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Memories. They make people who they are today. And there's one memory that despite happening many years ago, you still remember to this day. Huge, beating wings. A translucent, draconian body, and scorching magical flames. When you were a child they called the Manakete things of legend, seldom told of as more than bedtime stories or tales beside the camp fire. So many village elders call them a remnant of a dead age, simply too old to exist.
That's where they're wrong. Because you've seen them. You have had the distinct luxury to gaze upon one with your own two eyes and live to tell the tale. More so than that, a Manakete saved your fragile life one fateful day.
The world can be an uncaring place. You've seen that far too much already. The Ylissean army never came when bandits raised your village to the ground. No noble knight saved your parents as they were put to the blade for what little coin they had. You would have joined them, dumped in a pit of bodies, if it weren't for your savior.
She swooped down from the clouded, rainy sky with a fearsome roar and put the fear of Naga herself into those unwashed, toothless ruffians. Try as they might to end her, she didn't stop. Be it to bow, or arrow or spell... she kept on fighting. One by one, with breaths of magical flame, the mighty creature of legend defeated every last one of them.
You were so tired from your injuries at the time. Scratched and cut and beaten, you felt your tiny body give out. Cold swept over you, but in the final fleeting seconds, you heard her voice:
"Hey there! I'm Nowi... Don't worry. I'll make sure you're alright!"
Nowi. A name that stayed lodged in your thoughts, alongside the agonizing reminders of your shattered childhood, until this very moment. When you awoke from your slumber, the woman you called your rescuer was already long gone. You'd been left in the care of an innkeeper with a purse full of coin. What he said to you when you awoke filled you with comfort and warmth.
"Aye, a young lass, she were. Maybe a year 'a two older than ye. She placed the money in my hand and made me promise to take care of ye. After that she left... Not a word. Not a thing. Just a kiss on yer forehead 'n she was out of the door."
You're a different person now. No longer a defenceless child, but a young man. A warrior - in service to Ylisse and the crown. Aye, you're a simple soldier of Chrom's Shepherds, but your lot in life is good.
"Sirus... Sirus."
A voice cuts through your veil of slumber. It carries you closer and closer to the waking world. Gentle. Familiar. Welcoming, even. You know this voice well, this woman (for all of her quirks) for better or worse.
"Sirus... C'mon sleepy head. Prince Chrom needs us..."
You open your heavy eyes, groggily, as though you've had a sleep spell cast over you. You feel happy at the sight before you, all the same. A smiling face. Blue eyes. Pink hair. A young lass around your age. A tad on the clumsy side - but a bigger heart than most.
"Sumia," you groan, half-drunk from the embrace of the sleeping world. "Hey... Did you check the sundial? What time is it?"
Stood at the end of your bed, already clad in her shiny armor, the Pegasus Knight greets you with the warmest chuckle.
Your dear companion since childhood. Your rock. Your best friend. She helped coax you out of your shell when the loss of your village still haunted you. Likewise, she stumbled (sometimes literally) through combat school, devotedly at your side, until you joined the Shepherds. Now she's your roommate. But the two of you have been joined at the hip for so long that nobody, not even Maribelle, asks questions anymore.
Though you quietly wish she'd tidy up the huge heap of tomes and books over at her side of the tent.
"Already past the hour of nine," Sumia turns to leave. "I'll be waiting outside. Hurry along, won't you? I'll be getting my girl ready for the battle."
"Alright," you answer, trying your best not to let nerves get to you. Somehow, before a clash, they always do. "I'll be along soon."
Getting out of bed brings you to stare thoughtfully into the mirror. You look scruffier than you should this morning. Your long blond hair needs introducing to a brush, and quickly. Your usually smooth, masculine face is need of grooming. And then there's your eyes. Black don't go well with the color of green.
"Going to be a long day..."
You slip into your black trousers and put your arms through your white undershirt. The buttons are always a pain, but you get through it, if a little sluggishly. "And lastly, the most important part."
A long, elegant, velvet red coat, usually belonging to nobles. A gift from Sumia when the both of you joined Chrom and his band. She spent every last penny she had on it, and even traded a couple of her favorite reads with a merchant in Ylisstol. No matter how much you insisted on paying her back, she flat out refused your gold coins.
It turned out to be far more than a matter of expense when it came to Sumia's reason behind buying the coat for you, as well. What she said when surprising you with the garment only deepened your friendship.
"You never gave up on me. I'm clumsy. I drop things all the time and I'm just hopeless. But you've always cared about me. Even when others would laugh at my two left feet. This is the smallest thing I could do for you, Sirus."
And it's with that wonderful thought in mind, that you're ready for the day ahead.
Swords clang and axes clatter. The haunting screams and cries of men and women fill your ears. Balls of fire scream through the open air and blood stains the sand. This is war, and try as you might, holding the line is proving impossible. You can't help but wonder where the hell your reinforcements are!
Prince Chrom and Sir Robin went on ahead to lead the charge. But if there was one thing the tactician apparently hadn't accounted for, it was an attack from behind by these sneaky Plegian bastards! They struck the camp with almost no warning, leaving you and a handful your fellow men to keep things together until Stahl rode ahead to send word.
Your men are dying all around you. Some cut down - others burned to a crisp.
And Stahl still isn't back yet...
"Dammit," you growl. What remains of your men are surrounded on all sides by steel coloums and the tips of lances.
You parry the swing of a sword and sidestep, kicking a knight to the ground with a mighty clunk.
"Urgh!" To your side, another soldier, your friend Mara is struck by a stray throwing axe and tumbles to the ground with a gory wretch. With her fall, a painfully grim reality takes hold.
You're the last one standing...
"Well then," you let out a painful sigh and toss aside your dagger. If this is it, then you're going down fighting.
The broadsword at your hip comes loose from its sheathe with a metallic shing. And taking it into both hands, you prepare for the inevitable.
"For Ylisse..."
Instinct takes over. You duck and weave the best you can between sustained enemy attacks. You use the blunt of your blade to shove back spearman, running through his chest with your steel. And a second, but by the third... you're getting tired.
The lungs within your chest burn hot. Beads of sweat slither down your forehead amidst the overwhelming heat of the Plegian sands. Such intense exertion makes your vision foggy. And it's at that very moment a sharp, searing pain envelops your ribs.
You can't move.
You can't breathe.
"Looks like I got you," cackles a Plegian spy as he slashes your side with the sharp of his knife.
"Dammit," the sword drops from your hands. You struggle free after cracking the Plegian in the nose with your elbow. But you're able to do little more than limp away a few steps, before falling against the wall of the fort at you back.
"Gods," you curse this fate, holding your side, mocking the injustice of all you know in the world. You can see archers drawing their bows through the fog that is our vision. A painful smile curves your lips. Sumia envelops your thoughts.
There's a book you promised to read together.
"Sorry..." You cough red into the sands, falling to your knees. "Looks like you're gonna have to read it without m-"
The earth shakes. A gust of wind stronger than any you've encountered blows the soldiers surrounding you in all manner of directions. Terrified shouts, nay, screams, erupt around you. There's panic. Desperate barking. The clomping of hooves.
"What is that thing?!" You hear one of the Plegians shout before he flees like a frightened child. "A dragon?!"
You stare headlong through the pain. Giant wings beat downward, parting the clouds. Red eyes like gemstones glimmer against the dimming light of your consciousness. There comes a mighty roar from the beast in the sky. Its sound sends a jolt through your ailing heart.
"A Manakete..." You smile, utterly unafraid, thanking Naga for her mercy. "The gods smile upon me..."
The proud creature thunders through the soft underfoot on two wobbly legs, having chased the Plegians away with their tails between their legs. It's coming closer and closer, one hulking stomp at a time. With the adrenaline wearing off, however, what strength you have is ebbing away. Your wound creeps back to the front of your thoughts, gripping you with its sharpened talons.
And mere inches away now, its steaming breath blowing against your face, the Manakete gives a saddened growl. You swear it sounds akin to a whimper. A flash of blinding light bursts across your vision. And when you open your eyes again, every breath a chore at this point...
A young lady, small and bright-eyed, probably no older than her early teenage years, kneels before you.
"We meet again," she speaks softly, sadly. One of her dainty hands rests in your lap. You can't help but notice, even though you feel, just how small it is. "You've gotten older... Heh... not like me."
You know that voice. It's echoed within many a dream since growing up. It's acted as a guardian in times of fear and comfort alike. In fifteen long years you've never once forgotten.
Your protector. Your savior. Your single ray of hope against all that clouds the world.
"Nowi..." You squeeze the girl's hand with what little energy you can muster.
And as your eyes close... you can't help but marvel.
The elegant wonder who saved your life as a boy... is so very small and fragile in mortal form.
"Come on," you focus on Nowi's voice. "Be brave and stick with me just a second longer, kay? Miss Lissa will be here with her magic staff before you know it."
For the second time in your life, you rest everything upon the wings of a dragon.
Nowi kisses your forehead and giggles softly, sweetly.
"Funny how fate works. I'll be sure to thank Gregor later, otherwise I never would've bumped into Chrom's bunch. Or you."
You have not the will to speak a moment longer, but deep down, you feel the same way.
End?