((The chapter's a bit Eirika-centric. Hope you guys don't mind. :) Sorry for the wait, by the way.))

Ch.5: Brands and Curses

Dear Diary,

I've gone and slipped again, I see… Innes has apparently seen my scar. I don't know what to tell him, quite frankly, but am distressed to say that there's not much I can tell him without breaking into tears. The thought of the Moonstone's eyes glaring at my body and the feeling of his hands running over my flesh… it is simply too much to bear. I must be weak… for even now, I've had to go over this twice to make sure that my tears did not smudge the ink on the parchment. I'm not sure how long I can keep up this cheerful façade, and wonder whether this situation has truly come to an end.

Every time I think of Valter, the lance ceases its burning, leaving my heart to blaze in its pain alone… however, every time I let my thoughts drift to other romantic interests, it begins to sting me with all the claws of hell's wrath. I can't touch anyone, I can't see anyone with another… it hurts, it truly does. Seth does not notice, and neither does my oblivious brother. And yet, I do not know whether to tell them or not… for it is just as painful to try to tell as it is to hide. I've yet to attempt telling them, as my throat catches every time I try to bring the name of Valter to my lips.

I am weak, a failure to the status I was born into. He had done nothing to sully what I need to become a pure bride, and yet still I fear the experience. Perhaps it is simply paranoia, but at this rate I'm more concerned about my future than the present. After all, how will I face my fears in marriage if I cannot even bear to feel a touch, let alone the loving caress of another? If I cling to the past, how will I be able to make my future husband happy? Oh, I can scarcely think of matrimony… only two faces come to mind, and both are men I cannot have.

For one of them is dead, and the other man I love is a taboo relationship… and yet, no one knows that the first is true, and Seth strongly disapproves of the second. But how can the heart be subdued, if not through pain? It seems I have obtained enough of that to curse a nation for several generations. (Though I certainly would never do such a thing.)

And yet, I am the Princess of Renais… and I must not falter from my duties, as Seth had told me in days past. I cannot allow myself to dwell on one event over another, just as I cannot favor one vassal over another. I will remain steadfast for my country, and will never show weakness before my subjects again. However… is it too much to ask, that I may write my thoughts and weaknesses in a book that never speaks? I suppose not. It appears writing in this book has turned out to be beneficial, after all. I must thank Tana later for such a good suggestion. Perhaps everyone should write… it certainly takes some of the stress off of my mind.

Until tomorrow, then.

-Eirika

Closing the small, leather bound book and placing it beneath her cot, the princess sighed. It was a tough endeavor, pretending to be someone she was not. She had tried to appear normal before the others… she truly did. When she had been standing before the three lords of Elibe, she had been more than happy to don the façade of a carefree and happy princess of a foreign land. However, she knew that, deep inside, she had much to hide from not only these newcomers, but from her army, her knight, and her brother. It was difficult, but it is easy to place a mask upon one's face once someone has tried the first few times to do so. She tried as hard as she could to emulate her normal personality, wondering how she would react as if she were a different person, staring at herself from afar.

Eirika could not bear to feel the touch of another now, and had pushed away everyone close to her to prevent that from happening. The mere sight of a couple brushing their lips against one another sent chills down her spine, and had sent her from a state of hopeful romanticism to one of utmost fear and despair. The strange mark on her neck continued to burn in its angry fury every time she so much as touched the hand of another, and screamed in excruciating rage when Ephraim had pecked her on the cheek before she had gone to bed. She flinched from human contact, but refused to let that change her normal behavior… she simply avoided touching them, was all.

Hearing the shriek of the wyvern species that the serpent-riding knights of Grado rode, which normally elicited no reaction from her other than surprise, now filled her body with harsh and bitter chills. She could scarcely believe that simple stimuli such as a fort or a desert could affect her so drastically, and yet she could feel his hands on her every single time she saw them. Immediately asking for temporary leave, she would depart for a few moments to compose herself after seeing the fortress at Border Mulan before returning, refusing to let it perturb her any longer while in the presence of others. When alone, she could almost feel a predatory gaze on her, as if someone or something had its eyes on her… whether day or night, she never truly felt alone. Now, more than any other time, she wished for solitude… however, with a camp size more than doubling in less than a day, she was rarely left with time to be by herself. Standing up from her seat on her bed, she walked briskly outside to where she knew she would have things to discuss with the members of Elibean royalty.

Situated comfortably in a field of grass just a half-day's march away from Castle Frelia, the army had pitched their tents in a large circle to better promote inter-army interactions. They seemed to be taking to it well, which made for great relief for the lords; after all, how could an army function together if their units did not agree with one another? To have a rivalry on the battlefield was good and all, but Lyn had seen enough tension between Matthew and Jaffar to know that a large group of soldiers, fueled by vengeance against each other, could never made the army any more efficient than a much smaller force of focused soldiers that watched each other's backs, rather than stabbing them.

In the late afternoon sun, Sain had once again embarked on his eternal hunt for the beauteous members of the opposite sex, leaving members of Eliwood's army to warn the others before they were assailed by compliments galore… or, in Marisa's case, they were sure to warn Sain about her beautiful but efficient work with a blade, lest he slip up during his courting and end up with one less limb. Colm had had several times had to come between Sain and Neimi, especially when he had several times scared her to the point of tears; though it never took much to do that, admittedly, he attributed much of the blame to the paladin, rather than his loved one's loose tear ducts. The knight had even gone so far as to hit on Eirika, which had elicited a scream of genuine fear from her; it was so great, that some even believed her to be faking her terror… Sain was bad, but not truly that terrible. Even the poor man was confused when she left, grasping her neck as if for fear that he would strangle her… but, in reality, it was out of fear that he would litter it with unwanted kisses, as Valter had done.

Saul had tried the same tactics but with the slightly more religious-oriented girls of the army, leaving various clerics, troubadours, and one certain blonde monk throttling him out of the sheer audacity of his scandal. Not only had he desecrated the Elibean belief in Saint Elimine's teachings by using them as flirting tools, he had also invited them to false meetings, had lustful intentions, and had hit on a man who was quite frankly already taken. Though no one could blame him for his mistaking of Lucius's true sex, Raven himself made sure that that message of Lucius's martial status had been transferred to the priest's head loud and clear through his fist; a silent message from him to Saul that basically said, "Hands off."

It may have been a miracle for Saul that he didn't hit on Priscilla, for that in itself would have garnered a death penalty from her brother; after all, he hadn't even approved of Heath (especially after he left her; even now, he was avoiding her, it seemed), and at least he had known the man before she had fallen in love with him. What right did Saul have, then, that the wyvern rider didn't have? In short, none. He was simply another Sain, only with a different profession and a female bodyguard, who never seemed to approve of this. Even now, Raven was quite entertained by the spectacle of the brunette archer fuming at the priest behind the veil of freckles that covered her face.

The pegasus knights seemed to socialize well together, though Fiora had admittedly wandered off to discuss rules of army etiquette and rules dictating order with Kent and Gilliam… much to the dismay of the less-than-orderly members of the group, the three had already begun to draw up contracts with the helpful guidance of Moulder, who had seen such things done before. He, like the others, had found the group a bit too lively for his own tastes, and has secretly wondered for a while whether or not containing them through rules was possible. Though the others couldn't answer that, concerning that units who had not been trained under their command were far less likely to address them with enough respect to give the said list of laws a second glance. They could always be proud of themselves for their work, even though it was at the moment only in its concept stages of development; even if the new etiquette and moral laws that they made should prove unenforceable, they would always have the satisfaction of at least knowing they had tried to keep the unruly campgrounds under control.

Florina had found herself rather at home with the other pegasus knights, though they seemed a bit different from her and her sisters. Tate, Thany, and Yuuno had joined in, as well, while keeping all men from the circle to prevent the nervous behavior that the presence of males always aroused. While this meant keeping Zealot, Hector, and Dart from the circle, none of them seemed to mind too much, since each went his separate ways among the campgrounds.

The wyvern riders had also grouped alongside their winged brethren, with Zeiss and Miledy allowing their mounts to wander about camp at will. They were relatively tame in comparison to other wyverns, having been raised from eggs by the siblings. Now, as they wandered around camp, they were as gentle to everyone as if they were freshly-hatched wyrmlings… however, they seemed rather snappish around the more frisky members of the group, protecting the victims before they were struck with compliments and showing their riders once and for all how well they could read other people's intentions with a mere glance. Forde, Sain, and Saul were quite distressed by the terrible duo, but made sure at least one got a special lady by coordinating all of their attempts simultaneously; there were only two wyverns, after all, and three men prowling about for at least one receptive lady. However, their combined wit allowed them to combat this, with each painfully swatting one with their muscular tails before promptly seeking out the last of the trio with earnest. Though they never quite got them to stop, they would at least be somewhere to run to if the attention of the said men proved to be intolerable by the women.

Heath kept Hyperion close, since the skittish wyvern or the knight that rode it could easily kill an ally that had simply caught them unawares. It was enough to make them fly off alone, since the combined noises that surrounded them and the fact that his former love had been present had been more than enough to convince the knight to leave. He knew he had to return or risk getting mistaken for the enemy, but also realized deep within his heart that he would have to confront both the past pleasures and pains if he ever saw his former lover's face again. He hated hurting her like he did… selflessly taking her like the treacherous bastard he knew he was, and then leaving her, just as she began to believe that the gesture meant that he had given both his body and soul to her, as she had done for him. Even more painful was the sight that kept on returning to him… the sight of the fair lady Priscilla, sobbing as he had left her at the border of Etruria. He couldn't face her again, and knew that would simply tear open old wounds if he confronted her about what he had done. The past was the past, but even then, he knew, deep within his heart, that she hadn't moved on. For even after eighteen years, she still remained without a wedding ring, and had apparently refused any and all suitors for her hand. It tore him apart, the way he knew she clung to his heart; for she had not even gone with Erk, who would have provided her with the title and wealth she deserved, rather than a vagabond deserter of Bern's army. And yet, she loved him, and not the violet-haired mage.

Vaida hadn't done much talking, with the exception of growling at Heath for his paranoia before his departure. Choosing to don her usual glare of anger and malice, she was one of the few had still until this day ignored the disgraceful way she had met her demise before her resurrection. Umbriel, remembering the sweet pages of knowledge that had been given to it long ago, immediately sought out Canas, ignoring the druid's futile cries of distress as the said wyvern tore through several volumes of ancient text to devour for supper. Distraught, but unable to do much about it, this was one of the rare occasions where Canas was glad that his son had the bad habit of copying text books onto spare parchment, word for word. His mother Niime had been almost assaulted by Louise and Pent, who were quite awed with her dark magic lineage and her prestige as the Hermit of the Mountain… It was so bad, in fact, that the poor old woman almost considered going back to said mountains, just to get away from her 'adoring fans'.

Gambling seemed to be all the rage around the campfire, where the Prince of Jehanna had set up a small, makeshift area to 'play'… laying out a mat to play cards on and inviting all to play his game against Lady Luck, the ruby-haired man awaited all challengers with a confident smirk. Joshua seemed to have a ball flipping coins and playing cards with the likes of Bartre, who was too stupid to quite get the concept quickly enough to avoid losing well over half of his war funds. However, an unexpected hero won back his money as the cleric Serra intervened; as if it were the will of Saint Elimine herself, she, like L'Arachel before her, promptly cleaned the now sulking gambler of his cash. Granted, he returned after he had acquired a few more coins from a gracious donor, but Joshua had become a much more careful gambler after that… and, like the troubadour, had ceased to play with Serra, who had simply pouted in retaliation. She, now completely bored, had run off to speak to said troubadour, and began a conversation that would spark the most deadly of alliances.

An almost earth-shattering groan of disdain rang through the camp as Erk, Rennac, and Rutger all winced at the high, shrieking voices of the two healers. The Ostian cleric of self-proclaimed royal lineage and the prissy princess of Rausten had joined forces to create a team dedicated to the eradication of evil and the upholding of the holy teachings… or, to put it bluntly, it was what the poor, violet-haired mage could only describe as his worst nightmare incarnate. To make matters worse, Clarine had joined in the conversation, thus resulting Pent and Louise's loud, spoiled, and rambunctious daughter to join in what a certain brunette sword master effectively entitled the Hellion Healers. To have one of their respective terrors was bad enough, but to have all three together was enough to probably make even the Archsage's patient mind explode with frustration. All three escorts had been rather fatigued and frustrated at the thought of keeping their charges quieter than a herd of shrieking wyverns, but seeing the three pampered girls unite left the men throwing their hands up in the air in genuine surrender. They didn't see why they had to go through with this, after all… it certainly wasn't what they had signed up for. In Rutger's case, he hadn't even signed anything, leaving him with the notion that perhaps he would have been better off if he had left the Etrurian troubadour in Erik of Laus's hands, after all. Priscilla and Ellen, quite taken aback by this spectacle of a cacophony personified, had politely declined invitations into the group when they had asked. Both were far too quiet and shy to not be uncomfortable around the others, and quite frankly did not bother to hide it.

Merlinus, completely embittered towards women ever since Vaida had decided to feed him mystery meat and effectively serve him hell on a platter, had not approved of this alliance, either. Upon trying to deny giving them healing staves for their noise level, however, said merchant had been bombarded by a screeching mass of the hellions, all of whom were firmly determined that they were sent on one divine mission or another. Giving the equipment to them just to shut the noisy women up, the younger merchant would have pulled out his hair, had he not valued its renewed growth so much. One never did appreciate what he had until he lost it, and such was the case with his hair.

It was odd to notice that Matthew had ceased to speak with Guy momentarily before moving to speak to first Chad, then Nino. Chad, as most people knew, was Matthew's bastard child… but no one had figured out who the mother of this thief's offspring was. Leila had been deceased at the time, and confounded the problem further. Had he not wanted to pledge his true love to her before she died? Certainly he had not given in to temptation so easily, let alone let the said accidental occurrence continue on for the nine months it took to create a new life…

Meanwhile, in the tactician's tent, situated in the center of the campgrounds, a certain group of royal lordlings had met to converse more important matters…

--

The tent was a humble ger, not unlike the settlement that Lyn had inhabited when she lived in the plains of Sacae. It was a simple, earth-shade tent made of the skins of the wild bucks their hunters had caught recently, and made for a rather cozy, insulated area. Its simple elegance was complimented by its lack of pricey adornments, making it a humble but nevertheless admirable work of art in and of itself. Situated in several cushions that lay about the room, Eliwood, Lyndis, Hector, Ephraim, and Eirika all reclined comfortably as they began to speak.

It was as if this arrangement was a futile attempt to make them feel at ease as they began to converse. Not bothering to beat around the bush, each of them had agreed to strike the heart of the matter as soon as the speaking commenced.

"…Bern's already struck Frelia, and appears to be moving towards Carcino. Renais has not been fully restored to its former glory yet, as Orson has just been removed from power there; that would make it an easy target for their wyvern riders, wouldn't it…" Ephraim muttered, more to himself than to the others. However, the unease seemed to spread like a plague about the room, leaving several of the lords fidgeting slightly before the speaking commenced again.

"It appears so. If it is as you say, I doubt that Renais would have an adequate army to hold of the might of the Bernian army. While I would like to say otherwise, they are a true force to be reckoned with, and had taken over two of our home countries, as well." Flinching and not catching his last statement in time, Eliwood flinched as the look of hurt was ill-hidden on Lyn's face. The Sacaean woman had regretted dying so soon the moment she found out about Bern's invasion, and this event served only to drive the stake of pain through her heart. Eirika looked a bit downcast as well, being more moved by loss than her brother, who had once professed to liking the combat involved in war more than he would have liked.

"…This is most discouraging. How would we fight such a massive army? I doubt that even Grado itself could turn a deaf ear to this, despite their military prowess." Keeping her grimace inside as she mentioned the name of Valter's country of origin, she nevertheless did not fake the look of genuine concern that spread over her features. Seth had drawn up the numbers for them, and the numbers of Bern's army were far too great for a makeshift army of perhaps a hundred soldiers to stand a chance against. They all seemed to have noticed this by now, and the feel of discomfort weighed all the heavier on them.

"I still cannot believe that this is Zephiel's doing… that little brat!" Hector slammed down his fist on the closest thing to him, jumping when he heard Eliwood's surprised yelp of pain. Shooting an apologetic look to his friend's temporary look of disdain, he continued to speak. "After we went through all that trouble saving him, too… We could have left him to the Fang, you know. It would have saved us from this little disaster."

"Hector, do recall that he didn't even know who we were when we saved him, and that the queen would not have aided us if her son had died. How was he supposed to be grateful to a seemingly meaningless face? Do recall that he was far more suspicious than grateful to us." Eliwood grimaced, nursing his rather bruised thigh. Even after all these years, he had not lost his strength; it seemed that, for better or for worse, he would have to become accustomed to his great physical prowess again.

Smiling bleakly for a moment, Eirika's mind began to drift once again as she saw the two trade comments back and forth. They were like her and her brother, it seemed… getting into little scuffles, but never letting an argument escalate to the point of needless yelling or hitting. No, she had always admired her brother for that… his kind heart, his loving nature, and his compassion for others. Oh, but how she wished that he would dote more of that upon her in such times of internal strife, and not leave her alone to suffer in the darkness of her own foolish desires…

At this, a fiery pain began to sear her very heart, starting at her neck. The princess winced, closing her teal eyes as she desperately tried to will the pain away. Seemingly tearing at her very flesh, she was quite surprised to know that her skin had not caught ablaze, and even more so to know that she had hidden it well enough so that it appeared almost as if it never occurred.

…Almost was the key word. One of the Lycian lords, having spotted her sudden but short-lived spasm of pain, had turned to look upon the teenage girl. Noticing something that had most definitely not been there before, Lyn felt oddly threatened by this sudden change in appearance. She couldn't place her finger on it, but something about the sudden glow that stood out on the girl seemed malevolent, and eerily familiar…

"Forgive me asking, but… that pendant… why is it glowing?" Lyn asked, pointing for a moment at the princess's neck. The lance, still covered by the ruby cloth, glowed brightly enough beneath its covering to show a silver silhouette of its form. From the outside, it looked to be a piece of ornate silver jewelry, but the princess herself knew much more than that. How she wished it were only a piece of metal, which could be taken off at will…

"Sister, since when have you taken to jewelry…?" Ephraim inquired, turning for a moment to look and do a double take at his sister's neck. Shaking his head, he continued, "And I've certainly never seen you wear such a piece before. May I see it?"

"What? I wear no jewelry besides the bracelet that father gave us…" She had tried so hard to mask her pain that she hadn't noticed the rather robust glow that the scar was now giving off. Looking down before gasping lightly, she put her hand to her neck. Pretending as if it were a piece of ornamental metal, she grasped at the material and simply smiled for a moment.

"Ah… it's nothing. Brother, Lady Lyndis, I assure you, there is nothing to be concerned about." Smiling to the best of her ability, she could sense the very distrust rising from the other lady. Only now had Eliwood and Hector truly noticed the small predicament, as the sun had been setting behind the tent's western face. The brightly glowing, burning scar seemed to stand out like a torch on a starless night, leaving her to get up, quickly excuse herself, and begin to leave. When her brother, concerned, grasped her hand, she began to cry out in what could only be described as a scream from the soul.

Her hand felt like it was going to erupt in boils, and if seemed as if the very fires of the underworld itself had come to consume her. Coursing through her veins quickly like a deadly poison, her very body began to betray her façade of indifference as she collapsed to the earth, unable to even muster the strength to hold herself upright. Her body quaked with the pain as she screamed, tears falling from her eyes as the curse seemed to glow with deadly vengeance. Unable to figure out the connection between his touch and her pain, Ephraim panicked, grabbing her shoulder to shake her.

"Eirika! Eirika, what's wrong? Answer me!" Losing his composure, he could barely stand to loosen his grip on her when he realized that his strong grip alone would hurt her, but still did not associate his contact with her skin to her afflicting pain. How was he to know, after all? She had told him nothing, spoken nothing of the incident, and Innes had only once spoken to him of Valter. It was too little information for him to piece together the reason as to why she could not bear to touch him, for in his mind, they were not at all related to each other. Nor did he know what this scar was, or why it glowed so brightly against her skin. He could not help but worry… his heart tugged at seeing her in pain, and would not allow him to let go when she might have needed him the most.

Having watched this entire time, it was Eliwood who made the association between the two, since her pain only began when he touched her hand, and worsened tenfold when the prince had grabbed her with both hands. Even at that, it was a half-baked idea, but would serve its purpose nonetheless. If it was a fruitless plan, then he would call in a healer all the faster. Lyndis had already disappeared, off to find a healer for the princess's ailment, and Hector had not made the same conclusion, leaving him to take the initiative.

"Ephraim! Release her! It is you who is causing her pain!" It took the force of both of the Elibean lords to dislodge Ephraim's hands from his sister's shoulder, but immediately after the contact ceased, she calmed. Her body stopped its painful convulsions, and the only residue of her pain was her harsh, labored breathing and the tears that still ran down her eyes. As the former Caelin marquess returned, she noted that the glow had subsided from the place where the pendant she thought she saw did not truly exist. Priscilla, carrying her to a small mat with the help of Ellen, immediately rushed her to the healer's tent. Unconscious by now from her pain but with her breathing still ragged, both of the healers allowed Duessel and Cormag to enter the tent to see the princess. Though normally not the most compassionate of members, each were dedicated to seeing the princess through this ordeal… Duessel looked over her mainly for the sake of Ephraim's nerves and sanity, while Cormag did so in his brother's stead.

Looking down upon her and seeing the glowing scar, both men's eyes immediately widened in recognition; for the Obsidian had held a weapon of the exact same design, and Cormag had wielded the cursed weapon a few times himself. Having conquered the beast within the weapon, neither man could fully understand why the cursed lance of the Obsidian's family now bore its mark upon the princess's neck. They know who did it, but did not know why he would choose to brand her with this sigil, above his own wyvern crest. Why had the beast marred her with the fangs of the lance that had cursed all but one who wielded it, rather than placing the mark of his own pride upon her breast, thus claiming her as his own?

Letting his concerned gaze fade, Duessel left the room to think of the events that had come to pass… and the man who had caused them in the first place.