Potential Spoilers ahead. Read at your own discretion.

"I didn't think I'd end up seeing you at all today… Not this way at least."

"Me too." The cheery cleric smiled. "Accidents happen. We'll call this a happy one."

Before them lay a heap of papers and scrolls that were scattered like leaves in an autumn forest. With the setting sun and granite flooring, if one did not hurry and re-organize the stack of papers, they'd be sure to miss some in the fading light.

Yet Genny was in no such hurry. Instead, she sat next to Marth on the stonework steps leading to the undisclosed establishment Genny had been rushing out of with the papers, simply joyous at the fact that she able to see Marth up and about after being bed-ridden for so long. Marth's eyes lined the smiling healer's face. She knew that the young girl must have been tired, greatly more so than anyone else, after the grand funeral procession had concluded. However, fatigue was absent on her face and instead it beamed with energy. A testament to her will-power, Marth thought to herself.

While Marth had been thinking to herself, Genny had already brought a prepared tray of warm tea for the two of them to enjoy in the cooling air of the evening. She graciously took the warm concoction with both hands before indulging herself in its soothing embrace, its savory taste and perfect temperature soothing her burnt out nerves and body after a day full of more grueling surprises for her.

After a long sip, Marth let out a relaxed sigh as she set the near empty cup to rest on the stony steps she sat upon. The steps felt much more coarse and cold than that of the marbling she was familiar with that inhabited most of the lush capital. In the face of such pristineness, this building stood out like an unpolished sword, almost blemishing its surroundings. It also let out an ominous air, a feeling that had been so far absent in the warm and vibrant city.

"You're curious about the Crypts too, huh?" Genny quipped, following Marth's gaze. It was an obvious conclusion to arrive at given how the two suddenly greeted each other today not with hello's but with a shoulder to the chest after Marth unintentionally bumped into Genny as she rushed down from the building's steps, with building itself looming over the whole incident.

Marth had indeed been wandering around the city in a daze after the council meeting and she arrived unknowingly at an unfamiliar destination that came to a sudden halt after her crash with Genny and her tower of papers. The collision snapped her out of her thoughts and instantly brought her back to the here-and-now, and that was the mess she had inadvertently created. She apologized profusely and when she found it was Genny she had run into, she apologized two-fold. Genny had brushed off the whole thing with a heartfelt laugh that put Marth at ease.

"Is that what this place is called?" Marth asked, quizzically. "What were you doing in there?"

"If you consider the Library of Askr to contain the history of the many worlds and lives the heroes lead, you can consider the Crypts to be the figurative graveyard where those legends and tales come to rest."

It was a chilling precedent. "What do you mean?"

A sense of seriousness lined Genny's faced as she began to explain. "The Library offers history and hard facts that are irrefutable in regards to the heroes. The Crypts on the other hand houses secrets and knowledge that must not fall into unwary hands unless we'd want to bring the end of the world as we know it."

Marth didn't realize she had been holding her breath.

Then, Genny suddenly giggled and shook her head. "Don't take me seriously, silly. Of course it isn't like that. The Crypts are the Order's record-holders. Information about the present-day happenings and the like are stored here."

A feeling of relief flooded Marth. To have the idea that such a mysterious yet dangerous establishment lie under their very noses put her at unease. Then the feeling of unease came back to her as she stared long and hard at the scattered papers before her.

"Then these are…?"

"Documents that need to arrive for the Prince to inspect."

Marth cursed herself for clear lack of cautiousness and silently apologized to Alfonse in spirit, hoping that this sudden hiccup wouldn't cause him further problems after such a long and arduous day.

"Oh don't worry too much about Prince Alfonse." Genny said, with a calm air, sensing Marth's growing concern. "He won't be returning to his quarters until much later this evening."

Marth raised an eyebrow from beneath her mask. "How do you know that?"

"The Prince and his military entourage are holding inspections across the barracks today to make sure that his soldiers are in fine form after the funeral. It isn't really a formal inspection but the Prince wants to make sure that the soldiers of the Order are doing okay after our recent battles both physically and mentally."

The princess must never rest.

It was something she had grown up listening to.

Odd that she would remember such a thing now.

"Where did you hear of this?" Marth asked.

Genny shrugged with an innocent look on her face. "Word usually travels fast in the Order." She stirred her still steaming tea with a thin silver spoon. "… But it also helps that Matthew taught me a few tricks of the trade…" She giggled to herself.

"The trade?"

"Matthew is the captain of the Order's spy network." Genny explained. "If someone were to deliver a message or news, he would always hear about it first. Nothing would slip by without him knowing."

"And he taught you all that?"

Genny shook her head and motioned with her hand at the very notion of such an idea. "No, nothing as drastic as that."

"Then what was it?" Marth was curious.

"Rule one." Genny began. Then she flashed a mischievous grin. "Spies don't share secrets out loud."

Marth was stunned briefly. "But, this isn't really a secret, is it?"

"No." Genny said, amused. "But I just wanted to say it like he always would."

Marth smiled in response. Genny could be cheeky if she really wanted to but she knew that the young girl meant no real harm. It was clear that she wanted to have some fun after a long day herself. Marth knew the feeling well.

"Seems like you two were pretty close, what did he teach you?"

Genny shook her head and covered her face with her hands. Was she blushing? Was she trying to hide her embarrassment? It was an obvious reaction if Marth ever saw one. "We aren't anything serious but I can't deny that Matthew is… well, charming… but he's a tad bit too young for me."

"Wh—"

"ANYWAY!" Genny exclaimed. It helped that the sun was setting. Her face a fine shade of crimson. "He did teach me an important skill."

Marth's interest was now piqued as well, forgetting about Genny interrupting her before she got a word in edgewise. "And what would that be?"

Genny made a fantastic motion with her hands, her arms arcing far and wide.

As far as the petite cleric could, at least.

She shrunk her voice to a whisper and stared at Marth with a fierce glare equivalent to that of a small puppy dog.

"Listening to people."

Again, Marth was stunned.

"Don't take it lightly!" Genny protested, "Listening and even speaking with others is a valuable skill and asset that helps tremendously!"

Marth tried to stifle her rising laughter.

"Just like how I know that you are completely at a loss right now and don't know what to do."

The ball of laughter that had curled up in her throat withered up and died.

"How do you—?"

"Throughout this entire conversation, everything that you have talked about was directed at something other than yourself." Genny reported, like a soldier. "You wanted to direct the conversation in a way that wouldn't lead me to inquire about you or what you had been up to ever since you got up for the first time this morning."

Marth was at a complete loss of words as she stared at her nearly invisible hands. The large sleeves of Ephraim's cloak had covered up most them. She still hadn't taken it off nor did she make an attempt at all to find more suitable clothes. In fact, the very thought slipped from her mind ever since Prince Alfonse had revealed to her an irreversible truth.

You can't go home.

How long has it been since he told her that? Marth couldn't remember. Then again, she had a hard time remembering things ever since she arrived in Askr.
Her memory would come back in bits and pieces but never in full. She had a lot of time to contemplate on what those scraps of memories meant in her aimless wanderings after the council meeting but it proved to be a fruitless task. Her memory still remained fuzzy and rough. The more she tried to recall, the less she would inevitably remember. She was still broken, inside and out, not whole, and even the current state of her body reflected that.

"So Marth. Am I right or am I right?"

Marth couldn't do much except nod.

"Don't underestimate what a simple action like listening can bear." Genny instructed her, one hand pointing at her as a teacher would and the other hand holding her tea.

"And Marth," Genny added. "I want you to confide in me. Not as a patient but as a friend. Don't bottle up your problems, you can tell me. If you've got any worries, don't hesitate to talk with me. I'm here for you." She reached on and put her warm hand on Marth's. She could tell that Genny was being serious.

Marth managed to put up a weak smile. "Okay Genny."

"So now…"

Marth eyes remained fixed on the cleric, who was still full of surprises.

"What are your worries? I'm ready to listen."

Marth's solution in regards to her memories lay northwestward of Askr. It didn't help that the answer to her woes lay in a heap of rubble as well, beyond the walls of the capital, crumbling away to dust.

The gate to her world, her one-way ticket back home, back to where things would make sense again for her, even if it was in its own twisted way, was destroyed. Beyond repair.

It's not that she was unwilling to fight for the Order and its cause. Marth had listened to Genny and the mini history lesson she gave.

Askr and Embla were two separate kingdoms that were raised when the goddess of this world blessed to individuals to be their rulers. Askr, while much in need of guidance, was blessed with bountiful lands to make up for their shortcomings. Embla on the other hand, while gifted with great talent, was subjected to the harsh environment of its surrounding lands. Askr worked its lands to overcome its lackings while Embla prevailed over the trials that befell its lands.

But seeing as how the two kingdoms may one day seek conquest after one another, the goddess devised a pact that would ensure the two would remain in harmony.

The power to open gates to other worlds and the power to close them.

Askr was blessed with the power to open the gates and Embla had been chosen to have the power to close them. With this, every gate that Askr opened, Embla would also be able to reap the rewards as well and have the final say in whether to leave a gate open or not. And with thus, peace was established between two once incompatible kingdoms. With this peace, the two kingdoms withstood the Age of Strife, a time where beings of pure, malevolent magic were rampant in the lands. But with their peace and unification, Askr and Embla persisted through those two thousand years.

But that peace was to be broken.

Taking advantage of the blessings they had, Embla used the goddess's gift for their own gain and sought more power by deciding to conquer the kingdom to their south, Askr.

And in the time of King Domeric, Alfonse's father, the War of Heroes began, leaving the lands of Zenith ravaged by the horrors and atrocities of war and conflict. The Order of Heroes remained as the final bastion that stood between Embla and the fall of Askr. Every hero that was summoned by Kiran played a vital part in Askr's victory and survival against her more powerful enemy.

Every hero counted.

That meant Marth as well.

There was a lot to take in.

It also didn't help that Marth state of mind wasn't exactly in the best it could have been in. She already had a hard time recalling things, having this huge exposition drop on her was like adding fuel to the ever-growing fire. Ironically, the most solid piece she was able to recall of her own memory was the hellish nightmare that had in fact started the day.

The blazing fire, the clawing hands, the mourning voices, she could remember every second of it with perfect clarity. How could she forget? Even now she could still feel the slight burning of the flames eating away at her skin and flesh.

She'd rather forget it all.

Genny had caught onto Marth's silence of course, nothing escapes her watchful eye. Marth attempted to brush her off initially, not wanting to tell the busy cleric another item she would inevitably have to write down in her ever-growing list of problems to tend to. Marth didn't want to have to constantly depend on Genny but Genny would have none of it. She was sharp when it came to these things and nearly demanded Marth to tell her what was eating away at her.

Marth explained what had transpired throughout the day, she owed Genny that much. From the nightmare, to the morning, to the funeral, to meeting Lord Ephraim, to the council meeting, to her wanderings, Marth divulged as much information as she could remember at the moment.

Once she had finished her long monologue, Genny sat quietly for a moment before asking her what was really bothering her. Was it really the fact that she couldn't go home or the fact that she had no choice in whatever she inevitably chose? Marth still hadn't arrived to a conclusion on her own.

There were so many things that still didn't make sense to her. Why was she summoned? What was her purpose here? Was it so important as tear her away from her old world?

It was all in the air and the fact that Marth couldn't do anything to get a concrete answer for any of those concerns troubled her. When still under the impression that her passage home was still open, her mind was at least in a state of ease. But with that comfort no longer there to provide for her, everything else seemed so bleak.

It was like wandering in a desert and arrive at an oasis to only find out that it was an illusion, a mirage, all along.

In the end, she was to make a choice, that's what Alfonse and the Order desired out of her.

But there really wasn't any other choice to make except fight for the Order.

Could she really be content with that?

Could that really be called choosing?

She brought those concerns to Genny who wasted no time in responding.

"You always have a choice." Genny had told her. "It doesn't matter what you think or feel. You are the master of your own thinking and decisions. Don't let your circumstances sway or tell you otherwise."

The words, while comforting, did not change how she really felt inside.

She heard the plight of Askr and now, with the Order practically begging her to join, she would feel guilt at thinking otherwise. But she simply couldn't take that step forward. It was one thing to fight in the war with purpose but for her, what would her purpose in fighting be?

What could she possibly hope for in fighting in this conflict?

Marth had been wandering again, letting her listless feet take her wherever they want.

It had been hours since she left Genny. Strangely, she had ended up far from the capital, north beyond the walls, and in a quiet, grassy area. There were low signs of life, with the nearest encampment seemingly miles away. The moon had taken over the sky by now, its light hummed, casting softly onto Marth's untouched and wooded surroundings. When she walked slightly further, she came across what seemed to be an abandoned barnhouse.

Its wooden planks were rotting away with the whole building in a dire state of disrepair. The wooden fencing around the area was also in a poor state but given that it was no longer in use, it wasn't a point of concern anymore. She wandered close to the barn and fell to her knees before the looming tree that sat alone in the field. She slowly sprawled out on the cool grass, her body unwilling to carry her any further. Her eyes fluttered shut.

Everything was quiet. The wind blew softly and the usual bugs and critters of the night no longer occupied the night air. Marth was alone.

At least, that's what she thought.

"You actually came."

She bolted awake. Her body had almost succumbed to sleep but the voice that called out to her pulled her out of slumber's grasp. She looked around but saw no one. There was only grass as far as the eye could see.

"Up here."

The thought of checking the tree had eluded her.

Looking up, she saw a lone lancer leaning comfortably against the aged bark of the tree, sitting on one of the higher branches. Without hesitation, he leapt down from his great height and effortlessly landed before her, his cape flowing behind him like a comet's tail.

"I thought after hearing what Alfonse had told you, you'd run away from it all but here you are, out of your own volition" The lord asked him, his silky voice ringing in the quiet night air. It was a stark difference from the impression he had left in the council chamber. He looked straight at her. "Or am I wrong?"

Even though she had so much to say to him before, her voice eluded her. Was it her fatigue catching up to her or the surprising nature of the whole turn of events?

Ephraim eyed her carefully, his hawk-like eyes glistening in the moonlight, missing not an inch of detail.

Marth still looked like a wreck. The coat she wore had become disheveled and covered in a fine layer of dust as she had trudged through the grassy fields and dusty roads. She was slouched in her stance and her legs gave a slight tremble.

"Remove your mask."

"Wh-what?" Marth finally managed to say, exasperated at the man's sudden request. She knew that Ephraim had already seen her without her mask but having deliberately order to take it off was something different. She hesitated, her gloved hands resting inches away from her face.

"I must see your eyes." He demanded, iron in his tone. There was no reasoning with him. Even with mask intact, his eyes still bore holes in her own.

With shaky hands, she removed the butterfly-shaped piece of steel that hid her secret. She prayed that no one else would see her. The breeze of the night sky hit her face for the first time in quiet some time. Even still, Ephraim stared at her, long and hard, his gaze piercing into her eyes like needles. His brows furrowed.

"So it is true," Ephraim mused, folding his heavily bound arms. "I know that face."

Marth made no effort to put the mask back on lest Ephraim ordered to take it off again. She laid her hidden face bear for the uninhabited world before her to see. Marth simply waited silently as she stood through Ephraim's examination.

"You're riddled with doubt, aren't you?"

Marth didn't say anything.

"So you aren't going to even deny the possibility." Ephraim scoffed as he turned from her and sat at the base of the tree. Even sitting down, he seemed to tower before her. "What happened to that vigor earlier?"

"I…" Marth stuttered, finding her voice. "I didn't know that the gate to Ylisse had been destroyed."

"So what?" Ephraim spat. "Now that you can't go home, all of a sudden you want to abandon ship and give up? Is that it? Even after that whole speech you gave me, you're just going to drop everything?"

"That gate gave me hope that one day I would have answers as to why I had been called here to fight!" Marth yelled in response, her pent-up feelings coming to burst. "The very idea that I could one day return home assured me that I was still in charge of how I was to press forward. That one day, my memories would come back to me and things would make sense. But now, all that's gone! I now don't have any reason to fight in this war, I never did to begin with! I was torn from my world and thrust into a war between to kingdoms whose problems don't even come close to…"

She trailed off. She couldn't remember.

In the face of her ramblings, Ephraim maintained a cool air, not giving into Marth's provocation. He raised himself gracefully for the tree he had been leaning against.

"So what you're telling me is that this all isn't fair."

"That isn't—" Marth protested.

"No, to me it sounds like a child crying to the world how unfair circumstances have treated her and how now she doesn't know what to do because the world that she once thought was fair no longer is." The lancer growled. "Isn't that what you've been on about? About how you no longer have a choice?"

Marth didn't like the way Ephraim explained everything so frankly but as much as his words hurt, they bore a certain truth to them. She did feel as if what had happened to her was unjust. She did feel that her choices really did feel unfair. She felt like a prisoner.

"Do you think you're the only one with problems Marth?" the young lord added. "Do you think you are the only person in this world, in all the worlds, that was faced with an unfair situation? Do you think a second goes by where someone doesn't have to commit themselves to an unsavory path? Because if you are, you're living in a delusion."

Marth bit her lip and said nothing else.

"Do you think that everyone that is here is fighting because they want to? No, the fight isn't what is important. It's what comes afterwards. They aren't thinking about what is immediately in front of them. They are fighting because there is something greater, something bigger, than that of their own petty concerns."

"Are you calling my problems a mere child's problem?" Marth yelled, her inner self no longer able to bear Ephraim's verbal attacks. "Do you even know what I've had to do back in Ylisse?"

"What you had to do before you arrived has nothing to do with what I'm trying to tell you." Ephraim retorted, matter-of-factly. "Face it Marth. You are not the only one here that wants to return home. Do you think anyone would willingly give up being by their loved one's sides to fight in another war, that they could actually die in, for a kingdom they have no relation to? No, these heroes are fighting because they want to realize their goal of returning home one day and in order to do that, they have to confront the problem that stands before them whether they want to or not. Sitting around, cursing their fortune does nothing."

Marth gritted her teeth. "But those people had the liberty to choose what they wanted to do. Their passage home wasn't destroyed!"

"Then end the war and find your way home!" Ephraim barked, his tone harsh. "If you have time to complain, then you have to time to fight and find your way back!"

Marth had nothing to say to that. She knew he was right but something in her heart refused to give in.

An uneasiness silence creeped into the midnight air as the moon stood forebodingly over the two warriors.

"You cried that you have no choice." Ephraim proclaimed, turning his back to her. "But you do. Here." He tossed a hard object towards Marth.

Instinctively, she caught the metallic object in her hands with ease. Even though her body may have been exhausted, her reflexes were still sharp. Upon closer inspection, she saw that it was the knife Ephraim had taken from her earlier. Its sharp edge glistened in the moonlight.

"There's the choice I'm giving you."

Marth held the cold blade in her hands.

"End your life. If you're really dead-set on not wanting to fight, you could always just end it for yourself, here and now. No one will find out and your woes will end. You won't feel the guilt anymore at having to decide. That blade you hold could answer all your problems."

Marth was quiet for a moment. "But I will never return home…"

"You wanted a choice." Ephraim said coldly. "I'm giving you one."

She held the foreign weapon in her hand. Could she really do it? Could she kill herself? In that moment, there was something alluring about the choice she had been given. Death. It seemed final, the great end to all ends. Once she stepped down that path, there would be no return but nothing would follow after her. If nothing else, it truly was a passage out of this mess she had found herself in.

But that would also mean abandoning all those who helped her along the way. It meant being unable to repay all the people who treated her with kindness in her lone hours. It also meant abandoning the one chance she may have in finding her way back home. She held it closely to her exposed throat, the razor-sharp edge resting mere inches away, her hands trembling.

Then she broke.

She tossed the knife away, silent tears rolling down her face.

She couldn't do it.

How could she have possibly even considered this as an alternative?

"Then the matter's been settled." Ephraim said, a sudden wave of calm entering his voice. Had he been concerned with what Marth's decision was going to be? Marth didn't have to process anything at the moment. "There may be hope for you yet."

Marth could only stare at him, noting his shift in demeanor. His expression had gotten softer and he no longer bore acid in his voice. Her eyes beckoned for an explanation.

Ephraim stood before her. "You told me that you wanted me to make you a hero. I don't make promises I don't intend to keep."

The weathered lord then picked her up, not by her hands but by lifting her up entirely, her body feeling fragile and small in his arms. It was as if her own strength had left her and a strange warmness filled her once more. Was she glad that she didn't end her own life? He set her down by wooden crates as he began to pitch a tent.

Marth sat quietly as Ephraim went about on his task. No words were spoken. Only the rustling of tarp and squeals of rope were filling the midnight air. To Marth, it seemed that Ephraim had forseen the conclusion to their argument, given that he had prepared a shelter in advance.

"I was wrong about you today. About what you were" Ephraim said, amidst his labor. "But I think I'm beginning to know now..."

Marth shifted her gaze back to the man as his own was absorbed in his current task, his hands working at a feverish pace.

"What are you saying?" She managed to say.

Ephraim tugged on a length of rope before he turned to face her. His face, tinged with bitterness but also remorse.

"That you are just like me."

(A/N): Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying the story thus far. I know I'm having a blast writing it. All words are appreciated!

Thanks!

Cheers.