A/N:

I do not own Fire Emblem Three Houses nor Final Fantasy X-2.

This is a crossover that will have a psychological focus, daily things, angst, romance, some drama and action. I welcome feedback as my forte is poetry and this is my first serious attempt at narrative fiction.

I will not be following either games storyline directly, but some elements will appear.

I thank you for investing your time in reading this!

Chapter 1: Dispossession

Falling. How did I get to the state where I fall and fall and fall? Everything is black around me, yet I see these colorful blobs showing up and vanishing. Subtle tones of dark purple, spidery webs of silver gray, royal blue and forest green interwoven like silk threads. It's the feeling I get when I'm trying to fake a nap. But it isn't, so I'm dreaming?

I dreamt of withering white flower petals drifting without purpose. Allergic to the ground. I knew this scent that was repulsive to most because of their origin—yet soothing for me. This is what we give to people who lose someone they care about. Seashell buds surrounded me and as they bloomed, their petals were ripped and as they withered, I settled in peaceful grief in the embrace of death's scent.

People are repulsed by them. The intoxicating smell they produce is like the one that settles into the rituals of sending the deceased into their sleep. That's the beauty of it. A comforting aroma for the greatest pain in life. A comforting aroma that nudges us to realize that it will be our turn soon.

Gardenias remind me of my humanity and fragility. They will constantly remind me of what has been done to us, and how we were shunned away from the mainland into the deserted island. Though they evoke the pain of being erased from history and its maps they also gave us the strength to persevere and live on. As such, everywhere I found myself going I was shunned and set aside. Ostracized like garbage. I wanted thick skin; I wanted to numb and become invulnerable. I wanted to be stand among the dead. I wanted to die yet live on.

My people have lost their homes to war, sandstorms and entities that are not entirely describable. They get back up and carry on. My disposition was like those in the mainland—I lacked the impulse to live. It seemed like most of the time I was lost in my mind. My mother noticed this when I reached late adolescence as my body just forgot it had to live and would shut down for several days. Yet it gave her hope when I had these spells of limitless energy that instilled me with vivacity and curiosity towards the world. I did not understand. I still do not understand.

Flower buds caught my attention as they materialize and float in the sky to die off. Much like human life that blooms and despairs without notice. Pieces of petals started dropping and swirling. I noticed that I was not standing on solid ground, rather on blackness. I wanted to wake up. I tried to will myself away from sleep as I do other times, but I just stood there. My body resisting any semblance of control my conscience has over it. I didn't understand why I was being surrounded by the scent of death, why the sensation of peace was starting to abandon me. This is entirely different, something I haven't experienced.

Maybe you have, you just numbed it away like you usually do. What other reason could I have to be here? Dreams are things leftover in your mind and your brain just tries to organize them coherently. Or is it something that I am running from that is catching up with me?

This uneasy sensation of my heart just beating savagely like it usually does when you run away from a wild beast, this tight hold over my forehead, the trembling of my limbs and the heaviness accompanying my body from excessive breathing just felt weird. This wasn't me. I've never felt this weird before. It didn't make sense to me.

The petals started to fade. Death's embracing scent vanished. I saw my body become ethereal and absent. I tried to reach my right hand to my cheekbone, and I did not feel it clasp against my skin. It went through. I could not see it anymore. I could not see anything anymore. I may have lost myself in this world.

A mantle of darkness fell.

Blistering sun, heavy legs, weary eyes. Walking forward without destination—a futile activity. I have given up on everything. I feel that this world is not going to change. We have been etched to the side. Specks of dust reflected in bloody sunlight. Treated as a nuisance. Something to be cleaned away from existence. To be erased. To be eliminated or taken as slaves so that we may sometime learn our place in this world. They have shown us that we are defective by birth. Unable to be repaired. Is this the we way we take it upon our birthright to be the Master of Repairing all that is broken?

I was born without talents. No magical capabilities, weapons seemed to faze and paralyze me. People like me are destined to die cold deaths before adulthood. Yet, here I was on the evening before I became an adult on human terms. I've slipped away from the village. My birth was a curse on my family, and I strived to make it easier on them. I wandered off into the embrace of the night. The desert had the answer and I would find it…I misunderstood the layout of the desert. The dunes spread farther than I expected though I walked straight it felt like I had gone in directions that would deviate from my goal—the cove at the shore of the island.

Yet, here I am standing below the midday sun. Feeling like a fool for having gone out without supplies or proper attire. Last night, I felt like I could do it. I felt the energy of the new-born stars pulsating with every beat. I was sure that nothing would detain me from escaping into the sea's embrace. I was certain that being born in the desert made you immune to its tribulations and vicissitudes. Now I stand here, feeling the sting of memories brought by the sand. Reminding me how useless I've become and have always been.

I laid down in the sand, hoping to just become one with it. Even though I did not make it to the shore of the island, or the cove, or whatever it was that I had planned to do. I had succeeded in liberating my family from a deadweight son that only brought suffering to them. The mantle of darkness fell.

Again? This is not your path.

I knew the desert had gotten to me when the sand started morphing into white petals and floating towards the sky like a swarm of bees. I knew I had lost it and that there was no hope for me when the fragrance of death overflowed like a torrential downpour of regrets. What I did not know was that the mantle of darkness was there to swallow me whole and ease the pain.

I think this is the first time that I feel contentment. It is not like I had imagined it my whole life. It was far off from being euphoric or happy. It was more like being in a field of blooming baby breath at night. Reflected like pellets of snow in the moonlight.

All is dark.

"We're sorry ma'am. But your son isn't…well you know. He's possessed. There's no other explanation. Those changes are abrupt, and we have them described in the teachings as a disease that befalls upon…well let me rephrase that—non-believers."

I overheard my mother talk with the foreign doctor a while back. He's not one of us, so he must be wrong. He must be wrong I had been trying to convince myself. And I also suspected something was wrong with me. I couldn't explain it. The colors would fade, my body would turn heavier than it usually is. Nothing made sense. I could hear people speaking but I couldn't understand what they were saying. I would lose my appetite and weight. It could be someone testing spells on me. It would have to be someone that is not of our kind. You see, we Al Bhed have zero magical talents or capabilities. There was only one person among us who had developed magical talents and she lived in the mainland with the ones who shunned us from history.

I know it had to be the spells of a wandering magician that had grudges with us because these changes that befell upon me were short. At most they would last ten days. They were the worst. And each time it felt more worse than the last. I wanted to get back to normal. I would do anything to be normal again. I missed life without this.

For as long as I have lived, nobody has had these things happen to them like they have to me. This makes it even more probable that it's a spell because a disease would normally spread to other people. At least that's what I told my mother so she would settle down. Everything would be just fine. We would find a cure or something soon. We always did whenever I got sick.

But this time around…I think it wasn't a spell. I was truly sick. It had been five days since I had left the room. That same doctor had told my mother it was the fatigue from breaking free of the possession. A typical manifestation of spiritual freedom. I wanted to tell them that this was different. That this was no freedom. But my mouth would not move. I simply laid there, a heavy carcass hoping to excavate a sling of energy amongst all the rest I had given it. And I knew I was not going to get better. Something had to be done.

When I was left alone, I straddled myself upwards and stood slowly as exhaustion was already commanding my body to rest again. I noticed on the bedside table that the foreign doctor had left some tablets for me to take. I hadn't really listened to the whole conversation so after fetching water I inspected the small bag closely. Orange Blossom and Gardenia Complexes: Ingest to ease the pain of spiritual transitions, agitations and despair. Use under medical or spiritual supervision. I decided to take the four tablets that were in the bag and swallowed with the help of water. Taking them all was a mistake as I had felt that they got stuck halfway through my throat and produced a horrible coughing fit until they dislodged. Despite this, the burning sensation left me uneasy.

I left the hut and took walked towards the oasis close to the village. Normally, it would be a twenty-minute walk through the desert sands, yet it took me almost two hours to reach my coveted spot. I took off my shirt, boots, and pants and immersed myself in the warm clear water. I was never fond of my body. I was tall and scrawny—never dabbled in digging or strenuous physical activity so I hadn't really developed any muscular features apart from well-defined calves, thighs and buttocks from all the running and exploring the desert... I don't even know what I have wasted my life in. I drifted to the deeper parts of oasis while floating and I started to feel a cooling sensation in my abdomen, uncomfortable and soothing at the same time. I figured it was the tablets I drunk earlier. I closed my eyes to bask in the warmth of the sun. A smile formed into my face. Sleep came and…

The mantle of darkness fell. All became dark and insipid.

I joke around with my mother frequently that she gave birth to me in the wrong moment, yet it was also the only time. I had never met my father. All I know is that he died in a war. She doesn't speak about him. I don't ask questions either. I do know that I'm not pure Al Bhed. I mean, why else would I have a green eye and a hazel eye? It's also the reason my mother insists in covering up the hazel eye with an eye patch. Which bothers me because it makes certain things harder than usual, like serving drinks. Despite this, I've tried to make the most of my childhood and adolescence. I've explored Bikanel Island as much as I could, even coming up with my own maps (which were not scaled and turned out to be useless because I had never learned to write or draw)—but then again, every map of Bikanel Island is useless because of the frequent sandstorms and changing landscapes and what not.

You'd think that such a magical place would give us the talent for magic, but it doesn't. The rumors come from the island being supposedly connected to underground woods, yet no one has found them, and we have all stopped trying. I tried my shot at magic by memorizing some black magic incantations but that lead me nowhere. Firearms aren't also my thing because, well with an eye patch my aim is off most of the time. Close-range fighting? Out of the question. I'm too scrawny and weak. I'm only good at running and balancing myself. I'm usually standing in tree pose when I'm alone or sure that no one can see me. It is my defining characteristic because I am nothing like a tree.

My being useless poses difficulties for my future. Garland Moon has begun to spread rain over the world except Bikanel. It has begun to spread anguish on my world because there is nowhere for me to go. I'm not going to dig, I'm not going to join any of the weird parties that started after the war and apart from that, there's not much to do with your life. I'd read more books if I could have access to them. But it's not something people find digging or strive to find digging. Being disconnected from most of the mainland, we don't have any reliable merchants that would bring books. So, I guess I'll just settle into being nothing until my life decides to end. There were no other options. It's a shame because I had been doing well lately. I've managed to keep myself out of trouble. Once I had disappeared to walk the desert on my own and was gone for two days until some people digging found me unconscious. Then, when I was sick, I decided to go for a swim in the oasis and I probably got tired and almost drowned and ended up on the shore.

There have been scarier times like when I had started seeing flowers everywhere and I thought I was dead. I screamed and screamed; nothing would calm me down. Other times, I was just…I don't know a malfunctioning machine? Like when the operational codes are all mumbled up and the machine just paralyzes unable to figure out what to do. I would lay in bed for days. Everything would be bland. I had begged my mother to kill me. Thankfully, she knew better and didn't listen to me.

Yet Garland Moon was here! It was my birthday soon.

The days of the month rolled by uneventfully and on the tenth (six days before I would be older) my mother was unusually happy. She told me to sit in the dinner table in the middle of the hut. "You're leaving."

A letter was grasped in her hands, smile etched into her sun-kissed face. Green eyes with swirls shimmering (probably tears?). "I'm leaving?"Keeping my voice low. "What do you mean I'm leaving?"

"Overseas. I've enrolled you in a special academy for special people. They've accepted you. They're thrilled, to have someone from this far away. They've also arranged for transportation. You should be there before your birthday. Things will be brighter for you now dear. Life will be better. There will be others like you."She was truly happy; I hadn't heard her speak so excitedly in so long.

"Why did you keep this a secret from me?"I asked defeatedly, something was overcoming. "I…I…I…I…don't want to go. I don't want to leave you."My voice felt that it could break any moment. I felt fearful, unable to understand where this came from. I felt betrayed. "You're ashamed of me, aren't you? I know I'm useless you don't have to hide it."

"Gippal, I am not ashamed of you."As she walked to me, she hugged me tightly, "I would never be ashamed of you. I know you are not fit for life here. The ways of the desert have never been kind to you, and you have never been open to them. You are designed for something different. I must send you away."

"I don't want to go to the mainland. Please, don't send me away."Tears were starting to budge their way out of my eyes. "I'm fine here."

"It is not the mainland that I'm sending you. You're going to Fódlan. There is a place there for talented youth to gather to cultivate those talents. It is a place free from the mainland's influence. You will be safe and protected."She set me free and looked at me with kind eyes, "you will be able to keep your eye free."

"But mother, I don't have anything special about me. I can't do anything; you know I have tried all my life to be someone of value. I don't care about my eye! I just…just…I don't know…feel so small compared to everyone else."

"It doesn't matter Gippal. I wrote that your talent lies in the manipulation of energy. The capability of getting others energized or draining them of their faculties to live." I knew she was telling the truth. I just knew it, there was no hesitation or deceit in the way her lips moved, or her cheeks as the words came out. Her eyebrows held the same drooped expression that one holds when confiding horrible news.

And it was also a lie. I am capable of nothing. My only skill is getting periodically sick and useless. I would be a burden in this Fódlan. "I can't do any of that, mother."My voice laced with sadness and regret. I was truly being betrayed.

"It matters not. You will find something. You will be exposed to different fighting styles, magics, and skills necessary for daily life. You will find your talent there. Until then, you must fake it. You must fake it so that no one figures it out. Nobody can figure out that you are talentless, dear. Until you find your talent, you must be quiet—as you have been most of your life. Keep to yourself, do not trust anyone. Any friendship you create may become leverage against you. You will be a burden if you are authentic. But if you are fake, you will be fine. Everything will be fine."My mother spoke a somber truth, sobbing as words unfiltered ravaged the air between us. I truly was a worthless child. Seventeen years wandering around, catching glimpses of life and letting them go. The possibilities were around me, but they have withered and cannot be bloomed.

Was there any hope for me? Could I really develop something that would be of use to the world? I…didn't know…don't have any hope. Mother…I sighed, embracing the somber truth fiercely with a heavy weight in my chest. "I won't let you down. I promise…or I'll try to not let you down. I think I can do that."

"You leave tomorrow, Gippal. Tomorrow morning before the sun rises. I will take you to the port. The people will be there, and they will sail westward towards Fódlan. They will sail north of Morfis and south of ALmyra. They will sail upstream the river close to Goneril and Ordelia in Leicester territory you will escorted to a Monastery atop the mountains. It will be uncomfortable."Mother stopped, sighing heavily recomposing herself. She followed in low hushes, as if whispering blasphemies,"I do not know if they are Yevonites like the people from the mainland. Please, feign that you believe in whatever it is that they believe so you can be safer."

"I get it." There was nothing else to talk about. My fate had been decided without my input. Just like everyone else's had been. I thought of all the people that died in the war. The families that were ripped apart, dreams left on the sidewalk to wither away from memories and existence.

That night, I couldn't sleep. I managed to prepare a bag with some ointments my mother had taught me to mix, yet I felt most of them were useless because they were only good for relaxing and soothing the muscles. Not even this relaxed me as I was wild with ideas, thinking about the people I would meet. This Fódlan place, how did it manage to appear out of nowhere in the world? Perhaps we have all been so busy dealing with the war and the people from the mainland that we didn't even care to look to the other side. It had always been the east. The east has all the answers and none of the people willing to give them. And I was going west.

Mother woke me before the rising of the sun. We headed to the port on the west side of the island. An informal establishment, a small dock only long and large enough for medium sized ships. A shed that looks abandoned from afar and at this unholy hour it was obviously closed. Yet, why were there people there? They had probably arranged for this through my mother. It felt like contraband.

My mother spoke with an acolyte that jumped into the dock and motioned for me. I walked leisurely towards them, mother speaking, "Hurry, we cannot be found. This is Byleth, the man whom I have arranged all of this. He is a respected professor where you are going." Pine green hair, mauve eyes, unblemished pale white skin. He was dressed like a monk and not a professor, black garbs covered him entirely and he wore a cape. There was nothing alluring about him. I extended my hand out to greet him, but it seemed like he was not interested in establishing any physical contact with me. "I'm Gippal. It's…uhm…well nice to meet you?" Not my finest moment, I know.

"I know."He said. "Come, we leave now." He helped me up into the ship, which wasn't anything amazing. "You stay in the deck. When it is your turn to sleep in the cabin, I will send for you." Immediately, other people dressed in those black garbs without capes pulled the anchor up from the sea and untangles ropes from the dock's hooks. I noticed that he was still looking at me and motioned to my bag, "Your belongings?"

"Yes,"I replied, "just ointments and there a place to store it?" He motioned for the bag and I held it out to him. He took it and disappeared into the cabins on the other side of the deck. I do not see myself getting along with this professor. After a while he came back and said, "they are safe now. When we dock in Leicester you will get them back."

The trip was supposed to be three days by sea and a day and a half by foot. I was not at all pleased with this. That meant I would be arriving at the monastery on the fourteenth. Two days before my birthdate. This had to be the most troublesome birthday yet. Alone and not alone. I just wanted to disappear. Byleth kept his word and at the rising of the moon he led me to the cabin that I was to share with him and two other monks. My bunk bed had been labeled student. He explained that we would be sleeping in pairs, so that there were always people above deck. He was to sleep below me. In the corner of the cabin I saw my bag, and it was a relief to see it.

It came to me as I tried to sleep, that how was the sea so quiet and mellow? It was rainy season. Although, no such thing existed in Bikanel Island, it did for the ocean. It would turn wild and repulsive to humans. I've heard the stories of my people trying to cross to the east and reach the mainland being swallowed by waves that could touch the clouds. Ours has been a pleasant journey so far. I concluded that among us a powerful magician had to be controlling the weather. Or we were just lucky.

The mind leaves
 the body stops.
 Nothingness arrives.

Blackness surrounds me, yet I stand on solid footing. In front of me a dozen stairs shimmering like alabaster lit in moonlight. Atop, a stone throne occupied by a woman half-asleep. Like the man Byleth, she too was one with pine green hair. I couldn't surmise how long it was, but it could easily reach her knees. I do know that it was a wild, uncombed mess. Her eyes shone a mint green. A color I'd never seen in someone else other than the Al Bhed (it's something we're born with) but she lacked our swirls in her green. Her vest was weird, covering only her chest and abdomen, over it a large gold symbol that I've never seen before. She wore a purple coat that was black on this inside and this seemed to cover most of her. She looked at me without interest. "How are you here? Most rude to simply come unannounced."She asked.

I shivered. "I don't know…uh, ma'am."She stood and came to examine me closely and left to sit in her stone throne. She exuded an aura of authority and curiosity.

"I see. You're empty. Hoping to be rescued. I pity you, child."

Empty? I'm empty? "What do you mean?"

She smirked and proceeded to explain, "you have no powers, a banished crest, no talents, no affinities for anything. You were sent here on a whim to see if you could become someone of use. Your existence is sad. And your blood. Fascinating."

"My blood? What does that have to do with being useless?"I was starting to consider that I was either losing my mind or dreaming complete nonsense.

"Your blood is…"

The mantle of darkness fell.

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