Epilogue
As Grima and Morgan entered the gate, the body of the fell dragon flying above began to disintegrate without its Heart. The remaining straggling Ylisseans and the Grimleal alike panicked as the body of a god crumpled down onto the city, its dissolving flesh showering the streets.
"This is really is the end of the world, huh?" With a hum of blue light, Anna stepped out of her own rift door and materialized into the dust and ashes of Ylisstol. "Well, even the apocalypse can be marketed. And let me tell you, the price I got for this wasn't half bad. Right, up we go."
She bent down and picked up Marc's limp body out of the rubble. Above them, Grima's head, its eyes dull and its jaws open to the ground, began to fall.
"Ha, looks like this one is still trying to get one last nibble in. But one of my rules is no free samples!" Anna chuckled to herself as she took off, weaving through the decimated streets, dodging rubble, and throwing herself to the ground when Grima's skull, crashed down behind them. Marc's body flopped a couple feet further.
"Right, right, I should probably make sure you're not already dead. I don't get much profit if I've been hauling a stiff around-" Anna muttered to herself as she turned the body around to check the wounds. "Ooh, lucky you, your wound was cauterized and sealed already. Let's try to get you conscious then..." She raised the stave and a green light enveloped Marc's body. The cuts across her face and torso began to close, but she did not stir.
"Oh dear. Hmmm..." Anna pondered as she tapped her finger on her chin. "Are you really dead? Let me try again-"
A roar startled Anna and she looked up to see remaining patches of Risen emerging where the fell dragon's body had not crushed them. They spotted her easily, a bright cheerful red amid the dust, and charged.
"This is becoming messy real fast." Anna said as she unsheathed her sword. Fighting or running while carrying Marc would be impossible, and so Anna stood in front of the body, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
Before the onslaught reached her, however, another Risen emerged from the shadows behind Anna. Cursing, she turned to take care of of this one, but, with a low bellow, the warrior rushed past her at the undead soldiers. The ripped ends of his blue and white jacket fluttered wildly as he fought with deadly grace, not letting a single one slip by him. His sword was a blur amid the scattering purple dust.
Anna did not waste her chance, scooping up Marc and high tailing out of there. It mattered little to her who this odd Risen was, but she noted his stature and fighting style and promised him a discount if he ever stumbled across her store again.
The Deadlord watched them disappear out of the corner of his glowing red eye before turning to his enemies. "I am nothing but the shell of whoever once inhabited this body. But who am I to disobey, when he summoned me to protect what this wretched fallen warrior couldn't before? Come! Before we crumble to dust once more, I'll end you!" The Risen shrieked and he charged.
"Let's see, a safe house, a safe house...geez, this girl is heavy!" Anna murmured under her breath. The hooded tactician robe Marc wore kept falling forward over Marc's face and hitting Anna in the cheek.
"Is that...Milord, this way!" A voice called around the corner and Anna turned to find herself among a crowd of wide-eyed, purple robed cultists. Everywhere she turned, tacky golden and purple eyes of Grima adorned their clothing. Grimleal.
"...I am not getting paid enough for this."
Marc was dreaming of a field with grass wet with dew and skies unclouded by smog. White birds circled above and the wind smelled sweet as it ran through her hair, unfurling her braid. She breathed and her hands, empty of sword, relaxed out in front of her.
The wind rushed past, stronger, and a black shadow whipped past Marc's cheek, startling her. As her eyes followed the blackbird, she saw her mother standing in Grimleal robes, hand outstretched, in the field. The bird settled in her hand and Haura looked up to see Marc.
The air stilled as Marc held her breath. Then Haura gave her a hesitant smile filled with warmth before lifting her hand to let the bird fly free. With a mighty gust, Haura's hair came undone out of its ponytail, fluttering and unwinding in a brilliant flare of copper red. The bird soared up high and she tilted her head back to follow its path, laughing without a care and for no one to hear.
"She was beautiful then." Morgan's soft voice with the familiar cheer drew Marc's attention behind her.
"Mmm." Marc hummed in agreement as her twin stepped out in front of her. Their mother was beautiful in the way that blossoms fluttered into running water, ephemeral, vivid, and easily hidden behind dark waters and heavy rains. It could not last and its thrall lasted trifling moments. Morgan kept walking forward and Marc reached out to him. "But you cannot go to her. This will not last." Marc said to his back and the peace that had filled her faded with old anxiety. Cold dew had seeped into her boots and she could feel the shadow of a cloud pass over them.
Morgan looked back and the melancholy in his expression did not diminish his determination. "I'm sorry I stole this away from you. We may be of the same whole, but this was always supposed to be yours. I was selfish and could not bear to see you die." Then he broke out into a run for Haura, his Grimleal robes melting away and Marc saw her own myrmidon coat settle on his shoulders with its hem flaring out in a stunning faded blue.
Hot, dusty air hit Marc's face all at once and she had to turn away to shield her eyes. When she managed to open them again, a hooded figure stood in front of Morgan and Haura. Marc watched, knowing this was a dream and that she had no power but still with a sense of despair drumming in her heart. There was Morgan pleading, arms outstretched in front of Haura. Haura, whose face had turned stoic and unreadable, unsheathed her sword behind Morgan's back. Grima was snarling and bristling with fury and Marc watched as she lunged at Morgan and Morgan screamed for Haura to run but Haura ran forward to defend the son she did not know she had-
Marc felt Morgan's Grimleal robes settle over her shoulders, the hood falling over her eyes. With a snarl, she ripped the hood off and ran down the hill. But they had all vanished and the field had resumed its natural quiet aside from the chirp of crickets and the sound of air through grass.
"Mother!" she screamed out to the sky, turning in frantic circles, her voice becoming increasingly high pitched and choked up, "Morgan-! Papa!"
No apparition or vision appeared. Marc stilled. One by one they had all left her behind. Before she could stop herself, a sob came out of her throat. She had promised herself to be strong, to be as stalwart as her father, but no matter how hard she tried, the fat tears that ran down her cheeks would not stop. Nothingness would be preferable to the crippling loneliness of no father, no friends, no Morgan.
"I'm- so sorry... I promised I'd stay strong-" she gasped to the emptiness as she rubbed her eyes on the sleeves of Morgan's robe. "I just...don't want to be left behind. I wanted- to save him and protect everyone. And instead-"
Several moments of prolonged misery passed before Marc managed to stop her shoulders from shaking and her nose from dripping. Looking up, Marc saw the field did not change to show her any new images. The grass still swayed lightly in the wind and the birds still circled above.
She hiccuped slightly and started to walk forward.
"What did I expect? For Papa to come back and promise to protect me forever more, even beyond the grave?" she said even as her brazen laugh turned into a whimper. "For Mother to dry my tears and for Morgan to turn on Grima for anything less than Mother? This is my lot now and I'll have to do the best I can to make them proud. Even if I don't know if there's anything I can do anymore..."
"Well, I have a couple ideas that would relieve those cultists of quite a bit of coin."
Marc woke up with a start, sitting up and shuddering. She was still wearing Morgan's robes and her own pants but her torso had been completely bandaged up. Her hand went to her side where Morgan had shot her. "Self-sacrificing little-" she muttered.
"Oh, so you weren't just sleep-talking."
"Anna?" Marc exclaimed as she turned to her side and saw the merchant counting a pile of baubles and trinkets on the floor. "I thought you weren't coming back after that last supply run!"
"Hmm? Oh, you probably met my sister. I'm a different Anna, out on a commission from Haura, strong family resemblance, yadda, yadda. Look at all this stuff! Those cultists may be crazy to give all this up as offerings but they sure know where to get merchandise. You don't need this, do you?" Anna said flippantly as she examined a particularly large ruby covered in gold filigree.
"We're with the Grimleal? And you know my mother?" Marc's head buzzed with a million questions. Anna, not taking her eyes off the haul, pulled out a katana in a crimson lacquered sheath and tossed it to Marc.
Marc turned it over in her hands and her eyes went wide as she pulled it out of its sheathe. This was her blade, no doubt about it, the one she had broken on Grima's neck. "It's… my mother's wedding present to my father. There's even the inscription-"
"Wake, butterfly-
it's late, we've miles
to go together."
"...This was my inheritance, but it never looked so new…"
"It's new because your mother just gave it to your father. I won't bore you with the details about parallel spatial travel and alternate timestreams, but thanks to the Outrealm Gate and Anna-patented Rift Door technology, I was able to slip into your timeline. Haura gave me this to give to you."
Morgan could not take her eyes off the blade. She had never seen it so new all her life and yet it was as familiar to her hand as a long lost friend. "...she knows about me? And wait, if she gives this to me now, I will never received it from Papa in her future." Marc said and then it clicked. "Is this...her promise to me?"
"No idea! I don't have the faintest clue what goes on in her head, but she paid me most of her personal savings to make this trip, so how could I refuse?" Anna said.
"And Morgan! Lucina, Noire, Owain, everyone- did they make it there? Can I go too? Take me through this drift door-" Marc said, jumping to her feet.
"Sit down, I don't think you should be moving yet. And it's RIFT door. And no. It's really complicated, but only we can really warp through intergame space without a gate powered like Naga's due to our contractual sister and blood convent-"
"Drain my body of my blood! Fill it with yours! I'll become your blood sister." Marc said altogether too readily and Anna looked up askance.
"First off, that would kill me. If I die, I won't ever get to collect my payment. Secondly, I'm starting to see the family resemblance. Your brother is just as unbalanced as you. And yes, they made it. From what I've heard, they've been doing a rather good job of keeping our world from becoming like yours. After all, the timelines are diverging so much, even I don't dare stay much longer, else I get stuck." Anna shuddered.
"You're leaving?" Marc said. Even if Anna hadn't been the warmest face to wake up to, she was familiar. Inwardly she cursed Morgan for leaving her here. They might both be alive and no longer Grima's thumb, but Marc was starting to wonder if the separation was even worth it.
"Yup. Just got to finish taking inventory and then, bye bye. Don't worry, the Grimleal think you're their lord and savior or something after they saw Grima die. They seem pretty harmless once their god is gone. You have a legion of eager followers. Even one of the Risen was risking his neck to save you."
Marc tried not to let her distress of being left with a bunch of Grimleal show. They probably thought she was Morgan, wearing his robe and all. "Grima died? And what of the Ylisseans?"
"I'm sure some of them are poking around here and there. And yup, the big worm just fell right out the sky. The Risen have been dissolving, so they said, so I don't think anything else screams 'giant evil death dragon is gone'." Anna said.
Marc began to mutter under her breath as she paced the room. "I'll need to find the Ylisseans and convince the Grimleal to meet with them in peace. This is now a world that has neither Naga or Grima. It's just us humans now and we're going to have to get along to survive. I wonder if there are any farms left outside of Ylisstol- maybe we should journey to the west to Valm. They might still have some remnants of civilization left. And getting everyone away from Ylisse and Plegia should help create cohesion between them…I'm not a born leader, but at the very least the Ylisseans know me and the Grimleal have their fanatical obsession."
She slid Haura's gift into the loops of her belt. "How do I look? Ready to rebuild humanity?" she said to Anna with a wry grin.
"You're Haura and Lon'qu's daughter alright. The resemblance isn't as strong as me and my sisters, but the way you talk and the way you hold steadfast- it's uncanny." Anna said with a grin. "Here, let me help you. For all this gold, here are some of the supplies, dried food, oil, water purification potions, elixirs, a new jerkin- no ruler should need to address her subjects wrapped up in only bandages." Marc looked on in amazement as Anna unloaded fresh supplies, many that Marc had only seen in scare quantity these past years, seemingly out of nowhere. She kneeled to pick a lollypop out of the stash, turning the strange novel item in her hand.
"...Wow, thank you, Anna." Marc exclaimed, feeling her words were too inadequate for much else. Even in the closed room, the air started smelling a little sweeter. Her stubborn sense of hope began to swell in her chest, no matter how hard Marc tried to temper it with caution. Perhaps she would even get to find such a fresh field on her travels as she did in her dreams.
Anna wrapped up all the gold and jewels in a large sack and stood up to look Marc in the eye. "So, what should I tell your Mother and Father? This was their way to try and help you out, but you'll be on your own after this. I'm sure they'd like to hear something reassuring from their twin daughter."
Gripping her sword for comfort (how long had it been since Haura's steady hands tapped out that inscription? Could she still imagine her mother's warm hands over hers?), Marc thought, her brow furrowing. Then, she realized she had been carrying the words she needed to say since she had been a small child.
"Please, tell them this. It may be wretched and hopeless, but I'm going to try. I'm...pretty sure that's what Mother and Father would want me to do. And tell them, to have a good life. To love Morgan a lot. And that I'll always be thinking of them. And that I love them." Marc bowed, as deep as she could with her wound, and when she looked up through the fringe of her hair, Anna's smile was soft.
"...Words like that don't have a price, do they? Sure thing, kiddo."
The End
A/N:
The haiku is by Matsuo Bashō, one of the most famous Edo poets ever. I wanted to use the original Japanese verse, but as I both cannot read Japanese and Google was woefully unhelpful, I can only offer the English translation.
As for this epilogue, I just couldn't help myself- so I did a last push and gave closure to everything. I aimed for bittersweet, with the knowledge that Morgan could never bring himself to betray either his sister or mother except at the last possible moment, the knowledge that Marc wanted to free him from Grima more than anything, and that they would never be able to meet again. It seemed the most appropriate of endings. Especially for Fire Emblem.
Anna is ridiculously enjoyable to write; her dialogue just fell off my fingers naturally. After all, who else could possibly work miracles for money?
With this, Those of Grima really is finished. A small epic of broken families and people who never gave up hope. Thank you for your support, silent and spoken. ^^