Disclaimer- I own them all, actually. They're all mine and I'm making a billion dollars by writing this instead of pathetically wasting time I should be spending on an English paper.

Just kidding. It's a history paper.

AN – Apologies for the somewhat lengthy hiatus; I've been busy doing that work all college students love so very very much and enjoying my awesome break. But I'm back. And it's late. 3 AM. Wow.

The following is inspired by a save file I have in which my beserked Eirika, with two hitpoints and armed with an iron sword decided to take on Valter and – this here proves the existence of an omnipotent being who listens to the pathetic whining of a college student over a video game – not only survived, but killed him.

I found it way more awesome than I should have.

Anyway, a big humongous thank you to all of you who reviewed! I definitely wasn't expecting such positive reactions; you have all left me pleasantly surprised. I heart all of you.

Nightmare

It is a strange thing, to see your darkest nightmare become truth.

"Eirika!"

She was still standing , despite everything that had happened, stained sword handing limply at her side, the corpse of Grado's most vicious general below it. I kicked my steed faster, but the sand made it nearly impossible for the horse to move; it stumbled, losing more ground than I gained. Still half-numb with the realization that she had killed the Moonstone, I called out to her, hoping against all hope that I could reach her, somehow, before she was torn apart -

"Eirika!"

She slowly pulled her hand away from the gash on her side, staring at the blood that had soaked it with dead eyes. The now riderless wyvern shrieked, twisting and writhing, a flesh-hungry monster suddenly free to kill as it wished. She reluctantly tore her gaze away from the sight of her own blood to stare at the beast, dwarfed by its massive size. There was no fear in her stance, no trepidation in her eyes. She welcomed the sight.

"Eirika!"

She heard me, finally, my throat raw. She turned away from what surely would be her death and her eyes met mine.

They held nothing but an infinite weariness.

The beast struck, kicking its massive talons forward, striking her, screeching loud enough to drown out all sounds of battle. A single beat of its wings sent a hurricane wind forward, throwing aside half of Valter's army, sending her already beaten body flying. She hit the ground and did not stir.

The world stopped.

I heard nothing but the sounds of my own ragged breathing. I abandoned my horse, running towards her on foot, headless of the mad carnage that surrounded me, unable to stop, unable to think.

Eirika. Eirika. Eirika.

I was completely numb when I reached her, falling to my knees, turning her over. Her hair was matted with blood and sand. A large bruise was slowly forming on her left cheek; her pale skin was a mess of cuts and scrapes. Her eyes were closed.

She wasn't breathing.

She wasn't breathing.

My head was swimming, my chest was tight and every part of me was suddenly heavy and I could do nothing because if I moved a fraction of an inch that would make all of it real and I couldn't -

She coughed. She coughed and I grabbed her with a cry of raw relief, burying my face into her matted hair. She coughed again and wrapped one of her arms weakly around me and I whispered feverantly that she was to never, never, charge to the front lines ever again, no matter what she thought she had to do and she coughed again with what sounded much like a short laugh and she was alive, she was alive -

Moulder arrived moments later and practically had to pry her away from me in order to treat her. While the staff succeeded in stabilizing her condition and healing her major injuries, he explained that it would take her days, perhaps weeks, to fully recover. And, despite my protests, Moulder thought it was best for Duessel to carry her away from the fighting, not I. He reminded me, more sternly than I had ever seen him, that we still had a battle to fight.

Only then did my duty return to me. Only then did I realize that I had truly forgotten everything.

The deaths of Valter and Callech were enough to send the scattered remains of Grado's forces into a sloppy retreat. We harried them as they pulled back, if only to speed their leaving. The near dereliction of my duty was enough to shock me back into a stable state of mind, and so I fought once more.

I did not see her again until the next day, when I stepped into the makeshift infirmary to give a statement of our current situation and to politely inquire on how she was currently feeling ("Awful").

When Natasha stepped out of the tent, however, I covered her hand with mine and watched her lips pull into a small, weak smile.