A/N: Alright, then, here's my second attempt at a Fire Emblem fic (thanks
very much to all of those who reviewed the first one, "Those we Leave
Behind"), and what will hopefully be my first ever completed multi-
chaptered fic. Eliwood/Fiora, if you can't tell- other pairings are pretty
much open at this time. If you've got any pairings you'd like to see
(other than Hector/Lyn), just let me know and I'll try and work them in.
Thanks very much!
~~~
Wind was gusting out of the northeast, the conjured fire sizzling loudly when a stray drop of rain ended its fall in the flames. The fog that had been present for the past several days was slowly diminishing, blowing off the island and over the sea. No doubt more would be in by nightfall, for a small island could hardly hope to be free of the sea's fog for long.
The aqua-haired pegasus knight sighed deeply, her chin resting in cupped hands as she stared into the fire. It was so alive, so vibrant- the shadows were pushed away from it, revealing the vague outlines of tents set close to one another, all hastily but expertly erected, lights dancing around the outer edges of the flame's reach. A soft snoring noise came from one of the tents, startling the young woman for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure- it was the brown-haired archer's tent. What was his name- Phil? Wil? She'd ask Florina tomorrow.
There was so little she knew about this group, Fiora thought with a frown. Nothing about why they who they were or why they were here- Florina had pointed out a few of the people in the band, but to Fiora, they seemed like a bunch of ill-matched fighters. With three lords on board, as well, it would be little wonder if they would be able to fight as a group.
Yet for some reason, the lords all seemed to respect Brock, their tactician- a young man with a ready smile and slightly large ears, a little heavy-set but looking as though he'd lost some weight suddenly over the last fortnight or so. Due to heavy traveling, no doubt, as well as the mental strain of commanding an army.
Those thoughts triggered memories that she did not want to see, and Fiora squeezed her eyes shut tightly, as if trying to block out the pictures, as if she could quell the screams by erasing the visions.
Yarra, dead before she hit the ground, the head of a lance protruding from between her shoulder blades as she fell into the churning sea, her spirited stallion of a pegasus with his wing hanging limp on his right, but still hopelessly beating at the air, trying to hover above the place she had fallen. Reillan, her face and arms a mess of bruises and cuts, but still doggedly hanging on before her mare was shot down, both of them shrieking as they crashed through the canopies of the forests. Sixteen others that she had been friends with, all fallen in battle.
But the worst by far had been Ceo. A new recruit, but one with more talent than most hoped to gain in their first ten years of training. She had retreated with Fiora, never once slacking her attacks, even when it became apparent that they were the last two left. They had risen into the air, hoping to outdistance their pursuers, clinging to the slightest chance that no arrows would find them in their flight.
The First Division had never been renown for their luck.
Ceo had fallen into the sparse trees, and Fiora, recognizing that she had a better chance with Makar on the ground than in the air, followed swiftly. But Ceo was already down, one arrow impaled in her left leg, the other in her stomach, her pegasus nowhere in sight.
'Sorry, Commander.' Ceo's pain-filled voice reached Fiora once more, and the pegasus knight reached up to brush away her tears with the back of her hand. The arrow in the leg had come out cleanly enough, Ceo biting hard on a stick to keep from screaming. But when the second arrow had come out...
The pegasus knight began to sob quietly, wishing the images away, her head buried in her hands. "No, please don't..." Ceo screaming in pain, her whole body writhing as Fiora had tried to tug the arrow from her stomach. The young woman coughing up blood should have been sign enough to stop, but Fiora was bound and determined that they would not die, not here- not when she was half-blinded by blood that ran from a cut on her scalp, not when the fingers of her left hand looked suspiciously broken from a sharp blow of an ax handle, not when they were the last two here.
But she had pulled anyways, not stopping until Ceo's innards could be seen, being pulled out with the arrow, its cruel barbs catching her insides and tearing them out. Nothing could stop the young woman's panicked screaming, her shrieks splitting the night and silencing the rest of the world.
Fiora sobbed harder then, not bothering to shut out how she could only stare at the young woman begging for death to take her, to let her end the pain. She knew that the young woman couldn't have held on for more than a minute, but somehow it seemed as though the agonized screeching had gone on for an eternity.
The bandits had not followed her, assuming that each arrow had found a different mark, that they no longer had the First Division to worry about. She had come this far, and by a stroke of pure luck, had stumbled upon Florina and the band she traveled with. Now was a chance for revenge, for redemption, a chance to keep the others sacrifices from being in vain. They would kill those on this island, and whether they were the same enemies Fiora had faced or not, they were what the division had been sent to dispatch.
And so they would.
There was a shifting from one of the tents, where the crimson-eyed girl was sleeping, watched over by the Lord Eliwood and the elder paladin. Although no light was struck, Fiora knew that she had awoken someone- which person, she did not intend to find out.
Levering herself off the ground, Fiora brushed her hand across her face again and darted to her tent, the one that she would not have to share with anyone, thank Elimine. She did not want to see anyone this night.
Perhaps in the morning, when the sun was here to banish the dreams that plagued her nights, she would be able to speak to the rest of the group. But for now, when panicked shrieks of a girl barely sixteen years old were still echoing in her ears, silencing everything around her, she did not want to face anyone.
She would deal with her shame on her own. There was no reason to pull any of the others into it.
"It is my duty," Fiora whispered as she slipped into her bedroll, watching a tall silhouette emerge from the tent where the Lord Eliwood was sleeping, their figure cut in sharp relief against the dancing light of the fire. "No sacrifices will be in vain."
With that, she turned on her side and drifted off into an uneasy sleep, her dreams thanklessly free of arrows and fallen comrades.
~~~
Wind was gusting out of the northeast, the conjured fire sizzling loudly when a stray drop of rain ended its fall in the flames. The fog that had been present for the past several days was slowly diminishing, blowing off the island and over the sea. No doubt more would be in by nightfall, for a small island could hardly hope to be free of the sea's fog for long.
The aqua-haired pegasus knight sighed deeply, her chin resting in cupped hands as she stared into the fire. It was so alive, so vibrant- the shadows were pushed away from it, revealing the vague outlines of tents set close to one another, all hastily but expertly erected, lights dancing around the outer edges of the flame's reach. A soft snoring noise came from one of the tents, startling the young woman for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure- it was the brown-haired archer's tent. What was his name- Phil? Wil? She'd ask Florina tomorrow.
There was so little she knew about this group, Fiora thought with a frown. Nothing about why they who they were or why they were here- Florina had pointed out a few of the people in the band, but to Fiora, they seemed like a bunch of ill-matched fighters. With three lords on board, as well, it would be little wonder if they would be able to fight as a group.
Yet for some reason, the lords all seemed to respect Brock, their tactician- a young man with a ready smile and slightly large ears, a little heavy-set but looking as though he'd lost some weight suddenly over the last fortnight or so. Due to heavy traveling, no doubt, as well as the mental strain of commanding an army.
Those thoughts triggered memories that she did not want to see, and Fiora squeezed her eyes shut tightly, as if trying to block out the pictures, as if she could quell the screams by erasing the visions.
Yarra, dead before she hit the ground, the head of a lance protruding from between her shoulder blades as she fell into the churning sea, her spirited stallion of a pegasus with his wing hanging limp on his right, but still hopelessly beating at the air, trying to hover above the place she had fallen. Reillan, her face and arms a mess of bruises and cuts, but still doggedly hanging on before her mare was shot down, both of them shrieking as they crashed through the canopies of the forests. Sixteen others that she had been friends with, all fallen in battle.
But the worst by far had been Ceo. A new recruit, but one with more talent than most hoped to gain in their first ten years of training. She had retreated with Fiora, never once slacking her attacks, even when it became apparent that they were the last two left. They had risen into the air, hoping to outdistance their pursuers, clinging to the slightest chance that no arrows would find them in their flight.
The First Division had never been renown for their luck.
Ceo had fallen into the sparse trees, and Fiora, recognizing that she had a better chance with Makar on the ground than in the air, followed swiftly. But Ceo was already down, one arrow impaled in her left leg, the other in her stomach, her pegasus nowhere in sight.
'Sorry, Commander.' Ceo's pain-filled voice reached Fiora once more, and the pegasus knight reached up to brush away her tears with the back of her hand. The arrow in the leg had come out cleanly enough, Ceo biting hard on a stick to keep from screaming. But when the second arrow had come out...
The pegasus knight began to sob quietly, wishing the images away, her head buried in her hands. "No, please don't..." Ceo screaming in pain, her whole body writhing as Fiora had tried to tug the arrow from her stomach. The young woman coughing up blood should have been sign enough to stop, but Fiora was bound and determined that they would not die, not here- not when she was half-blinded by blood that ran from a cut on her scalp, not when the fingers of her left hand looked suspiciously broken from a sharp blow of an ax handle, not when they were the last two here.
But she had pulled anyways, not stopping until Ceo's innards could be seen, being pulled out with the arrow, its cruel barbs catching her insides and tearing them out. Nothing could stop the young woman's panicked screaming, her shrieks splitting the night and silencing the rest of the world.
Fiora sobbed harder then, not bothering to shut out how she could only stare at the young woman begging for death to take her, to let her end the pain. She knew that the young woman couldn't have held on for more than a minute, but somehow it seemed as though the agonized screeching had gone on for an eternity.
The bandits had not followed her, assuming that each arrow had found a different mark, that they no longer had the First Division to worry about. She had come this far, and by a stroke of pure luck, had stumbled upon Florina and the band she traveled with. Now was a chance for revenge, for redemption, a chance to keep the others sacrifices from being in vain. They would kill those on this island, and whether they were the same enemies Fiora had faced or not, they were what the division had been sent to dispatch.
And so they would.
There was a shifting from one of the tents, where the crimson-eyed girl was sleeping, watched over by the Lord Eliwood and the elder paladin. Although no light was struck, Fiora knew that she had awoken someone- which person, she did not intend to find out.
Levering herself off the ground, Fiora brushed her hand across her face again and darted to her tent, the one that she would not have to share with anyone, thank Elimine. She did not want to see anyone this night.
Perhaps in the morning, when the sun was here to banish the dreams that plagued her nights, she would be able to speak to the rest of the group. But for now, when panicked shrieks of a girl barely sixteen years old were still echoing in her ears, silencing everything around her, she did not want to face anyone.
She would deal with her shame on her own. There was no reason to pull any of the others into it.
"It is my duty," Fiora whispered as she slipped into her bedroll, watching a tall silhouette emerge from the tent where the Lord Eliwood was sleeping, their figure cut in sharp relief against the dancing light of the fire. "No sacrifices will be in vain."
With that, she turned on her side and drifted off into an uneasy sleep, her dreams thanklessly free of arrows and fallen comrades.