Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.

There were a great many things Rynne could do. Swimming, however, was not one of them.

She gasped as she hit the cold water.

Panicked when her head went under.

Panicked a little more as the water she'd inhaled burned its way into her lungs.

She was going to die. Robin had sent her off to find new adventures. To discover the magic stone of legend. He had trusted her with this, and here she was, drowning.

The murky water made it hard to see much of anything beyond half shadows and dark splotches obscuring her vision. Her chest burned as though she'd swallowed fire, and her arms and legs had grown strangely heavy.

It was getting harder to think.

Harder to thrash around.

She just wanted to lie down.

Close her eyes . . .

No!

The shout came from deep inside Rynne.

She squeezed her eyes shut and kicked out with her legs. Her feet hit something solid, and she erupted from the water in a froth of strangled gasps and bubbles.

Now that she was no longer in danger of drowning more than halfway, she realized that if she went up on her tip toes, she could keep the important bits of her face above water.

Fixing her gaze on the sky, she made her way toward land. It was a horribly slow thing, tiptoeing through water while the mud at the bottom slurped against her toes. The roots and stalks of the lily pads stood tall, unmoved by her troubles. So she had to navigate around them in a shuffling sort of aquatic dance.

It wasn't until the sky had blushed golds and pinks and blues that she lost her footing. And, rather than ducking back under the water, she landed with a splash along the bank.

Never before had she been so happy to fall onto the ground. The nice, solid, mostly dry ground.

Rynne rolled onto her back so she could watch the sunrise properly. She had always preferred sunsets for their vivid colors, but sunrises were nice too. The sun seemed to creep above the tree line before it grew bold enough to leap into place and declare the beginning of a new day.

The first day upon which she was an adventurer on a quest to find her treasure. Robin would—

Something poked against Rynne's heart as she thought of her brother. He was off having adventures of his own as well. Why couldn't they have gone adventuring together? No dread knight nor villainous villains could have stood against their combined might.

So why had he left without saying goodbye?

Rynne sat up and hugged her knees against her chest. Their mother must be frantic with worry about them, or had she known what Robin had planned? As she thought back to their last conversation, the thing that had been poking her heart now pinched it. She could do nothing more than press her hand against her heart and wait for the pain to pass.

"Oh wow! A mermaid!"

Rynne startled, tripping over herself as she whirled around.

A little girl with golden pigtails was staring at her with open wonder. Now that she saw she had Rynne's attention, she toddled a little closer, her eyes the same color of blue as the sky.

"Are you a real mermaid?"

Rynne frowned in confusion until she noticed the silvery violet sheen of scales clinging to her hands and her tail that peeked out from the hem of her sodden cloak.

"Not exactly, I don't think." Then, because she didn't like to be the cause of the disappointment clouding the little girl's face, "But who knows? I'm wet enough to be a mermaid."

"I'm Lissa." The little girl stuck out a hand that looked to be sticky with something purple that smelled sweet. She held out something soft and stuffed and vaguely green in her other hand. "This is Pickleberry Tart, my magic frog."

Rynne eyed the toy with a little more interest. It looked harmless enough, but maybe that's what magical frogs did to fool the unwary. She had to admit she was completely out of her depth. None of the stories Robin had told her had ever contained magic frogs.

"Well?" Lissa shook her extended hand for emphasis. "You're 'aposed to tell me your name now."

Rynne blinked. "I don't have a name. Not a real one, anyway." Her cheeks burned and she dropped her gaze. No matter how she tried, she could never quite accept that she was too unimportant to have a name of her own.

"Oh." Lissa absently sucked one of her sticky fingers. "What do people call you when they want you to come?"

"Rynne." The word slipped out of her mouth before she had even realized it was there. "My brother is important enough that he let me borrow part of his name." She gave Lissa's hand a dubious look, but shook it anyway.

It was every bit as sticky as she thought it would be.

"You have a brother?"

Rynne nodded as they sat down on a grassy patch of ground. It was strange, really. Back at home, whenever her skin started to glimmer right before the scales appeared, she always ran and hid. But here, with Lissa, she mostly just wondered what the sticky purpleness was.

And if she could find some to eat.

"Do you have a sister? I have a big sister. She bosses everyone around." Lissa cuddled her magic frog with a fierce kind of protectiveness. "But she's usually nice. She even made Pickleberry Tart all by herself."

Rynne eyed the stuffed frog with a touch more respect. Was it magical by nature, or was it magical because Lissa believed it was?

"So . . ." Lissa bounced in place a few times. "How did you swim up to the sky? Mermaids are 'aposed to live in water, aren't they?"

The sky? It took Rynne a moment to realize what the little girl was talking about. There had been a moment between Plegia and the pond. Perhaps—

"Lissa! Lissa!"

Rynne startled, snapping her head in the direction the voice was coming from.

"That's just my big brother," Lissa said, her eyes lighting up. "Hey! I bet he'd want to meet you. Emm and Nana and Freddy never let us have interesting visitors. I'll go get him."

Rynne watched helplessly as the little girl jumped to her feet and took off running in the direction of her brother, shouting his name. Her heart banged hard enough against her chest to almost hurt. What should she do? Where should she go?

Then she remembered one of her brother's gifts, and hoped it didn't have to be dry to work.

With a speed born of desperation, Rynne flew up into the branches of the nearest tree before wrapping the sash about herself. It clung to her and was freezing cold, but she didn't dare try to wring it out. The voices were getting closer, and she clasped her hands together as she tried to make herself as small as possible.

A hard little knot of something pressed against her knees. The pendant! Holding her breath, Rynne tugged it out of her tunic and proceeded to rub her thumb against it as she tried to quiet her breathing.

"Liss, Emm isn't going to be happy if we're late."

"But don't you want to see the mermaid?"

The boy sighed as they came into view. He was gangly with a mop of dark blue hair and a suit that looked as though it had seen better days. It was clean, pressed, and mended, but there was a weary air about it—especially around the knees. "Are you certain it's a mermaid? You know they're just imaginary things, right? Like from the stories."

Lissa stopped walking and put her hands on her hips. "You take that back! My friend is so real!"

To his credit, the boy seemed more amused than anything. He gave one of her pigtails an affectionate tug. "All right. So where is this mermaid friend of yours?"

"Over here. She's . . ." Lissa's face fell. "She was right here."

Rynne held her breath and continued to polish her worry stone with her thumb. She hated to know she was the cause of crestfallen expression on Lissa's face, but she couldn't risk being discovered any more than she already had been.

"Maybe her big sister had an important meeting she had to attend and called her back." The boy gave his little sister a pointed look that was totally wasted because she wasn't even looking at him.

Instead, Lissa stood by the bank of the pond, frowning at the water as though she could make her mermaid appear through the sheer force of her will.

"She was right here, Chrom. I promise. You believe me, don't you?"

Her brother Chrom, crouched down and examined the ground. "Hmm. There was something here." He traced his finger above the grooves her tail had left in the soil. "Are you sure it was a fish? Because this looks like a kind of claw mark. Too small to be a bear, but bigger than one of Cookie's cats."

Lissa turned to him with affronted dignity. "Chrom, I know what mermaids look like."

"Because you've seen so many of them," he said. He didn't exactly roll his eyes. He'd started to, but the marks he'd been examining caught his attention again.

"She. Had. A. Tail." Lissa enunciated each word. "And scales on her hands and face."

"Of course," he muttered, frowning. His gaze flickered toward her tree, and for a panicked second, Rynne was certain he could see her. But then his gaze turned back to the ground, and Rynne found she could breathe again.

"Chrom," Lissa said as she crouched down next to her brother, cuddling Pickleberry Tart mercilessly. "What if she's in trouble? Or hurt? What if she needs our help?"

Rynne squirmed a little inside. She couldn't reveal herself, not while she still had a tail and a liberal smattering of scales on her hands and face.

"I'll ask Frederick for help. Mermaid or not, he won't leave a stone unturned. If there's a mermaid on the grounds, he'll find her." Chrom stood and held out his hand. "So long as you're the one who gets to tell Emm we were late thanks to your mermaid friend."

Lissa slipped her hand into his, all her cares vanquished by the faith she had in her older brother. Rynne recognized the look as she had often worn one that was quite similar. She could never seek him out when others were there, but her fears were always tempered by the sure knowledge that there was nothing so big that Robin wouldn't be able to defeat it.

So why had he gone somewhere she couldn't follow?

Rynne waited until they had gone from sight, and then she waited some more. Only after she was shivering so hard from the cold wetness of, well, everything, that she would have attracted attention either way, did she dare to jump down from the tree.

Her wings had gone, but she managed to land without hurting herself. Now that she was on the ground, a whole new set of problems opened themselves up for her. Henry and Tharja had sent her here, so that's probably where they wanted her to stay.

But how was she supposed to stay put in a place like this?

It wasn't until she'd stumbled over the drying lines and the promise of warm, dry clothes, that she realized she looked no more like a dragon than Lissa did.

Humming happily to herself, she pilfered an apron and a simple gown that was more like a long tunic. Rynne had no idea how she'd managed it, but she hadn't needed one of Robin's potions to draw the dragon back inside her.

If she did it once, certainly she could do it again.

And once she got good at it, she'd never have to hide ever again.

Before she could fall too far into contentment, her stomach growled loud enough that perhaps her stomach was still more dragon than human.

What to do?

It had been a while since she'd last eaten, and she had no coin nor right of meal like she did when she'd been a servant back in Plegia. She'd give this gown back once her clothing was dry, but she couldn't do the same with any food she might come across.

As though it was sentient enough to know it had her attention, her stomach went over a rather lengthy list of grievances, each grumble louder than the rest.

"Fine. Fine," she muttered. Maybe she could offer to spin for someone in exchange for a meal. She wrapped her things up in the sash and tied the bundle up in her tree. She'd come back for it later. For now, she needed to find something to eat.

Rynne hurried up the path toward the castle. Castles were big. The one standing tall against the sky was even bigger than the one in Plegia. Big meant more people. More servants, especially.

She could be a servant. Why if she—

"Oof!"

Somewhere between this step and the next, something large and solid appeared in her path without warning. Ricocheting off it, she landed in what might very possibly be a flowerbed. Rynne lay there like a crushed insect, waiting for her body to remember how to breathe again.

"Oh dear. Oh dear. I'm so sorry. Please be all right."

"Give her some breathing room, Kellam."

That voice.

Rynne tried to turn toward it, but too much hurt too much, and her head was spinning so hard that up seemed more like a suggestion and down more of a command.

There was a scuffling sound as someone knelt beside her. "I bet Emm could fix her up."

"Prince Chrom, I'm so sorry. I didn't see her until . . ."

"Hmm. Are you sure you knocked her down? She looks like she's just sleeping."

Chrom. That was Lissa's big brother's name.

"I highly doubt this lass decided to sleep among the Exalt's lilies, Milord," a deeper voice that managed to sound both polite and very much put upon said. "There are, after all, much better places to sleep than on the ground."

"Right. You, um, don't think she's . . . You know . . ."

"Dead, Milord?" The voice changed to equal parts amused and exasperated.

"No. She can't be . . . That would make me a—"

"Hardly. She's holding up as well as anyone might who had charged into someone wearing full armor."

Gentle, but firm hands propped her up. The weight pressing down on her lungs abruptly vanished, and Rynne found she was suddenly famished for air.

"Slow and steady breaths, lass." A boy who was practically a grown up exaggerated his own breathing enough for her to follow.

Rynne opened her eyes and obediently tried to slow her breathing. It wasn't easy. Her body was still convinced it couldn't get enough air, while the air she was inhaling burned its way down her throat and into her lungs.

It was like drowning all over again.

"Slower, if you can."

Lissa's brother crouched down next to her, an open smile on his face. "Sorry about that. Kellam has a special talent for being easy to miss, so that's probably why you didn't see him. You'll be okay though. My big sister can fix anything. You can meet her if you like."

"Milord," the older boy said, exasperated but without any true rancor.

"Emm won't mind. She told me so herself after that thing with Sully." He turned his attention back to her. "She's really nice. I promise."

Rynne nodded. Her breathing was almost back to normal, and her head was spinning only half as fast as it had been before. And she could almost make out a boy-shaped rectangle of shining metal in the direction Chrom had indicated when he'd explained about Kellam.

When the almost visible boy noticed her watching him, he gave her a shy wave. When she waved back, he ducked his head and became nearly impossible to see.

"I'm Chrom. You've already met Kellam, and this is Frederick." He looked at her expectantly, and she realized he was waiting for her to introduce herself.

She stood and shook her borrowed skirts out. No one back home had ever thought to ask, but after her run in with Lissa earlier, she knew exactly what to do. "I don't have a name, but you can call me Rynne."

"Rynne? I've never heard a name like that before. Is it foreign?"

Rynne's cheeks went pink, and Frederick shook his head.

"Milord, a more pressing line of questioning would be to inquire what a kitchen maid is doing in the royal family's garden."

Frederick had the sort of personality that seemed to take up more space than it rightly should have. It wasn't that he was mean, because she was fairly certain he wasn't. Despite his deferential tone to Chrom, he was clearly the one in charge.

Even though Chrom was a prince.

Belatedly, Rynne remembered to curtsey. Except, she wasn't used to wearing skirts that were so heavy and voluminous, and her gown was made for a slightly bigger person.

"I was looking for the kitchen," she said, finding safety in the truth. "But I got lost and then . . ." She mimed smashing something.

"I really am sorry." Kellam's voice, while soft, was easier to make out than his form. "Usually I pay better attention to where I'm going. I kind of have to."

"You're new then," Frederick said in a tone of voice that implied something in the situation was finally making sense.

Rynne nodded. A blush crept up the back of her neck. Nothing she'd said had been a lie, but it hadn't been exactly the truth either. What would Robin have done in her place?

Frederick's expression thawed just enough for her to be certain that he was, indeed, human. "That's easy enough to fix. I'll return you to the kitchen myself. It wouldn't do for you to be found wandering within the Royal family's personal gardens."

She nodded and dropped her gaze. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be where I'm not supposed to."

Frederick nodded. "Follow me, then."

"Wait." Chrom caught Rynne by the sleeve. "I promised I'd take her to Emm."

"I'm fine." Rynne ducked her head. This truly was a different place from home, and she wasn't sure how she felt about those differences. But Tharja would never do anything to upset Robin—like sending his little sister to . . . wherever here was, if it wasn't a good place to be.

Chrom looked her in the eye. "You're certain? Most people need a healer after they run into Kellam."

"I really am sorry."

"Most people only ever run into Kellam on the training field, Milord. Speaking of which . . ." All Frederick had to do was raise a brow for Chrom to let go of her arm and back away.

"We're going. We're going. Race you there, Kellam." He looked over his shoulder before he took off after his friend. "See you later!"

Frederick waited long enough to make sure his two charges were going where they were supposed to before he turned back to her. "I suppose we had better get you back where you belonged well."

Rynne nodded as she tried to keep up with the older boy's stride. Hopefully the kitchens were as chaotic as her morning had been. What was she going to do if they realized she didn't really belong here?

In all the stories Robin had told her, the hero was always big and powerful, so much so that he was left well enough alone until the villain appeared with a cursed blade to plunder his home. But she wasn't big or brave or strong.

She was just herself.

"I don't think I've seen you before." Frederick raised his brow at her, and Rynne had a sudden empathy for why Chrom had hurried away. She would have too, if he'd have let her.

"I just got here this morning." Her voice only trembled a little, and she hid a grimace. Her truths were all coming out as lies, and while being clever and cunning always served a hero well, lies only ever turned into a web that led to madness.

Rynne didn't like to think what would happen should she go mad.

"You came with your family?"

She shook her head.

"Hmm. You're a little young to have been sent here on your own." Frederick's brow darkened. "But I suppose that is to be expected."

He didn't say anything else until they reached the kitchens. To Rynne's relief, the main kitchen was bubbling with activity. A few with their hair tied back neatly and stuffed into caps or kerchiefs seemed to be doing most of the cooking. A number of people were involved in peeling, slicing, mixing, and stirring, while a greater number of people who wore similar attire to herself were running errands, fetching ingredients, cleaning up spots and spills, and washing dishes.

She waded in after Frederick, her heart much lighter. There were too many moving parts for anyone to remember them individually. Although the way Frederick looked around as though performing an inspection, and the deferential way everyone in the room greeted him, perhaps she wouldn't escape unscathed after all.

"Charlotte," he addressed a harried-looking woman who had a few strands of silver frosting her earth brown hair. Frederick put a firm hand on Rynne's shoulder when she tried to hang back halfway behind him. "I found one of yours wandering in the Exalt's garden."

Rynne held her breath as the woman squinted near-sightedly at her. "My apologies, Sir Frederick. I misplaced my spectacles and didn't find them until the custard finished setting. Which is, I suppose, a mercy. Better to find them at all, rather than after we'd served them in the dessert."

Rynne hid a giggle behind her hand. She had always kept to herself back home, so she didn't know how the important people were served, but surely the last thing they might expect would be for their dessert to be looking back at them.

"Yes, well," Sir Frederick drew himself up into a pillar of dignified propriety, "it would do us all well to keep better track of both your spectacles and those under your care." He looked very much as though he'd like to go on, but had boxed himself into a corner by his own decorum.

"And so I shall." Charlotte twinkled a smile at Rynne that was both warm and welcoming. "I thank you for her safe re—Oh, no you don't, young Vaike! Unhand those pineapples at once!"

Frederick sighed as she rushed off to apprehend the pineapple thief. Rynne did her best to be the smallest self she could possibly be, but he was the sort of person not even a speck of dust could hide from.

He looked down at her and sighed again. "I don't suppose you have received any training?"

Rynne opened her mouth, the easy lie already on the tip of her tongue. Then she thought of Robin and all the heroes he'd told her about. Cunning was all well and good, and very much required if one was going to set forth on important quests.

Lying though? That's what those iron clad villains did.

And Rynne was not one of those. Not now. Not ever.

She shook her head. "I'm a fast learner."

For some reason, her statement thawed a bit more humanity into his expression. "I'm sure you'll make your family proud. Now, if you're certain you'll be all right, I have charges of my own I must attend to."

Rynne forced herself to nod.

To smile.

But she found it a little hard to breathe.

She hadn't known Sir Frederick for very long, and she would have been lying if she said she wasn't just the teensiest bit afraid of him, but he was familiar. And—she stepped back as a flock of chickens gusted by—the single bastion of quiet and sanity in the entire room.

But when she looked again, he was gone.

"Not that way!" A servant a little older than she was ran by, brandishing a broom. "Back out into the coop, you bird brains!"

Rynne watched long enough to determine three things. The first was that the chickens had the advantage in numbers. The second was that the girl with the broom had no hope of shooing the birds anywhere beyond the kitchens. And the third thing was a small bucket of some kind of grain that was sitting open on one of the sideboards.

When she was quite certain that no one else was going to lend a hand, Rynne stood on her tiptoes and scooped some of the grain into her apron. Treading softly, she made her way over to where most of the chickens had congregated—which happened to be where they stored the wood cut for burning.

Rather than appeal to them directly, she grabbed a handful of grain from her apron and let it run through her fingers as she marked out the most likely path in which the chicken coops were located.

Walking slowly, she kept careful control on how much grain she let slip through her fingers. It wouldn't do to run out before she reached her destination, nor would it be good to allow the birds too much grain either.

The chickens descended on her trail of grain as though they hadn't seen a speck of food for the last fortnight. Fortunately she was nearly to the side door.

Almost there . . .

. . .

. . .

And finished.

Rynne straightened and dusted her hands off. Only after the last chicken had squawked its way out the door did she step back to admire her handiwork. They stood on a long rectangle of sweet smelling grass. While it wasn't exactly the chicken coops, it was close enough—and more importantly, not the kitchen.

"Whew!" The girl who'd been chasing the chickens earlier appeared in the doorway. "I didn't think it would be possible to get them all out so quickly. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Rynne said. "They're a lot easier to herd than baby wyverns, that's for sure."

The girl blinked at her before grinning and holding out her hand. "I'm Marigold."

"Rynne." She shook Marigold's hand, happy that these foreign customs felt a little less odd each time they happened. People were a lot more open here than back at home, and Rynne was surprised to find that she didn't mind as much anymore.

"I haven't seen you before. Are you new?"

Rynne shrank a little beneath the friendly scrutiny. "Yes. I arrived here today."

"Don't worry." Marigold smiled apologetically. "The chickens don't invade the kitchens as much as they used to."

She wasn't sure what to say to that. Was it normal chicken behavior to seek out the kitchens? It wasn't back home, that's for sure. Speaking of . . .

Rynne opened her mouth to ask where they were, but she couldn't figure out a way to ask without betraying her position.

"You'll get the hang of things soon," Marigold promised. "Want to help me beat some cream to go along with the scones?"

Rynne nodded solemnly. As she followed the other girl back into the kitchens, she paused at the threshold and looked over her shoulder at the rich green land blooming outside.

Why had Robin sent her here instead of coming along? He would have loved it, she was sure. Well, maybe not the chickens, but he would have liked everything else.

For a moment, her heart became unbearably heavy. Then she remembered the book he'd given her. Hopefully nearly drowning hadn't damaged the enchantment. As soon as the sun set, she'd find a place to sleep.

And then, because her brother couldn't be there with her, she'd bring as much of it as she could to him.

And maybe, maybe one day he'd be able to slip away and find her.

Something like warmth filled her chest as she stepped back into the friendly chaos of the kitchens. Today was the first full day of her quest. She had a lot of catching up to do, but she hadn't done too terribly either.

Now, to beat some cream—whatever that meant—and then to see if she could find any of that purple stickiness to eat.

And perhaps, just maybe, she might have found a friend.

A/N: This chapter was a lot of fun to write. And, yay! We made it on time! :D

Kellam popped up out of nowhere, literally, and while I hadn't set out to include much of anything from the game, Robin and Chrom's first conversation just fit. Also, now I know where Chrom got that line of his. :p

As for the chickens, I'm not sure where they come from or why, only that Miriel and Ricken are behind this somehow. Should be fun figuring out.

I kind of love that half drowned weredragon translates into mermaid—at least as far as Lissa is concerned. Rynne isn't of the hook there either, although I have a feeling that Lissa is going to be a little disappointed that Rynne is more draco than mer. But nobody's perfect, right? :p

A special thanks to all you who stop by, read, comment, share, etc. A story never truly breathes until it is read. Thank you for helping this story come alive. Have a great month!

TaraTolmney: Aww, thank you so much! I really glad you liked Henry and Tharja. :) They'll be back. Hopefully soon. It's going to be a lot of fun when those two worlds—Plegia and Ylisse—collide! *early apologies to Rynne* Have a great month! :D