Chapter 25: Duty

Southtown, The Halidom of Ylisse, Archanea

Arch. Year 2612

Warm magic weaved over Kris's body, stitching closed any cuts and split skin with threads of soft, white light. Bruises that had once discolored his arm quickly faded under the magic's touch, and with it, any lingering pricks of pain.

"And that…should…do it!" the cleric said, smiling as the tendrils of light slithered back up her golden healing staff and returned to the gleaming gem nestled at the top. Satisfied, the cleric patted the arm of Kris's chair and smoothed out her apron and soft yellow skirts. "All healed and ready to go."

"Thank you, Aunt Lissa," Lucina said before Kris could express his own gratitude, "for helping him and Severa, and so quickly, too. We're lucky you and your trainees were here in Southtown to tend to their wounds."

Lissa waved her hand. "Oh, it's got nothing to do with luck. I'm here because of your father."

"…Father sent you?"

"Mhm. Ever since you two set off on your own to look for Robin, Chrom's been a big old worrywart. One too many trips traveling with Frederick the Wary, I'd say."

Lissa laughed and shook her head, walking over to a shelf fastened to the wall on the other side of the makeshift infirmary. She shoved aside a scattered arrangement of scalpels, bandages, and vulneraries to make room for a water pitcher and five short drinking glasses.

"He's been chomping at the bit for you and Morgan to return home," Lissa continued, pouring the pitcher's contents into the cups, "but he has an important meeting with the Voice today, so I offered to be here for you guys in case you needed some help. Or Robin, if you happened to find her…"

The pitcher hung heavy in her hands, only a few drops of water plopping into the last cup as she huffed out a long sigh. "But if what you said is true, Severa…it sounds like she probably won't be coming back anytime soon…"

"I'm afraid not," Selena sighed. No, it's Severa, Kris had to remind himself, she goes by Severa here.

Kris and Severa had explained everything they could about the situation to the three of them while Lissa had been healing them: the threat of the invisible soldiers, the portals of mist connecting different worlds together, the dragon stuck in the throes of madness, the draconic brethren his army had slaughtered and the captives he had trapped in a "far off place." All without divulging any details that might have triggered the curse Azura had warned them about. A feat in and of itself.

It all sounded a bit ridiculous to Kris when they spoke about it aloud—he doubted he would have believed it if he hadn't lived through it all himself—but his new companions seemed to simply take them at their word. Fighting the undead, wrangling an angry god-dragon, grappling with the concept of time travel and the existence of parallel worlds…it was nothing new to them, apparently.

"And Inigo and…Owain…?" Lissa swirled around one of the glasses, frowning as some of the water splashed over the rim. "Are they at least safe?"

Severa's thumb fiddled with a buttoned pocket on her gambeson. "We…we don't know. Owain could be anywhere. Maybe he's here but just fell into another country like Plegia or Valm, or…he might be in another world entirely." Her fingers scooped out a small, clear crystal. She held it tight in her hand, teeth scraping against her bottom lip as she stared it down, then sighed again.

"I wish I could tell you more, Lissa, but…I'm sorry. Just know that if he is somewhere unsafe, he should have the means to come home if it becomes too dangerous for him."

The glass in Lissa's hands began to tremble slightly, spilling a few more drops of water.

"Inigo, at least, should still be with our friends in Nohr," Selena continued, jaw tight as she struggled to keep her voice from wavering. She tucked the crystal back into her pocket. "Hopefully right now he's helping the other people we've been traveling with—if they made it back successfully, that is. He stayed behind to watch over Soleil and Ophelia while the rest of us were gone."

"Soleil and Ophelia?" Morgan asked, stepping over to the shelf to help Lissa with the remaining glasses (and her own, before more water could be spilled). "More new friends from your super secret, super special mission?"

"…Not friends…" Severa combed calloused fingers through a matted strand of hair. "Children. Their daughters."

Morgan glanced back to her from over his shoulder, his hand hovering over a cup. "Whose daughters?"

"…Inigo and Owain's."

Lissa and Morgan blinked at her, long and slow. They turned to face each other, blinked again, then together—

"Wait, what?!"

Glass shattered against the hardwood. Lissa's hands shot up to grip the roots of her blonde hair, her mouth hanging open so wide it threatened to join the fallen water cup on the floor.

"Owain has a—my son, my missingson has a—" Her fingers yanked at the base of her short pigtails. "I'm a grandmother?!"

Severa rubbed the back of her neck, the movement stiff and awkward. "Um…congratulations?"

"I'm not ready to be a grandma! I can barely wrangle my little Owain, and now—all grown up, lost somewhere in the universe with a daughter of his own—" Lissa's hands dropped from her hair to her face, dragging down the skin around her eyes. "I'm not even close to 30 yet!"

"D-don't panic, Aunt Lissa!" Morgan said after recovering from his own shock. "Technically, since our Owain isn't exactly the same as your Owain, you're not really a grandma by the rules of time travel. I think?" He turned to the rest of them with eyes practically screaming for backup. "Right, guys?"

"…Right…" Kris rubbed his temple, feeling as though his head might explode trying to keep up with their conversation. This time travel business was getting way too complicated; he was a soldier, not a scholar. "You look great for your age, milady."

"That makes me sound even older!" Lissa whined behind her hands. "And that's not the problem!"

Morgan shook his head. "No way! You're still in your prime, Aunt Lissa! Don't worry about that, and don't worry about Owain's safety. He's tough, just like my mother, so I'm sure they'll both find their way home soon. Just like Severa said!"

"Right…" Kris said slowly. "Odin—I mean, Owain…Prince Owain?—probably just needs some time to recover from that explosion before he—"

"Explosion?!" Lissa's face lost all traces of color. "What explosion? He was caught in an explosion?!"

"Um—"

"Perhaps we should continue this conversation on the road?" Lucina, to Kris's great relief, cut in. "We're not going to help Owain or Inigo or anyone else talking back and forth like this. We need to get back to Ylisstol and tell Father about everything that's happened. Because if the enemy decided to follow you here…" Her eyes drifted to the window, scanning the horizon line and the market stalls lining the streets outside. "We need to make sure we're prepared to face them."

"…Of course…" Lissa said, hands folded over her apron, frowning down at the shards of glass littering the floor.

"Then let's get a move on." Severa downed one of the cups and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Are the stables open? Horseback should get us to Ylisstol in no time if we stick to the main road."

"No need," Lucina said. "We'll just use the same method of transportation that brought me and Morgan here in the first place. We've found it's the quickest way to travel."

Tension coiled around Severa's shoulders. "Don't you dare make me ride a pegasus into the capital, Lucina, not when my mom might be on duty. I'd rather walk the distance with nails and wood chips stuck in my boots."

"Don't worry," Morgan said, grinning, "we're not flying."

With a wink, he nudged the door open with his shoulder and nodded to a merchant cart sitting across the street. Each open shelf was stacked with a variety of concoctions and pristine weapons that gleamed under the warmth of the midday sun, wares that had attracted a sizable crowd around the red-haired vendor manning the storefront.

Wait a minute…

Kris squinted at the merchant's red hair, done up in an all-too-familiar ponytail, then at the heavy coin pouch hanging off her hip, then at the slender finger tapping against her cheek…

"Welcome!" the merchant's voice rang out over the din of the market like a bard's song. "Take your time, everyone! We carry all of the finest goods Archanea has to offer, and that includes the steel. You won't find items or bargains like these anywhere else!"

There's no way, Kris thought, mentally grimacing. It's been two thousand years, there's no way she could still be…

"Our frugal friend knows how to get around, and get around quickly." When Morgan smiled and waved to the merchant, she returned the gesture with considerably less enthusiasm and began to, very reluctantly, shoo away the crowd of customers gathered around her stall. "And lucky for us, Anna and her sisters still owe us a few favors from our days at war."

Kris ran a hand over his face and groaned.

You've got to be kidding me.

By the time Anna's cart rolled into the capital city, Kris was about ready to vomit. He had done the knightly thing and had offered to sit in the back so the royals of House Lowell would have more room to relax upfront during the trip…

Which had given him the absolute pleasure of experiencing Anna's reckless driving in the worst way possible. Legs dangling over the back edge, body lurching back and forth with every bump and dip in the road, arms holding the handrail for dear life as Anna raced her horses across the countryside. Not once did she slow down—not even for another caravan of merchants they had nearly collided with—because "time is money and I'm not wasting a single cent."

The Anna Trading Empire, it seemed, hadn't changed at all. Kris would have been impressed, if not for the sickness roiling in his stomach from all the jostling Anna's hustle had subjected him to.

Thankfully, though, Anna pulled back on the reins once they reached the city gates, slowing the horses into a steady trot. Hooves clattered and wheels creaked against the stone-pressed streets as they rode through the heart of Ylisstol, bringing them closer and closer to the palace standing proud in the distance.

"Anything look familiar?"

Morgan climbed over the cart and plopped down next to Kris in the back, all smiles. He let his legs hang over the side, mimicking Kris's positioning, and said, "I read in a book once that Ylisstol sits on the foundations of an ancient city built thousands of years ago, from so far in the past that it predates even the legend of Anri the Great. Do you recognize anything?"

Kris's eyes roamed along every inch of the city as he waited for his stomach to settle. Hundreds of people thronged the streets, laughing, drinking, and bartering their way through the capital, blocking most of the ground level from Kris's view…but the outline of the buildings towering overhead—a few marble temples here, some old shop fronts bearing weathered stone over there—filled him with a flutter of familiarity. He had been here before, and recently.

"I think this is—was—the city around the Millennium Court," Kris said. "The palace and the capital of the Holy Kingdom of Archanea. It was the center of power and commerce in my time, and it's where…"

The warm familiarity sunk into a pit of stone-cold dread.

"Where Prince Marth fought and defeated Emperor Hardin," he finished, soft and quiet around the tightness building in his throat. Where he was betrayed and killed.

"Whoa, the Hero-King versus the Dark Emperor? That's a classic!" One of Morgan's legs swung back and forth off the edge like the tail of an excited puppy. "I've read about it a bunch in my history textbooks, but to be there yourself and see the battle in person…that's so cool!"

Kris curled his fingers tighter around the handrail.

"Yeah."

Morgan leaned back on his hands and hummed. "You know, it's strange. I've pored over our historical records for hours on end—part of my tactician's training and all—but for all the time I've spent studying the Hero-King's army…listened to the ballads written in their glory…" The prince scooted a few inches closer. "I've never once heard of a captain or general named 'Kris' in their ranks."

"I wouldn't expect my name to appear in any major texts or legendary stories, Your Highness."

"Why not?"

"I'm no one special," Kris said. "Just an ordinary soldier serving his country. And ordinary soldiers don't get books written or songs sung about them."

Especially not ones who failed in their duty.

"You say that, but I'm not so sure." Morgan rapped his knuckles against his forehead, a hint of a wince wrinkling the skin around his eyes. "I've seen no mention of you, and yet you feel…familiar to me, somehow…but I can't place why." He huffed and dropped his hand. "Damned memory loss…"

"Memory loss?" Kris asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's not that big a deal." Morgan rubbed the back of his hand against his jacket, as if scratching an itch that wouldn't settle. Unlike the branded hand he had presented back in the Southtown fields, this one was mottled with dark, jagged scars. "I just don't remember much of…anything, really. Just my mother and a few scattered memories of my family, nothing about the 'dark future' Lucina and the others say we come from."

Kris frowned at the scarred hand. "Sounds like a pretty big deal, actually."

"It should clear up eventually…probably. I've been trying to fix it by reading everything I can get my hands on, all of our histories and stuff, in hopes that something might trigger my memory." Morgan gave a soft chuckle and traced the old wounds with his forefinger. "But in the meantime, I like to pretend I was just too good at kicking undead Risen butt in the future, so Naga had to level the playing field. She probably didn't want me hogging all the glory in this timeline."

A short smile found its way to Kris's face. "You're nothing if not optimistic, Prince Morgan."

"It's the best way to be!" Morgan laughed again, tapping the scarred hand just below his heart. "I've got a pretty nasty scar here, too. My hand, my chest…I bet the Risen tried their darndest to take me out, but no one can outwit the future Grandmaster of Ylisse."

With a playful grin, he hopped up onto his knees and peered over to the front. "Right, sis?"

The only answer he received were the whinnies and snorts of the cart horses.

"Lucina?"

"…Yes, Morgan." Lucina's voice was shaky, barely audible above the clamor of the city. "You were a formidable force to be reckoned with in the future." After a few beats of silence, she added, "Against the Risen."

"…Um…" Morgan's shoulders began to droop. "Are you okay? Was it something I—ah!"

The cart came to a screeching halt. Kris's hand shot out to catch Morgan by his coat before he could fly off the back and faceplant in the street.

"Here we are!" Anna announced with a musical cadence. "The great palace of the Exalt. And in record time, too!"

Kris stuck his head around the side of the cart to glare at her, but if she noticed the look she didn't give any indication that she cared.

"Thank you for your help, Anna," Lucina slid off the front seat and tossed a few gold coins to the merchant. "Your efficiency in navigation is always appreciated."

Anna bit one of the coins and gave a happy hum. "The pleasure is all mine, princess! Just give me a holler the next time you need to travel somewhere quick, and I'll get you there." Her voice dropped into a low grumble. "Though preferably you'll give me a little more warning next time, so I don't lose any more potential customers…"

"…We'll keep that in mind."

After parting ways with Anna—and giving her another coin "for all the trouble"—Lucina turned to the rest of them, face set with determination.

"All right, let's not waste any more time. Father should be finishing up with the Voice soon, and if not…" Her head tilted up toward the top of one of the many white towers spiraling into the blue sky. "Well, I think he'll forgive us for the interruption, given the circumstances."

"You guys go ahead." Lissa offered them all a smile that seemed strained around the corners of her lips. "I'm going to check on my little Owain, if that's okay. Lon'qu probably needs a break, and I…I'd like to give him some hugs…make sure he's okay…"

"Of course, Aunt Lissa," Lucina said softly. "We'll catch you up on everything later."

Lissa nodded absently, mumbling a quiet "thanks" and hurrying through the marble arches of the palace courtyard. After she disappeared around the corner of a patch of flowered bushes taller than any man's head, Lucina sighed and motioned toward the main entrance.

"Shall we?"

If this palace had truly once been the capital of Hardin's Holy Kingdom, then it had seen some major renovations over the centuries. Where Kris remembered a castle of dark, rough stones, bereft of color and life, the palace he walked through now was laid with pristine tile and marble, its walls flying blue banners bearing the Brand of the Exalt and its halls bustling with smiling servants and guests, all waving to them as they went about their day.

It was even grander than Castle Altea, and that was saying a lot. Even at their country's apparent end, Princess Elice had personally made sure her castle was spotless, welcoming to all, and most importantly, worthy of her family's great bloodline. But this…this was something else.

"Pretty impressive, yeah?" Morgan's upbeat voice dragged Kris out of his thoughts. "Just wait until you see the great hall. There's something there I think you're gonna find really special."

Kris couldn't help but crack a small smile at the young prince's enthusiasm. "Special, huh?"

"Yeah, just past these doors is—"

"Don't ruin the surprise, Morgan," Lucina said, though her face held its own brand of excitement. She nodded to the aforementioned doors, a set of thick, whitewood slabs bordered with drapes of blue velvet, and added, "Let him see it for himself."

Curiosity piqued, Kris bowed his head and gently pushed open the doors at the princess's request, and when he stepped inside…

His breath caught deep in his throat.

Several murals had been painted along the upper perimeter of the great hall, each depicting dozens of heroes from various points in Archanean history. Every face on every wall had been drawn with the utmost care and detail, but the ones that attracted Kris's eyes, the ones that had stolen the air from him and made his knees go weak, were the figures in the very center.

In the forefront was Marth, standing tall with Falchion in one hand and the Fire Emblem in the other. A golden crown basking beneath the light of the Divine Dragon sat upon his head, in place of the tiara he had always worn to honor his sister. Caeda hovered overhead on the back of her pegasus, wearing her soft, signature smile, the smile that had persuaded so many soldiers to join her beloved's side.

There was Merric, too, his blue robes billowing against the green wind of his magic. There was Elice with her golden staves, Linde with her tomes, Navarre with his swords, even Julian with his daggers crouched protectively in front of Priestess Lena. The Whitewing sisters soaring the skies behind the might of Queen Minerva, Cain and Abel and Sir Jagen galloping across the countryside with their lances raised high…

And in the corner of the mural, the 7th Platoon: Cecil, Roderick, Luke, Ryan, Katarina. Kris's closest friends, the people he had trained and fought alongside since his first day as a rookie knight, all memorialized by paint and canvas.

"See?" Morgan said, grinning. "Didn't we tell you? They're some of the greatest heroes Archanea has ever known."

A dampness stained Kris's cheeks, and it took him a few moments to realize that he had started crying. Not out of sadness, but with silent tears of pride. His friends may have met an unfortunate end in his time, but here…

Here, at least they were getting the glory and recognition they deserved.

"During our war against the Fell Dragon," Lucina said, "in both the present and the future, when we were scared or tempted to give up the fight…we would tell each other stories about the Hero-King and the Archanean League." She tucked a loose strand of blue hair behind her ear. "I actually took on Marth's identity, for a time. His name and his stories, they gave me the hope I needed to keep moving forward."

"The hope all of us needed," Severa added quietly.

"I…I can see that now…" Kris swiped under his eyes and cleared his throat. "Thank you. I still don't know how this is all possible, but…thank you."

"But…" Morgan squinted at the painting. "I still don't see you anywhere in there. I feel like…hm…"

Kris shrugged. "Like I said, ordinary soldier. I haven't done anything thousands of other men haven't already accomplished."

"…Maybe not yet…or maybe…" Lucina lifted her gaze up to Marth's portrait. "You know…ever since I can remember, I've idolized the Hero-King quite a bit—"

"A bit?" Morgan snickered. "Try full-on worship."

Severa smirked, leaning against the hand on her hip. "A total fangirl."

"Okay, okay, he gets it." Lucina dipped her chin to hide her reddening cheeks. "Anyway, because of that admiration, I've tried to read everything I can about him…including a few of his personal journals stored in the palace archives. And in them, he would sometimes write of a royal guard in his service."

The blush fell away to a more curious smile as she turned to face Kris again.

"A humble knight, a trusted confidant, a close friend…but also a private person who preferred to remain in the shadows of history, so he never provided a name."

"That could be anyone," Kris said. Then, fearing that might have sounded rude or flippant, added, "B-but that's only my opinion, Your Highness."

"…I suppose you're right," Lucina said.

"Right about what?"

A man strode into the great hall from the other side of the room, his fur-trimmed cape sweeping the polished tiling behind him. A heavy, golden sword swung from his hip, and on his arm…

The Fire Emblem. Just like the portrait of the legendary king painted overhead, blue hair and all.

Kris immediately bowed his head and began to drop to one knee, but Severa yanked him back up before he could reach the ground. Right, the royal family of this time cared little for formalities…a quality they shared with their ancestor.

"Father!" Morgan was the first to greet the Exalt, grinning from ear to ear. "We were just coming to see you. Your meeting's finished already?"

"Cordelia saw you from the sky and told us you'd be arriving soon," he reached out to ruffle Morgan's hair with a smile that matched his son's, "so we cut it off early."

Severa scoffed under her breath. "Of course Mom would go see Chrom first…"

"So, how did the search go?" Chrom asked, giving them all a once-over. "I see you finally found Severa and…a new friend?"

"We have a lot to catch up on, Father," Lucina said. "We found him in the same fields where you first met mother. His name is Kris, and he's here to—"

"Kris-Kris?"

A soft, breathless voice drifted into the great hall, whispering a name Kris had once feared he'd never hear again. He spun around on his heel to find a tall woman standing in the doorway—a manakete, more specifically, given her elongated ears—staring at him with tears in her eyes.

"Kris-Kris?" she asked again. "Is that you?"

Kris's mouth slowly fell toward the floor. The green ponytail, the pink of her clothes, the nickname…she was certainly much older, much more mature than he remembered, but she could only be…

"…Tiki? What are you—"

Her arms were wrapped around him before he could utter another word.

"It is you!" With the strength worthy of a Divine Dragon, she lifted him right off his feet and squeezed his body in a bone-crushing hug. "It's you, it's really you! It's been so long! I fell asleep a-and then everyone was gone and I thought I'd never see you ever again!"

"And you tried to tell us you were just an 'ordinary soldier'," Morgan giggled behind him. "I don't think ordinary soldiers typically get hugs and cute nicknames from Naga's Voice."

"Tiki," Kris rasped. "Can't—breathe—"

"Ah! I'm sorry, Kris-Kris!" She set him down but kept him in her arms, burying her wet face into his shoulder. "I just! I can't believe you're here!"

"I could…say the same…" Kris had to draw in several deep breaths before he could speak again. "How are you here? How did you escape from…you-know-who?"

Tiki blinked up at him. "Escape? You mean from Gharnef, when I was still young? You and Mar-Ma—I mean, Prince Marth—helped free me from his—"

"No, after that. After the battle against Hardin, you were taken to another world by the invisible soldiers and kept prisoner alongside other dragons and people related…to divinity…" He slowly trailed off as her brows pinched together, forming a deep indent between her eyes.

"…Do you not remember that?"

"…I…" She rubbed her forehead, wincing slightly at the touch. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't remember much from that time. My memory is hazy at best…like trying to see through the winds of a great dust storm…"

"I don't mean to intrude on this, uh…reunion?" Chrom said, scratching the back of his head. "And I feel like I might be missing something here—or a lot of things, actually—so stop me if I'm way off the mark, but do you think this could be related to the Mila Tree, my lady?"

"The Mila Tree?" Lucina asked. "Has something happened to it?"

Tiki heaved a long, heavy sigh. Now that Kris was closer to her, he could see the hints of dark circles forming along the cradles of her eyes, the pallid complexion beneath her bangs. It reminded him of Byleth's appearance before they had been separated in Valla.

"Yes, something unprecedented," Tiki answered, resting a hand on her chest. "Its branches have become brittle, its roots struggle to take in water, its leaves are dry, colorless, dead. I can feel its power draining away, and mine along with it." Her eyes went to the floor. "That is why I traveled all this way to meet with the Exalt: to figure out what is wrong, before it withers away completely."

Kris and Severa shared a brief, knowing look.

"I think we might already have your answer," Severa said, "but unfortunately, it's not going to be an easy problem to solve. There's a force out there, stealing the power of dragons or people associated with divinity and hunting down the rest." She threw a hesitant glance to the Exalt. "They're the reason Robin has been missing for so long."

Chrom's jaw stiffened, his fists clenched, but he kept his mouth pressed shut.

"We need to get you to safety before they come for you." Kris's fingers grazed his broadsword and added a silent, again, to the end of the sentence. No, he wouldn't let it happen. Not to her, not to any of Marth's descendants, not to anyone else.

I won't fail in my duty again.

"…Whether the task is simple or seemingly impossible," Chrom finally said, "it doesn't matter. We'll keep you safe, Lady Tiki, and put an end to this. I swear it on my sister's grave."

The Fire Emblem caught a glint of the window's soft sunlight as the Exalt squared his shoulders.

"Just tell us what we need to do."

The Nomadic Plains, The Nation of Sacae, Elibe

Year 1000

Long strands of dry grass scratched Petra's knees. Sword in hand, she carefully waded through a swath of plains that seemed to travel for miles in all directions with no towns, no game, and no end in sight. Yet still she searched, eyes straining along the horizon for a hint of something, or someone, that could help her and—

"The Nimble Huntress stalks her prey," Odin said, grinning despite the burns and gashes littering his body.

Petra had done her best to patch his and her wyvern's wounds with what little resources she could find in these foreign plains. That explosive spell had hit him hard, so hard that it had knocked him unconscious for hours and, somehow, turned his blond hair black. But the Flame Spirit had heard her prayers, allowing him to return to the world of the living.

And now that he was awake and mobile, he seemed to be his usual self…for better or for worse.

"Light of foot, she weaves her steel through the exotic landscape as a needle does thread, hunting for a glimmer of hope sitting just out of—"

"Odin?"

"Hm?" Odin leaned against her wyvern, who was currently busy licking around the holes of her partially bandaged wings. "Doth my fellow warrior have a quest for me to undertake? Please, I beseech you—release your burdens, speak your mind!"

"Could you…be talking more normally?" Petra asked. "I am having difficulty understanding your words."

"…Oh. Right." Odin's shoulders sagged. "My bad. What I meant to say was…is there something you need?"

"Just be looking for signs of shelter or—"

"Help!"

Petra snapped her head to the side, scouring the fields behind her for the source of the cry. A girl way off in the distance was limping toward them, carrying a motionless body on her back.

"Help! Please!" the girl shouted in desperation. She tried waving at Petra and Odin, but that only caused both her and the person she was carrying to topple over and disappear into the long grass.

"Odin, stay behind me," Petra started, "I will go—"

Odin was already halfway across the field before she could finish. Worried for both him and the injured strangers, Petra followed as quickly as her feet would carry her.

"Over here!" The girl stuck her hand out of the grass; Petra could see it shaking even from several feet away. "Please, he needs help! I-I don't have any staves or vulneraries, he might—Roy! Oh Gods no, stay with me!"

They found the girl crouched over her companion's body. Her blue hair was plastered to her face and neck with sweat and tears, her hands stained red as they pressed against the stomach of the boy beneath her.

"What has hurt him?" Petra dropped to the boy's other side, pushing back red bangs and a torn headband to feel his skin—feverish—then his pulse—sporadic and faint. The wound on his stomach was short but deep, likely from the end of a very sharp axe. "What happened?"

"We were f-fighting the king of Bern with the Etrurian army, th-then those monsters and my—my"—the girl choked out a sob—"my father, h-his ghost attacked Roy and I didn't know what was happening and Miss Cecilia y-yelled at us to run and used her staff to send us—"

An inhuman roar rumbled through the air like distant thunder. The girl gasped at the noise and curled herself protectively over the boy.

"No! I-I won't let them have him too!" Her fingers gripped onto the boy's armor plate. "I won't! Even if Father is with them, I won't!"

Petra tried to get the girl to move aside so she could help lift the boy up, but she only held on to him tighter. "Please, we are wanting to help you," Petra said, "but to help, we need to carry him somewhere safe and be told who is—"

"Faceless," Odin said, wide eyes pointing in the direction of the roaring. "Those are Faceless screams. We have to go, now!"

Without waiting for a reply, he hooked his arms around the girl and pulled her back, forcing her to her feet. Now without a barrier, Petra tore her sash from her belt and wrapped it around the boy's midsection.

"L-let me go!" the girl shouted. She clawed at Odin's arms and kicked her heels back into his shins, but she couldn't escape his grip. "Let me go! He needs—"

"Hey, hey, look at me," Odin tried to soothe her. "We're going to bring him to a healer, okay? But to do that, we need you to calm down and tell us where we can find one." Another roar in the distance grumbled past their ears, closer now. "Come on, before the monsters get here!"

"I-I don't know! Bulgar is the closest city, I think, and my aunt should be there—"

"Then we will be going to Bulgar," Petra said, scooping the boy up against her chest. He was surprisingly light, even with the armor. "My wyvern can carry him, but it will have to be on the ground."

"I…th-thank you. Thank you! " The girl scrubbed her eyes and wiped her nose on her sleeve. "I think I remember the way. My aunt should be there, a-and she should be able to help!"

"That is perfect." Petra secured the boy in her arms and started back toward her wyvern. "We are glad to be helping you…?"

"L-Lilina," the girl said with a sniffle, lowering herself into a halfhearted curtsey before hurrying to follow.

"Lilina of House Ostia."

Character Bios:

Anna: Trickster

—A talented merchant from Archanea who's always looking to make a profit. Like many women who share her appearance and name, she is part of a great trading empire that has lasted for many millennia.

—Relations: Sister of many.

Chrom: Great Lord

—Exalt of Ylisse and descendant of the Hero-King. The headstrong leader of the Shepherds who led his people, his friends, and his family to victory time and time again against tyrants and dragons alike with his trusty tactician—and eventual wife—at his side. Now the acting sovereign of Ylisse, he rules in accordance with his sister's ideals: to strive toward a world of peace.

—Wielder of Falchion and the Fire Emblem, and bearer of Naga's Brand on his shoulder

—Relations: Father of Lucina and Morgan. Husband of Robin. Brother of Emmeryn (deceased) and Lissa. Uncle of Owain/Odin.

Lissa: War Cleric

—Princess of Ylisse and descendant of the Hero-King. A spirited woman with a bit of a mischievous side, she fought alongside her brother and the Shepherds against a mad king, an ambitious conqueror, and the Fell Dragon with both tomes and staves, trying to achieve her late sister's dream of peace for all mankind.

—Relations: Mother of Owain/Odin. Wife of Lon'qu. Sister of Emmeryn (deceased) and Chrom. Aunt of Lucina and Morgan. Grandmother of Ophelia.

Owain: Sorcerer (Update)

—Prince of Ylisse and descendant of the Hero-King. One of the 13 children who traveled from the future to save the world from Grima's destruction. A lively mage with a penchant for exaggeration and purple prose. His theatrics can be grating to some, but he has one of the biggest hearts around.

—Also known as Odin in the realm of Nohr and Hoshido, the retainer of Prince Leo

—Relations: Father of Ophelia. Son of Lissa and Lon'qu. Cousin of Lucina and Morgan.

Don't worry, guys. Hector is just a really protective dad, even from beyond the grave. Totally.

This chapter kicked my ass lol. Lots of writing and rewriting, lots of stuff to balance and set up, but hopefully it all came out okay. Also, it should go without saying, but from here on out there may be spoilers for Binding Blade (FE6) and Blazing Blade (FE7). Roy and Lilina (and others, mayhaps?) will get bios next chapter.

Next chapter: A race to save a life.