Disclaimer: Fire Emblem and Kid Icarus do not belong to us. They belong to Nintendo.

Chapter 5: Furioso e Fieramente

Clouds of crows fly into the air, a cacophony of croaks erupting as the squadron of Bladers soar over the battlefield.

Rather, it was the remnants of a terrible battlefield. The twisted remains of steel and bodies littered the desolated plains, the corpses of war engines and the men who drove them. Shattered swords are embedded into the earth, broken bodies scattered across the landscape. Tattered banners, once proud, flutter weakly in the acrid wind. Piles of bodies stand next to unfilled trenches in the dirt. The air is filled with smoke, and the smell of blood and rot. It is a scene out of a nightmare.

Unless you were of the Forces of Nature.

" Look at this ," the voice of Nature herself echoes across the once battleground, " What a waste ."

Viridi, the Goddess of Nature. Her voice lacked the usual burning ire that filled it whenever humanity was brought up. Rather it was a voice of annoyance and frustration, mingling with disappointment. It was perhaps the closest the goddess could get to sympathy for mankind.

" All of this for a wish ," the Goddess of Nature tsked, " This world cannot handle the greed of these humans! The sooner they die, the sooner everything can go back to peace. Equilibrium! It's for the best. "

The Bladers could not respond to their goddess with speech. Before they could respond at all, however, two of them were shot down. Wings clipped, bodies crashing into the devastation below.

In the midst of the murder, Dark Pit twirls his staff.

" You !" Viridi seethes, the earth shaking and buckling with her ire, " What the heck do you think you're doing !?"

"Taking care of pests!" Dark Pit shot back, flying higher into the air. The remaining Bladers follow after him, firing at him. Dark Pit twirls and dodges, and with another precise shot sends another Blader to the earth.

" You're supposed to be helping us! " Viridi snaps in his head. Dark Pit scowls and shoots down another Blader, splitting it in two. He fires at the last one, only for it to roll out of the way and retreat. With a snap of his wings he gives chase.

"Says who?" Dark Pit scowls, "Just cause I fought Pit-stain in your butler's Sanctum or whatever doesn't mean I work for you! I don't work for any goddess! Especially not one as twisted as you!"

" Watch your mouth ," Viridi growls. As Dark Pit flies after the Blader, the skies darken around them. Storm clouds rolling and roiling, the air grumbling with promised thunder.

"Learn my place? I thought the Goddess of Nature was supposed to be some sorta tree hugger," Dark Pit aims, only to curse as the Blader dips into the storm clouds, "Exterminating humanity? What part of that is natural?"

" I'm the one bringing nature back into harmony !" Viridi booms, and lighting strikes across the clouds as Dark Pit searches for the last Blader, " The moment those humans learned of the world and chose to disrupt the balance of things was the moment they became unnatural! This is something I should have done long ago! "

"Sure, whatever," Dark Pit sees a flash of green and fires. He grins as the last Blader plummets. "For a goddess, your minions are garbage. Almost as bad as Palutena's Centurions!"

The skies rumble as Viridi gives a noise best described as a kettle boiling.

"I mean, heck, both of your lieutenants got bodied by Pit-stain! Maybe you should go back to hugging trees!" Dark Pit crows, delighting as the winds howl around him, as if Viridi herself is trying to tear him out of the sky.

Abruptly the winds calm, and Viridi sighs.

" You should learn your place, little angel ," Viridi says, voice flat.

"Oh?" Dark Pit sneers, "Who's going to make me?"

The world explodes into light and sound, and when his vision comes back into focus Dark Pit is plummeting towards the ground. He snaps his wings to their full span and wrests control of his descent, just in time for his ears to stop ringing and for the world to become too bright again.

"Hello there!" the woman in front of him chirps, before kicking him.

" Lightning Flash Phosphora, I believe ," Viridi's grin can practically be heard.

The blow sends him spinning, and he barely manages to right himself and raise his staff to block the next blow.

"Oh, you're fast!" the woman says approvingly. A scarf of lightning is wrapped around her neck and wreathes her body, bright and blue, and Dark Pit feels his arms tremble and numb as she pushes against the staff. Her expression is as cheerful as her bright blonde hair, but there's a wild spark in her too blue eyes.

Dark Pit grins back at her, and knows that the same spark shines in his own eyes.

He manages to push her back, diving away from her before firing. She disappears in a flash and appears next to him in a burst of electricity that causes his hair to stand on end.

"Nice shot," she says, unscathed.

Dark Pit growls, twirling his staff. In a flash of light it becomes sharp claws that encase his arms. Dark Pit slashes at Phosphora with the Raptor Claws, only for her to disappear with a "zip!".

"Aww!" she cooes from behind him, "Does someone want to get up close and personal? How adorable."

" Teach this doofus a lesson Phosphora! " Viridi seethes.

"Doofus? What are you, five?" Dark Pit whirls around, firing a burst of projectiles at Phosphora. He sneers at her even as she dodges the attack.

"So what, you're Viridi's latest pet?"

"Mistress Viridi was right," Phosphora's eyes narrow, "Someone needs to teach you a thing or two about talking to goddesses."

"Oh yeah? Bring-!"

With a boom Phosphora appears inches away from him. She boops his nose, a burst of static stinging his face. And then she backhands him, and the world spins.

Dark Pit manages to catch the wind just before slamming into a mountain. A mountain that had, from the battlefield, been a small shape on the horizon, and-

Dark Pit kicks off the mountain with a burst of speed, just in time for Phosphora to smash into it. Boulders the size of Belunkas fly past him as the mountain crumbles, slope sloughing off and burying the forest below. Phosphora is a distant speck of azure in the middle of the landslide, until she's suddenly a bright star in front of him.

"Nice dodge!" she says, and punches him.

Dark Pit manages to catch the blow with his claws, and he winces as a jolt of electricity snaps up his arm, rendering it numb. Still he manages to block the next blow and the next, even aiming a blow at Phosphora's face that she grabs.

"You handle your electricity pretty well," she says as they struggle, locked in the air. Dark Pit pushes against her, and she doesn't budge. His wings beat furiously, and Phosphora's grin has a edge of mockery to it.

With a powerful wingbeat, he escapes the grapple and takes a swing at Phosphora as he falls back. The claws pass centimeters away from her face, and her grin grows sharper as she points at him. Hand curled into the shape of a finger gun.

Dark Pit points his claws at her, firing a charged shot just as a bolt of lightning escapes from Phosphora's fingers and the world tears apart.

He falls, nose filled with ozone and mouth filled with copper. He barely feels the branches snap under him as he falls through the canopy and bounces on the dirt below.

He manages to get onto his hands and knees, blinking searing spots out of his eyes and spitting out a stray leaf, when a chain of blue lightning crackles in the dark skies overhead.

"Now, where could he have gone?" Phosphora hums. Absently she points towards the forest, and a nearby tree splinters as lightning tears through it.

"Come on out now!" Phosphora calls.

" Commander Phosphora! " The stormy clouds part, letting sunlight fall through. Dark Pit scrambles into the shade of a tree, swapping the claws for his staff. Phosphora bathes in the light, at attention.

"Yes, Mistress Viridi?" she asks, and while she's not Pit, the reverence in her voice reminds Dark Pit of him. He scowls even as he wracks his mind for a plan.

" I'm airdropping you a little present. Flush him out !" Viridi commands.

From the gap in the clouds a bundle of small black shapes fall. It isn't until they're nearly on top of Phosphora does Dark Pit realize what they are.

"Oh, Bumpety-Bombs!" Phosphora squeals, "You shouldn't have, Mistress!"

Phosphora spins around, electricity wreathing her, and the sentient bombs of the Forces of Nature stop falling and begin to orbit her. Slow at first, and then faster and faster till they look like a black ring around her.

Phosphora grins as she snaps her fingers. The Bumpety-Bomb she fires moves too fast to even be seen. One moment there was a rather large patch of forest. The next moment there is a sizzling crater.

"I can do this all day!" Phosphora warns, "But I won't. Come out and I'll destroy you with your dignity intact!"

For a moment Dark Pit considers switching to the Rail Cannon and see how she likes being fired at by a railgun. Then, exhaling, he lunges out into the open, firing.

Phosphora spots him immediately and lobs a bumpety bomb, but his shot pierces through it right before it travels half the distance. The force of the explosion nearly knocks the breath out of him and he covers his face as high speed shrapnel scrapes across his skin. Seconds after the first explosion are a cavalcade of others, and Dark Pit grins as he hears Phosphora's screams in between.

Violet light spilling forth from his wings, Dark Pit takes to the sky. Rushing through the clouds of smoke and ascending towards the gap in the clouds, he fires another shot and laughs as he hears Phosphora grunt.

The smoke clears just as he clears the gap in the clouds, and a jet of blue lightning erupts from underneath, blasting apart the clouds even further overhead. Dark Pit whirls around just in time to see Phosphora inches away, cloaked in bright white lightning.

Even blocking her attack with his staff he's sent flying, and Phosphora rushes after him, arcing across the skies and leaving booming thunder in her wake.

She appears before him again, just as he switches to the Guardian Orbitars. Her dropkick meets his shield, and the shields shatter as he's sent careening down. Into the sea of black storm clouds and out the other side. The winds rage and howl around him, rain coming down in sheets so hard that its near impossible to tell where the sky ends and where the ocean below begins.

As Phosphora rips through the clouds a blast of water roars past Dark Pit, nearly knocking him out of the skies. Phosphora barely manages to avoid it, and Dark Pit winces as Viridi screeches.

" Poseidon you blowhard! What do you think you're doing, firing at my commander !?"

" Reminding her of her place! " Poseidon booms with the force of storm surges, " I won't be having the sky exert dominion over the ocean! "

"Oh not this again," Phosphora groans.

Dark Pit switches back to his staff and tries to keep an eye on Phosphora. It's nigh impossible. The world around him is darker than night, the winds tossing him to and fro and the rains soaking him through. His wings are heavy with exhaustion and water, and he pushes away bangs of hair as he tries to line up a shot against the distant flickering azure speck.

It doesn't help that Viridi and Poseidon are bellowing in his mind, yelling back and forth.

" You might be the Goddess of Nature, but I am the Lord of the Oceans and Seas! "

" Oh puhl-ease! I'm the one who populated the ocean with life! Hydrothermal vents? Tide pools? The Ediacaran? Heck, I was the one who nudged things for the Cambrian Explosion! Without me, all you'd be is lord of a buncha salty water! "

" You dare usurp my subjects from me ?"

" You ninny, they were mine first! "

"Oh will you two just shut-!" Dark Pit begins.

He catches sight of Phosphora. He fires, but its too late. She tanks the blow, shreds of purple light mixing with the azure field around her as she roars towards him-

"Thunderous Kick!" she bellows, voice crackling and booming. A massive bolt of lightning links heaven and sea, lighting up the world for a brief moment. There is a second of silence, the storm holding its breath, before the crash of thunder shatters it like a mirror.

A small shape falls, scraps of violet light shimmering off it, and slams into the rough seas below.

"It's super effective!" Phosphora cheers, throwing a fist into the air.

" Well done, Commander Phosphora! " Viridi says.

"Oh, thank you Mistress Viridi," Phosphra laughs, lounging like the cat that ate the canary, "Anything for you."

" That'll teach that upstart a thing or two!...And, by the way, it was regularly effective. "

"Hmm?"

" Thunderous Kick. It's a fighting move ."

"Whaaat? No, that can't be right. Are you sure, Mistress?"

" Of course I'm sure! I'm checking Bulbapedia right now! It says Fighting! "

"Well why'd they name it "Thunderous" then? It's not like they know the difference. Seems silly."

" Don't ask me why Game Freak does the things it does. "

Phosphora yelps as a jet of water roars past her.

"Fine, fine, I'm leaving!" Phosphora sticks her tongue out at the ocean before jetting off into the storm clouds above.

And far below, Dark Pit sinks further and further into the darkness of the ocean. Further and further, till-

-Dark Pit's eyes snap open. The mural with the strange green haired woman who definitely isn't Palutena but is uncannily similar to her meets him. The bathhouse is dark and empty. He'd come to it early, so as to avoid any humans. Grumbling as he rubs sleep out of his eyes, his thoughts stray back to his battle against Phosphora.

"Next time," he mutters, "The next time we meet, I'll even the score."

"Please, have a seat."

Dark Pit pauses. He'd been called for another healing session – apparently they wanted to do these daily after the "stunt" he'd pulled two days ago. He doesn't quite mind. After all, the sooner his wing gets healed, the sooner he can leave behind all these humans and their strange ways. Go back to the freedom of the sky. Maybe punch certain people in the face.

A small part of him whispers, traitorously, that the freedom of the sky doesn't have hot baths. He tells it to shut up.

So. Another healing session. Fun . But rather than Libra, it's Emmeryn who's waiting for him.

Emmeryn smiles at him, and Dark Pit raises an eyebrow before looking around. The blue haired knight – Phila was her name? - stares at him from the corner of a room. Not too close to Emmeryn, but not too far either. There were no other guards, and the room didn't look particularly fancy.

"Is something the matter?" Emmeryn asks.

"Uh, yeah? Think I might've walked into the wrong place."

Emmeryn hides a laugh behind her hand. It's a soft thing, barely even an exhale. It was a far cry from Palutena, who's laughter was spontaneous and unending once it started.

"You are in the correct place only," Emmeryn assures with a smile, "I will be your healer for today."

"You?" Dark Pit points at Emmeryn, ignoring the way Phila looks at him. When Emmeryn nods he crosses his arms, frowning.

" Why ?"

"I'm afraid Monk Libra is otherwise busy-"

"No," he interrupts, again ignoring how Phila looks at him, "I mean, why you?"

"Ah," Emmeryn says after a moment, "You refer to why me, personally, rather than any other clergy member?"

"I mean, aren't you the bigshot around here?" Dark Pit says, "You've probably got, like, better things to do."

Heck if he knows what those things are, but positions of power and busywork seemed to go hand in hand in his experience.

"I do have many responsibilities," Emmeryn admits, "And one of them is to make sure that guests to Ylisstol are being looked after, and to heal the injured and sick."

Dark Pit stares at her for a moment, and Emmeryn stares back, and he can't read her. Can't tell if she's serious or playing some sort of game.

"Would you prefer someone else?" Emmeryn asks, and Dark Pit shrugs.

"Nah. If you wanna do grunt work, I ain't stopping you. Course, you do know what you're doing, right?"

"It is not often that I attend to patients," Emmeryn says as he sits down in the chair next to her, "But I keep practice with the art of healing."

"Great. Filled with confidence over here."

Despite himself, he relaxes a bit. It's hard not to. Emmeryn is careful as she checks his wing, fingers gentle as she brushes aside feathers to look at the wound.

"For the most part the skin has healed," Emmeryn says, "There's nary even a bruise."

"What did I tell you?" he smirks, "I heal fast!"

"Indeed," Emmeryn murmurs, "Still, it is what's inside that truly needs to heal. I'm certain you've already received your fair share of warnings about overusing your wings."

"I've been nagged, yeah."

Once again, to his confusion Emmeryn smiles. It's a genuine smile too, not an inch of condescension that he can see.

"Yes, well, I understand it can be quite difficult not to. But the less you stress the bones, the faster it will heal properly. Please try your best to avoid future use."

There's not much he can say to that – after all he wants to be able to fly freely again, and she has a point. So he remains silent as Emmeryn takes one of those healing staffs and channels magic through it.

Emmeryn's magic feels like a soft breeze, the first caress of spring, and despite the way his wings itch as it washes over him he can't help but admit that he feels better.

"That should be enough for today," Emmeryn says after a moment, letting the magic dim, "We'll have to check tomorrow as well."

"Yeah yeah, I got the picture," he grumbles and waves a hand. As he does, the sleeve of that stupid shirt that knight gives him falls towards his elbow. Emmeryn's gaze immediately snaps to a bruise across his forearm, and before he knows it she's grabbed his arm. Gently, but with surprising strength – more strength than he'd been expecting her willowy frame to have.

"Hey!" he snaps.

"What happened?" Emmeryn asks, voice quiet as she stares at the bruise.

He manages to yank his arm back and scowls at her.

"It was nothing."

Emmeryn stares at him, and he hunches his shoulders. In her gaze is a strange mix of worry and something else, and he looks away.

"Look, I got it during a little sparring match with one of your knights."

The worry fades away.

"One of my knights?"

"Y'know, those Sheep guys or whatever."

"The Shepherds."

"Those are the ones.

Now the worry is gone completely, and Dark Pit is surprised by the exasperation in Emmeryn's voice as she brings a hand to her temples.

"Oh dear. I've told Frederick to take things easier..." she sighs.

"Your grace," Phila speaks up, "We both know he won't unless you directly order him to."

The knight says this wryly, and her small smile remains even as she turns to him.

"Besides, a bruise or two never hurt anyone."

"That's what I'm saying!" he agrees. He'd gotten way worse fighting Pit-stain of all people!

Emmeryn exhaled and glanced towards the ceiling for a moment.

"I suppose you would know best, Phila," her gaze turns down towards him, "At the very least allow me to heal it, young man."

"I mean, knock yourself out if you want. But like your knight said, it's not a big deal."

"Spare me," Emmeryn says, and he hears Phila hide a laugh behind a cough, "I've dealt with enough of that sort of attitude from Chrom."

"Chrom," Dark Pit frowns. That was the leader of the Shepherds, right? The prince? "You mean your son?"

This time he isn't sure if the sound Phila makes is a laugh hidden by a cough or her choking. Emmeryn gives him a startled look.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" she asks, eyes wide.

"I mean, he's the prince right? And you're, what, the Queen?" Dark Pit feels his face warm and he scowls, "That's how it works with you humans, right?"

"Do you think that a prince is always the son of a queen?" Phila asks, and he feels his face growing warmer.

"Well, if that's not how it works it's too complicated!" he snaps.

"Peace, young man," Emmeryn hums and begins to heal his arm, "You are not necessarily wrong. The mother of a prince or princess is usually the queen. But, should the reigning exalt die, the eldest child becomes the next exalt. The younger children remain prince and princess, however."

"So...You're his sister," he hazards.

"I am Chrom and Lissa's older sister," Emmeryn's staff dims, and when she looks at him her smile is wry, "Surely I don't look so old as to have children?"

"I mean..." Dark Pit trails off, "I don't know? You humans age pretty fast."

"Compared to angels?" Emmeryn asks.

"Compared to a lot of things, but yeah."

Emmeryn makes a thoughtful sound,

"Before you leave, young man," Dark Pit turns towards Phila as she speaks. She steps to the side, revealing a pile of black clothes and-

"My staff!"

"I did say I would return it to you," Phila notes. He ignores her, grabbing the weapon and smiling as he feels it thrum in his grasp. The red jewel sparkles, and the blue hologram flutters to life. He twirls the weapon, before storing it. For now he'll keep the Violet Palm equipped, if only cause there's no way for these humans to take it from him. Then he turns towards the clothes. His tunic and chiton. He scans over them, making sure that the knight hadn't done anything weird with them. He doesn't find anything - in fact, he doesn't notice the mends in the clothes until he brushes his hands across the chiton and feels slightly raised fabric.

Having his clothes in his arms makes him painfully aware of how uncomfortable the shirt he's currently wearing is - too loose everywhere but the back, where the fabric keeps chafing against his wings. And the sleeves! Why humans wore them in the first place he has no clue. They just got in the way, and it had taken all of his patience to not just cut them off.

So he wastes no time in pulling the shirt off - grunting as it catches against his wings. It isn't until he tosses it to the ground and grabs his tunic that he remembers that there are other people in the room. He hears Emmeryn give a small gasp and he whirls around, face warming.

"Do you mind?!" he snaps.

Before either Emmeryn or Phila could answer, he grabs the chiton and wraps it around him haphazardly, before storming out of the room.

"Right, see ya!"

"Young man-"

"-wait…" Emmeryn trails off as the door slammed shut. She sighs as she stands up.

"Oh dear."

"I didn't take him for the sort to be easily embarrassed," Phila made a face as she picked up what had once been a shirt. Two jagged holes had been torn in the back, all but ruining it.

"I hope I haven't hurt his pride too much," Emmeryn murmurs.

"Young men could do with less pride," Phila retorts, folding the ruined garment, "Especially this one."

Emmeryn doesn't say anything, and Phila glances at her.

"Your grace?" she asks softly. Her eyes are soft with concern, and Emmeryn feels a smile tug at her lips.

The memory of the map of scars across Pip's body - most prominently the feathery branches that spread across his chest - refuse to leave her mind.

"Hey, look!"

Robin looks up from the spell tome Miriel had given her, and sees Pip skulking through the open hall that leads to their little training ground. He doesn't seem to have noticed them, with the way he's fussing over the brooch on his shoulder.

"Hey!" Lissa yells, waving a hand. Robin winces at the exuberance and volume, but it catches Pip's attention. His wings snap close up as he looks around, before his gaze falls on the princess. For a moment Robin wonders if he'll pointedly storm away - his expression certainly indicated such an act. To her slight surprise he storms towards them. His expression is sullen but there's a spark of curiosity in his eyes.

"Hey," he says, waving. He keeps a hand on his shoulder, and Robin notices that his strange attire is falling slightly.

"Having trouble?" Lissa asks, gaze zeroing in on his shoulder. Like a jackal scenting blood.

"No!" Pip scowls and waves his hand flippantly - only to desperately clutch back at it as the black robe he wears slips.

"Don't you say anything," he glares at Lissa.

"Wasn't going to," Lissa lies through her smile.

Robin hides her laugh through a cough, and Pip's glare zeroes in on her. If she didn't have a head of height over him, it might've been intimidating.

"Let me help," she offers, shuffling the tome to the crook of her arm.

"I don't need your help," is the immediate response.

"Hmm. What sort of dress is this, anyway? I've never seen this style before," she asks. Partially cause she's curious, but mostly cause she hopes the question distracts him. It does, and Pip's shoulders relax as he raises an eyebrow at her.

"Never seen a chiton before?"

"Can't say I have," she says, taking a step closer, "How does it work?"

"You wrap it around yourself," Pip politely doesn't add a "duh", though she can tell he's implying one, "And you fasten it with a brooch or something."

"Like so?" she asks, reaching out towards the purple brooch on his shoulder. He doesn't stop her as she manages to pin the chiton in what she hopes is the correct manner.

"Yeah like that," Pip rolls his shoulder, and the chiton holds.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" she says, and she allows a smile. Pip snaps towards her and he seems to realize what she'd done.

"Didn't need help huh?" Lissa teases.

"Shut. Your mouth," Pip scowls, face flushing red. Snapping towards her, his gaze zeroes in on the tome in her hands.

"What's with the book?"

"It is a fire tome."

Pip startles as Miriel seemingly materializes out of thin air. She can't blame him. She hadn't heard the woman coming either, and judging by Lissa's little jump neither had she. Miriel adjusts her spectacles while cradling several other tomes, staring at Pip with an intensity that most people reserved towards sudden and mysterious piles of coin. Pip matches her gaze, raising his chin and flaring his wings a little.

"I caught part of your previous conversation on clothing, and I would be eager to discuss the fashions and textiles of your homeland. The fabric you use and the way it is sourced, with what methods it is stitched and woven. Whether fashion between men and woman have a great deviation or are similar. Twould be a fascinating conversation," Miriel's eyes twinkle hungrily for a moment. Then with a slight nudge of her glasses, the look is gone, replaced with her usual stoicism. "At the moment, however, we are conducting an experiment involving Robin's thaumatic capabilities."

"Thau-what?"

"Thaumatic capabilities. Her command and grasp of the finer aspects of elemental conjuring."

"We're testing out my ability to use magic," Robin explains.

"Why didn't you say that in the first place?" Pip grumbles.

"I believe I had, though perhaps my speech was circuitous."

"Okay, if I need a Thesaurus to understand you then clearly- And what's with all the books?"

"As I said, we are testing Robin's expertise."

"And this involves books, because?" Pip asks, planting his hands on his hips.

"Spellcraft is easier via the mode of the written medium. These tomes are crafted in such a way that their capability to hold onto thaums is maximized. In addition, they are written in the Old Thabesian script, the language of magic. As Thabes is long dead, learning their language is difficult, nearly nigh impossible. By using pre-written incantations as a catalyst, a magician can not only circumvent needing knowledge of the language, but also to gather the appropriate magic required to cast the spell. Tomes, thus, are a godsend for battle."

Pip stares at Miriel, face contorting into accelerating and increasing levels of thought.

"So what, you use books instead of wands?" he finally says.

"Wands, though theoretically possible, are impractical due to a combination of their fragility and the rarity of appropriate materials to craft them from. Hence the tendency towards staves-"

"Hey, aren't we here to see Robin set things on fire?" Lissa interjects. Pip, whose eyes are caught between glazing over and glaring, snap towards her and for a moment Robin wonders if Lissa had done that on purpose. Then she catches Lissa's own expression of boredom dying at the hopeful prospect of setting something on fire.

"I suppose we should start the experiment," Miriel acquiesces, handing Robin a tome. It's a red fire tome, practically new, and she wastes no time flipping it open. The smell of parchment and the glue used in binding hit her, and it's familiar and alien at once. The maddening feeling is lessened, however, by the magic at her fingertips. It buzzes through her body, sharp and eager, and she can't help but relish it. Waving her hands over the pages of runes, the letters glow - burning off the page and rising into her hand as smoke. With more flourish than normal she cups the spark that blossoms into a ball of fire, and tosses it at the training target. The flames splash and lick at the wood, leaving a scorch mark as they die.

Lissa claps her hands in delight. Pip looks interested, but far from impressed - considering what he'd done to the Risen, a simple Fire wouldn't be that impressive she supposes. And Miriel jots down something in a journal.

"How fast can you cast?" she asks, to the point.

This time, rather than relishing and playing around with the magic, she catches hold of it and snaps the spell out in, once again sending fire splashing against the target.

"Slightly less than a quarter of a minute to cast," Miriel murmurs as she notates, "Longer than it took for you to cast Thunder."

Robin wonders where Miriel has measured that little tidbit from, even as she answers.

"Thunder spells come easier to me."

"Hmm. Personally I find them temperamental. Their tendency towards chaotic directionality unless strictly controlled, coupled with their danger towards the user unless properly handled, perhaps."

"Fire can harm just as much if not careful," Robins points out, "Though I won't deny that Thunder spells are a touch harder."

"True."

"So what, you can toss lightning bolts?" Pip asks.

Robin chuckles a bit at the thought, even as Miriel adjusts the tomes in her arms.

"The Thoron Thunder class spell is a particularly high level tome, being the second strongest of the class. It's not a tome to be taken lightly, and it takes an exceptional level of skill to wield, let alone direct it safely."

"That doesn't answer my question," Pip retorts, "Can you toss lightning bolts or not?" There's a note of challenge in his voice, and Robin wonders if the angel can throw lighting and is looking for a chance to boast.

"Why lightning specifically?" Lissa asks, tilting her head to the side and staring at Pip.

For whatever reason Pip looks away, face flushing.

"N-No particular reason! I just wanna see something impressive, that's all!" the angel scoffs, "I mean, that fire spell wasn't even on the level of a Skuttler Mage!"

"A what?" Lissa asks.

Pip gives her a look from the corner of his eyes.

"Skuttler Mage? Underworld monster?" he smirks, "You humans don't know much, do you?"

"I know that if I whack you over the head with my staff, it'll hurt," Lissa warns.

"Perhaps," Miriel interjects, "There is much we've yet to decipher. And yet we yearn to learn more. Ever since our beginnings, it is curiosity that has driven us ever forward. As my mother before me, I intend to follow in this grand tradition," Miriel pierces Pip with a look, "And, seeing as we're bereft of knowledge, as you say, surely you wouldn't mind answering a few questions?"

"Er-"

"To answer your previous question," Robin decides to come to his rescue, "I don't know if I could safely handle high level tomes."

Pip blinks at her before realization dawns on him.

"Oh, right, amnesia…" he scratches the back of his head, "...Well, there's only one way to find out, isn't there?"

Robin meets the challenging look he gives her with a frown.

"That is a highly irresponsible suggestion," she begins.

"But not a factually incorrect one," Miriel hums, "The fastest, and indeed best way to achieve results is with some practical experimentation. One cannot concoct thought experiments all day"

"I'm not just gonna grab a Thoron tome and mess around with it," Robin says flatly,

"If you're worried about getting hurt, I can go grab a staff!" Lissa says, eager.

"That's not remotely the point!"

"What are you, a coward?" Pip goads.

She glares at him, which only makes his grin grow.

"In any case," Miriel sorts the stack of tomes, "I currently do not have any such high level tomes. We shall have to settle for an Elthunder."

"Miriel," Robin tries to avoid taking the yellow tome Miriel is handing her, "Are you sure this is a good idea?" A jolt of static flies from the tome to her hand and she minutely jerks back. Miriel pushes the tome into her hands.

"The plan was to work our way up and test your limits in the first place. With the aptitude you displayed the other day in battle, I trust that, even without your conscious memory, if you are able to do the spell you shall do it, and if not you shall be safe with it."

"That's a lot of "ifs"..." Robin protests.

"As I said, with the aptitude you displayed, I have high confidence in my hypothesis," the words would've been touching if Miriel didn't want her to throw an Elthunder without knowing if she could, "In any case, better to test it here, rather than on the battlefield."

Unfortunately, that was a very good point. Robin had to know what every Shepherd - including herself - was capable of. And part of her did want to see her limits, the Elthunder tome prickling under her fingers. It was a curious, but not unwelcome feeling, and Robin felt like she could just reach into that well of magic and unleash the spell with but a snap of her fingers.

As she tried to come up with a counterargument, Pip groaned.

"Are you going to do it or not?" he heckles.

Under Pip's sneer and the weight of Miriel's gaze, Robin feels her resolve snap. With half a groan and half a growl she flicks her right wrist. The Elthunder tome opens, pages flipping wildly.

Thunder was curious magic. With wind and fire it was a matter of gathering and concentrating the element before firing it. With thunder, simply concentrating the magic was a great way of either getting yourself or an innocent bystander killed. To wield thunder magic, one had to remove themselves from the world. Separate themselves from the earth, so that the magic did not snap into the body of the caster.

The world blurs away, leaving only Robin and the target. The other curious thing about thunder magic was how it felt. In that, it didn't feel like anything. It felt numb even, due to insulating oneself from the world. The only indication that a spell was being prepared was the heat. Unnoticeable at first, but growing steadily. And it wasn't like fire magic, which felt like cupping a candle. The heat of thunder magic felt as though it was blossoming inside her palm and towards her fingers. As if her hand had been pinned or frozen, and blood was just now returning to it.

Thunder had been a simple spell. Elthunder was much more. Even focused on the target, Robin could feel the heat, a heat like a hot summer's day, and see the sparks arcing around her hand and the tome. She couldn't focus on that though, she had to focus on the target, picture it as an empty pitcher to be filled by her spell. Or else the spell would lash out in a random direction, or into someone-

The tome flashes, just as the heat in Robin's hands becomes painful, and she releases it. The Elthunder is not just a jolt but a comet of lightning that flies from her hand to the target in the searing blink of an eye. There's a slight boom and the air smells of ozone, and the target is on fire. Smouldering at first, before properly catching flame.

"Whoa…" Lissa says from behind the safety of Pip.

"Heh," Pip grunts, his wings close to his body, "Kinda impressive, I'll give you that."

"Very impressive," Miriel corrects, "You handled that Elthunder spell remarkably."

"I suppose so?" Robin closes the tome with a shaking hand, and hands the tome to Miriel. If she notices the way Robin's hand quivers - and she mostly definitely does, Robin thinks - she doesn't comment. Robin is thankful, and surreptitiously rubs feeling back into her hand.

It isn't that the Elthunder had shaken her, per say. To be sure, she was scared of it - but a healthy sort of scared. The way any sensible person would feel about a sudden snake, coiled defensively on the path. And part of her felt exhilarated. To wield such power…

Mostly her hand shook simply because that was what thunder magic did. She doesn't know why - if she had known before she's forgotten - but thunder spells left lingering spasms and aches.

"That was impressive."

Robin startles for a different reason, and hand cradled close to her chest, she whirls around to see Chrom walking towards them. He's giving her an admiring look.

"I was wondering where you were. Those were some impressive spells," he says.

"Like you know anything about magic," Lissa snorts.

"It's true that magic has always…escaped me," Chrom admits, "But I know skill when I see it. Am I right, Miriel?"

"You are," Miriel agrees, "Robin's thaumic capabilities are quite impressive."

"Why can't you just use the word magic?" Pip asks.

Miriel shoots him a look, but before she can speak Chrom clears his throat.

"There's a matter that needs the Shepherds' guidance."

"What's wrong?" Robin immediately asks.

"Nothing major, we hope. We've been getting reports of more bandit activity near the southern territories of the Halidom," Chrom sighs, "With the Risen occupying the council's minds, I'm afraid that the southern towns will be left on their own."

"So you want the Shepherds to save the day," Lissa says, not unkindly.

"That's not the only reason."

"I imagine we're to detail the activity of the Risen," Robin says, "That's what I would do at least. Two birds with a single stone."

"Took the words out of my mouth," Chrom's smile fades a little, "The Pegasus Knight's are doing as best they can to keep an eye out, but we need to know what it's like from the ground too."

"I see," Robin says, already thinking of everything that would be needed for this excursion, "We should get going then."

"The sooner the better," Chrom agrees.

"Ugh," Lissa groans, "And we'd just gotten back…"

"Now now, Lissa-" Chrom begins, a teasing lilt to his voice.

"If you say anything about character building-!"

Chrom laughs, before catching sight of the way Robin is massaging feeling back into her fingers.

"Are you okay?" he immediately asks.

"I'm fine," she says, just as quick, "Let's get going."

Chrom gives her a look but doesn't press.

"Hm," Lissa turns, "See you when we get back, I guess."

With a start Robin realizes she's forgotten about Pip. He's not looking at them, instead staring at the target with a far away look in his eyes. Before Robin can say anything, his eyes snap towards her and he sneers.

"Well? Don't you have somewhere to be?"

Robin bites back the question of what's bothering him. By now she knows it would only make Pip clamp up more. And she does have somewhere to be. But she resolves to ask the angel about it later.

"Don't get in to too much trouble," she says instead, before either Lissa or Chrom could ask the question she'd bitten back.

This at least draws a grin from Pip.

"Since when have I gotten into trouble?" he asks, daring. He laughs at the look she gives him, and she hides her own smile.

The smile fades away for real when, as she follows the others away from the grounds, she hears Pip mutter -

"Next time you and I meet, Lightning Flash? I'll be the one to win ."

The ending of this chapter wrestled with me. Still not entirely happy with it.

What I am happy with is Phosphora! Phosphora, what a lovely character! She's fantastic.

Thanks for reading. Tune in for the next chapter!