(A/N): This is an original story that I posted initially on the FireEmblemHeroes subreddit that I am crossposting over here. Please enjoy.
EDIT: Hello everyone. I've been gone for a while. And as you may have noticed by now, this chapter has been edited and re-written for easier reading.
I'm in the middle of rewriting and editing older chapters that I feel are not up to my standard. The changes may be slight or outright drastic. Please stay tuned for further updates. Chapter 2's rewrite is almost done and it's a big one.
White. As far as the eye could see.
The flesh-scorching heat.
The piercing clash of swords.
The vile stench of death.
White. As far as the eye could see.
Gone.
Then, a deafening explosion.
The white world she was encased in collapsed around her.
Like shattered glass, the world fell away and was replaced with
An eruption of dust, a pillar of cloud, a blinding light, Marth found herself in a daze and an unfamiliar place as she stumbled off of an altar-like pedestal that was still humming with otherworldly magic. This wasn't Ylisse. Not the Ylisse of the future, present, nor the past. Was she even on the continent anymore?
She looked around.
the plumes of smoke and fire that ravaged the lands were replaced with trees and flowers, in full bloom, full of life. The altar was at the center of some sort of garden, filled with magnificent flowerbeds, and gigantic white marble columns that climbed high into the sky. There weren't many of these back home. They had been all but turned to ash. But everything here was vibrant and alive, a stark departure from what Marth had only always seen. She continued walking across the empty garden, her footsteps echoing against the paved stone beneath her feet.
The garden was bathed in warm light, casting her long shadow across a bed of beautiful flowers as the winds gently caressed the lone warrior's coarse and scarred skin. The sun's light almost hurt her eyes, which were used to only living in the shadow of dark clouds beneath a crimson sky. Among the flowers that lay before her, a single blue one caught her eye, its azure colors making it stand out from its softer-hued brethren. She slowly reached it, her fingertips grazing its silky petals as it danced along her hand in the gentle breeze
Though the sweet-scented fragrance of all the unrecognizable flowers gently drifted by her, they didn't reach Marth. All she smelled was the reek of death. It clung to her, burrowed in her skin, telling her she did not belong in this peaceful land. Her place was at the battlefield, smothered in blood and death. Though her sword lay dormant in its scabbard, the weight of its bloodied steel was still fresh in her gloved hands, along with the smell of death it always gave off.
That smell would never go away.
Why had the goddess Naga sent her to this realm? Was this some cruel divine jape, that she was torn from her world of such destruction and madness and thrust unto one that felt so… calming?
"Hello there!"
A friendly voice broke the silence, a sound that rang unfamiliarly in the masked warrior's ears, and Marth unsheathed her sword out of pure instinct, holding it before her, its silver blade shimmering brilliantly in the radiant sunlight of this world.
"Ah please! I come as a friend!"
Marth eyed the petite young woman that now meekly stood before her. From the way the girl's body was poised, Marth could tell that she had meant what she said. She was visibly unsuited for combat, wearing an unassuming outfit akin to that of cleric's from her homeworld and holding a staff that was indeed meant for healing rather than hurting. And, as if to show off the gentle demeanor of the girl, a snowy owl was perched snuggly on her shoulders, a most inquisitive look in its eyes.
Marth retired her sword back into its scabbard and readjusted her mask out of embarrassment as she faced the young cleric with a less threatening front.
"My apologies. I was just taken aback by how… friendly you were."
"Oh! Hee hee," the orange-haired girl giggled. "I'm glad I came off that way. I was working on how to approach and meet new people and Kiran suggested that I greet newcomers—"
"Kiran?" Marth asked, slightly tilting her head.
"Yes, Kiran. He's our army's tactician and summoner."
"Summoner?" Marth's was not sure she had heard right. Could her hearing have been so damaged that she was hearing words straight out of fairy tales? It could explain how she ended up in this dream-like world but surely such magic could not exist, could it? This day was just one mystery after another. "Did I hear you say that correctly? A summoner?"
"Oh, dear me!" The girl exclaimed as she shook her head side-to-side, drumming her knuckles on her temples, her puffy hair swatting the owl that rested on her shoulders much to its chagrin. "Where are my manners? I am getting way ahead of myself here."
The girl cleared her throat. "My name is Genny. I'm usually just a healer but currently I'm in training to be the acting guide to fresh recruits, such as yourself, that have been just summoned by our summoner. I welcome you to Askr!" The girl, Genny, did a little courteous bow before Marth, the owl on her shoulder nearly falling off. It hooted with mild concern.
"I… was summoned here? But what about…" Marth trailed off. Feeling a sudden sharp stiffness in her body, she held her hands to her face. An intense surge of pain rippled through her body, powerful enough to nearly bring her to her knees. She would have hit the stone flooring had it not been for a plucky cleric standing so close by.
"My goodness!" Genny squeaked, supporting the masked warrior's body with her own tiny frame. The owl flew away from its shoulder perch out of fright. "Are you alright…? Uh…"
"Marth." The swordswoman said through gritted teeth with her arm now resting over Genny's tiny shoulders. "You… may… call me Marth…"
Genny led Marth slowly out of the summoning grounds, arm over shoulder. "Marth...? Hmm, I was sure that…" She became quiet. "Ah, that isn't important right now! We need to get you some help first!"
"I…"
Genny gave the masked warrior a reassuring smile. "We'll talk later. My priority right now is that you don't collapse. So please, bear with me for just a little while."
Marth nodded silently, dragging her feet to the whims of the girl that guided her. And before she knew it, her vision slowly faded to black.
"Have you begun to settle in?"
Marth, startled from her daze, quickly glanced over her blanketed shoulder only to be met with Genny yet again. She was holding a tray with what appeared to be a hot drink as she slowly approached the swordswoman, who cozily sat by the blazing fireplace, her solemn gaze hidden behind her butterfly mask. It had been barely an hour since she awoke in this room since her passing out. Finding comfort that a somewhat familiar face had returned to her in this strange world, Marth returned her gaze to the roaring flames, gloved hands clasped together.
Genny sat across from her, handing the warm tea and setting the tray down on the small table before the fireplace. "Normally we would have one of the maids serve you but the canteen is already past closing time. I hope this is okay."
Marth graciously accepted the cup, the brew within warming her hands. She blew softly into it to chill it but hesitated in taking a drink, the cup mere inches away from her lips. Her hands and the cup slumped back onto her lap and she fell into silence. Genny eyed her worriedly, seeing that the drink was untouched.
"Is something wrong Marth? Is it not to your tastes?"
The masked warrior shook her head. "Everyone here is so… kind…" Marth muttered softly. "Is this how the world was like before…"
"Are you feeling alright?"
She raised her face from the cup and tried her best at giving a reassuring look to the concerned girl. Her mask did obstruct her somewhat in conveying her feelings but Genny caught on regardless.
"You mentioned others. Did they help you out okay?" Genny asked, her finger engaged in a battle with her fleecy locks. "Any of them try anything… strange?"
Marth shook her head. "No, they were as kind as they could be. I didn't expect to be hoisted so easily and carried back to my room… I would have walked up myself but this pain… I have not experienced such aching since… well, nevermind that…"
"Anyone specific?" Genny asked.
Marth thought for a moment.
"A brown-haired mercenary fellow first came to my aid but this burly man already had me in his arms and effortlessly carried me here before the former could say anything... Not to mention that soft-spoken priestess who tended to my pain…" A cynical smile spread across Marth's face."Never realized I had gotten so weak and frail."
It would have spelled death back home.
Genny laughed softly, as if to dissuade her worries. "Don't worry about that, you'll grow familiar with the aches soon enough once energy returns to your bones. You aren't the only hero who has nearly collapsed after being called here. Even the mightiest of heroes needed time before they were accustomed to their bodies again. Summoning magic does take a toll on the body"
"No kidding…" Marth then processed what Genny had just said to her. She looked at the young girl strangely. "Wait... Did you say 'heroes?'"
Genny nodded. "That's right. Heroes. The kingdom of Askr is full of them, many from all around, and all summoned, just like you."
"Me, a hero?"
"Mhm."
"After what happened to Ylisse?" Marth questioned, scoffing as she set down the glass cup on the tabletop, her gaze returning to the fire. "That can't be. You've got the wrong-"
"You bear the name of the Hero-King, do you not Lucina?"
Marth's eyes went wide at hearing her name, her birth name. The name she forsook. Her hand instinctively went to her mask, her fingers gingerly brushing against the cold metal exterior.
"... How do you know that?" she demanded in a low voice.
"Know what?"
Marth gestured to her mask, the mask that hid her true identity. Even back home, her true identity was shrouded, to perpetuate the myth of the return of Hero-King, and instill hope in the people. How had this stranger of all people figured it out? ...Come to think of it, Genny did say some strange things at the summoning grounds.
"People back in my world didn't know the truth," Marth said, "so how is it that a complete stranger like you does?"
Genny sighed as she leaned slowly back into the seat. She stayed silent for a while, only the crackling of the fire and the occasional whistling of the wind breaking the quiet atmosphere.
"It's because we are in Askr."
Askr. Marth had never heard of such a place before, not even in fairy tales and myth.
Genny turned to her. "It is a world blessed with the power to summon Heroes from other worlds," she explained. "As such, Askr has a vast library detailing the storied history of countless worlds beyond this one." She paused and took a sigh. "I… read your story while you were still asleep."
Marth felt her heart hammering in her chest. Her… story? Did that mean her entire life was just some tale between the covers of a book? A fate that was as inescapable and true as the ink that dotted its pages?... No, it couldn't be… All her fighting. All her struggles.
All her sacrifices.
They had to mean something.
She shook those thoughts from head. What was she even doing? She didn't have time to dawdle in a place like this. She was needed. Back with her people. Back with her army.
Back home.
She slowly rose from her chair.
"Marth?"
She sighed. "I… appreciate your hospitality. But I must be going home. I cannot afford to remain here."
Marth's words must have cut deeply into Genny. The cleric's eyes went wide and her face had grown pale.
"You can't! Not the way you are! Your body won't be able to handle going back!" she cried.
"But I must. The people of Ylisse are depending on me." Marth replied solemnly, reaching over her chair for her blade. "They need their Hero-King."
That's right. Without her, Ylisse would not survive. How were they faring in her absence? She prayed that they were alright…
They…? Who were they?
Strangely, ever since she came to this world, Askr, Marth felt gaps within her memory. Gaps that should never have existed. The more she tried to recall her own world, the more distant everything began to seem. Key moments and memories started to elude her like a beast trying to chase its own shadow.
Why? Why was this happening? Marth could not guess but the more she tried, the more mentally exhausted she became. She had to take a seat.
Genny rushed to her side, gently helping her back into her chair.
"I told you your body wasn't ready," she sighed, shaking her head. "And I wasn't just talking about you physically."
"My memories…" Marth began.
"I know. They should be in a haze." Genny replied. She then bit her lip. "Though, I think your case is a bit more peculiar than most."
Marth didn't like what Genny was alluding to. "What do you mean?"
Genny sat down next to her. "Do you have your sword from earlier?"
Marth nodded, pointing to the scabbard that lay near the fireplace, masked by the shadows cast across the room.
The cleric sighed wearily as she stood up and retrieved the blade.
"Please... don't be alarmed." Genny warned her.
Genny presented the sword to her.
Marth felt her heart sink to her boots.
The blade was a slender piece of silver that was even in width throughout. It had a finely smithed cross-guard with slightly flared ends at the head of the grip with blue wrappings encasing the grip and a pointed pommel.
This rather expensive looking piece of work was not her sword.
"Wh-what is this?" Marth whispered, muttering her thoughts aloud. "Where's Falchion?"
"That was the sword you arrived here with and the very sword you raised against me earlier today."
Marth looked at her, mask and all, but Genny could tell the bewildered look on the girl's face behind the mask.
"No… This… How can this be?!" Marth cried aloud. Her voice was shaking terribly. "What's become of Falchion?"
Genny could offer no response.
Marth clutched the blade in her hands. None of it felt familiar.
"I know you have a lot of questions, milady. But we do not have all the answers you may be looking for."
An unfamiliar voice called from across the room. Marth slowly raised her head from the foreign blade and looked on to see who had answered her. A young man about a head taller than either of them stood by the doorway. He donned dark blue hair, similar to her, was cloaked in white-and-gold armor, and carried an aura of gentleness yet authority.
"P-Prince Alfonse!" Genny exclaimed, quickly getting up to bow to the Crown Prince of Askr. "I wasn't expecting you!"
Marth didn't budge from where she was. The thought of bowing hadn't even registered past her shock yet.
"Sorry for making you cover for me." Alfonse apologized, motioning with his hand for her to stand back upright. "You've done remarkably. I know this wasn't easy."
Genny's shoulder slumped. "It could have gone better."
"Come now." The blue-haired prince said, gently lending his hand toward the girl. "Quit putting yourself down."
None of what the two said made sense to Marth.
The prince finally turned away from Genny and towards her.
"My apologies for not being there to greet you myself." The prince apologized, bowing his head. "I was preoccupied with more pressing matters at the time, which was why Genny was here in my stead." He gestured towards her. "As our current resident historian, she has already filled me in about you of course, both regarding your history and your current dilemma."
Marth couldn't help but glare at the princeling. "Were you listening in on our conversation?"
"Unbecoming of the nobility, I know" Alfonse apologized, bowing his head once more. "You have my apologies. I should have made my presence known sooner."
Marth gaze cooled.
"You have nothing to apologize for." Marth said, shaking her head. "If anything, I'm sorry for my rudeness, your highness."
"Please, call me Alfonse," the prince said with a gentle smile. "How about we drop the apologies and consider it water under the bridge? Our time is better suited to more pressing matters at hand, wouldn't you agree?"
Behind his gentle demeanor, Marth could sense a level of acuity and authority that belied the prince's youthful appearance. She was beginning to understand why Genny was so respectful around the prince.
"As for what to call you…?"
"Marth will do just fine." Marth said in response.
"Of course." Alfonse nodded. He fell quiet for a moment before raising his voice again. "I'm sure you are flooded with questions Marth. Please know we will try to answer them all in due time but it is important to rest for the time being. Genny is right about your body."
Marth looked over at the bed she had awoken in. "How long will it be until I am fit to return?"
"Within the week," Genny calculated. "Anything less and we would be seriously risking damage to you."
"I trust Genny's medical opinion second to none in the Order," Alfonse assured. "If she says a week, I will take her word for it."
Marth could see Genny being slightly embarrassed by the prince's words.
"So, you're letting me return home after all this?"
Alfonse nodded. "Rest assured, you are not our prisoner here, even if you were summoned. You are our guest and you are free to choose however you wish."
"What would you want, Prince Alfonse?"
Marth's unexpected question took the princeling aback. His eyes widened ever so slightly but he quickly composed himself.
"I would be lying if I said that we wouldn't miss you lending us your strength during these times." He answered honestly, looking straight at her. "But that choice, like I said, ultimately lies with you. Not me."
Marth, consumed by thought, did not open her mouth again.
"Prince Alfonse, midnight soon approaches" A silver-haired servant with long hair chimed as he popped his head in from the doorway "It is in your best interest to return to our quarters and prepare for tomorrow. Kiran has asked to meet you in the war room promptly at dawn to go over several battle plans."
Marth ears perked up at the man's words. It was obvious what they were talking about. War had found its place in this peaceful looking world too.
"Thank you, Jakob." The prince replied. He turned around to the masked woman before him. "I won't take anymore of your time for today or the following days. Please dedicate them in giving your body adequate rest."
He turned to leave but stopped in the doorway.
"As I said, Marth. Only you can choose what you will do from here on out," He reminded her. He put his hand on the doorknob.
"Good night and farewell."
"Good night Prince Alfonse." Genny said.
The prince quietly left the room, softly shutting the door behind. The room was filled with nothing but the sounds of the now dying fire, as it crackled and popped, desperately trying to stay alight. Marth had turned away from the fire's embrace and now faced the rising moon in the night sky.
Genny picked up the tray she had set on the seat and reached over Marth's side to pick up the now-cold drink that was left untouched throughout the whole evening.
"How much did you tell him?"
Genny looked Marth, startled. "I beg your pardon?"
"How much did you tell him about me?"
Genny took a moment to answer. "Whatever was necessary. Please understand. Though you are our guest, the prince has a responsibility to the entire kingdom and to all who dwell in it."
Marth understood that feeling intimately. Still, it was an unnerving feeling to know that there were people out there who knew her entire life story, parts that even she had yet to see or experience firsthand. Would its path deviate or resume course depending on her actions here?
How does her story even end?
"Genny." Marth called again.
"Yes, Marth?" Genny asked, setting the glass back onto the tray.
Marth turned around to face her. "You've said you read my story."
Genny nodded.
"How-"
"I'm not going to tell you how it ends."
Genny cut her off before Marth could finish her sentence.
"It's forbidden in Askr for any who are summoned to look into their own history. And besides, what Prince Alfonse says is right, even now." She said. "All that matters is what you choose. Not what I or others say."
Marth sat quietly, digesting what Genny had said.
"Then what did you choose?" Marth shot back at her.
"M-me?" Genny asked.
Marth nodded. "No mere cleric is privy to information and tasks as delicate as the ones Prince Alfonse relayed to you. I know from having run an army of my own."
Genny didn't say anything further.
"You were summoned here. Just like me. Am I right?" Marth deduced.
She silently nodded.
"What did you choose?"
Marth had noticed that while talking, Genny had begun gripping the tray tightly, the whites of her knuckles visible against her small, delicate hands, threatening to burst out.
"The Shadows of Valentia."
"What?"
"The Shadows of Valentia," Genny repeated. "That is what the telling of my world's history is called. I…" Her voice faltered. "I couldn't bear not knowing what befell my friends. I had to know. I had to."
Genny's voice was wrought with an intense emotion that Marth had not expected from the girl. A hint of desperation, fueled anxieties of uncertainty. Marth couldn't blame her for feeling that way. She felt the same regarding her own history.
"And it gave me great relief to know that Celica and Alm restored the lands of Rigel and Zofia. Truly, it did."
Marth had heard of those names before but they were a distant memory.
"But," Genny interrupted herself. "I never got to see the ending of my story with my own two eyes. I never got to see beautiful Celica sit atop her rightful throne, with me, and Mae, and Boey, and all my precious friends at her side. I always wondered why that was."
She paused.
"It was only after I read the pages of history, my history, did I understand."
"Understand what?" Marth asked.
"Why Prince Alfonse had forbade us all from looking in the first place."
Genny smiled sadly at Marth, crystalline droplets welling at the corners of the young girl's eyes.
"You wanted to know what choice I made. Well, I never got to."
The tears began to overflow.
"Because I died."
(A/N): Thanks for reading my first attempt at a Fire Emblem Heroes fanfiction. As sparse as the actual game is, I believe that it holds a lot of potential for storywriting, so here I am. Stay tuned for more updates. Thanks again.