Nicola was off today, Lissa decided after running into the spearman. For one he was moodier looking than before and his eyes were a shade of green she did not recognize. Normally they were a brighter green, almost identical to her own and sometimes far brighter, when he was excited or paying extra attention to his surroundings. He didn't look very excited at the moment and he'd nearly bowled her over by not paying attention to his surroundings, something rather uncommon for him. He offered a brisk apology, forest green eyes locking onto her own for a moment, and she felt her heart leap to her throat.
He was handsome today– er more handsome than usual. It wasn't that he wasn't handsome in the first place or anything, but he almost always had an anxious or worried expression when the two of them were alone or with Maribelle, which made him more cute than anything else. The way embarrassment and his emotions easily colored his features despite how stoic he tried to be in public was also adorable in its own way.
At the present, however, he was calm and collected, eyes assessing her just as she tried to get a read on him. There was no stress or anxiety on his face, rather it looked more like he hadn't slept well and was irritated about that, but he schooled his expression as he offered his apology.
Nicola felt taller and his voice sounded a bit deeper, enough for butterflies to flutter in the princess' stomach. His dark hair fell gently to either side of his face, forming curling bangs that mostly hid his pointed ears while his eyes gleamed like dark gems. The princess avoided glancing at his lips, fixating on his eyes as her heart began to beat rapidly in her chest. It was only after staring into deep green orbs for a long moment did she remember that he'd asked a question.
"O-oh, I-I'm just fine, no need to worry about me," she laughed, turning away to hide the pink coloring her cheeks. Nicola simply raised an eyebrow and offered a gentle smile in turn.
"That is good to hear, Lissa. I'll try to be a bit more attentive next time." He offered a faint bow and left, bidding her a good morning. She was glad he didn't seem to notice how flustered she was at that moment and that he had turned the corner just before her legs turned to jelly.
What had that been? Sure she thought Nicola was attractive—if a bit pretty for her tastes—more often than not, but he'd never made her nearly swoon. Was this what he was like when he was tired and not injured or bedridden? If so, she needed to visit him more oft–
"No, bad thoughts," Lissa scolded herself. She and Nicola met enough as it was. Just a few weeks back, he had finished regaling her with the legend of the Summoner from his home land, the story ending with a climactic battle between the summoner and his myriad allies facing off against the God of Severance and Darkness after years and years for fighting and pushing towards peace in all lands. She'd been a bit skeptical about the land in the Realm of Dreams he mentions and its twin rulers trapped in a world of loneliness with their four servants and even more about the kingdom of steel and machina. The latter was explained with great detail when the princess posed a question and she felt she got the gist of it: machina was a form of technology that replaced or reduced the need for people and animals for tasks. Such a thing was novel to her as envisioned horseless carriages and self propelling ships, but apparently the kingdom the machina originated from used such useful and amazing designs to wage war. That was disheartening, but it was ultimately a story.
At least, that was what she pretended now. Perhaps the stories after the Summoner visited the Land of the Dead were stories, all more fantastical than the ones before in different ways, but she knew that the three before were not. Those hadn't just been stories or a legend or anything of the sort, they were Nicola's story.
The princess' mind went back to the night in Nomos, when she had called out to the spirit on the other side of the mirror, then to far before then. The night she almost died was the first time she saw said spirit, but it wore a different face. That night the spirit had taken her form, but with golden eyes and a pure white and midnight black garb decorated with golden marks like those along the coat Nicola had given her. It had guided her back to the world of the living without a word, then vanished. She'd been changed after that, in more ways than one, but she had not realized how large those changes were. Not before her brother recruited Anna and Donnel.
Foolhardy was the group of bandits that chose to attack a village situated near what should have been an occupied fortress, but said group had done so nonetheless and without reprisal from those who should have been there. When the Shepherds had arrived the village was burning and Lissa felt an unfamiliar fury burn deep within her. Said fury grew hotter and hotter, swelling as she took in more of the horror and pain the bandits had inflicted. People—adults, children and the elderly alike—had been cut down savagely and their homes reduced to ashes. Livestock had been butchered and granaries had been despoiled, quickly proving that the attack was one born of malice rather than necessity—not that she would have forgiven that reason.
The fact that she felt that way came as a shock to her, she was not the judge of men her brother or Frederick could be. Her role had always been to heal, to protect and nurture, but in that moment she was like another and her body moved in ways she'd never thought herself capable of performing.
Lissa hadn't used a sword in over a decade, not since the disastrous training attempts she'd been given before her magic found her. Despite that, she found herself wielding a crude bronze blade without realizing it and in the next moments she was among the bandits, blade whipping through the air like it was dancing on the wind as she cut down each bandit in her path. She did not kill them, she stayed her blade any time it would have dealt a fatal strike. No, instead she left them without pain or the ability to pick up a weapon ever again. She wasn't sure if that had been a liberating experience or a terrifying one, though she leaned more towards the latter when her body fell over like a sack of potatoes the moment her strength was spent. Even Chrom was concerned, more than he'd been when she had cast Mend.
That had been an awkward conversation. Chrom wanted to know if she'd been practicing swordsmanship without his or anyone else' supervision and he wasn't quite convinced when explained that her body had moved on its own. Neither had Frederick, but both relented when Lon'qu had stuck up from her.
"Hard fights bring out different things in people," he simply said as he stood between the princess and her brother, but with a greater distance between her and himself. Still, whatever caused the terse swordsman's phobia of women hadn't stopped him from stepping in then, even if he pointedly looked away from her and every other female Shepherd. It was a small gesture, but a meaningful one.
After that, she hadn't lost control of her body, but she'd begun having odd dreams. Cryptic dreams where the spirit took on various forms as it guided her through a fantastical world of ash and ruin, a land littered with destroyed structures and crumpled or upturned steel carriages like the machina Nicola had described so thoroughly. It was only after three months of the same dreams repeating did she realize that was Nicola's world.
The dreams changed after that, splitting and diverging as stories played out in the swirling ash and debris. The land was Nicola's home, his original home, and something wanted her to see it in full. Then the dreams changed once more, now filled with vibrant and picturesque scenery as the pieces of Nicola's tale came together. She saw the Princess of the Evil Kingdom and the Prince and Princess of Light. She saw the Lady of Ice and Maiden of Dreams, the Tragic Princess and Emperor of Flames. She saw the world dyed blue as the Summoner—Nicola—lost himself in grief and nearly became a monster. She saw him shut himself away, only for the Princess of Light to slowly coax him into opening up once more. Up until that point, however, she simply believed it was a fantastical series of dreams.
Then the Battle of Nomos came and she asked the Spirit her question. The answers were cryptic at best in the beginning. Then her dreams became a lot more vivid and– The princess shook herself out of her daze. Now wasn't the time to think about said dreams, the knowledge that came with them or the conversation she would need to have with the spearman in the near future. Instead, it was probably better to follow Nicola at a distance and see what he got up to now. His less than stellar reputation was definitely going to do him no favors if he wasn't in the best of moods.
Thankfully her fears were unfounded, Nicola was a gentleman to all he came across until he reached the barracks, which was when the princess had to really hide herself. All it would take was one of the Shepherds noticing her for her sneakiness to end. She was especially at risk if Vaike saw her because, bless his pure soul, he had very little care for subtlety. Maribelle was also out: even if she was quiet it wouldn't be hard to notice her stop what she was doing if it wasn't important or otherwise preoccupied and make a beeline towards her. Sumia would try to be innocuous, but would likely trip and need assistance, making Lissa break her own cover to make sure her friend was alright.
The only person she could likely trust to keep silent if they saw her was Kellam and that was because he was hard to notice. Him or Miriel, who was likely to notice her and give a passing nod at most—the bookish woman wasn't intentionally rude, but she had trouble starting conversations with others if they weren't like minded or as much as an erudite as she.
Thankfully none of them seemed to notice her—or Kellam hadn't registered to her yet—as they appeared to be busy. Right, Chrom did say that there was something about Risen in a nearby village and wanted her to stay back in the event it was more than a simple route. Her brother had been far more protective of her since her near death, to an almost suffocating degree when worried but she knew his heart was in the right place. That didn't mean she was delicate or fragile by any means, even if she wasn't the sturdiest or strongest by far. Not that she needed to be, Chrom reassured her, but she wasn't content with just being a healer. Even Mari could cast offensive spells and she was a healer as well.
Perhaps she wasn't cut out for it? Most of her magic was magic she'd learned, magic she had to work her way towards understanding because it didn't really click like it did with Emmeryn or Maribelle or any of the other mages she knew. Even Nicola apparently learned his magic through dreams, which had to be all sorts of unfair—It was even a part of a lost school of magic, no less! No one knew Earth Magic beyond what little Dark Mages had in their repertoire and even then theirs wasn't the sort that launched stones or conjured blades from the ground.
"Enough of that," Lissa breathed, pinching her own cheeks. She was getting distracted and dangerously close to spiraling from envy. She was a princess and above such feelings for Naga's sake! She was supposed to be at least.
Being royalty didn't stop one from feeling the same things regular folk did, it just made one want for less and bear a different sort of burden. Most people wondered how they would feed their families during harsh winters if the halidom could not provide or how they would make ends meet if they weren't in the best of spots. She had to worry about putting up a good image for the people, something that was natural to her for she truly loved them, and ultimately who she would marry to keep the royal line going in the event that her siblings died and she had to take up the mantle of Exalt. She had to learn how to inspire and how to lead, how to present herself as tougher and more refined than she felt she was—things that came easy to her brother and sister, but not to her. That was part of why she thought she was a fake, a replacement at best. That and the lack of a mark like her siblings.
"Enough. Of. That," she fumed, shaking her head angrily. This was not the time. If she kept this up she'd lose track of Nicola or be seen by him. Peeking up from her position behind a stone pillar she was relieved to see him looking the other way as he spoke with Frederick... whose attention immediately snapped to her. Drats, he was going to give her away.
She rounded the corner with a curse as he very well did, barely leaving his line of sight as he proclaimed that she was to stay. She knew that already, but he likely thought she was attempting to sneak into their traveling group. She wasn't, the thought had crossed her mind, but how was she going to do that in the first place? She didn't own anything that wouldn't stand out and she wasn't going to pay Anna an arm and a leg for something she could wear that would hide her, only for it to fail because she wasn't sneaky in the slightest or because the saleswoman ratted her out. She certainly wasn't going to hide in a sack of potatoes. That never worked out well from what she'd read and even if it did, she imagined her brother and Frederick would be very cross with her. Not to mention Maribelle and, Naga forbid, Emmeryn. Emmeryn did not get angry often or even yell, but she was very thorough in her chastisements when brought to it.
Pushing that aside, she decided to stay hidden for a few moments and wait to see if she'd been forgotten.
"Milady, if you plan on hiding, please make a larger effort of it," Frederick of all people said, rounding the corner the moment she prepared to peek from behind it for a second time. "As much as I shouldn't be encouraging you, stealth is a skill you should learn in the event you must hide from others."
"Was I that obvious," she asked, dourly.
"Quite. I'm surprised Nicola did not notice you with how normally observant he is. Perhaps he wasn't telling a lie when he said he was under the weather."
"I tried..."
"You did and I'm certain that you understand why I approached you."
"I'm not trying to sneak in with you or Chrom," she grumbled. "You have Maribelle and a few members of the church with you. You don't really need me there."
She left out the part of not being wanted there either, but the knight must have picked up on it as he spoke.
"In truth, we would not mind you accompanying us, but your brother felt something was off about this particular request. Rather than bring you into more danger than is expected, he would rather you stay back for now."
"I could help."
"You could. Your healing technique is remarkable and you do keep the Shepherds lively with your... antics."
"You can call them pranks," Lissa said dryly.
"I will take that into account." He wouldn't. Frederick was many things and stubborn as an ox was one of them. "Regardless, you would be an asset, but Prince Chrom feels as if the risk posed here is greater than it seems and doesn't want to risk losing you if things go poorly with the Risen. If there are any in the first place."
Frederick didn't appear to like the situation either. He clearly felt something as well, but didn't want to discuss it.
"You and Chrom can't just keep me here when you believe things will be dangerous, Frederick," Lissa said, much more bitter than she intended. "I am a member of the Shepherds as well, even if I'm a member of the royal family. I didn't just join the group because I thought it would be fun and games, I knew I'd experience danger and see terrible things. I knew that and I joined you and him anyway. Who else would keep you all patched up when Maribelle's not around?"
Who else would make sure they all came back in one piece? Her heart would shatter if any one of them died.
"Be that as it may, there is a difference between exposing you to a known or expected amount of danger and taking you into the unknown. Bandits can be observed and become a known quantity. Risen are near mindless creatures without a stronger one to rally them. This particular request reeks of rallied Risen or worse, the creatures at the border."
That made the princess shudder. Those things that attacked them weren't Risen, not ordinary ones at the very least. Most Risen, not even the ones that could lead, had the wild bloodlust the monsters at the border did. It was like they were malice personified, their forms adapted to inflict as much pain as possible in a short span of time. They were fast, smart and had a figure leading them as well, but more than that they appeared to learn and adapt. What was worse were either weapons, horrifying mockeries of the traditional sort fused into their bodies to act as natural extensions of their unnatural forms. Swords extended from palms like lightning, while curved blades grew from legs or spines at a moment's notice. One even appeared to be plated in numerous shields that extended and retracted to any part of its body that was being attacked before Frederick pierced through its skull with a strike that could have felled a horse and its rider.
Even with him, Chrom, Robin and Morgan of all people cutting through their ranks, it still took the combined efforts of the Shepherds and the Pegasus Knight Corp to cut down half their number—not without casualties and injuries either. Sully nearly lost her spear arm after a deadly cut into her arm pit and Sumia narrowly avoided losing an eye as one fired an arrow meant to slay her, surviving thanks to swift intervention from Ricken joining the fray and redirecting the arrow upwards with a wind spell. Once the Wing Commander, her younger sister and Cordelia were able to properly get involved things started to look better—up until Robin was impaled and the remaining creatures fled with their leader.
Given the opportunity, she wouldn't deal with those monsters again. If she had the choice. This time the choice was taken from her, but perhaps next time it wouldn't be.
"I see. Promise me you'll do your best to return in one piece, you and everyone else," the princess said after a moment of thought. If a battle was in their futures, she could only hope they would all return and believe in their abilities. That didn't mean anyone was guaranteed to return, an unlucky strike or unfavorable conditions could spell the end of even the greatest warriors. That's how her father died supposedly, stabbed from all sides by spears and riddled with dozens of arrows, stripped of the Falchion before his throat was cut and his body and the surrounding area set ablaze by a great dark flame because he refused to fall from anything less. Only her father wasn't great because of heroic stature and the hope he brought, he was great in how oppressive and nigh unstoppable he was. Great and terrible rather than great and awe inspiring. His was a legacy that would not be soon forgotten, no matter how much Ememryn and Chrom worked to undo the wrongs he'd wrought.
"I will do my utmost, milady. Try not to wander alone for too long, however. Things may be peaceful at the present, but please remain cautious nonetheless."
"I'll do my best." She had an idea of who she would ask to accompany her for the time being, she just needed to get to a point where she could ask him. Frederick gave a disapproving look to the impish smile that flashed across her face, but said nothing else on the matter.
"If I may be excused." He left with a polite bow, leaving the princess time to think about her approach. Nicola was moving, so she couldn't dally for too long or she'd lose him.
She still had to wait, narrowly avoiding the chatterbox that was Morgan, but wasn't quite fast enough to evade Maribelle. She exchanged a quick hug and kiss on the cheek with her friend and wished for her safety, noting that the older woman looked somewhat distracted for once. That was odd, but Maribelle was unwilling to broach the subject, so Lissa let it be for the time being. She wouldn't pry too much, but if something was bothering Maribelle more than her current predicament she was going to ask about it. She wasn't one to leave a friend suffering.
Despite her best efforts, Nicola found her relatively quickly once he reached the training yard for the pegasus knights. Lissa wasn't very surprised when it happened, her only real source of cover was a tree devoid of leaves just to the right of the Wing Commander's office. Locking eyes with him probably hadn't been the best idea, even if he would have clearly seen the hem of her dress. Still, that spoiled some of her fun.
"Having fun," he asked, dark eyes practically twinkling with deep green stars. The raised eyebrow and wry smile told her he'd been rather distinctly aware of her, but she could play it off. She hadn't done anything wrong, she was just making sure he was alright and not playing off some injury from his duel.
"O-oh! Hello again, Nicola," she smiled. "I was just... looking around the palace. I don't normally come to the pegasus training fields, so I wanted to see how they looked."
"Oh?" If his eyebrow could raise any higher, Lissa was certain it would have left his face all together. Clearly her recovery hadn't been as smooth as expected, but she could still salvage things.
"Yup," she beamed, then internally cried as she realized she'd been a little too swift in her response. "It's rather spacious here. Windy too." More than the other parts of the palace really. The wind flowed freely here and it felt far more alive than it did elsewhere in the halidom. She hadn't really taken the time to dwell on that until Nicola spoke up.
"The wind sings here and is at its most free. It can be gentle and protective or bold, enough to grant people flight should they earn its favor."
"You speak as if the wind was alive as you and I are."
"In places like this it is." His wry smile turned gentle, then melancholy. "The spirits of this world are stifled, only free to be their true selves in places where old power still stirs."
Nicola sounded different then. Older and far away in am moment, then back to his unusual state. "At least they can still gather and live here, however."
As if accenting his words, the wind shifted and flowed towards the spearman. Lissa had to close her eyes as snow blew towards her face, scowling as she swore she heard faint laughter swirling around her.
"You mentioned flying," she asked once the breeze died down.
"Yes, though only when the wind is at its strongest."
"Do you think I could fly?"
"So long as you remain patient and don't expect to get it on your first try, more than likely," he offered. "Flying is far different than walking, but much more fun. Still you can rather easily hurt yourself if you don't know how to control your movements or speed properly. That's the difference between a smooth flight with a nice landing and crashing head first into a stone wall at full speed."
The princess winced. The latter situation didn't seem remotely pleasant.
"Could you show me?" The words left her mouth before she could register them.
"I wouldn't be the best teacher in that regard. If you'd truly like to learn I would recommend asking Sumia when she returns and getting Phila's approval when she's a bit less busy." His gentle tone didn't match his raised eyebrow. "I can only imagine the Wing Commander would be less than pleased if there were flight related accidents that didn't have some form of supervision from an experienced flier."
He was downplaying his own skills if her dreams were to be believed. The princess had seen Nicola weave between orbs of lightning and snaking streams of fire, taking to the air without any hesitation when most normal people would have been wary of leaving the ground without wings. Not that his mobility took a hit once he took to the skies as the barrage intensified, the shadowy creatures belching ash and burning particles having very little means of keeping up with him once he was off the ground. If that was the case, why hide his abilities? Was he a poor teacher or did he not want to garner more attention than he already had?
It wasn't hard to recall how fervent the crowd had become once they recognized him during the ceremony, much to the spearman's intense displeasure. Lissa felt bad for him when he saw how anxious he was at the time, holding herself from offering more than advice on his breathing. Anything else would have been positively scandalous, if only because it would have been a clear show of favoritism towards one of the attendants of the event. That was probably the only way offering a hug would do so. Probably.
The princess was more than aware of the rumors floating about her friend—was that really the correct term now?—though many of the nastier ones had begun to subside. He was no longer supposedly blackmailing and bedding her sister, Lady Phila and Maribelle at the same time, he was simply blackmailing one of them and madly in love with Mari. Both rumors were wildly incorrect, if anything Emmeryn was finding ways to keep Nicola in the halidom for fear of him going off, tripping over a rock and breaking his neck with how accident prone he appeared to be. Her sister had worded it a bit differently, but it was the idea that got across most clearly.
Conversely, Nicola and Mari were the furthest things from lovers two people could be despite being close to one another. Sure they got on fairly well regardless of how often they bickered, but Maribelle didn't have feelings for Nicola nor he for her. That didn't stop the former from blushing like a much more dainty maiden when talking about his more dashing moments or her reaction to the picture he'd made for her. It also didn't stop them from caring for one another: Maribelle had rather vocally defended Nicola when he was was brought before Emmeryn for supposedly making a mockery of the Tethys Duchy, just as she had had when Vaike incidentally started spreading rumors he'd heard about him after the Battle of Nomos. Similarly, she'd been made aware of the "adventures" Nicola and Maribelle got up to when left to their own devices, said "adventures" being the cause for a number of thieves, ruffians and other deplorable sort within the halidom ending up imprisoned. There was a reason they were often called the Justice Duo behind their backs when together: something criminal would come to light and they would thwart it with varying degrees of exasperation.
The thought made the princess giggle.
"Did you find something entertaining," Nicola asked, still odd, but not scarily.
"Sorry, something came to mind and I couldn't help myself," Lissa breathed. She'd finally figured out what was so different about him. He was confident today. Not cockily so, but far more sure of himself and together. It suited him well, but she did like the more anxious and meek side to him a bit more—it felt more natural and normal to her than this confidence did for all that she liked it.
"I see." And there that expression was again. The spearman unconsciously tilted his head and placed two fingers along his jaw when he was contemplating things. Normally he'd look off into the sky or corner of a room once he adopted the pose, then nod slightly or glare annoyedly in the direction he was looking as if it had deeply offended him. Lissa was never sure what sorts of conclusions he came to when either of those things happened, only that he never appeared to notice unless someone else mentioned it.
It was slightly different today, the spearman closing his eyes and humming just slightly before opening them. "I'll have to meet up with the Wing Commander again in a little less than half an hour, but we can walk and talk if you'd like."
"That would be great!" Never was Lissa so glad she could control her expression so well, she would have been redder than Sully's hair otherwise. It was a simple gesture, but spending time with Nicola was almost as nice as spending time with Maribelle or Emmeryn. Mari and Emmeryn were amazing and kind, but they didn't have Nicola's stories or odd anecdotes he often didn't realize he used. She wasn't quite sure what a 'gods damned Armads' was or why it was being used during a tournament on what had to be the Day of Devotion—or even why people were having a tournament on the Day of Devotion in the first place—but he'd brought it up a few times with varying degrees of exasperation. Not the angry sort of exasperation, no it was more confused and lighthearted.
"Then let us go." That was enough of a go ahead to link arms and walk along with the odd spearman. She was thankful for how long his hair was then, otherwise he wouldn't have missed the pink dusting her cheeks the entire trip to the palace gardens.
The rose colored moments didn't last. The spearman reminded her that he would be leaving, perhaps to die in a crusade the spirit that followed her was warning her against. She'd seen the loss he'd suffered in those dreams, vividly and if she was there in his place. He couldn't go through that again, he would break. He would shatter into a thousand pieces, unable to be repaired or healed. Perhaps it was the coat affecting her, but she felt she would break if he did. Her emotions and thoughts were her own, Emmeryn had confirmed as much when she mentioned the dreams to her, but that didn't mean that something else wasn't tugging at them.
That was why she didn't always wear the coat, even if it was terribly convenient. She had yet to encounter another article of clothing that could change shapes to her specifications or protect her just as well as armor would. She was honestly uncertain why Nicola had given up the garment until the dreams had come. At first she thought it was because of them, but she soon realized it was because it reminded him of what he considered his failings. He had erred, helping enact a ritual that would have slain the goddess he was after in exchange for an uncountable number of lives without knowing the cost, but then no one else had known that either. Yet he took the blame unto himself as he did each death of his close friends.
That last war had... It had really broken him, more than his story of losing himself to his rage battling the Emperor of Flames. That particular dream had been so real, so painful that she woke in the middle of the night screaming. It took her sister nearly an hour to calm her, but sleep had eluded her for the rest of the evening and most of the following day. Was that why Nicola needed a charm to sleep, to stave away nightmares and memories that would otherwise haunt him? She certainly hoped that wasn't the case now that her head had cooled and she'd parted ways with him after a rather tense conversation. She overreacted and scared him off. She should have taken the time to listen to him, as much as she didn't want him to go. She knew, even without the coat potentially messing with her thoughts, that him leaving would spell his death. There were very few things she was utterly certain of and that was one of them.
As that came to mind, a shiver ran down her spine. Something was wrong and she wasn't sure what. Her feeling was only solidified as her eyes watched the grey horizon and saw a raven land within the castle walls, followed soon by another and another. Within seconds there were hundreds of the birds, each staring at her intently. They cocked their heads as one then cawed in unison before flocking towards her. She hardly had time to yell before they were upon her, pecking and scratching at her from all sides as the unified calls broke into a mad cacophony. They tore at her hair and poked at her eyes between her fingers as they swarmed her, her calls for help muted by their cries. She felt one finally draw blood and the rest flew into a wilder frenzy.
Why was no one coming? Had she been cursed? Was she going to die? No.
Something resonated within her as she curled into a ball, the pain and noise far too much for her to handle. She was helpless, reliant on others to protect her for all that she didn't want to be protected. This was the truth of her, a coward too weak to even accept her fate.
Accept her fate? Ye– No.
She had nothing to give, she only took up space. She was a waste of time, unfit to rule or even lead. She should just die he– Be quiet.
There was fire in her breast, one she only felt when her temper flared or when she put her utmost into healing. It was flickering, fading, dying out. She couldn't let that happen. It would be so easy to do so she could snuff it out on her own if she wanted. All she needed to to was give up, to tell her vital flame to– Spark. To crackle like stoked embers and shine like a beacon once lit. To burn.
Heat and raw anger blossomed within her, the burning glimmer of life roaring into a blaze as it threatened to consume her. In the next moment it did, bursting forth as a great wave of burning light. The ravens that swarmed her turned to ash. Burn! The voice that told her to give up hissed and withdrew. BURN! The stained glass in the gardens exploded outwards, pulling the princess back into reality.
She looked around and saw that the stone around her had been charred and the grass blackened to a crisp. Burning strands of golden light swirled around her, roaring like the fire they were emulating. Muffled steps approached and soon enough, there was Nicola rounding a corner, though somewhat different. His hair was darker and his eyes the color of polished jade as he caught sight of her and sprinted towards her. It appeared she had been heard then, if only later than expected. Now she was so very tired. Phila and Emmeryn followed behind him a few moments later.
"Move aside," Emmeryn called, pushing past the spearman as she embraced her sister. "Lissa are you alright?"
"Emm?"
"I'm here, Lissa."
"This isn't a dream?" A dream would have been nice.
"It isn't," her sister confirmed, "Can you tell me what happened here?"
It was hard to explain. She was being attacked by something, a curse from afar. Then something within her ignited. It burned and burned and burned more until it set her ablaze. Still, she tried her best.
"I see," Emmeryn finally said. The Exalt's attention snapped to her side, to the Wing Commander. "Phila."
"I'll search for any odd figures within the palace grounds alongside Aquila, the both of you stay near Sir Apollonia. It would appear that his hunch was correct." There was something about the way Phila said that that didn't sit right with Lissa. There was a slight pause from the Wing Commander, a near inaudible uncertainty. It could have just been her exhaustion playing tricks on her. It must have been, Phila never faltered.
"Emm?"
"Yes, Lissa?"
"The Shepherds are in danger." She didn't quite realize what she said until she'd said it. The birds had been a curse and an omen in one something said. She wasn't sure what it was, but she listened.
"They aren't that far out," Emmeryn began, but Nicola interrupted her.
"Emmeryn, Lissa's not in her normal headspace right now." That infuriated her. Was he saying her words were meaningle– "Give her the benefit of the doubt for now and hear her out."
Ah. He was on her side. That was lovely. He was lovely. Those thoughts lingered as she felt words flow from her like water, a dazed look entering her eyes before she ultimately drifted off. Chrom, everyone, be safe...
"Apollyon, do you have any idea what happened to Lissa," the Exalt asked once her sister had been carried to her chambers and tucked into bed. She slept fitfully, as if she hadn't been ablaze moments prior.
"I'm inclined to believe a part of her innate power was dragged to the surface," the dark haired entity said with a shrug. "Beyond that, I can't really say. Neither I nor Nicola have seen such a thing happen and I wasn't exactly there at the start."
It was rather uncanny to see a person in Nicola's likeness, but with completely different mannerisms. Where Nicola was softer and easy to talk around, the entity sharing his body was not. Apollyon was cool and calculating, with a far worse temperament. When she gazed at his soul, she didn't see the split being bound in chains she had with Nicola, she saw something far simpler.
Rather than a half man and half beast, Emmeryn saw a young man with back length pale green hair with strands that burned like fire clad a silver and black garb. Azure flames wrapped around his neck, forming a blazing scarf that flowed in an invisible wind, resting above a silver coat decorated in ornate blue symbols. A skin tight black tunic covered his torso, revealing muscle definition Emmeryn didn't quite expect from Nicola, above a pair of equally dark trousers with three white stripes on either side held in place by a thin belt with a silver buckle. Dark boots covered his feet and black gloves hid his hands as he observed her with teal eyes with orange cat-like pupils.
"Done taking my measure," he drawled, no hint of amusement in his voice.
"I believe so." The Exalt looked away, embarrassment visible as she turned to look at something else. Anything else.
"I believe you should keep a close eye on her for the next few days if you can. I understand that you're busy ruling a nation, but I feel this may take some precedence."
"My schedule for the next few days has already been cleared," Emmeryn breathed. "If only because the days to follow such a short break will be busy and hectic." She did not say more on the matter, but Apollyon did not appear interested in asking. Frankly it wasn't his business in the first place, but a held tongue was a boon in its own right.
"Good enough. Was there anything else you wish to talk about in the meantime?"
Emmeryn had to think. Beyond learning more about Apollyon and his relationship with Nicola there was little else she had in mind. At least until an idea sprang into being.
"Apollyon, would you be willing to see my sister's dreams and goals through?"
"If that's a fancy way of asking me to stay, I cannot. Not my choice."
Right, they'd had that conversation less than an hour ago. It felt like far longer, what with the two missives she'd received shortly thereafter. The first was a delegation from Regna Ferox coming to visit in a few weeks time to speak more of the arrangement that Chrom had struck. There was also note that there was a party interested in speaking to the 'wielder of the world unifier,' whom Emmeryn had no idea as to who was being referred to. There was a little less than a month before they arrived and she needed to make accommodations ready for them well before then, the lead speakers of the group especially. The West-Khan and both of his daughters would be attending and they couldn't be slighted—not that she would, the bulk of the worry was aimed towards the various nobles that would also attend the meet. Emmeryn was well aware of how so0me of the nobility thought, especially of less 'civil' folk from their nation's northern neighbors. She'd have to nip any notion that referring to the lot as barbarians was fine in the bud, something closer to pulling teeth when she also had to deal with the second missive.
King Gangrel wanted to meet with her. That was an entirely different issue to fret over, considering a wrong move there would more than likely pull both nations into conflict with one another proper. The smaller skirmishes and attacks from Plegian bandits could not necessarily be linked back to Gangrel, but it led to tension between their nations. Any major disagreements or irreconcilable issues that cropped up in a proper meeting between her and the king of Plegia would turn the thinly veiled animosity of both nations into a hate filled conflict neither would recover from quickly. It was for that same reason that she couldn't simply decline the meeting in the first place: Gangrel could take that as a slight and decide he was willing to damn both their nations over it. She wouldn't put him above it, she'd been kept apprised of the cruelties he could bring about if his temper flared, though such stories had quieted over the past year. It was too much to hope that he'd turned over a new leaf: the fact that he'd contemplated striking at her brother and company for defending their side of the border from unknown assailants that crossed from Plegia said he hadn't, not fully at least.
The nobility would heavily protest that and no doubt she would have to juggle keeping Gangrel pleased and among the living; there was no doubt in her mind that there would be several attempted assassinations once the news spread. So much to plan and cover and not nearly enough time to do so, even with Phila and the Hierarch assisting her. The thought alone nearly made Emmeryn collapse on the spot, she could foresee many sleepless nights in her near future. It was why her short break to watch Lissa was as damning as it was important.
"Breathe deeply," Apollyon said sharply, drawing her from her thoughts. She needed to clear her head quickly, but she also needed to plan and– "Breathe deeply."
A firm set of hands grabbed her shoulders, once more pulling the Exalt from her thoughts. She soon found herself looking into a pair of cat-like jade eyes brimming with irritation.
"Thank you for getting my attention, but you needn't hold onto me," Emmeryn said simply.
"You will be released once you take several deep breaths," the dark haired being returned with a sigh. "You were unsteady on your feet and hyperventilating. If not for your world's distinct lack of innovation with paper and parchment products, I would have tried having you to breathe into a bag instead." How would that have helped? "It supposedly helps with such things."
Ah. With great reluctance she took a deep breath, then held it for several seconds when the stern man told her to do so. She didn't feel very refreshed when he allowed her to release the breath the first time, but did by the third repetition. Her head hadn't cleared at all, but she didn't feel as immediately overwhelmed which she suspected was his intention.
"Thank you,"Emmeryn nodded once he released her.
"There's no need for thanks, there's a much greater need for stress management," Apollyon huffed. "I won't pry into what's bothering you, but it seems as if you have your work cut out for you."
Emmeryn nodded. "Indeed. It's times like these where I remember I'm a person beneath all of the responsibilities I bear, the times when the weight feels far too heavy to bear. Still, I must persevere regardless. The Exalt of Ylisse cannot falter."
"Continue doing that and you'll find yourself in an early grave," Apollyon retorted, taking a seat. Even the way he sat was different from Nicola's. Nicola seemed more relaxed and open, but would lean forward just slightly. Apollyon was the opposite, leaning back in his seat with one leg atop the other and his arms crossed as if he was studying her intently. It clicked that he was when he spoke next. "You're in severe need of rest and relaxation, even before I take the work you've split with Phila into account. The robes you wear just barely conceal that you're nearly skin and bones and do little to hide the lethargy that's settled over you."
Scarlet shame flooded her. She hadn't eaten very well since she could last remember, something Phila had brought up often. She was certain Phila would make good on her threats to forcefully feed her soon if she didn't do better in that regard, but eating took time she didn't have. So did sleep, but she knew without a doubt she would receive a severe tongue lashing if she mentioned how little she slept to the older woman. She was certain Apollyon wouldn't do the former, but the look and tone he had were nearly identical to the Wing Commander when she was irritated. Perhaps that was why she chose to train him and the red haired rider, Cordelia she believed, directly: Phila saw different aspects of herself in them in the same way she saw Emmeryn as a daughter of sorts. She couldn't disappoint them and let them see the very human, very weak parts of herself, not when she had bigger things to deal with.
"Stop that," the dark haired entity snapped. "You're doing it again."
She was. She was very used to hiding her stress away and never addressing it. Her nation needed a strong and just ruler, something she could be so long as she pushed her stress away from the forefront of her thoughts. She knew deep down that she would reach her breaking point soon, but she wouldn't allow it to happen before the next major issue arose or the one after it or even the one after it. She had to be strong, even if that meant dragging herself around in spite of exhaustion's toll. It was do that or let her in.
A slight frown flitted across her face as an earthy scent entered her nose. There that voice was again. She began hearing it around the turn of the year and it had slowly grown more common. This was the second time she'd heard it in as many days, when just two weeks prior she had only heard it twice over six days. It was probably the stress getting to her.
"I'll consider your words, but I cannot guarantee I will be able to act on your advice," Emmeryn finally said. That would end matters, she ultimately did not need to listen to him even if he appeared to have her best interest in mind. Her people were more important than her.
"If I must get Phila involved I will." That forced her to a stop. She didn't need to see the serious expression he wore to know he meant it. He would get Phila involved and while the older woman would understand her plight, she would also watch her like a hawk and ensure she ate and slept rather than spend the night reading reports and planning responses to more immediate issues.
"That will not be–"
"Then I can trust you to rest and take care of yourself without her involvement?" She would have swore she was looking at a second Phila with the way he arched his eyebrow as he kept his voice neutral.
"I–" Emmeryn stopped herself. Anything that wasn't an affirmation that she would take care of herself would lead to Phila's intervention. It quickly dawned on her that this was the same thing she did to Nicola rather often and scarlet embarrassment colored her features. Was this what it was like to be talked into a circle? She didn't like that one bit and knew that he'd most certainly have a retort at the ready if she mentioned that. She knew she would have. "Yes. Please do not get Phila involved more than she is already. She worries for me and I'd rather her concern not impact her duties."
"If you collapse or fall over dead, she'll be rather impacted regardless. Her, Lissa, Chrom and everyone else who cares for you as a person," he remarked without missing a beat. "Think about how they'll feel if you suddenly find yourself bedridden or dead because you didn't want to to rely on others–"
"I rely on Phila and the Hierarch!" She didn't mean to raise her voice, not while Lissa rested. She looked over and saw that she still rested peacefully.
"Enough to not kill yourself," he asked in return. "Rely on them more, bring someone else you can trust into the fold and split your burden with them. You're doing the work over several people if you don't have more than a scarce few minutes over a week to relax and be yourself."
How did– Lissa. Only Lissa would have some idea of how often she took breaks and only because she spent that time with her. Her time with Chrom was much more formal, though she still got her care for her brother across. She hoped.
"Your point is made. I'll do my best to take care of myself."
"Please do, I- Nicola would hate to see Lissa distressed if something bad happened to you."
"Then, would you be willing to handle some things for me, at least for the remainder of your stay?"
"I can't make any promises, I'd have to ask Nicola and he's still not quite fully awake after what Gregorios did. That being said, so long as it isn't filling out paperwork or handling correspondence and what not, I don't think he'd be too averse to it. There's a lot neither of us know about the halidom and we'd be poorly suited to handle anything pertaining to anything that isn't historical."
"If he can, that would be wonderful." She could think of several tasks he could handle and none would be outside of his expertise. From what she had heard he could keep up with a horse at full gallop on foot, which would be useful for surveying and other time sensitive tasks. If she limited that to gathering information or checking on things that weren't crucial, that would help her out a great deal. If Nicola agreed in the first place. He was stubborn, even if she could eventually prod him into accepting rewards or favors. "May we change the topic?"
"Certainly, if we can consider this the first of many steps towards you taking time for yourself. What does Emmeryn the person, not the leader or Exalt, want to talk about?"
That was a good question. What did she want to talk about? She was terrible at initiating small talk, the ability had left her when work became her every waking moment.
"This is somewhat harder than anticipated," she admitted after several moments of thoughtful silence. She expected Apollyon to demand a question or grow impatient, but he remained quiet and his expression had softened somewhat.
"Then allow me to start us off, that should be easier." When she nodded he asked a simple question. "You can see the souls of others, can you not?"
"I can." An easy, if somewhat personal question. "I've been able to do so for a very long time, but doing so for an extended duration is unpleasant for me and the other party if I focus my gaze on them."
Her eyes took on a lavender hue as she spoke, focusing on the dark haired youth before her. Once more she saw the black and silver clad figure that represented him and as before he seemed to see her, his eyes following hers. The cloying earthen smell soon followed and she allowed her eyes to return to normal as the faintest inklings of a headache made themselves known.
"I see. I can't say that was the most pleasant feeling," Apollyon said. He appeared to have more to say, but chose not to continue.
"It is taxing and I'm afraid that if I focus for a prolonged period I may hurt someone." The dark haired youth nodded in reply. "I do have a question, thinking about it."
"Ask away."
"How did you and Nicola become as you are?"
"I cannot say."
"Cannot or will not? If it is personal, I mean no offense."
"After my own question? It's fine, think nothing of it. There are holes in my and Nicola's collective memory. Some are small, like names of people whom we remember the faces of, but far enough back there are rather large ones from before his head slammed into a rather solid piece of stone nearing four years ago," he explained. "One of those holes is how we came to be together properly. I've been with him since I can remember, but I wasn't truly active until a few years ago—not the way I am currently at least. From what I can put together we've always been separate yet bound, but I cannot say if that is the whole truth."
"Ah."
"Anything else come to mind?"
"There is one other thing..."
"Shoot."
"Shoot?"
"Another way of saying 'ask away.'"
"Ah. How do you feel about my sister?"
"Is that something you really want to know?" A wry smile flashed across his face.
"If I said it was the first thing that came to mind?" The Exalt gave an awkward grin. In truth, she wanted to know more about the condition of his arm, but she wasn't she Apollyon would volunteer that information.
"I wouldn't believe you in the slightest, but I'll bite," he breathed. "Now, where to begin..."
When Maribelle came to, she was bound bound in a dark room. Her head was a mess of jumbled thoughts and stinging pain as she tried and failed to take in her surroundings.
"Ah, you're awake. I expected it wouldn't take too long, given the circumstances," a not unfamiliar voice spoke, tone light. "It's rather unfortunate that we had to meet under such circumstances, but when fate gives you a poor hand you upturn the deck and build your own."
An odd idiom, but that wasn't the important thing. She'd very clearly been kidnapped. She'd been with the Shepherds, surveying that village that had requested aid only to meet a small group warning them that the place had been defiled by someone or something. Then they'd been attacked and she had been separated. After that, things became a blur.
"Ah, I wouldn't strain myself if I were you, dear Maribelle," the speaker said, a soft hand caressing one side of her face. "You took a nasty hit to the head and I'd rather you not hurt yourself trying to recall everything at once. Allow me to explain."
"Who are you," she managed.
"Me?" Her head was tilted upwards, revealing a cloaked woman with long silver hair streaked with black that fell to her knees in two large braids. Beyond those details and the immaculate pale hand on her face, most of the woman's features were hard to make out. She was tall and her figure well endowed, but the extent of which couldn't be seen under what appeared to be a silken black cloak with gold and purple embroidery. Her face was nearly completely hidden as well, save for a pair of soft looking lips and a glowing pair of eyes that looked akin to the sun. "I believe it would be best to call me Luka, dear friend. We've much to talk about and so little time."
As she spoke, the silver haired woman pulled back her hood, revealing an all too familiar face.
"Robin?" The woman resembled the tactician to an uncanny degree. If not for the magical glow in her eyes, the darker streaks in her hair and the fading scars across her face, Maribelle would have mistaken the woman for her ally in a heartbeat. Those small differences and a subtle yet unnerving feeling, the feeling of something far beyond her understanding focusing solely on her, told them apart.
"Not quite, but close." With a simple gesture, the bindings around Maribelle shattered, sending her to the ground unceremoniously. The woman calling herself Luka offered a warm smile as she helped the noblewoman to her feet. "Come, let us walk and talk."
With another gesture the dark vanished and Maribelle felt her legs buckle as they found themselves on uneven ground in an instant. Her surroundings had been replaced by desert sand and dry heat, a sprawling city built from worn bleached stone and colorful shade cloths fluttering in the wind. Beyond that was a shimmering castle of brass and what had to be enchanted marble with five great spires lying beyond a clear oasis pool.
Thousands of people wearing a mix of thin robes, translucent baggy clothing and form fitting attire that left little to the imagination mingled about, completely ignorant to both the noble and the cloaked woman. She certainly wasn't in Ylisse, the one desert within the halidom's borders was lifeless and small—certainly not enough to hide a city, let alone a castle, or this many people. That only left Plegia or some great desert kingdom across the sea.
The one calling herself Luka offered a hand, smiling the entire time. She'd brought them here without any sort of effort, without anything resembling exhaustion. Maribelle wasn't the most versed when it came to the more combative magics, but even she knew that anything capable of teleporting a person over any span of distance was incredibly taxing. That Luka was unaffected meant that she was incredibly powerful and not someone to upset, even to one as lionhearted as the noblewoman. It didn't help that she felt a threat behind the cloaked woman's smile, as if she was being dared to refuse the hand and run and find out the consequences. Beyond the border of her homeland and surrounded by people she was certain wouldn't take kindly to her presence, Maribelle felt she had but a single damning option.
"Y-yes, let us."
A/N: Ended up having to cut this into two parts. Next part is the Shepherds PoV from Robin's eyes and should be out within the next two to three days.
As usual, if you enjoyed this chapter and want to see things from other writers, consider visiting the Fanfiction Treehouse Discord Server (9XG3U7a). You don't need to be a writer to join or anything like that and the community is pretty active and comfy. Regardless of that, thank you for reading thus far and I'll see you with the next chapter.