Interlude – Altea

Kris POV

Altea is free! Altea is free! It's amazing how awesome that feels., particularly since I'd never considered myself all that patriotic before all of this happened. But it's amazing. Altea was truly free, with all the enemy killed or chased out. We didn't have long to celebrate, though. We'd move on soon, to the Fane of Raman, where the Lightsphere and Starsphere rest. Not sure why we need them for a tome, but whatever.

For the moment, we enjoy our rest. Altea is free, after all.

I adjusted my gloves, grimacing a little as they caught on the bandages. I'd gotten my stitches out finally, but it still bled, so bandages to make sure I didn't bleed out. But I also wanted to hide, so gloves to make sure no one asked me about the injuries. Caeda made me new ones anyway, a soft white and gold pair, with special insulation to make it easier to cast thunder spells and to hold my blade. I couldn't help but wear it, and the other new clothes. Practically everyone had a new wardrobe made specifically for them and, for once, Diana hadn't even been the one to insist. Jagan had.

Laughter caught my ear, and I smiled, tugging my hood further over my head to make sure the citizens didn't see me. I didn't want fuss. I just wanted to wander through the festival. After all, ever since Altea was officially declared 'liberated', there had been a party every day in the castle town. Every. Day. All of us wanted to participate, but none of us wanted fuss, so each of us snuck in on our own time, wearing mostly casual clothes. Today was my turn. A few others did too, but I had really wanted to wander alone, so I didn't pay much attention.

Cheers startled me, and I frowned when I saw Marth on the balcony, waving to everyone. He shouldn't have been there; he was in a meeting with Nyna and Hardin. But then I facepalmed when I noticed the smile was off. That wasn't Marth at all. That was Xane, pretending to be Marth. Again.

"I swear we need to assign a keeper to him," I muttered, deciding to just ignore it. So long as he didn't flirt with Caeda again, we were good. Normally, I'd have laughed, but Caeda's feelings had been horribly hurt by the little prank, so instead, I'd threatened to electrocute him. No one messed with Caeda, and no one hurt my silly prince's chances with her. Period. "Maybe I need to threaten him again." I did have to admit that Xane's frantic apologizing had been funny, though. "I don't see why he thought we'd just shrug that sort of prank off. Then again, I don't think he understands why we'd be protective of each other in the first place."

"Dear, are you here alone?" A random lady stopped me and smiled brightly when I blinked at her. "Here, have some spiced wine!" she insisted, pushing a mug into my hands. I took it automatically. "Today is a day to celebrate!"

"Thank you?" I still stared, startled, but she disappeared down the road, passing mugs to other people. "…You know, I don't think I've ever had wine before, or a good one at least." I sipped it and almost immediately gagged. "Oh, holy hell, people like this stuff? They drink it recreationally?" They must've lost all sense of taste.

So, I continued down the main street, sipping the spiced wine with morbid curiosity. Did it taste better with repeated sips? Would it just burn all the sense of taste from my mouth? I had no idea, but it certainly didn't taste better. I eventually gave up and poured it out on the ground. I felt bad about wasting it, but I just did not like it. I also didn't like the floaty feeling it was giving me. Floaty was a bad feeling. It kept you from concentrating, and I knew from experience that these sorts of conditions were absolutely perfect for pickpockets. I used to play the game, after all.

In fact, I saw someone trying to pickpocket a young girl watching a glassblower work with awe. Once, I would've just ignored it. Now, though, I intervened, snagging their arm and jerking it up to make them drop the coinpurse. "Seriously, if you're going to pickpocket, have some decency and go after a rich person," I scolded, pushing them back. The girl behind me squeaked and gathered up her coins, while the pickpocket glared at me. "She's a little girl with her allowance. You're an asshole stealing from her. On with you." I glared when they began to snap back. "On with you, or I'm dragging you to one of the knights and, believe me, you'll wish I hadn't." The pickpocket glared a while longer before spitting at my feet and fleeing. "Figured."

"Thank you, miss!" the little girl chirped. She smiled brightly at me, beaming. "Mama gave me extra to buy something for our guest, but I wanted to surprise her with the change!"

"I see." I smiled back and, hesitantly, ruffled her hair. She giggled and grinned. "Okay, why don't I escort you home to make sure no others take advantage of you?"

"Really?! Yay!" She took my hand and tugged me into the crowd. "This way, this way!" The little girl dragged me along with a surprising amount of strength that I could only assume was born from sheer enthusiasm, and before long, we were in front of a rather modest house that had seen better days. It likely had seen worst, though, considering the makeshift patches I saw. "Mama! I'm back! This nice lady helped me!"

"Did she now?" The door opened to the smell of apples and cinnamon pie baking, revealing a woman who looked like an older version of the little girl, with some grey hairs in her hair. Though, that grey hair might've just been flour, since she had patches on her apron. "Hello," she greeted, smiling warmly. "Won't you come in? I'm afraid the pie will take a while, but I do have some tea."

"Um… sure," I replied, mostly because I couldn't think of a polite way to refuse. The little girl skipped inside, and disappeared into the back, where I assumed the bedrooms were. The house was big enough for three, perhaps. "She nearly got pickpocketed."

"I worried sending her alone, but she was very insistent on buying our guest a present." The woman laughed and ushered me to the table. "I'll get the kettle on. Are you a native to Altea, or did you come with the army?"

"Both, actually. I grew up in the city, but I fought for its freedom."

"Thank you for that." She set the kettle on the fire and her smile, somehow, warmed even more. Clearly, the girl got her enthusiasm and cheer honest. "Truly. It's a relief to know the worst thing that'll happen to my little girl is that she gets pickpocketed."

"Yeah, I'm sure." I glanced around the house, noticing it really was a simple thing, with flowers and pictures to personalize it. It reminded me of the house I lived in with Grandfather, and before that, whatever house I'd lived in with my mom. "Sadly, there's more battles to be fought."

"I'm sure King Marth will triumph, though. He doesn't fight alone, but with the strength of hundreds and the hopes of thousands."

"That sounds like a line from a song."

"It should. It's one of the new songs being bandied about, according to my husband." She laughed, and began getting mugs out. "Do you have a preference for tea?"

"Ah, no, anything will do." I made a face. "I had some wine earlier and I do not get how people can drink it."

"You probably had a red wine. If you want to try wine, you might try a white." She grinned and set about setting up the tea. "Sorry, my husband sells wine among his wares. He's a merchant."

"White wine. I'll remember that, if I get an urge to drink. Can't say I liked the floaty feeling." The kettle began whistling, and so, she poured the water and set down one of the mugs in front of me. "This is something I always drink after I try a red wine. I can't say I enjoy the taste either. Too dry and bitter."

"Thank you!" I took the mug and blew on the tea to try and get it to cool faster. It smelled amazing, though I had no idea what the scents were. "Oh, right, your daughter mentioned a guest?"

"She'll probably try to drag him out." The woman giggled. Awkwardly, I realized I really should've asked for names, but I didn't want to give mine, and it seemed a little late to ask. "My husband found him injured near one of the forts, back when Altea fell. His wounds were horrendous, and he's an amnesiac on top of it."

"Blow to the head?"

"Among other things. It's a miracle he's alive." She smiled softly, yet sadly. "I think he's a knight, though. I can't think of a reason why he'd be near the eastern fort."

"The eastern fort?" I frowned, trying to think of why that would make my heart suddenly ache. Then I realized something. The fort we'd hidden in that day was to the east. The fort where we had… "Can I see him?"

"Hmm? Ah, well, I don't see why not?" Her smile faded for confusion, but she led me to the back rooms anyway. "He's in our guest room, right here."

My heart thudded hard in my chest as I followed her, barely following the conversation. She pushed open a door, and inside, her daughter was chatting happily with someone. But my attention was fully on that someone, and everything fell away. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. All I could do was focus on familiar blue hair, on a familiar face. It couldn't be him. I saw him… well, I hadn't seen him die-die, but I'd seen him walk to his death. He'd walked right for Gra's main force and the Sable Order. He couldn't be here. All logic dictated that he couldn't.

Yet, I was looking right at Frey, and as soon as my mind put all those pieces together, I collapsed and burst into tears.

There was shouting and some bits of frantic consoling. I tried to explain through my tears, but it was all mangled and I could only say small phrases. Gra. Sable. Knight. Decoy. Saved us. I couldn't string them together into any form of coherency. I couldn't stop crying enough to explain.

A gentle hand wiped away the tears, and a few blinks revealed Frey kneeling in front of me. "I am… guessing you knew me from before my injuries?" he asked softly. His voice was the same. The concern in his eyes was the same. "You do seem familiar, but I cannot place a name."

"I… I never gave it. We just met because of… well, whatever," I finally managed. I gave him the brightest smile I could through the tears. "Do you know your name?"

"No, I don't."

"It's Frey. Your name is Frey. I'm only alive because of you. Marth is only alive because of you." The tears kept on coming, unending, but I didn't care. "I'm so, so happy to see you alive!"

He didn't die. He actually didn't die. He managed to survive. I couldn't believe it. I just couldn't believe it.

After finally having that tea, and calming down, I returned to the castle and told Marth. As soon as I could find him and drag him from his duties, I blurted it out, though I warned that Frey had no memories and was recovering from injuries. Cain and Abel, however, leapt at the chance to visit and disappeared as soon as Jagan mentioned it should be okay. Marth wanted to go as well but, silly prince, decided to hold back to not overwhelm him. He cried too, though. Gods, we both cried. I couldn't believe the amount of tears. Between the two of us, we probably could've overfilled a bathtub.

"You know, in retrospect, why am I the one going through his father's things?" I half-complained later. When all the tears finally dried up, Marth had to continue making arrangements over who'd tend to the castle and country while we continued fighting Medeus. I, somehow, ended up in a dusty room that might've been Marth's parent's room, shifting through the things left behind. "Oh, right, I needed something to do, and for some reason, this got suggested."

Sighing, I fixed my ponytail and went back to work, hunting through all the baubles. Basically, my job was to see what could be saved and what honestly needed to be thrown away because of mold and the like. Sadly, a lot of the things in the room fell into the latter category. Dust, mold, general disuse… it had stolen everything. Gods, the blankets I more or less had to burn on sight. It was a relief that I was almost done. Someone else could tell Marth how most of his parents' things would have to be burned for health reasons. It likely would be one of the healers, who'd confirm that keeping them would be bad.

Thinking of just how much would burn, I crouched down and pulled a box out from under the bed. It had actually been in a hidden compartment underneath the floorboards, but I'd found it easily. It might've been two years since I'd done a proper theft, but I still had my old talents. It turned out to be a good thing as it was also locked, so I had to pick it. It took a couple of tries, but I cracked the lock and popped open the box. Portraits greeted me. It looked to be hundreds, and thanks to the box, they were perfectly pristine, if smelling like old paper.

I thumbed through the portraits curiously, noticing some were amateurish sketches while others were perfect paintings. They were done in all sorts of things, from pencil to watercolors. There was an emphasis on Queen Liza, Marth, and Elice, so I guessed this was King Cornelius's box. I smiled when I found one of Grandfather, probably done shortly after he retired. Another one had him much younger, laughing with Jagan, based on the purple, spiky armor.

One, however, caught my eye. It was of a woman with blue hair and blue eyes, but it wasn't Elice. I wasn't sure why it held my attention at first, but as I studied it, shock became creeping in. I knew the blue hair, though it was shorter in my memory. I knew the blue eyes, though they were wiser in my memory. I knew the smile, and it was the exact same as my memory. I hadn't seen any of them in years, but I knew them. I knew these features. I knew this woman. This… this was my…

"And you found it." Jagan appeared in the doorway, looking both amused and exasperated. "Of course you did," he sighed, shaking his head. "Why wouldn't you?"

"Hi, Jagan, nice to see you too," I retorted instantly, defaulting to sarcasm. I studied the portrait for a while longer before I looked up at him. "Why… why would King Cornelius have a picture of my mom?"

"Because she was his half-sister." He said the words calmly, soothingly even, but they still felt like bricks to the head. "His father, your grandfather, had an affair and hid it. A daughter was born from the union, and he had her raised as a stable girl, far away from prying eyes. But Cornelius noticed the similarities between her and him and pieced together the truth. When he did, though, his father ordered her to be 'dealt with'. Cornelius fought for her, but in the end, she had to flee for her life. When he became king, Cornelius wanted to try and find her again. But he only entrusted his most trusted knights to it. He only trusted Maclir and me with it."

That made no sense to me. My mom was a royal bastard? What were the chances of that/ "What… what was her name?"

"Alice. Cornelius named his daughter for her." He sat down beside me and tugged me into a one-armed hug. "Maclir kept looking, even after he had to leave due to his injury. One day, surprisingly, he found a lead and chased after it. Sadly, though, he only got there in time to save you. Your house went up in flames, so I don't know anything about your father. Maclir tried to find out, but he came up blank. There was another body in the ruins, though. I guess he died trying to help you and your mother escape."

"I… I see." My hands shook. I dropped the portrait back into the box and shut it to try and hide it. Fear began clawing at me. "Why did she die? Who attacked us?"

"Near as he could find, it was just some small time criminals, and a robbery gone horribly wrong."

"And is my… my relations why Grandfather…"

"It's why he was there, but he took you in because he argued for it. You were traumatized. Throwing you into the palace after that just seemed cruel." Jagan's words were soft and soothing, and relief flooded me. Grandfather loved me and chose to take care of me. That part wasn't a lie. None of it was a lie. I just… didn't know everything. He'd tried to tell me, but I refused to listen. "He half-joked he'd never tell you so that he could keep you. He let Cornelius know how you were doing, though. Cornelius sent extra funds to help Maclir make sure you two had enough."

"I suppose I messed up things by running away after the funeral?"

"A bit, since there had been a tentative plan to bring you into the castle. Cornelius had an open order for me to keep an eye out for you." He laughed softly. "And then I did find you, after you saved Prince Marth's life, and after King Cornelius had passed."

"Whoops?" I tried to laugh, but it was too hollow. All of this just… "What am I supposed to…?" How was I supposed to react? What was I supposed to do? I was a former thief, not some… some princess. "I…"

"Your choice. I haven't said a word. I was debating telling you, truthfully, since you were content. But, well, you're old enough to know." Jagan tightened his hug slightly. "You decide who knows. I won't tell anyone."

"K…" I leaned against him and just closed my eyes. "Today's a long day."

"I'm sure. Why don't you rest a bit?"

"K…"

I ended up just outright passing out, and woke up in my room, tucked in, with a pile of things on the table. A note from Jagan told me they were some of Grandfather's things, thankfully untouched by the mold, as well as a few of King Cornelius's things that related to my mother. He emphasized it was all my choice. That was kind of him, and I appreciated it.

The problem was… was that my head was spinning far too much to even begin to figure out what I wanted.

Author's note: So, you discover in FE12 that Frey actually survives being the decoy, but he was heavily wounded, nearly died, gained some horrible scars, and had amnesia for quite some time. He eventually recovers and returns to service, but right now, he's still recovering, hence why he doesn't quite recognize Kris. Many have guessed that Kris is actually related to Marth, so yes, she's his cousin. I thought it might be fun and play into why Kris insists on staying in the shadows.

Next Chapter – The Sable Order