Hi, CanonSmasher here! As always, I do not own Fire Emblem, any characters you recognize, or any story bits you recognize. Anything you DON'T recognize does belong to me and is 100% my idea. (And maybe in places my twin's).

Enjoy!

-CanonSmasher

Chapter One

"Elle!"

"Mm?" the girl turned another page of her book, not really wanting to be interrupted. Elle's sitting sideways in one of the armchairs in Castle Ostia's library, her legs over one arm, her head on the other, and a thick book perched on her lap. Elle's light green cloak is currently hung on the back of the aforesaid chair, all but forgotten.

"Adelle!"

She looked up towards the voice, surprised that someone actually used her full first name, usually, that meant she's in trouble. A woman is hurrying over to the chair Elle occupies, her short yellow cloak she's twisted to be more like a scarf floating slightly behind her. Her short pinkish-red hair with long bangs on on side is very familiar to the girl, and she suddenly bolts upright.

"Leila! You're supposed to be in-" Elle hurriedly slammed the book, an ice tome really, shut. Clipping it to her belt she jumped out of the chair as she spoke, snatching her cloak as well.

"Bern?" Leila offers rather snappishly.

"Well. . . yeah."

"Don't 'well yeah' me Adelle! You're supposed to be in Caelin!"

Elle chuckles, then sink back into the chair, relieved, "Oh, yeah, that. I already finished that one, report and all."

She freezes, "You. . . You're done?" she drops her stern air and laughs, shaking her head, "How? You and your brother work so fast!"

The younger girl's amber eyes twinkling in merriment, "Trade secret. Can't tell you I'm afraid."

She huffs in mock frustration, "Is the information you got sealed too? Or can you tell me?"

"The ailing Marquess Caelin's looking for his granddaughter, a young woman named Lyndis," Elle reports, "Supposedly Lady Madalyn's been living on the plains of Sacae this whole time, and sent him a letter telling of the girl. The letter warmed his heart towards the girl I guess, he's rather exited to meet her," a smile breaks her cold delivery of facts, "He's a kindly old man, having family again will do him good," she added warmly.

Leila thinks for a moment, "Did you get anything on the Marquess' health?"

"Poison."

She nods grimly, "Lundgren?"

"Who else?"

"Can you tell me anything else?"

"Nope, the rest is sealed. How'd it go in Bern?"

"As good as it could go I guess, I'm trying to rise through the ranks without assassinating anyone. Rather difficult when it's a league of assassins," Leila says dryly.

"Seen any of the Fangs?"

She gives the girl a stern look, "Sealed."

"Shame. It'd be great if you could get some info on that Angel of Death guy, he sounds like either a legend or a ghost story."

"I agree. By the way, you seen Matthew anywhere?"

Leila's trying to be offhand about it, but Elle can tell she really wants to know. She resists the urge to tease her and points to the hallway.

"My brother's thataway, take a left, third door on the right," she eyes her critically, "Although last time you were here you nagged me about only being able to use magic. . . And you did promise that next time you came back-"

"I'd spar with you to see how your dagger work was coming along," she sighs, giving a quick glace at the door, "Fair's fair, come on."

"After you talk to Matthew of course, wouldn't want to have him pining away," the brown-haired girl teases.

She looks like she's going to say something, then she stops and turns to leave, "Meet you in the courtyard Elle."

Adelle watched her retreating back and grins, unclipping the book again and settling back into the chair, "Probably shouldn't rush to get there though," she says to herself, "She'll be awhile."

Her amber eyes run down the page slowly, her rather absorbent brain taking in the spells and incantations. A slight chill emanates from the tome, not quite enough the seep through the leggings she wears under the just above knee skirt, but just enough for her to realize it in her fingertips. After awhile, the slight sounds of someone attempting to sneak up on her come from behind her. Their footfalls are heavy, too heavy to be her brother or Leila.

"Milord Hector," she stands and faces the blue-haired young man, snapping her tome shut with a thud and flicking her hand along the hem of her skirt while bowing her head, an informal greeting to a superior.

He looks up and down the empty room before asking, "Where's Matthew?"

"Down the hall aways."

"Good. I brought you a bookmark," he handed Adelle a folded scrap of paper.

"A bookmark, Milord? I must say it looks li-"

"Shh!" he makes a shushing motion, "Not so loud!"

She nods obediently, tucking the paper into the ice tome.

He stands there, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, looking like he wants to convey something else, "Oh, and, Elle?"

She looks up.

He stops the slight bounce, "That. . . bookmark. . . is expressly for you. Not Matthew. Not anyone."

He leaves, and Elle smirks. She and Lord Hector had developed a strange code. Awkward meet up somewhere empty, something exchanged, usually with an order of some sort in it, and he leaves. Elle clipped her cloak back around her shoulders, then exits the sunny openness of her favorite room in the castle. Her footsteps are quick as she hurries to her room off in the spies' quarters. The bustle of the main castle greets her, and the girl exchanged 'hellos' and, 'good days' as she made her way down the halls.

". . . and then whatever do you think happened next?" questions a high female voice around the corner.

She froze.

Serra.

"He didn't ignore you?" another female voice, belonging to one of the servants of higher rank, Maya, she thinks.

"He did! The nerve! I was positively enraged I assure you!"

Elle melted into one of the extremely helpful decorative nooks that line the halls of Castle Ostia, this particular one being home to a rather large suit of armor. Two women walk by, the first dressed in the simple, but rather tastefully decorated and tailored (by the wearer) dress of a cleric. Her pink ponytails bounce slightly as she tosses her head disdainfully.

"This time I'm going to Etruria," Serra pauses for an enraptured gasp from Maya before saying, "On the way back, I'll have a real escort!"

Her companion gushes about Etruria, and the two move away, giggling now.

Elle sighs in relief, then slips out of her nook.

"If it isn't Adelle!"

She stops mid-step, wincing inwardly before turning slowly, pasting a smile onto her face.

Serra is bounding up to her, ponytails bobbing, purple decorative scarf waving, and eyes sparkling with a happiness that would have caused an echo of the same emotion on Adelle's face if she didn't know what was coming next.

"Just the girl I was looking for! How perfect is that? I need a vassal and one shows up!" she pauses to smile even wider as she winds one of her long ponytails around a finger, "I need you to help me with something Adelle, I'm going to Eutruria soon, and I need someone to help me pack."

She says it like she's blessing her with a boon that anyone would jump for. Unfortunatly, Elle had to help her pack the one satchel she'll take with her, and man, did she take forever doing the simple task.

Elle sighs in what passes as deep sorrow, "I can't!" she flicked a long piece of light brown hair over her shoulder, "I promised Leila I'd spar with her, and would you know I can't get away?" Inwardly, she praised the large changes she'd given her personality, (Serra's always great for practice when you're a girl who has great need to shift herself beyond recognition for her frequent ventures into enemy encampments.)

The pink-haired woman frowns, her lips turning down into a pout, "And she's your superior too! What a shame! Next time then!" she shrugs and flounces off.

Elle moves away, finally making it into the small room off the main section of the castle she called her own. She closed the door behind herself, the slight creak annoying to her sensitive ears.

I've really got to oil that.

She crossed over to the bed, which is tucked against the short wall farthest from the door. A brightly colored quilt, made by her mother, and taken off her bed back home, is one of two personal items in the room. Everything else is rather blank, impersonal. A tiny desk, all but covered in papers and books, is pushed under the one high up window that sits on the left, and on the right is a row of hooks that house the girl's small amount of clothes, the whole arrangement is covered with a deep red cloth acting as a curtain. The rest of her garments are in the small chest of drawers by the bed, which holds a tiny painting done by a friend awhile ago.

Elle sits on the bed, tosses her cloak gently across the room onto the desk, (it really was a small room) and gave a quick glance at the painting. It's split down the center, to save having to use two frames. The occupants of the wooden frame are all smiling, and the bright colors they all wear put a smile on her face. Adelle's parents are in the left side, and her mother smiles, her light brown eyes twinkling with merriment. Her curly, dirty-blonde hair is combed back to over her ears, ready to tumble down again at slightest notice. Elle's father stands beside her, his arm around her waist. He has dark brown hair as well as the amber eyes Elle and Matthew share, as well as his daughter's crooked grin. The right side of the frame holds three kids, arms looped around each others shoulders. On the left is Elle, a light-brown haired girl, the youngest in the frame, with eyes just bordering on amber but more like dark caramel. A book is clutched under her arm, her right hand curling under to mark a page she'd been wanting to get back to reading at the time, and her left arm slung around her oldest brother Matthew's shoulders. Matthew's signature grin lights his face, his amber eyes filled with mischief, and his always messy dirty-blond hair is just avoiding falling into his eyes. He's the oldest of the three, and even in paint, he holds that manner of confidence that he wears like an aura. He's got one arm over his little sister's shoulders, and the other is pulling his younger brother, Andrew, into the scene. Andrew's the middle, in more ways then one. His hair is an undisided color, blonde in some lights, brown in others, and a length between Elle's long cut and Matthew's short one. His eyes are a brown that's neither his mother's light ones or his father's dark. A magic tome is clipped to his belt, and there are two daggers hidden in wrist sheaths. He's laughing, looking like he's attempting to break out of his brother's grip, and the happy scene makes Elle sad. Andrew'd been the first to enter Ostian service, and quickly rose to become one of the best. Matthew had followed him to service, and after Matthew, she had too. A few years back, Andrew had been assigned a mission that no one would give any information on, and been assumed killed. They all still missed him, but they knew he wouldn't have wanted the family to stop living their lives, and continued to serve. In a way, he'd taught his siblings that every day was a gift, and to be cheery about life, no matter how desperate the situation. This all wasn't going through Elle's head at the moment though, instead, she unclipped her ice tome, a custom Drivsno Andrew'd helped her with, and pulled out the 'bookmark'. As she'd thought, it wasn't just a slip of paper, but a feat of folded paper with a message inside written in an untidy scrawl.

You spies go on field missions, right? Training and stuff? What d'you say about a 'field mission' in Sacae? Uther wants to know what's going on there, but won't send anyone! I figure a spy specializing in battle tactics would be of great help to a girl traveling to Castle Caelin right now. Especially if that spy left tomorrow to beat whoever else is coming. Just saying.

Elle thought for a moment, read the message over again to memorize it, then tapped it with her finger. A sheen of ice coats the paper, before melting and smearing the ink beyond recognition. She tapped it again, and another coating of ice covers it, this one using the wetness of the damp paper to seep though the whole thing and freeze it solid. She then crossed to the tiny fireplace, trying to remember how to do a fire spell, before snapping her fingers. A warm blaze springs forth, and she smiled, glad that it had worked. Elle give the icy paper a flick, and it shattered into a whole bunch of tiny splinters before landing on the fire with a sizzle. The girl waited about five minuets, overkill for the tiny pieces honestly, before estinguishing it. As she sat down in the chair by the desk, her mind rushed though ideas and things she'd heard in general. The girl would need protection of some sort, that was true. Elle did go on multipule training exersizes Leila called 'field missions', also true. Elle's gaze roams around the room, coming to a stop on the large map of Elibe she'd tacked up over her desk. Her eyes flick from the dot labeled Caelin to the dot labeled Sacae as she switched her mindset to speculation.

Lord Uther isn't sending anyone? Because of politics or because he's up to his ears in setting up court? Am I right to intervine? If Lord Hector ordered it. . .

She frowns.

'. . . a spy specailzing in battle tactics would be of great help. . .'

That was true. While Matthew was an overall Jack-of-all-trades, Elle was an infiltrator, not nessicarily for information per se, but to learn the enemies battle tactics. As a result, she'd learned the tactics of all Ostia's allies, many of their enemies, and spent countless hours pouring over books based on the subject in the library. She really couldn't think of anyone else more qualified for the job. As she left the room to meet Leila in the courtyard, a thought drifted into her head.

This will be an interesting couple of months.

A black-cloaked man stood in the shadows, his odd golden eyes following the path of the larger man in front of him, who was pacing like a crazed beast. After a long journey and a longer conversation, he'd only just managed to talk Maquess Laus into joining his cause.

"You see the beauty of it, don't you," said the man in the hood, "A united Lycia, with you, Lord Darin, as the king?"

The man stopped pacing, "I do," his eyes lit with greed, "Tell me again why I've been chosen?"

The cloaked man waved a hand, as if that was unnecessary, "There's no need Marquess, great men filled with potential simply attract men who know how to shape it," he smiled, purposely playing into the lord's selfishness by using flattery, "You are a man filled to overflowing with potential, the perfect ruler of the world. My master respects this gift, and as such, wishes only to play the part of mentor, to guide and assist."

The taller man stopped, running a hand over his sleeked back, purple hair, "Then it seems I've no choice but to accept this gift," his oily voice reeked of greed, and his satisfied smile was all the cloaked man needed to know he'd sealed the deal, "Send your master my thanks, Ephidel," he rubbed his hands together, "and tell him I agree to his terms."

The golden-eyed man bowed, his dark garment swishing drily with the movement, "It will by my pleasure."

And there's chapter one! As always, leave a review or shoot me a pm if you have any questions!

-CanonSmasher