Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You know, you boys are the spitting image of someone I used to know!”

He had been carefully examining the pair of green-haired twins for some time. They had asked to rifle through a box of old books to see if any worthwhile tomes had gone overlooked. When they came to him—indeed, it was the first time he had seen them together since they each joined the army in their own ways—it set some old, rusty gears turning in the back of his mind. They were far less clumsy than she was, but their hair was exactly the same hue.

“Who?” the gentler boy asked. Although they looked alike, their personalities were worlds apart. The boy who had responded, Lugh, had always been polite. The other boy, Raigh, hadn’t even looked up from the box yet.

“Ugh. We’re wasting our time, Lugh. There’s nothing in here but trash.” He lifted his head up and haphazardly tossed the book he had his nose in back into the box. “Thanks for nothing, old man.”

“Ahem! My name is Merlinus, you know! And to answer your question, Sir Lugh…her name was Nino. She was about your age; it must have been twenty years ago when I knew her.”

The two boys looked at each other and Raigh’s interest was piqued for the first time in weeks. He spoke first. “Nino. That’s our mother’s name.”

“Your mother! Well, I’ll be…surely, she must be old enough to have had children by this point. Goodness! I’m getting old!” Merlinus took a kerchief out of his breast pocket and dabbed the sweat from his forehead. Right before he dared to ask how she was, he remembered how Lugh had joined the army. He had come from an orphanage, along with that sly pickpocket Chad. He took a deep breath and allowed them to steer the conversation.

“How did you know our mother?” Lugh asked.

Merlinus hesitated to give a straight answer. To call it a long story would be an understatement. If these boys grew up in an orphanage, they likely didn’t know about everything their poor mother was tied up in. He decided to give them the short answer.

“She helped organize my convoy when I worked with Lord Roy’s father long ago.” There. That should do it.

“Did you know our father?” Raigh asked, staring intently at Merlinus. “His name was Jaffar.”

Jaffar! That was a name Merlinus hadn’t thought about in quite some time. A man whose gaze could pierce just as badly as his daggers. Had Nino and Jaffar really…? Well, there was no denying that they had a strong connection. “Yes. Lord Eliwood took him in after he had an, erm…falling out with his previous employers.”

Raigh turned to Lugh. “I can’t believe it. We finally have a lead.” He turned back to Merlinus and offered a snide smile. “You’re good for something after all, old man.”

Ignoring the disrespect, Merlinus was caught off-guard by what Raigh had said just before. “A…lead? Whatever do you mean, Sir Raigh?”

Lugh stood to address Merlinus. “The orphanage we came from…well, we weren’t there because our parents died. Mother made the decision to drop us off there, but we were too young to know why.” He paused and turned away. “Father Lucius at the orphanage always said he would tell us when we were old enough, but he unfortunately took that story with him to the grave.”

Merlinus’s face drained of all color. “Excuse me, you said your Father at the orphanage was named Lucius?” He raised his hands, holding them next to his face, and pulled them down through the air as if he were combing his fingers through long hair. “Did he have flowing blonde hair?”

“Yes! Did you know him, too?”

“He marched in Lord Eliwood’s army as well. He was one of the most gifted users of light magic I had ever seen. And you say he…perished?”

“He was killed when Bern attacked our orphanage. He protected us to the very end. When this war is over, we intend to go back and give him a proper memorial.” He suddenly turned to face Raigh, several orders of magnitude more serious. “Right, Brother?”

“Er, yes. Right. Of course.” Raigh folded his arms and avoided Lugh’s piercing gaze.

It was hard for Merlinus to accept the death of a former comrade, especially one as goodhearted as Lucius. Though the two weren’t close, Lucius only ever had kind words to exchange on his rare trips to the supply convoy, and he set about on his life’s work immediately following the conflict with Nergal and the Black Fang. He took out his kerchief again, this time dabbing tears from his eyes.

“Such a tragedy!” He sniffed loudly. “I can only hope he’s at peace now. But I am glad to hear that Lady Nino and Sir Jaffar may still be alive.”

“We know so little about our parents.” Lugh approached Merlinus and sat down in front of his desk. “Would you mind sharing what you know with us?”

“Speak for yourself. I have better things to do.” Raigh lifted up the box, placing it back on the shelf where it came from before dusting off his cloak. Lugh turned around to face him, and although Merlinus couldn’t see the look on his face, he saw the shift in Raigh’s instantly. “Well, whatever. I suppose I have some time to kill. I guess it’s story time, old man.” He sat next to his brother, punching his shoulder gently.

“Oh, where should I begin? I never was a good storyteller. Perhaps I should account for how I got mixed up in everything in the first place! It was a dark and stormy night…”

Chapter Text

Like so many times before, she had stolen away from the castle to gaze out onto the plains. For someone who didn’t know Lady Lyndis well, one might think she was staring at nothing. But the woman at her side understood—she was staring at her everything.

“Are you sure this is what you want to do, Lyn?” Florina asked. She didn’t want to stare, but she stole a quick glance to see if Lyn was crying. She was too short to tell.

“Yes. You know me better than anyone else, Florina.” Now she turned to face her companion, with a smile on her face and her eyes free of tears. “Do I really look like a Marquess to you?”

Florina giggled. Good. The mood had been kind of dour ever since Lyn had made her proclamation. Her grandfather had recently passed on, leaving Lyn as the sole heiress to his role of Marquess Caelin. After some time for grieving, Lyn made it clear that she had no interest in running the Lycian territory. Effective immediately, Caelin would be annexed by Ostia, a territory that had also recently changed hands. Residents of Caelin would retain their sovereignty but Ostia would be the sole political decision maker.

“You don’t, honestly. Although you have to admit, neither does Lord Hector.” Both of them laughed at that one, and somewhere, Hector felt an itch on his ear. He had inherited the Ostian throne from his brother, who had recently passed away from an illness similar to the one that took both of their parents. Hector showed no signs of succumbing to any illness, and indeed since returning from the Dragon’s Gate looked hardier and healthier than ever.

“Oh, that’s the truth,” Lyn said, wiping a tear from her eye. “I do feel bad for him though. He couldn’t be there when his brother passed away, and now I heap even more responsibility on his shoulders.”

Florina noticed Lyn’s mood souring once again and took the opportunity to lighten the mood. “You have to admit they’re sturdy shoulders!” The laughter she received in response eased her concerns.

“Goodness, Florina, you’re on fire this evening! Ah…I don’t know if I could have survived all of this without you.” She turned back to face the plains. “We all suffered so much loss, but I feel our bonds are even stronger now because of it.”

“Mm. I certainly wouldn’t have turned into the knight I am today without your support.” Suddenly aware of her posture, Florina stood up straight. “And there’s still not a soul on this earth I feel more comfortable talking to than you, Lyn.”

Lyn turned to embrace her dear companion, kissing her on the forehead. “Will you still come with me?” she asked, hugging her tightly.

“Only if you come with me to Ilia one day,” Florina responded, hugging her tightly back. “There’s so much I want to show you.”

“Deal. Let’s leave tonight.”

“T-tonight!?”

Lyn suddenly broke their embrace and started sprinting towards the castle. “Let’s pack our things and go!”

Florina nearly fell flat on her face as she started running, struggling to keep up with Lyn’s sheer speed. “N-no fair, Lyn! You know I’m faster with Huey!”

Chapter Text

It wasn’t the first time Nino had awoken to the sounds of a calamitous crash and a pair of twins sobbing in confusion and terror. She knew what he was going to say before he even walked into the room. When the crashes continued, she shook herself fully awake and grabbed the tome laying on the nightstand. She cautiously moved towards her bedroom door, slowly pushing it open. There she saw the two assailants in the living room who had backed her partner into a corner. The wails coming from the kids’ bedroom had masked the sound of her entry, and she took a deep breath as she closed her eyes and recited the incantation.

She knew the destruction this tome would cause, and she didn’t care—this house stopped being their home the moment it was invaded. This book was always her last resort, her only line of defense should Jaffar be incapacitated. It was the first book she learned how to read, because it was one of the few anima magic tomes she hadn’t memorized. It was a reminder that the wicked woman who everything from her no longer had any power over her.

It was indeed Sonia’s preferred magic, the brutal ice and wind of Fimbulvetr. Sonia’s tome, however, was long gone. That fateful night in the Water Temple, she had torn it to pieces in spite as she bled out. Using it against Jaffar had been a mistake. The mist and haze it evoked proved to be perfectly suited to Jaffar’s style, and she lost track of him, sending pillars of ice into nothing before feeling a cold dagger push through her back. To the end, she asserted that she was a human, and how dare you maggots look down on her, but when her body finally stopped breathing, she turned to dust like all the other morphs.

“She is no human,” Jaffar had said, his body covered in red from where the hail had assaulted him. “She will escape final judgment. She is luckier than she deserves.”

Soon after, Nergal’s other favored morph, Limstella, had used their own personal Fimbulvetr against Nino, Jaffar, and the rest of the patchwork army assembled by Eliwood, Hector, and Lyn. Their use of it was clinical, detached, and without error. It took almost the entire army to bring them down, and when they finally fell, they simply closed their eyes and turned to ash before they even hit the ground. Nino picked up their tome, and it was pristine. She held onto it through that final battle, and when everything was over, she asked Jaffar to use it to teach her how to read. Shortly after that, Jaffar told his first-ever joke.

“Both of those morphs used this tome…it’s cold just like they were.”

Nino laughed, although Jaffar didn’t seem to realize that what he had said was funny.

She finally opened her eyes, her memories returning to the corner of her mind. She heard her children still crying, and saw the two assailants bloodied and motionless on the floor of the living room, their bodies nearly frozen over. Jaffar had shielded himself with a piece of furniture, but parts of his body still bore those red marks. He threw it down with a crash and immediately addressed business.

“We need to move again.”

Nino inhaled deeply, closing the book and feeling the magic pull back from her fingertips. She turned and addressed her partner. “Jaffar…we can’t keep doing this. Lugh and Raigh are going to grow up not knowing what a home is. Neither of us had that for ourselves…it would be a tragedy if they were robbed of it too.”

“What would you have us do, then? Sit and wait to be killed?” He quickly became aware of the stern tone he was using, knowing that Nino didn’t like it. But she stood firm and didn’t flinch. He gestured towards the bodies on the floor. “Every surviving member of the Black Fang blames me for their demise, the loss of their livelihoods. They’re going to keep coming, and they’re only going to get stronger.”

“Fine.” She put Fimbulvetr on one of the few pieces of furniture that hadn’t been broken in the scuffle, and tried to tune out the droning sounds of her sons’ crying. “You and I can keep running. But they can’t come with us anymore.”

Jaffar’s eyes widened. “What are you suggesting?”

“I know Lucius built an orphanage in Araphen. We can leave the boys there. As long as they’re with us, they’re never going to know true peace.”

Jaffar looked away now. “You…you are right. Perhaps we made a mistake bringing life into this world. They deserve better.”

Nino put her hands on her hips and nearly blew steam out of her nose and ears. “No! Our children are not a mistake!” She calmed down a little, realizing that yelling was likely just scaring her kids even more. She let out a sigh filled with pain beyond her years. “You and I, Jaffar…we’re both broken. We’re broken beyond all repair. But we did something right together.” She gripped his loose robes, pulled him close, and buried her face in his chest. “Those boys have bright futures, I’m sure of it. We just won’t be able to experience it with them.”

He tentatively patted her back as she started to cry into his chest. “Faith. We must have faith.”

She unburied her face to look up at him, brushing her face dry. “Faith?”

“We must believe we can meet again…when they are old enough to protect themselves, and when we have found out peace.”

She looked in the direction of their room, noticing that they had stopped crying. “Yes. We won’t be abandoning them.”

He walked towards the bedroom. “Pack your things. We leave tonight.”

Chapter Text

“Hector, I’m not sure if you know, but I think something died on your face.”

“I’ll be! Well, it looks like your sword arm is withering away! Thank St. Elimine we’re at peace!”

The two men roared with laughter as their children played in the courtyard. They had sat down to have coffee and were catching up, having just talked about recent political developments.

“I still can’t believe it’s been fifteen years since we last saw each other,” Eliwood said, stirring cream into his cup.

“We both run our respective territories now. Free time is a bit harder to come by.” Hector sipped from his cup without altering it. “Don’t forget Lyn left me with Caelin, too!”

“Ah, Lyndis…she wrote you too, didn’t she?”

“Up until a few years ago.” He set his cup down. “Last I heard she was in Ilia with Florina. You have to remember she’s my sister-in-law now.”

“Gracious, that’s right? How is Farina these days?”

Hector turned just away from Eliwood’s eyes. “She has an itch she’ll never be able to scratch. She’s the matriarch of a royal family and she’s still out there doing mercenary work under a false identity.” He scratched the back of his head. “Not sure what it was I saw in her…”

“Hector!”

“Kidding! Kidding! But it’s forced me to become more of a father to dear Lilina, which is a blessing in disguise.” His eyes found her, playing out there in the courtyard. “I wanted a son, but I wouldn’t trade her for anything. Not to mention she’s taking up magic at an exemplary pace.” He turned back to his friend. “By the way, I heard about Ninian. Words aren’t enough, are they?”

Eliwood suddenly stared into his coffee. “We both knew it was going to happen. I’m just hopeful Roy will have some memories of her.”

Hector reached out and slapped Eliwood on the back. “You know just as well as I that she’s unforgettable! And Roy…well, I’d wager there’s no one else like him out there. Does he know?”

“Maybe one day. When he’s older. All he knows is how wonderful his mother was, and how beautiful her dances were.”

“You can’t ask for much more than that. How does the young lion occupy his time?”

“I’m having him learn the basics of swordplay. Perhaps he and Lilina could train together?” Eliwood swung his arm out towards the courtyard, their children’s laughter filling their ears. “They already seem to have amazing chemistry.”

“Pah! What teacher do you know of that teaches both magic and swordplay at a high level?”

“My, Hector, you don’t have your finger on Ostia’s pulse, do you? Rumor has it that a prodigy shot up through the ranks in Etruria and recently took residence here. She’s an expert in both swordplay and magic and was the instructor to Etrurian recruits for a few years.” Eliwood took another sip of his coffee. “I hear she’s set to be the next Mage General, even. What does your famous network of Ostian spies know about a Lady Cecilia of Etruria?”

“Hah, seems you don’t have your finger on Ostia’s pulse, either. I’m doing away with that spy network. All it did was put some of my best men in constant danger and ruin honest diplomacy with our neighbors.”

Eliwood paused for a long while. “That’s…surprisingly insightful of you, Hector.”

“Do you mean to say I can’t be insightful!?”

“Peace, peace! Just look into it, hm?”

“Of course.” Hector stroked his beard, searching for words. “You know, there’s something I must confide in you.”

“Anything, Hector. You’re my dearest friend.”

“All that talk of Bern put me at unease, you know? I need to clear my conscience.” He finished his cup of coffee and set it on the table, staring directly at Eliwood. “When you unsealed Durandal, did Roland speak to you?”

Eliwood gasped. “Y-yes! How in the world did you know? Wait…”

“Yes, Durban spoke to me as well. He even referred to himself as Armads. He offered me that great power, but said that if I took it, I would die on the battlefield. In the savage garden of war’s bloody delights. I’ll not forget his words any time soon.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Athos was with me when I unsealed Durandal. It was through him that I was even able to see Roland at all. Are you saying that Durban addressed you directly?”

“Yes. It was just the two of us.”

“And he said that if you took his power, you would die on the battlefield.”

“At the time, I thought nothing of it. I was young and reckless. His words have stuck to me like a thorn since then.” Hector leaned back in his chair. “I believe the world will be at war again soon. One far bloodier than the one we fought on foggy islands and behind closed doors.”

“Hector, surely you don’t put any stock in—”

“Every other prophecy we’ve heard has come true!” Hector exhaled, his shoulders suddenly feeling much lighter. “Don’t get your smallclothes in a bunch over it, I’m at peace with it. I’ve had fifteen years to come to terms to it. And hey, you and I both know that was the only end result anyway. Better to die on the battlefield than in a bed ravaged by illness.”

“Hector…”

“All I ask, Eliwood, is this. I haven’t even trusted Farina with this information. I don’t know what’ll happen to her. Just make sure my Lilina is taken care of.”

Eliwood extended his hand, and Hector immediately grasped it firmly. “If not I, then it will be Roy. But you and her both are part of our family.” Eliwood looked into Hector’s eyes, seeing a man he genuinely believed would never lose a battle. “Just make sure you give them a good fight, eh?”

Chapter Text

This will be my last entry. This is the journal of a dead man. I am reborn, and I see the world for what it truly is.

So much has happened. So much will happen. But I am no longer a slave to the whims of fate. I am no longer a tool to be used for political gain. I am no longer a child who must rely on others to protect me. No. I am a King. I am my own man. And I know the true nature of humanity: selfish, cruel, and worthless.

This was the second attempt on my life by my father. The first was in my youth, when I was but a pawn in my parents’ lust for power. I did not know it was my father at first, but he was the only one who could possibly have called Murdock away at such a critical moment. Now that I know his true colors, there is no one else who would possibly have hired those assassins.

To this day I question why they hesitated to take my life. Those lordlings from Lycia swept in to save the day, but had those assassins done their job, I would already have been dead. I never had a chance to ask why. I believe that it must have been one of the few times in my life that I was shown compassion. How fitting! A father too cowardly to finish the job himself, so of course his hired swords fail him at the end!

Not a thing about my father changed in the fifteen years since that day. Although I was officially recognized as the legitimate heir to the throne at my coming-of-age ceremony, I could see in his eyes that he still wanted me dead. I never figured out what it was that drove him to hate me so. Was he jealous? Was I too good at my pursuits? Did he really favor Guinevere so, the child he had with a woman other than the Queen? Or did he presume that I was not his son? Ha! How I wish that were true! How I wish that I did not share blood with a man so vile! But alas, the time is too late for questions.

He remained a poor coward until the very end of his miserable life. His second attempt was even more shameless than the first. He could not muster the courage to kill me face to face, so he attempted to poison me. I should say he was successful, as I deigned to imagine that his offering of a drink was finally an extension of an olive branch after so many painful years. Instead it was a dagger driven deep into my heart.

I did not fall ill until that evening, and the poison ravaged me. Murdock remained at my side the entire time and nursed me to health; he is one of the few people in this world that I can trust. It was also his suggestion as to how we were to strike back at my father. It is a scenario pulled directly from the tawdriest of plays, but even I could not doubt its brilliance. At my funeral, as he looked over my body reveling in his disgusting victory, I would spring with a knife at the ready and put him in the grave that he had prepared for me.

The plan went off without a hitch. The funeral was widely attended, but I became King the moment the life went from my father’s eyes. No one dared question me. Mother ran away in tears, and I have not seen her since. She is not as guilty as my father, but I remember precious few moments when she looked fondly at me. She is likely with her family in Etruria, wishing to be as far away from me as possible lest she be next. She deserves her peace, for having put up with that man for so long.

I will close with this. When I was fighting the poison, I was plagued with feverish dreams of a world bathed in fire. When the fires finally ceased, mankind had been purged from the world and it had been returned to the dragons. I came to my senses after awakening and realized that it was not a dream but my destiny. Mankind does not deserve to rule. We are slaves to the emotions that govern us, that force us to do cruel and terrible things to each other.

It is my duty to return this world to the dragons. In the hundreds of years since The Scouring, humanity has failed to prove that it is deserving of a world to itself. I will end this wretched experiment.

Tomorrow I will take the Fire Emblem and unseal the legendary demon dragon. Let this final entry show how the end of the Age of Man came to be.

Chapter Text

The inn, meager as it was, provided refuge from the icy, unforgiving tundra of Ilia. The fireplace crackled, as the owner looked on disapprovingly, forcing herself to acknowledge that she would indeed have to go out and get more firewood soon. She noted the couple chatting it up in the common room. Maybe she wouldn’t have to brave the elements. The offer of a free room in conditions like these should be enticing enough. Plus, when they checked in, the innkeeper had noted that they were outfitted with enough weapons to fight a war. She sauntered down to the table.

“Can I interest you two lovely ladies in a bargain?”

“Let me guess,” Lyn said, closing her eyes and smiling. “If we go get you firewood, you’ll let us stay here for free.”

The innkeeper snapped her fingers. “Damn! You’re good. Well, the offer’s out there. What d’ya think?”

She turned to Florina. “What do you think, dear?”

“Um…” Florina put her forefinger to her chin. “Sure! If we bring back a lot of firewood, can we stay for longer?”

“Long as you’re the ones out there and not me, you could move in here for all I care. Wheelbarrow’s by the door. Stay warm out there.” The chime of the door rang, and without turning around the innkeeper waved her arm. “I’m going on break. Coffee’s on the table if you need to warm up.”

As Lyn and Florina outfitted themselves to brave the blizzard outside, two familiar figures shook the snow off of their gear as they made their way through the entryway.

“Heavens! Nino and Jaffar! What on earth are you doing in Ilia?” Lyn asked, nearly having to pick her jaw up off of the floor.

Nino scrambled to hug Lyn the moment she realized it was her. “Lady Lyndis! How thankful I am to see you! And Florina as well.” Jaffar, as usual, shed his clothes in silence, moving to the table to get coffee.

“Oh, I’m not a Lady anymore. I haven’t been for quite some time. It must have been over a decade since the last time we met.” She turned to Jaffar. “I’m glad to see you two still together. I assume he’s as silent as ever.”

Jaffar simply nodded in Lyn’s direction, acknowledging her, and then in Florina’s. He sat at the couch and sipped from his cup.

“As you can see…yes. I’m glad you and Florina are still together as well! It must have been difficult giving up a place in the Caelin Court.”

“Not really.” Lyn shrugged. “I didn’t grow up in a royal family, so it was never too important for me. Florina and I have been traveling Ilia the past couple of years, after spending about ten years in Sacae. We’ll probably head back one day, but I’m thankful we’re in no rush.” She noted that both Nino and Jaffar had massive knapsacks they had carried in. “Have you two settled down yet?”

Nino had no idea whether or not she should reveal to Lyn that she had twins, or that she had left them in Lucius’s orphanage several years ago. She looked to Jaffar for guidance, but his expression was as impenetrable as ever. She looked back to Lyn, who didn’t deserve to be lied to. Instead, Nino just told the partial truth.

“We never really got a chance to live for ourselves when we were with the Fang, you know?” Nino put a hand on her chest and took a deep breath. “We’re taking it one day at a time.”

“That’s wonderful!” Florina exclaimed, clapping her hands together as she joined the conversation. “And you’ve gotten so much taller, Nino. Or maybe I’m just still short…”

Nino giggled, realizing that both statements were probably true. “This is our first stop in Ilia. We may be heading to Bern next.”

Suddenly, the innkeeper chimed in. “I wouldn’t recommend that.” She leaned over the counter. “Bern’s a political nightmare at the moment. I’d wait for things to die down before traveling there.”

The group of four that had been so previously involved in the political climate were now suddenly and violently thrown out of the loop. “A political nightmare?” Lyn asked.

The innkeeper waved her hand in the air lackadaisically. “There’s so many rumors flying around that it’s hard to figure out the truth. Few weeks back I heard from a tenant that the prince had died. And then just a few days ago I hear it turns out the king was the one who died.” Jaffar looked up from his coffee for the first time as the innkeeper continued. “And the details…they have to be hearsay. They’re positively absurd.”

Nino and Lyn looked at each other as the innkeeper went on. Was Prince Zephiel now King Zephiel? Lyn pressed the innkeeper to share those details.

“Sure, but take ‘em with a grain of salt.” She began to roll herself a cigarette. “Story goes that the king poisoned the prince. Prince survives but plays dead so he can stab the king at his own funeral. All I’ve been able to confirm is that King Desmond has in fact died and his son is his successor.”

Jaffar softly mumbled the word “evil” to himself, soft enough to where no one heard him. The three young women were aghast. No one outside of those who had fought in that fateful battle before dawn knew that this was actually the second assassination attempt on Zephiel by his own father. For him to have made a second attempt was lower than low, and perhaps he got what was coming to him in the end. But the last time any of these four had seen Zephiel, he was still just a child. It was difficult for any of them to imagine him finally striking down his blackhearted father.

“What of the queen?” Lyn asked after taking a few seconds to compose herself.

“All I’ve heard about her is that she fled back home to Etruria. But all the nobles are up in arms. That’s why I’d wait at least a few months before heading down to Bern.”

The innkeeper finally seemed to realize that these were likely no ordinary travelers. “You all seem to be taking this news pretty hard. You from Bern originally?” She asked this question more towards Jaffar and Nino, as she had already surmised that Lyn was Sacaean and Florina was Ilian.

Nino was a bit taken aback by the sudden question. “Ah…! Well, we lived much of our lives in Bern.” She glanced at Jaffar, who was calmly steepling his fingers. “It is kind of a home for us.” Her mind kept flashing back to that night, standing over his prone body, wondering what would have happened if she had left behind her humanity on that night.

Noticing that Nino had kind of trailed off, the innkeeper did everyone a favor by shutting down that line of conversation. “I’m glad y’all got an opportunity to catch up, but we still got firewood to get.” Nino and Jaffar offered to join in, and for a few hours at least, they were all able to forget about the sudden turn everyone’s world had just taken. Everyone except for Nino, who saw in the back of her mind every few seconds the prone body of an innocent boy, who had been so close to her in age, and wondered how and why he could grow into a man capable of killing.

Chapter Text

It was strange to see a man normally so pristine coated in dirt and sweat, his long hair tied back in a ponytail and his robes traded for rags. When he looked the way he wanted himself to look, he could look like someone who had just stepped out of the heavens. When he looked like this, Raven thought, he looked perfectly natural in a different way, like someone who was born from the earth.

“Lord Raymond!” his admonishing voice rang out as he dropped a pile of wood at his feet. “I was unaware you could stare a building into existence!” Lucius held an endless fountain of kindness in his heart, but it was only with Raven that he could indulge his sarcastic side.

Likewise, Lucius was the only person capable of flustering Raven. “Sorry. You know how it is.” He got up, picked up some wood, and prepared to go hammer some nails. Lucius declined to ask Raven what “it” was.

A few yards away, paintbrush in hand, a red-haired woman with a feather in her hair that stayed even when she was doing hard labor such as this closed her eyes and thought about what color would be perfect. Lucius noticed her quiet struggle and walked over, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“The color matters not, Lady Priscilla, as long as you put heart in your strokes.” She opened her eyes and looked up at his smiling face, still so beautiful and radiant even as dirty as it was on this hot and humid day. She felt her face get hot and quickly turned away.

The fact of the matter is that Lucius would have been content building this orphanage from scratch even if it had been all by himself. But Raven had been glued to Lucius’s side ever since dropping his revenge scheme, as he had been aimless with no one and nothing to direct his energy and fury at. Priscilla, meanwhile, was treasuring every moment she was able to spend with her dear brother and the light that guided him.

House Cornwell was no more, and its only two heirs were getting their hands dirty building an orphanage in a territory that they never held peerage in to begin with. In explaining his reasons for building it, Lucius pointed out something that Raven and Priscilla had never given much thought to. Although the conflicts with Laus, with Bern, and with the Black Fang had never escalated to a full-scale war, many lives had been lost, and blood was on all of their hands. To put it in Lucius’s own words, that blood could never be washed off, but the best anyone could do is to mix it with dirt and sweat in order to create a better life for those left behind by war.

“I regret taking any life, even in self-defense,” he had explained. “Especially when that means a child said their final farewell without even knowing it. I know too well the pains of having your parents stolen from you.”

Raven had never given much thought to anyone who had met the wrong end of his sword. Survival of the fittest, of course. But like so many other things Lucius had changed about him, that had changed, too. One night when sleep avoided him, Raven tried to count the lives he had taken as if he were counting sheep, and he realized that the number was too many to count.

They worked in silence punctuated by the hammering of a nail or the sawing of wood, and that silence persisted for about an hour. Each of the three of them knew their role, and each fulfilled it. This was not an easy project any of them had undertaken, as the plans Lucius had drawn up were ambitious. The children who would find shelter with him would live no life of luxury, for sure, but they would each have their own space in which they could grow into their best selves.

“Lord Raymond, would you care for some water?” Lucius asked, breaking the silence after some time.

“Yeah, water would be great.” Raven leaned back, exhaling as he closed one eye, sizing Lucius up with his open one. “You’re never going to break that habit, are you?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Calling me your lord. We’ve been equals for years now, Lucius. Hell, you even call Priscilla your lady and you were never even in service to her!” At mention of her name, Priscilla’s ears perked up and she turned to face the two men, wondering where this conversation would go. She watched as Lucius fetched the canteen that had been stored in a basket of ice.

“I hardly see why this is suddenly relevant now.” He handed Raven the canteen. “Regardless of whether or not we are equals, I simply wish to pay you the respect you deserve. The same goes for Lady Priscilla.”

“Uh-huh.” Raven sipped from his canteen, following it up by pouring some on his forehead and letting the cold water run down his face, cooling it. He then shook his head dry and handed the canteen back to Lucius. “We’re going to be old men together, you know, and you’ll still be pulling that nonsense.”

“I only wish we could grow old together.”

An uncomfortable silence followed. After a few seconds, during which Lucius had turned away out of embarrassment, Raven stood and extended his arms in a hug.

“You don’t need to wish. It’s going to happen.”

Tears overwhelmed Lucius as he fell into Raven’s arms, and Priscilla wiped away a bit of mist from her eyes as well.

Years later, Raven knelt in the rubble of the orphanage he had helped build, his arms and legs trembling. A long-dormant feeling brewed in his chest, a rage and an anger that held no target until now. Unlike those earlier times, war had fully engulfed the world. And the dead soldiers in Raven’s mind started to lose their features until they eventually became indistinguishable from each other. Someone had to pay for this. No. Everyone had to pay for this.

Priscilla was struggling to remain standing. As soon as they had heard the news of Bern’s attack on Araphen, her and her brother had dropped everything and ran to Lucius’s defense, but they were a few days too late. Her shock at seeing her dear friend’s lifeless body was quickly replaced by fear as she turned and looked at her brother. She had never seen Raven quite like this.

Suddenly, he screamed, turning his face towards the heavens, as if he hoped that the light would hear him. Unfortunately, on this cloudy night, the light had been extinguished. Raven fell to the ground, crying for the first time in his life. Priscilla covered her mouth as tears streaked down her cheeks, unsure of whether to console him or leave him be. She quickly forced herself to make a decision, and out of fear more than anything, she turned around to leave him to be alone.

After the sobbing stopped, she heard the sounds of blade against wood. What little structure remained in the orphanage, Raven had begun flailing against, trying to burn out the font of rage inside him. It would not be so simple. When, after a few minutes, he had sated his demons for the time being, he spoke seriously and briefly with his sister.

“Return to Caerleon.” She could barely see him in the dark of the night, but she could see that his eyes were red and bloodshot. “I am going to find the soldiers responsible for this and I am going to burn them to the ground like they burned this orphanage without a second thought. I don’t want to risk you getting hurt.”

She was unsure of whether or not to say no. She was unsure of whether she was even capable of saying no. She was unsure of what to say at all. Eventually she found the words and tried to speak them. “Brother, revenge is…not the answer.”

He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, the look on his face was not one of rage but one of utter and total defeat. “I know. But I feel so weak without him. I can’t fight this anger.”

“You must try!” Priscilla suddenly felt inflamed with passion.

“No. This is my destiny.” He turned around to face the rubble where so many memories had been lodged between the wood that had held it all together. Priscilla waited for him to continue but he did not.

“Please. At least give it a night of thought. You are not thinking clearly, Brother.”

She saw him shake his head, and she watched his clenched fists tremble. “In the morning, when day breaks, we bury him,” he said between sharp breaths. “Then I will make my decision. I promise you nothing.”

Several months later, when Lugh, Raigh, and Chad returned to pay their respects, they were shocked to find a memorial already in place. Engraved on the rock that laid above their Father’s final resting place were two lines of poetry.

Hallelujah, to the gods you return

Hallelujah, may your light ever burn

Chapter Text

She looked like a painting, Eliwood thought. Seated at the small table and turning away, looking out into the courtyard, her hands neatly folded on her lap, Lady Eleanora looked every bit as elegant as she had always been.

For the past several years, she and her son had met roughly once every month to share tea and stories. After Eliwood had officially taken his father’s title as Marquess of Pherae, Eleanora had chosen to live largely outside of the public eye. Along with her faithful retainer Isadora, she elected to live out the rest of her years in a manse a few miles away from Castle Pherae.

The birth of Roy, the subsequent loss of Ninian, and the responsibilities associated with managing a Lycian territory weighed heavily on Eliwood’s shoulders, especially considering he had yet to fully recover from the loss of his father Elbert. After the whirlwind of events following Roy’s birth, Eleanora reached out to her son. Although they no longer lived together, they had a responsibility as family to take care of one another.

So it was decided that they would meet at a pre-determined time at least once every month. Eliwood always made sure to schedule it in and, as his advisors would say, it was impossible to take his attention away from his meetings with his mother, no matter how urgent the call. This meeting was especially significant, as it was the first since Eliwood had fallen ill and the first since Eliwood had sent his son off to Ostia to aid Marquess Hector.

Both royals had arrived with their retainers, as was the custom. Isadora had been the sole charge of Eleanora’s service for decades now, and the two women shared a deep devotion for one another. Isadora’s marriage to Harken, second in command of the Knights of Pherae, did not complicate things; in fact, Harken encouraged the feelings shared between the two. Harken had a full plate at that moment, however, as with Marcus accompanying Roy it fell to him to be the acting leader of the Knights of Pherae, an important post with Bern looming.

Eliwood, as a current Marquess, required multiple retainers but typically only took one when he went to meet with his mother. More often than not, it was Rebecca, the archer who had aided Eliwood in the fight against Nergal and now, retired, served as a jack-of-all-trades for House Pherae. Rebecca had even served as Roy’s wet-nurse, which resulted in her own son Wolt becoming fast friends with the heir to the Pheraean throne. There were no romantic feelings at all between Eliwood and Rebecca, but the platonic bond they shared was stronger than most romantic relationships. Eliwood felt unable to love again after losing Ninian, and Rebecca had her own husband to deal with.

As Eliwood sat down, Rebecca joined Isadora inside the castle both as a means of standing guard and also to offer the mother and son their due privacy. “Good afternoon, Mother,” he greeted her, pouring her a cup of tea and pushing it towards her.

She still had not turned around. “Good afternoon, Eliwood. How fares your illness?”

Eliwood poured some tea for himself and stirred a touch of sugar into it. “I feel better with each day. I am a far cry from returning to the front lines, but it feels good to no longer be bedridden.”

She still did not turn. “I am glad to hear that.” She paused for several seconds and for the first time, Eliwood noticed that something was amiss. Before he could speak, however, she did. “Has Roy sent word from Ostia yet?”

Eliwood exhaled, finally knowing the source of the tension between them. He put his cup down on its saucer. “Not yet. I’ve hired the best mercenaries to accompany him, however, and he left Pherae with our finest knights in tow.” He leaned forward. “I worry for him just as you do, and sending him off gave me more anguish than this bothersome illness. But he is a fine young man, perhaps even finer than I was at his age.”

For the first time, his mother turned around, and tears were welling up in her eyes. “You do not worry for him just as I do!” she exclaimed, nearly spilling her tea as she slammed her palms on the table. Eliwood was taken aback by this sudden outburst of emotion, and he noted that she looked truly aged for the first time in all the years he had known her. “You do not know the agony a mother feels when she knows not her family will return, be it her husband, her son, or even her grandson!”

Eliwood paused before responding. He reached out and took his mother’s trembling hands, taking them in his. “You are right. I do not.” He took a deep breath. “But have we not both experienced loss?”

“We have, my son. We have. In so short a time, I lost both my husband and the daughter I had welcomed into my family. That is why I cannot understand why you would send your own flesh and blood on so dangerous a mission!” She bowed her head, crying fully now. “Since Isadora first told me of what you did, I have had nightmares of what might happen to dear Roy. I have faith in him just as you do, but I am not so dumb as to be incapable of worrying about him at the same time.”

At this, Eliwood rose and rounded the table to embrace his mother, giving her a shoulder to cry on. As he rubbed her back, he spoke, “I have taken every measure possible to ensure Roy returns to us safely. But recently I have come to realize that he is no longer a child. With every step he takes he travels further down the road of becoming a great man.

“In his short life, he has shown that he is capable of handling not only the task I have burdened him with, but so much more. The last thing I wanted to do was travel with him, as I am in no state to do so and would only serve to burden him further.” He pulled away and looked his mother in the eyes, mustering a smile. “In just a few months he will be back and joining us for tea, sharing the stories he picked up. Won’t that be nice?”

She wiped the tears from her eyes and gave her son a smile in return. “Yes. Yes, it will. I am sorry about my outburst, earlier, it is just that although I love Isadora deeply she simply cannot understand these problems like you can. Everything…came out at once.”

“Please don’t apologize for your emotions, Mother. Without them you would not be human. Now, let’s have some tea. I am sure you have some stories from brighter days.”

Chapter Text

Some time after his father and grandmother met for tea, Roy took yet another step towards his destiny, as he and his relatively small detachment cleared out a group of bandits that had been futilely searching for treasure. As Elffin had hinted at, the legendary thunder axe Armads was indeed hidden in the deepest depths of the cave.

“This axe is huge,” Roy noted aloud, almost too nervous to attempt to pick it up.

“The Armads,” Elffin said, placing a hand on Roy’s shoulder, “Durban’s axe. It certainly seems fit for a mighty warrior.”

Who…

A voice had echoed from seemingly nowhere, startling Roy and Elffin, who had been the only two to directly approach the altar where Armads was held. Lilina had come forward as well, curious to see what was going on and she jumped at the echoing voice.

Who wakes me…who desires a fight…

Slowly but surely, a transparent figure formed in front of Roy and Elffin as Lilina carefully walked to join them. He was absolutely massive, more muscular than any man seen by any of the three people standing in front of him. At the same time, his form was so undefined that it seemed as if a breeze could blow him away.

“I am Durban. I am Armads. All I desire is to prove my strength. Who stands in front of me?”

Elffin was in awe. His studies in the past meant that he knew instantly who he was looking upon: Durban, the Berserker, one of the Eight Legends of yore. He was unable to speak, as was Lilina.

Roy spoke boldly. “I beg your pardon, Sir Durban. I am Roy, son of Eliwood, Marquess of Pherae, and we humbly request your aid. A great evil threatens this world, and we need power to quell it.”

Both Elffin and Lilina were shocked at the composure Roy was able to keep during this situation, although Elffin noted shortly thereafter that Roy’s legs were shaking ever so slightly.

Durban paused to consider this, and then his eyes fell on Lilina. “You…with the cobalt hair. Inside you lies the spirit of a fighter. That spirit is familiar to me.”

Lilina was absolutely shocked to be addressed in such a manner. “Eh!? D-do you mean my father? Hector?”

Durban nodded, as the faintest hint of a smile crawled across his face. “Yes. Hector of Ostia, a son of Roland, but with the spirit of the Berserker.” The smile slowly turned to a frown. “Unfortunately, it seems that his spirit lives only within you now, child.”

Lilina acknowledged this with a sad nod. “How…how do you know my father?”

“Some time ago, he came to me much like you have today. He needed my power as well, in order to help his friends and fight a great evil.” Durban’s eyes closed. “I warned him that my power came with a cost, that he was dooming himself to die on the battlefield, but he cared not. He thought only of his friends.”

This was the first any of them had ever heard of a great evil that had already been fought by a previous generation. Lilina was in tears, and Roy and Elffin were hard pressed to console her.

Durban folded his arms. “I can offer you this, she of the cobalt hair. One chance to talk to your father as he was when he used my power. Like fingerprints on my hilt, his spirit lies strong within me as well. He will look as he looked when he wielded me, and he will not able to speak for long.”

Lilina responded instantly. “Yes! Please, yes! I never got the chance to say farewell.”

And just like that, Durban’s visage was replaced with Hector’s, just as he was twenty years ago when he had first picked up that axe. Lilina and Roy barely recognized him; his face was clean-shaven and he was only a bit older than either of them.

“Who…who are you?” He looked a bit bewildered, as if he had just been interrupted while taking a nap. “Where am I?” He saw Roy and nearly did a double take. “…Eliwood?”

“We don’t have long to explain, Marquess Hector.” Hector nearly did a triple take at being referred to as a Marquess. “I am Roy, son of Eliwood. This is Elffin, who is aiding us in the war against Bern. And this…” Roy paused to allow Lilina to introduce herself.

“H-hello, Father.” A quadruple take. “I am your daughter, Lilina.”

“Daughter!? I would never—well, actually, Lilina is the name I’ve had in mind were I to have a daughter somehow…and I haven’t told that to a soul. And with that hair…you must be my child. But how?”

“It is a long story. And I’m afraid it isn’t very happy, either…” Elffin chimed in. “In the interest of saving some time, I’m going to spoil the ending. In this state, Hector, you’re a ghost recorded from the moment you took Armads as your own, however many years ago. And in this world…”

Hector smiled. “Let me guess. I died heroically. I remember the axe’s warning. No reason you all would be here if I was still alive.”

“Y-yes,” Elffin replied, not expecting Hector to know his fate so well. “That’s exactly it. Although I should mention we did not come here to see you. We came for the axe. We had no idea you had wielded it before.”

“Really?” Hector was taking being a ghost surprisingly well. He put a hand to his chin in thought. “I do suppose that even though the fight against Nergal was plenty heroic, there’s no real reason it would ever become common knowledge.”

The three young heroes looked at each other in confusion. “You’re right,” Roy said. “We have no idea who Nergal is.”

“That’s a shame, but at the same time it’s probably for the better. He deserves to be forgotten by history.” His form flickered and Lilina gasped. “Huh. Guess my time is running out.”

“Before you go, Father…I was not able to be by your side when you died. I wasn’t able to protect you. I’m so sorry…”

“It’s okay, Lilina. It was simply my time.”

“Before it’s too late, I want to say…goodbye. I love you, Father.”

“I love you too, my daughter. I’m glad I could meet you and see the strong girl you grew up to be.” He smiled widely, the spectral form of his teeth almost shining in the darkness of the cave. “Now tell me, how did I go out? How many men did it take to finally fell me?”

Roy looked up and gulped. “Only one, Hector. The King of Bern…Zephiel.”

All of Hector’s joviality instantly vanished and even though he was only an apparition all of the color rushed away from his skin. “King…Zephiel?” He reached out a hand, as if to steal a precious few more minutes before his memory faded. “Please, you must tell—”

And he was gone.

Chapter Text

A few years prior, the then-recently crowned King Zephiel was poring over maps in the Bern throne room. He had already unsealed the Demon Dragon and was preparing for the onslaught he would unleash on the rest of Elibe. Overwhelming power still required strategy to wield, and it was to this end that he was ensuring that his ideas were tactically sound.

Murdock, his most trusted commander, interrupted his planning. That Murdock even entered the room at all proved to Zephiel that something of true import was happening.

“My liege,” Murdock said, as calm as ever, “there are two visitors who demand to see you.”

Zephiel was unsure of how to react. He had not taken visitors in his court since ascending to the throne, likely due to the fear that had spread throughout his country since his father’s untimely death. “Visitors? How did they surpass the castle guard?”

“I know not, my liege. They do not seem hostile. As I speak they are waiting patiently outside, but they have informed me that they are not leaving until they can have a word with you.”

“Do you know these insolent peasants, Murdock?”

“I do not, my liege. One is a man, lightly clad with red hair and most of his face covered. He wears two daggers. The other is a young woman, shorter than the man, with short green hair.”

Zephiel’s eyes widened. That night…it couldn’t be. He had to find out for himself.

“Send them in. And give us privacy, Murdock.”

“As you wish, my liege.”

On his way out of the throne room, Murdock ushered Jaffar and Nino in, shutting the door behind him as he departed. Despite his steely and stoic nature, Murdock remembered how Zephiel’s face had softened ever so slightly at Murdock’s description of these two, and he couldn’t help but wonder just who this pair was.

Nino didn’t hide her awe at the grandeur of the throne room, but Jaffar guided her with a hand on her shoulder and ensured she could see the man standing behind a massive table with maps strewn all about. Further behind him was the throne itself, and next to it a rack that held a massive scepter…or was it a sword? It was almost impossible to tell, but its length dwarfed both Jaffar and Nino in size.

“Only now does it dawn on me. I do not know your names.” Zephiel spoke calmly, as there was no reason to panic. He knew full these two were assassins, or at the very least former assassins. If they had failed to kill him then, there was no reason for them to try again now.

“I am Jaffar,” he responded, to Nino’s surprise. “This is Nino. We are formerly of the Black Fang.”

“I see. Of course. My father hired the Fang. I should have known.” Zephiel finally lifted his hands from the table and stood up straight, his regnal armor clattering loudly even though his body was barely moving. “Growing up I read stories about the good the Fang did in the world. I shudder to think what changed them.”

Jaffar and Nino briefly glanced at each other, knowing too well the answer to that question.

“Enough small talk,” Zephiel added after a long pause. “What brings you to my castle? If you come seeking thanks, you waste my time.”

“No, it’s not that.” Nino had finally spoken up, still recovering from the shock at how drastically Zephiel had changed in the last fifteen years. He was even emanating a menacing aura; Nino felt that at the first hint of a threat from either her or Jaffar, they would both be dead before either of them could react. “We, uh, well, word has spread across Elibe about what happened…” She trailed off, having suddenly forgotten everything she had rehearsed up until that point.

Zephiel actually smiled and nodded at this. “Good. The world must know that my father received his justice.”

“What do you have planned next?” Jaffar asked.

Zephiel paused and folded his arms, deep in thought. Almost a minute passed, and neither Jaffar nor Nino knew what to say or what to do. Finally, he spoke.

“As former members of that accursed Black Fang, as party to the assassination order a father put out against his own flesh and blood, and as witnesses to the very worst humanity has to offer…you will understand me more than any other on this earth.” He turned around, walking up the steps to his throne. “Surely, you all will agree with me that humanity is incapable of commanding a world without war or despair?”

Things had taken a turn. Jaffar and Nino did not know how to respond. Before either of them could, Zephiel turned around and stood in front of his throne, raising his arms to the sky.

“For one thousand years, this world has not known peace! It has known only conflict, because of the selfishness of man! A world where pathetic specimens like my father can rise to lead an entire nation is not a just world. Am I wrong?”

“No, but…” All Zephiel heard was Nino’s “no” before he continued on.

“The greatest mistake man ever made was driving the dragonkin from this world. Dragons have no class structure, they have no sense of discrimination or prejudice, and they lack the carnal desires that drive men mad! We revere the Eight Legends in our history, and for what? Look out at this world they have left us! Look at the poverty that good men and women face as the rich count their gold! Look at the corruption that goes unpunished because of something so meaningless as a royal family! Look at the depravity of the bandits who refuse to be governed by something so ridiculous as law!”

His voice raised as he spoke; it became clear that this was the first time he was actually talking about these feelings to anyone at all. Nino was terrified to interrupt him. Jaffar was astutely listening to his argument, and finding nothing but truth.

Zephiel suddenly grabbed the scepter, and as he spoke his next line it transformed into a massive sword that seemed impossible to wield with one hand. “I have awakened the Demon Dragon, and I will return this world to the dragons so that it can know peace once more!” At that, it seemed almost as if lightning struck the sword, and the force blew all of the maps off of the table and nearly knocked Nino on her rear.

It took everything Murdock had not to open the door, but as he had yet to receive orders he was powerless.

After the shock of the lightning strike had faded, and after the sword had turned back into a scepter, Zephiel reached out an upturned hand and smiled. “Join me. There is a place for you two in the future I am building.”

Years and years ago, Nino had a terrible nightmare that she had actually followed through with the assassination of Prince Zephiel. The disturbing vision of his small, frail body not moving and in a pool of blood haunted her for weeks. It was remarkably vivid.

Although the plan was for Jaffar to dispose of Nino after Nino had disposed of Zephiel, that was not how it played out in her dream. Instead, unable to bear the shame of killing an innocent child, she had turned the knife on herself, waking up seconds before plunging it into her own chest.

The dream stayed with her for the rest of her life, but it took years for her to realize something. Within the dream, Jaffar had not tried to stop her from taking her own life.

In front of someone who had just made clear his desire to end the world so it could begin again, Nino turned to Jaffar for guidance, as she had done so many times in the past. But his arms were folded, his head was bowed, and his eyes were closed. He wasn’t seriously considering taking that absurd offer…was he?

Nino steeled herself, knowing that her life could end in this throne room. “With all due respect, King Zephiel, I refuse.”

Zephiel’s wide smile turned into a frown, worsened by Jaffar rousing himself from his deep thought in order to offer a nod, signaling his agreement with Nino. He dropped his hand, but gripped his scepter tightly.

“Hmph. I thought you two more than anyone would understand that mankind does not deserve this world.”

Jaffar spoke. “There is darkness in man, but Nino has shown me time and again that there is a light not worth extinguishing.”

“The Black Fang used to be good before they got corrupted.” Nino took a moment to straighten her back, as she was trembling a little bit. “Eliwood, Hector, Lyn, everyone else who helped Jaffar and I save you that night, they’re all good. You can’t erase everything instead of trying to fix it! That’s the coward’s way out!” Just like that night, Nino was fully prepared to die in that throne room.

Zephiel’s face softened slightly. “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I am more like my father than I wish to think.” He hung the scepter back on its rack and removed his crown, setting it on the cushion of the throne. As he spoke, he did not turn around to face Nino or Jaffar. “But it is too late for me to change my mind. Forces now beyond my control have already been set in motion. My father would flail until he was eaten alive by his own foolishness.” He slammed his fist down on the arm of the throne. “I will see this through to the end.”

Nino and Jaffar were at a loss for words. Zephiel continued to speak, still facing away from them. “Just as you spared me that night, I will spare you on this day. Go. Consider my debt repaid. And if we meet again on the battlefield…so be it. Do not expect me to hold back.”

As they turned to leave, Nino mustered a meek farewell, and after she said it she was unsure of whether or not Zephiel had heard it. However, before they could open the door, he said the last words either of them would hear him say.

“I pray that in the next world we will be comrades.”

Chapter Text

History did not favor Zephiel. His ideals were extinguished, along with his life, in the very same throne room where he had offered Nino and Jaffar a role in shaping his new world. Standing triumphant above him was Roy, no longer just the son of Eliwood but a man in his own right, responsible for ending the bloody Bern War. But even as Zephiel lay dead in front of his throne, those events he had set in motion so many years ago were still moving.

One final epilogue had to be written. After defeating Brunnya, the last bastion of Zephiel’s will, Roy’s army infiltrated the Dragon Temple and freed the Demon Dragon, Idunn, from her curse. With that, the threat to the world had ended, and Zephiel was consigned to history, never to know that his revered world of dragons had never come to pass.

There was much to be done after the war. Bern had the most work to do. With its entire army decimated, its leading generals all dead or deserted, and its warmongering King buried, it in no way resembled the powerful country it had been only years prior. Zephiel’s half-sister, Guinivere, assumed the throne as Bern’s Queen, although she was met with resistance from high-ranking nobles who objected based on rumors that she had been of low birth.

The furor was put to a decisive end when Hellene finally returned to the castle after her self-imposed two-decade exile. Although heartbroken that she was forced to bury her only son, she coped with her loss by fully welcoming Guinivere as part of the family. It may have been twenty years too late, but Guinivere quickly forgave her. The nobles begrudgingly acquiesced and recognized Guinivere as rightful Queen.

As for the task of rebuilding Bern’s military, it fell to Melady, Guinivere’s retainer and an experienced wyvern rider in her own right. Although her brother Zeiss was selected as the second Dragon General, it remained unknown for a brief period whether or not anyone was capable of filling the traditional third post. That question was answered when Galle returned to Bern and finally received the status he deserved.

Lycia formally united as a sovereign nation shortly after the war’s end. Roy and Lilina were wed, and with their union came the union of Pherae and Ostia, the two most influential territories in the Lycian League. The Marquesses of the other territories unanimously approved of the decision to unite as a single country, so long as they were accorded some control of their respective areas. Roy happily allowed this, as it meant that he would not have overarching power as Lycia’s first King.

Eliwood abdicated as Marquess Pherae to pave the way for his son’s accession to the throne. He fully recovered from his illness but knew that it was his son’s time. He moved into the manse with his mother in order to keep her company in her twilight years. He had already been paying regular visits to Ninian’s grave, and to that he added Hector’s grave, despite the fact that it was in Ostia. Instead of being returned to the cave where it had been sealed before, Armads was buried with Hector.

Hector was not the last user of the Thunder Axe, however. Roy had informed his army of the potential risks associated with wielding it, and it had given most men and women in the army pause. Eventually its hilt would find a temporary home in the grip of Bartre, an aged warrior who, as he testified himself, “probably should have died on the battlefield already.” His young daughter Fir resented his decision heavily, having already lost one of her parents.

“However,” she said once she had cooled down, “perhaps protecting your foolish self from utter demise will be the best way to hone my skills.” History does not record any response from her father, nor does it record any untimely death.

Sacae had been bitterly divided with the war, with some tribes choosing to ally with Bern in the interest of self-preservation and others refusing to align with anyone due to pride. Roy offered to help rebuild Sacae, going so far as to suggest a similar tactic as what happened in Lycia: unification. An unexpected visit from Lyn to Roy’s court quashed that idea as soon as she caught wind of it. She had been working with Sacaeans during the war to prevent a total meltdown.

“We are one, but we are many,” she is said to have told King Roy. “We are all Sacae, but not all of Sacae is made alike. We will rebuild for ourselves, and emerge stronger than ever before.” After the war, she was declared an honorary member of the Kutolah clan by Dayan, the legendary Silver Wolf. Together, they announced a plan to rebuild Sacae: full amnesty for any surviving members of the traitorous Djute tribe, full recognition of any tribes not affiliated with either the Djute or Kutolah (the two major tribes), and full autonomy for each recognized tribe.

Sacae’s neighbor to the north, Ilia, dealt with similar fallout. None of the surviving mercenaries who had allied with Bern were punished for their actions, as it was rightfully argued that they were simply offering their services to the highest bidder. The catch, however, was that all of the money Bern had funneled into their coffers had to directly head to the rebuilding effort. In the long run, Ilia found contracts with each Elibean country, mostly for the purposes of defending villages from bandits or arresting rogue nobles.

Florina remained in Sacae with Lyn, and her older sister Fiora remained in the now-united Lycia with her husband Kent. However, after losing her husband, the oldest sister Farina returned to her homeland and rejoined the military. Money no longer had the same ring to her as it once did; its allure prevented her from being by Hector’s side when he was struck down. It also prevented her from being a true mother to Lilina, something she tried to remedy with occasional visits to Lycia.

Unlike Sacae, Ilia did unify. Zelot, upon returning from the war and finally having some time to spend in his homeland with his wife Juno, pulled enough strings to transform the Knights’ Union into a full Kingdom, with the revered pegasus knight Wings serving as both the official military of the Kingdom and its most reputable mercenary detachments.

Etruria exited the war in superb condition. Although the prince had been declared dead and nobles had staged a rebellion in favor of Bern, Elffin revealed himself to be the lost Prince Mildain, revitalizing King Mordred. Cecilia returned home to her post as Mage General with a now-legendary reputation as the former tutor of the savior of Elibe. It offered aid to rebuilding countries, but in all cases it was politely declined. King Mordred, thought to be as good as dead, lived on for many more years before his passing resulted in Mildain taking the throne.

In the desert of Nabata, the village of Arcadia came to be the closest thing to Zephiel’s ideal world. Dragon and human co-existed peacefully, although in such a remote location as to never be bothered by the rest of the world. It took years and years and years, but even the former Demon Dragon, Idunn, found her long-lost emotions. She spoke fondly of Zephiel, and is said to have noted that the first time she felt sadness was when thinking about his tragic end.

Finally, in the Western Isles, the residents finally nationalized their extremely valuable mining industry. Backed by their newfound financial power, and led by Echidna, who had led the resistance against the corrupt Etrurian nobles and the forces of Bern, the Isles became the Western Union, although Echidna declined to name herself Queen. Instead, because of the livelihood and identity of the islanders, there were no classes or royalty at all, and all workers took in the fruits of their labor.

Elibe entered a long era of peace after the Bern War ended. Historians wax lyrical about Roy, the Young Lion, the Great Uniter. But the story of Elibe is not the story of one, but of many. And sometimes those stories intertwine closely, sometimes even after spending years and years apart…

Destiny brought one family back together. At an unassuming rock in a clearing in Araphen, three young boys stood in awe that someone had beaten them to the punch. This rock represented the orphanage where they had all grown up, and it represented the Father who had been stolen from them too soon.

Another father slowly approached, with a mother by his side, both of them unsure of the crowd and surprised that the building they had left their children at was now gone. It felt like a lifetime ago.

When those green-haired boys turned around, though, there was no question. She was hugging them and crying before she knew what she was doing. She didn’t even introduce herself, but after the initial shock, they knew as well.

Some hard conversations were ahead—there were 15 years of feelings to unpack—but for now…