clearing was highlighted in a light blue, quite a contrast from the reddish tint that had engulfed it earlier that night. The clearing was just that, a lonely hole in the forest. However, one look was enough to see that, not too long ago, it had been more than that.

Two dozen men, women, and children stood at the edge of the clearing. Each wore a look of shock. It was the terrified expression of people who had lost everything over the course of a single night. Some had their eyes turned to the ground, as if to try and forget the disaster. A few others were looking off into space in disbelief. However, most had their eyes fixed on the charred, still-smoking remains of what, mere hours earlier, had been their homes.

With the villagers speechless and the wildlife scared away by the fire, the clearing would have been deathly silent if not for the voice of a brown-haired girl of about eighteen. With anger spitting from her eyes, she was shouting at a brawny, middle-aged man.

"Dad!" the girl cried, grabbing the man by his shirt. "Why did you do it? Why did you have to listen to them?" As she glared up at him, the man looked away, towards the ground. He showed no sign of responding, or even of resisting her grip.

"Say something, dammit!" she screamed, shedding tears of frustration. Still, the man stayed silent, avoiding her gaze.

The girl released her grip, her shoulders dropping in despair. For a while, she said nothing, and the clearing was overtaken by silence. However, it wasn't long before she opened her mouth again.

"Why are you always like that?" she murmured. It was more of a statement than a question. "Why do you always bow down to power? Why can't you resist? Why can't you ever stand up and fight?"

The man flinched slightly at those words. However, he still said nothing, his gaze locked on the ground.

The girl looked up at him again. It was a cold stare of hate. Quietly, but heavily, she spat one word at him: "Coward." The man flinched once more.

"I'll never go bowing down to power like that," the girl continued in her quiet tone. "I'll never – I'll never be like you."

With that, she spun around and ran from the clearing. As she disappeared into the forest, she could hear the man call out to her, just once.

"Cath!"

As Cath walked through the halls of the Etrurian palace of Aquleia, she couldn't help but feel uneasy as she passed by the castle's servants and guards. She had visited large castles before, but certainly not as a guest. Whenever the young thief had approached a palace in the past, it was always to sneak in and loot the treasure chambers. As a self-proclaimed "Master Thief," Cath saw it as her duty to confiscate the surplus wealth of gluttonous nobles and give it to the starving villagers who needed it most. It felt strange that she didn't have to hide from the eyes of the guards as she made her way through the palace.

A week had passed since the Lycia Alliance Army had captured Aquleia. They had liberated the Etrurian court from the venomous grip of two traitors who were secretly allied with Bern. Cath could only recall one of their names: Arcard, the supervisor of the Etrurian mining operation on the Western Isles. Using his power, he was forcing the Isles' people to work in the mines as slaves. With the greedy noble gaining vast amounts of profit off of the common man's suffering, it was up to the Master Thief to take his wealth and return it to its rightful owners...or was it? That was her original plan, but she soon found herself joining the Lycia Alliance Army led by Roy.

Come to think of it, I was talked into it pretty easily, wasn't I? Cath thought as she stopped by a large window overlooking the palace's courtyard.

Aquleia had welcomed the Alliance Army with open arms once they had driven away the traitors and Bern's troops. The Alliance Army's members were treated as respected guests, Cath included. At first, she was grateful for the break, using the time to hop around the surrounding villages and distribute her stolen wealth to the poor. Still, that didn't take an entire week. She had spent the last few days wandering aimlessly around the palace. In other words, she was bored.

Trying to find something to do, Cath looked down at the courtyard. As her eyes scanned the area, she spotted a familiar figure sitting on a bench near the fountain.

The muscular man's name was Bartre. A mighty warrior, he never hesitated to charge in and fight bravely on the front lines. He constantly trained himself to ensure that he always performed his best in battle. He was a man of honor, courage, and justice, the ideal warrior.

However, Cath didn't like him. After smirking at him from her perch, she made her way downstairs and out to the courtyard. She had found her pastime.

The late afternoon sun shone lazily on the courtyard. Bartre was sharpening his axe as Cath approached him, his whetstone sliding over the axe's blade in rhythmic strokes, sending sparks flying towards the ground. He really was always preparing for battle. Noticing he had company, he looked up to see the girl standing in front of him.

"Hm? Who are you?" Bartre asked, pausing his work.

"Hi, I'm Cath!" the young thief introduced herself, smiling charmingly. "Hey, you're Bartre, right?"

"That I am," the warrior replied.

"Can we talk for a bit?"

Bartre was slightly taken aback by the sudden approach of a stranger, but he had no reason to refuse. "Sure, I don't mind." He stood up and moved to the edge of the bench, setting his axe and whetstone on the ground. As he sat down, he patted the empty side of the bench. "Here, have a seat."

"Thanks." Cath smiled again before sitting next to him.

"So, Cath, what is it that you want to talk about?"

"Well, it's nothing important, really. It's just that you look a lot like my father."

"Do I?" Bartre said, smiling slightly. "Is he a warrior like me?"

"Warrior?" Cath said, her eyes widening. "No way! My father is anything but a warrior."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Cath looked down, her expression darkening. "He might look like you, but he doesn't act like you at all. He's nothing but a coward."

"Ah, I see," Bartre said sympathetically, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Talking to you reminds me of him, though," Cath said, still not looking up.

"Where is your father?" Bartre asked.

"I wonder," Cath replied absently. "He could be dead, for all I know." Her voice didn't sound sad. Rather, she sounded like she was talking about someone whom she didn't think of very highly.

Noting her tone, all Bartre could say was, "I see."

For a while, neither spoke. Cath still had her head turned down, and Bartre looked off at the fountain, absentmindedly watching the endless stream of water. The courtyard was empty, save for the two figures on the bench and a few yawning guards, the warm sun making them drowsy.

It was Cath who broke the silence. Looking up, she asked quietly, "Hey, Bartre, can you hug me like my father used to?"

Bartre's eyebrows arched up at that request. Still, with Cath looking expectantly at him, he couldn't very well say no. "Well, all right," he said, with a little hesitation. "Like this?"

A strange sensation overcame Cath as she felt Bartre's muscular arms wrap themselves around her in an embrace. Love? Yeah, right, Cath rolled her eyes at herself. No, it wasn't that. Protection? Right, that was it. She felt safe in his arms. She felt as if nothing could harm her. A squadron of Paladins could be charging at them, or a Bolting spell could land right on them; it didn't matter. His arms would protect her. It was a comforting feeling, an experience which she had never had before. So this is what a father's hug feels like, Cath thought to herself.

Suddenly, the comforting sensation was gone. Anger overtook her as she remembered her real father, the coward who never hugged her, or gave her comfort. Why couldn't he be like this? Feeling her frustration swell up, she sneered inwardly as she put her clever fingers to work behind Bartre's back. In no time, she had emptied his pockets and relieved him of a small bag of coins hanging from his belt. After quickly transferring the loot into her pouch, Cath broke away from Bartre and stood up.

"Thanks, Bartre," she said, smiling.

"Sure," he replied, oblivious.

Waving at him, Cath made her way back into the palace. Heh, what an idiot, she smirked, just like my father.

As the saviors of Aquleia, the members of the Lycia Alliance Army were given private quarters for the duration of their stay. Returning to the privacy of her room, Cath emptied her pouch on her bed to admire her prizes.

She soon found that there wasn't much to admire. The first thing that caught her eye was a small hand axe. Although sharp and relatively unused, it was nothing she could find a use for. Tossing it aside, she rummaged through the rest of the loot: whetstones, a flint, a tiny pocket knife, and that was it. Nothing even remotely valuable could be found. Even the bag of coins was depressingly light, and she emptied it for a grand total of five hundred gold.

This is nothing but junk! Cath thought in dismay. There had to be something more. Perhaps she had overlooked something. As she scoured the contents once more, she noticed that there was still a bulge in the bag of coins. With renewed hope, she shook the bag to release what was left inside. As a single piece of paper fluttered out lifelessly, so did her expectations.

Sighing heavily, Cath picked up the scrap of paper. Unfolding it, she saw that there were drawings on both sides. One side showed a man and a woman together. The man was grinning, and he wore a metal band around his head. He looks familiar, Cath thought. He's younger, but is this Bartre? The woman had long, jet black hair, and, unlike the man, she wore a solemn expression. Not recognizing the woman, Cath lost interest and flipped the paper over. A single girl was shown on the other side. Clearly younger than the woman on the front, the girl had her black hair tied back in a long ponytail, and wore the same serious expression. I've seen her before, too, Cath thought with surprise. She was a myrmidon in the Lycia Alliance Army. What was her name? Cath tried to remember. Oh, right: Fir, or something like that.

Still, there was one question. Why is Bartre carrying around a picture of her? Cath wondered, looking back and forth from one side of the paper to the other. As she studied the drawings carefully, it dawned on her. With a little insight, the answer seemed obvious enough. Immediately, she was overwhelmed with a sense of guilt at what she had done. I'm such an ass, Cath mentally berated herself. Making up her mind, she gathered her stolen loot and returned it to her pouch. Quickly strapping it to her waist, she turned heel and left the room.

The sky was darkening as the young thief ran out into the courtyard. As she approached the fountain, she was relieved to see Bartre still on the bench. He seemed to be adding the finishing touches to his axe.

"Bartre!" Cath shouted, running up to him.

Startled by the outburst, Bartre looked up. "Cath?"

Cath stopped a moment to catch her breath, and sat down next to the warrior.

"What's wrong?" Bartre asked, setting down his axe. He still seemed unaware that his belongings had been plucked.

He still doesn't know. He doesn't suspect me at all. Cath felt a panging sense of guilt as her ordinarily nimble fingers fumbled to open her pouch. Finding the hand axe, she handed it to him. "Here," she said simply.

"Hm?" Bartre's eyes widened. "Why, this is my axe."

"Yeah." Cath continued to pull out her stolen items and lay them on the bench in front of Bartre's eyes. "And see this other stuff? It's all yours. I stole it all from you, just earlier today."

Bartre scratched his head, at a loss for words. "Well."

"Yup, I'm a thief," Cath said, avoiding Bartre's eyes. "I trick people and steal their stuff." Go on, yell at me, she thought inwardly. I deserve that much.

However, Bartre didn't shout at her. As Cath slowly looked up, she saw Bartre giving her a look she had never seen before. It bordered on sympathy, but, yet, it was somehow different.

"Cath," he said softly, "why are you telling me this? You could have gotten away with it if you had kept silent."

"I don't know," Cath replied, slightly intimidated by his gaze. "I don't even know why I stole from you in the first place. I usually only take from the rich."

"Does it have something to do with your father?" Bartre asked.

"No," Cath replied immediately. Wait, who are you kidding? Of course it does. "I mean, yes."

"If you want to talk about it, I'm here to listen," Bartre said kindly.

Cath was silent for a while, but she soon found herself unable to resist. Slowly, she began to talk. "My father was such a coward. I always hated him. Especially after that night. I've always hated him."

Bartre listened quietly. Cath looked up to see him still giving her that strange look. As she told her story, she finally realized what the expression was. It was a kind father's gaze.

A loud thudding shook Cath awake. What time is it? was her first thought, but it was quickly replaced by fear as angry shouts filled the quiet night air.

"Come out, in the name of Lord Eric!"

Cath quietly crept out of her room and approached the front door. She noticed her father come out of his room as well.

"Open up, I say!" the shouting persisted, followed by several loud thuds which shook the whole cottage. Someone was banging on the door. Cath stood frozen in the spot, and her father made no motion, either.

"Fine, then. If they insist!" came the voice from outside. After a short pause, the door flew off of its hinges with a loud crack. Just outside the doorway, an armored soldier lowered his foot to the ground, taking a moment to admire his work. He then marched in without hesitation, crushing the broken door under his boots. He looked around the cottage and sneered disdainfully before eyeing its two residents.

"Out," he said simply, jerking his thumb toward the doorway. When neither Cath nor her father moved, the soldier pointed to the doorway again. "I said out. Now." His tone indicated that he wouldn't be repeating himself again. Cath followed her father as he made his way outside. It was a surprisingly beautiful night, with the stars and full moon clearly visible. The moonlight tinted the area in a light blue.

The soldier came out of their cottage. "That way," he ordered, pointing toward the southern end of the clearing that was their village. "Join the other villagers and stay put." He then went off to another house to extract its residents.

Cath and her father soon found the villagers huddled together on the edge of the clearing and joined them as instructed. As she looked around, Cath saw others being forced out of their homes by soldiers. Some left their homes obediently, while others were being dragged out by their collars. Gradually, they all filed toward the little gathering. To avoid being heard by the soldiers, the villagers were talking in low whispers, mainly consisting of "What's going on?" and "This can't be good." Eventually, the entire population of the village was rounded up. The soldiers assembled, as well, facing the terrified flock. One of the soldiers stepped forward. Judging by his decorated armor, Cath assumed him to be the captain of the group.

"So sorry to disturb you during the night," the captain began, though his arrogant tone showed no sign of apology, "but Lord Eric needs his land back." He extended an open hand towards the nearest soldier, and the soldier gave him a sealed letter. Breaking open the seal, the captain read the letter out loud: "Generous citizens of Laus, as you may very well be aware, our land is in danger of violation by the Kingdom of Bern. It is my duty as marquess to ensure the safety of our people by rallying our military and standing up in defense. However, it has come to my attention that in order to fully set up a defense against Bern's Dragon Knights, we need more bases. Your village is an ideal post to defend against aerial raids by Bern. Therefore, I humbly ask you evacuate your residence and donate this land to our cause, and for the people of Laus. Signed, Eric of Laus."

Is that all he has to say? Cath thought in shock.

"In other words, peasants," the captain smirked as he tossed the letter aside, "this sad excuse for a village needs to be burned to the ground. For Laus!"

What? Cath was dumbfounded. What does he think we are? Animals?

"Of course," the captain continued, still smirking, "I can't bear the thought of destroying a village that peasants such as yourselves have put sweat and blood into building. Therefore, I shall leave that task to you. It is only fair that the founders of the village get the honor to raze it to the ground, is it not? You should be grateful for our generosity!"

As the captain laughed haughtily, so did the soldiers behind him. The villagers stood frozen in shock.

"Have we any takers?" the captain said. "We only need one."

No one moved.

"Come now, there's no need to be shy," the captain leered, still grinning.

Silence.

"One of you is going to have to own up," the captain said, his smirk fading.

Are you nuts? Who's going to burn down his own village? Cath glared at the captain from a distance where he wouldn't notice.

The captain's tone turned dangerous. "Am I going to have to do this the hard way?"

No one dared to make a motion. Everyone's head was turned down.

Losing his patience at last, the captain drew his sword. "I'm sorry it had to come to this." His tone fully defied his words. "Perhaps watching one of your friends die will change your minds."

The captain paced around the group, eyeing each of the villagers carefully. He then stopped in front of Cath. Pointing his blade at her, he proclaimed, "How about you?" He took the terrified girl by the arm and pulled her out of the crowd. Grabbing her jaw with a mailed hand, he forced her to look up. "Hmm, we've a fine young lady here, haven't we? I suspect you'll be perfect to teach these peasants a lesson!"

Scared and confused, Cath was frozen. What's happening to me? She trembled. Am I going to die here?

Feeling her tremble, the captain laughed and looked into her eyes. "Oh, how I love the taste of fear," he said, licking his lips.

Abruptly, one of the villagers stepped forward. Heads turned to see a muscular man approach the captain. The captain turned his attention from Cath to the man, eyeing him up and down.

"Are you going to volunteer?" the captain sneered. The man nodded slightly, not saying a word. "See? They just needed a bit of encouragement." The captain threw Cath to the ground and walked up to one of his soldiers, snatching a torch from him. Handing it to the man, he said, "Here. You have the honor." The man took the torch and approached the nearest house.

Recovering from the shock, Cath shakily picked herself up off the ground, just in time to see the man set the cottage on fire. Shock overcame her again as she realized who the man was.

Dad?

The wooden cottage was ablaze in seconds. Cath couldn't believe her eyes. Did my father just set someone's house on fire? He had. However, it soon became more than simply "someone's" house.

Along with the other villagers, Cath watched numbly as her father walked from one house to the next, stopping at each to lower the torch. One by one, flames engulfed the villagers' homes. One by one, each family lost all that they possessed. Walking around the village in a circular fashion, Cath's father set the whole village on fire. The flames lit the sky a hellish red, a contrast to the kind blue tint that the moon had given off. The raging fire cut off anyone who tried to speak. None of the villagers said a word.

It was all over in a few hours. As the flames died down, people saw all that remained of their homes. Dark clouds of smoke rose from the charred piles of ash. The reddish glare of the fire was gone, and the moon gave off its light blue tint again. The area was deathly quiet, save for the crackling of embers as they struggled in their last moments.

Seeing the job done, the captain threw his head back and laughed. "I thank you for your cooperation, kind citizens of Laus!" he exclaimed. "I'm sure Lord Eric will be most pleased to hear of the news." With that, he led his soldiers and marched out of the clearing.

The sun had almost fully set by the time Cath finished her story. Darkness settled around the courtyard. Here and there, torches could be seen lighting up inside castle to prepare for the night.

"Our crops, our homes, everything, all gone," Cath muttered. "And it was all because of my father. I've hated that coward ever since."

Bartre listened quietly. He hadn't interrupted her once, choosing to let her speak her mind.

"I swore to myself that I would never be like him, " Cath said. "That's why I became a thief. I'll never be a coward who goes bowing down to power like my father."

"Cath," Bartre finally spoke, "you're wrong."

The young thief looked up at him quizzically. "What? Wrong?"

"No one," Bartre said firmly, "no one would enjoy burning down his own village. Your father is no exception, but he had something to protect, something more important than the village."

Cath said nothing, waiting for Bartre to go on.

"Your father didn't have the strength to challenge the soldiers," Bartre continued. "Still, he was fighting all the same. He was gritting his teeth and fighting to protect something even more important than his house and crops." He gave Cath that look again. "He was fighting to protect you."

Cath simply stared at him blankly for a moment before forcing out a laugh. "Ha," she snorted. "I don't think so. My father's just a coward. He's nothing like you."

"Are you really sure about that?" Bartre asked with a kind smile.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Cath said. "But," she added, leaning back on the bench and looking up at the darkening sky, "I suppose I could think of it your way, too."

Bartre chuckled. "You act a lot like my daughter in that regard."

Cath laughed at that, still looking up at the sky. Though the sun hadn't completely set, the full moon was clearly visible. "It'll be nice and clear tonight," she noted, "the perfect setting for a Master Thief."

"Indeed," Bartre agreed, looking up to the sky as well.

Thank you for reading.

For those who know who I am, shush. No need to spoil my fun. ;)