Chapter Text
Prologue) Verge of History
The continent of Ylisse was no stranger to war. Two thousand years ago, when these lands were dubbed ‘Archanea’, the Hero-King Marth slew the dreaded Shadow Dragon after both the War of Shadows and the War of Heroes. His victory and reign marked the beginning of the Age of Glory, where peace reigned for a thousand years. Numerous advances in magic and knowledge brought both the continent of Archanea and its sister continent of Valentia to heights unparalleled, and it seemed like nothing could stop them from reaching beyond the very skies. But the higher one rises, the further one falls when the inevitable end comes.
The Age of Glory ended with a deafening roar, as the Fell Dragon Grima emerged from the very ground and rent the continent asunder. The wings of despair and the breath of ruin, Grima’s forces quickly overwhelmed the unprepared continents, delivering chaos and bloodshed in equal measure. The living were subjugated, broken and controlled; the dead were twisted, rising again in a mockery of their old selves to continue battling. Wherever Grima’s shadows fell, life would drain away until not even the most resilient of flowers could bloom. It was the end of times, the Schism which broke the world. It should have been the end of everything.
But then the Divine Dragon Naga descended from on high to deliver mercy to the humans who remained. Granting her blessing and blood to the last wielder of the Falchion, her light pierced through the darkness, a shining beacon that proved hope would never perish. Falchion’s champion raised his flag of resistance and as his victories grew, so did his numbers. Until finally, after a gruesome battle that threatened to shatter the continent once more, Grima’s physical body was destroyed, and their spirit was sealed away by the sacred Fire Emblem. Peace could finally reign again, but never as it did before. The battle against Grima had reshaped the continents and both were subsequently renamed: ‘Ylisse’ and ‘Valm’. Falchion’s wielder became known as the First Exalt, his name eventually lost to time as his memory passed into legend.
Not everyone was happy with the First Exalt’s victory, however. Some were angered, declaring that he and Naga had gone against fate. All things must end, including the world, and it was wrong for them to intervene. Others loathed them, believing the world was vile and misshapen. Such a hideous, broken thing should not be allowed to continue. Still others declared Naga and the First Exalt as traitors, breaking promises in their self-righteous hypocrisy. Vengeance would be theirs, even if the world paid the price.
Such beliefs could not survive in the light of Naga and the Halidom the First Exalt founded, so they hid. They founded the nation of ‘Plegia’, filled with those who were similarly disquieted by the Halidom of Ylisse. On the surface, the two countries forged a neutral alliance, with the First Exalt even entrusting Plegia’s first king with the Sable gem from the Fire Emblem, wholeheartedly believing they could resist the corrupting influence. But in the shadows, Grima’s worshippers flourished. Slowly but surely, over the course of centuries, their influence infected the country and in the Dragon’s Table, amongst the bones of the Earth Dragons, they began their plot. With Grima’s body destroyed, a new one would have to be made. But it couldn’t be ‘any’ body. It had to be ‘perfect’, born from someone who inherited the Fellblood. Taking cues from old Jugdrali records, they sought to birth the most powerful, the most skilled, the most everything body they could breed. And after a thousand years of meticulous plotting and breeding, they finally succeeded. Twin vessels were born, their destiny writ in fate’s book, and all the Grimleal rejoiced as their years of toil and service would soon be rewarded...
What a shame they forgot to breed loyalty into my brother and me.
Running was a fact of our life. Mom ran to smuggle us to safety. We ran to escape our bastard of a sire when he found her. We kept running when he sent people after us. Never staying in one place too long because every time we got comfortable, we’d be found and those around us would pay the price as we ran yet again. So, it wasn’t a surprise when our plan for a quick lunch break, i.e. eating some old bread and jerky, was interrupted by yet another bout of running. Annoying, yes, but unsurprising.
“It’s a good thing both of us can go without food for a while,” Robin commented airily as we ducked behind a large tree. While neither of us were out of breath, we knew by now that discussing while running wasn’t always the best of ideas. “Still could eat a bear, though.”
“Raw like this last one?” I teased, stretching my legs. It was mostly to have something to do; I rarely cramped. “Well, mostly raw.”
“’Rare’ is not the same as ‘raw’. And I hadn’t realized you just put the damn thing on the fire.” He paused, tilting his head. Then, without looking, he cast a simple wind spell over his shoulder. It hit someone in the bushes with a loud scream, and I glanced over to see if I could sight them. Luckily for me, they’d crawled out, bleeding everywhere. I twisted their blood into blades to run them through. “The usual?”
“Was there any doubt?”
“Mmm...” Robin leaned against the tree, tapping his fingers against the bark. “Maybe.”
“Oh?”
“The pursuit pattern is different.”
“So, someone atypical leading them?”
“Or multiple parties.” He sighed heavily. “Who did that rabid son of a tied down mangy bitch trick this time?” He scowled at the ground before shaking his head. “Well, suppose it doesn’t matter. What’s another discarded pawn? They’ll die like everyone else.”
“Turning the hunters into the hunted, then?”
“Those idiots aren’t hunters. At best, they’re dogs.”
“Except less cute.”
“Yes, yes.” He scowled at me, as he usually did when I jested, and I shrugged in response. I was used to his scowls. If I didn’t make comments like that, he’d be forever brooding. “Anyway, let’s split up.”
“Divide and conquer, then?”
“Followed by a nap. I could use a nap.” Robin reached out to gently cradle the back of my head, nudging me forward so he could rest his forehead against mine. “Remember. If you’re caught…”
“We go through this every time…” Though I rolled my eyes, I didn’t pull away. “Exhaust all options before killing myself. Same for you. We have to see that bastard’s face twisted in fear before the end, after all.”
“Just fear? I want terror and pain.” His mouth quirked into a broken smile, and I matched it with my own. I couldn’t remember the last time either of our smiles weren’t worn and tired; neither could he. “There’s a town nearby. I’ll head through the fields and meet you there.”
“Then I’ll take the trees and follow.”
There was nothing more to say, but before I could step away, Robin gently kissed my forehead. He always did that, when we split. Just in case this was the final goodbye. Yes, we had our wish and our promise to each other, but wishes were nothing to the gods and fate. And if the choice became fulfilling that wish or seeing the world’s end, we’d discard the former every time. It was selfish enough to keep living despite the threat we were.
He went one way; I went the other. As expected, our pursuers also split, so it was back to running. Running, running, always running, and I had added problems since I was in the woods. Yes, they may provide ample cover to help dodge, but all the roots, branches, and lack of proper paths meant you could never move as fast as you wanted through them. That meant the pursuers who went after me caught up quickly and one of them even managed to get off a spell that clipped my arm. And did damage! That wasn’t common; while Robin got the lion’s share of the magical power, my ability to resist it was unmatched. That’s how the Grimleal bred us, after all. But here I was, bleeding from a spell. The bastard must have sent some of the highbloods out this time. After all, they were bred for power just as we were. But that meant they were useful pawns for him, and he’d be frustrated when they didn’t return.
It wasn’t as good as fear, but it was close enough for now. Who knows? Maybe if he got frustrated enough, he’d come out himself and we wouldn’t have to bother with sneaking into Dragon’s Table.
With that happy little thought in mind, I ducked behind one of the trees and waited for someone to pass. It didn’t take long, and as soon as I saw them, I emerged from the shadows to slash their arm. Then I focused on the blood and turned it to sharp crystals digging into their flesh. They hissed in pain, automatically trying to claw it off. But all they did was draw more blood, blood I crystallized into more daggers running down their arm. Distracted as they were by the pain, they didn’t notice me slipping close until I cut their head off. Blood spurted out from the stump, and I pulled it from the falling corpse to swirl around me like a shield. It helped block the next spell, though it shattered in the process. But that was fine. I was still able to determine where the caster was and dart in close. I didn’t bother with the sword this time, no need when I was bleeding. I only had to grab their face with my bloodied hand and twist the blood into daggers.
“Huh. Only two this time?” I murmured, letting the second one go. They flopped like a rag doll, unable to even whimper. “It’s too quiet for there to be any others.” I still drove my sword through their throat to be certain, because Grimleal were notorious for turning their last breath into a last spell . “Weird, he usually sends more.” And these went down faster than usual too. Even with the blood manipulation I ‘inherited’ from Grima, I often had to hack at them like a lumberjack before they stopped. Were they not highbloods? But that wouldn’t explain the power behind their spells. Ah, I could worry about that later. “Did more go after Robin?” That would make sense. We may be both Vessels, shown by the Fell Brand, but Robin had a higher compatibility. He’d be the priority. “Guess I’m following sooner than I thought.” Nodding to myself, I wiped off my blade and sheathed it. “Let’s see... which way was the town again?”
It didn’t take me long to leave the woods. Thanks to the road, it took even less time to find the town. But when I saw it, I could only stare because it was on fire. Because of course it was. Did the Grimleal set it aflame to smoke us out again? No, that was unlikely; Robin would’ve dealt with them before heading into town to avoid that scenario. So, what would make the most sense was that the Grimleal had hired some local bandits to raise some hell, because Robin had a key weakness. He may give negative damns about enemies, but anyone who was neutral should be protected. And he had almost been caught a few times because he wasn’t paying attention while helping someone.
I had to find him.
Gritting my teeth, I ignored common sense and ran straight into the flaming town. The heat from the fires prickled my skin, the smoke stung my eyes, and the familiar smell of blood and death hung heavy under it all. Screams bombarded my ears, as did the wails of the grieving. But amidst the noise were the clashing screeches of battle, and I knew if I was going to find Robin in this mess, it would be there. But ugh, it was going to be difficult. There was blood everywhere, slithering and nipping at the edges of my awareness and I stumbled as I tried to reorient myself.
“Well, here’s a beauty!” someone guffawed, startling me out of the haze. I glanced to the side to see a man carrying a bloodied ax and wearing rough clothes saunter out of a burning house, eyes alight with arrogance and bloodlust. “C’mere...!” They reached out to grab me, uncaring of the blade I wore, but in their meager defense, the sword was still sheathed. And there was no reason for me to draw it. They had blood on their arm, so I turned it into a vise and twisted their arm behind them. They yelped, stumbling and flailing with their free arm as they tried to figure out why they couldn’t move the other one, and I took advantage of their confusion to kick their feet out from under them and stab them in the groin with the knife I hid in my boot.
“Damn... bitch...!” they hissed, trying to stand up despite it. I stomped on the wound, and they curled into a ball. “Agh... what sort of witchcraft was...”
“Your accent is Plegian,” I whispered, kneeling down to get a look at them. Of course, all I could tell was that they were the usual ruffian. But the accent meant they weren’t ‘local’ and the Grimleal wouldn’t have traveled with this lot. That meant only one thing. “Pawns of the Mad King, then.” Which meant they were not my immediate problem. If Gangrel wanted to prod the sleeping dragon, that was his business. Mine was finding my twin. Or it should be. But... “Hope the gold was worth it.” I slit their throat to ensure they’d bleed out. I didn’t want to leave them to attack someone else. Yes, blood gushing from the crotch should be a death sentence, but humans were surprisingly resilient.
I used their shirt to wipe the blood off my dagger before sheathing it back in my boot and continuing on my way. But I maybe walked past two houses before I came upon a bandit trying to attack a woman sobbing over a corpse, and I drew my sword to drive them back, slicing them across the chest before kicking them into the nearby canal.
“You can’t stay here,” I told the woman bluntly, grabbing her by the arm to force her up. She stumbled, choking on another sob, but I steadied her. “Come on.” I tugged her after me, moving slow so that she could keep up. I couldn’t carry her and keep my sword drawn, after all, but I also couldn’t leave her. “Let’s find someone who can help you to shelter.”
Thankfully, the very next person we found was more than happy to help her limp off, once I took care of the bandit trying to eviscerate them. So, I returned to my hunt for Robin, trying to sense for his blood. Usually when we were separated, he’d nick his palm so I could easily find him, but strangely, I couldn’t sense it this time. All I could sense was the blood of strangers, and I wondered if he was out of my range. He shouldn’t be, of course. While my ability to manipulate blood was limited to sight, my ability to sense blood was much farther. Maybe all the blood from the fighting was muddling my perception? It was difficult to sift through with so much scraping at the edges of my senses.
Well, if I couldn’t sense him, I’d just have to find him the old-fashioned way. And end up helping others while I did. What could I do? Leave them? Yes, that would be the smart thing to do, especially since I needed to make sure Robin wasn’t captured or dead, but how could I turn away? So, I helped those I passed, fought off some bandits, and at one point, nearly lost my arm to a bandit’s ax. Why? Because they were swinging at a young girl, and I’d stupidly gotten in the way, of course. In my slight defense, they were faster than I’d thought.
“Well, that hurt,” I muttered, twisting to slash my attacker. I managed to catch them in the throat, surprisingly, and I forced the blood to crystallize and expand, so that the wound widened, and their throat was partially closed. Then I kicked them into the water and left them flailing. “Now then...” I turned back to the young girl I’d saved. “You all right?”
“Um... yes?” the girl replied, blinking a few times. Then her eyes snapped to my bleeding shoulder. “Ah, hold still!” She brought up a healing staff from somewhere behind her to tend to my wound, and I let her solely because I was distracted by her choice of headwear. I hadn’t noticed before, but she was wearing buttons. Buttons . Why was she wearing buttons? Nobles were weird, and I knew she had to be one. Only nobles and the clergy could afford staves, and her clothes didn’t match any cleric I’d ever seen. What was with the metal hoop skirt? “So much blood... don’t worry! I’ll have you patched up in a jiffy!”
“I’ll be fine,” I mumbled, trying to pull away. But she had a good grip on my arm as she healed the wound, so I looked around instead. Unlike the other areas I’d passed, the corpses here had weapons near their hands, hinting they were not townsfolk but bandits. The blood patterns on the ground and their bodies hinted they’d gone down fighting and I doubted this lot had turned on each other. So, that meant... “You with a group?”
“Yep! My brother, Frederick, and a person we picked up.” The last one must be Robin, then. “But they went ahead while I was tending to the injured and... uh...” She glanced uneasily at the body bobbing in the canal nearby. They’d stopped flailing, so I imagined they’d die soon. “We thought the area was clear.”
“Not uncommon for reinforcements to hide in the shadows.” Robin may have an uncanny insight for battle and tactics, yes, but it was difficult to predict when and where reinforcements arrived without scouts or spies. “How about I escort you?” I couldn’t leave her alone now that we knew some were hiding, and it sounded like that would be the fastest way to Robin anyway.
“Ah, thank you!” She beamed up at me, and it dazzled me for a moment. When had I last seen a smile so bright? “Then... uh... this way!” She pointed down a path, littered with more bandit corpses, and I decided to take the lead, since I was armed. “Oh, your hair...”
“Hmm?”
“It’s very pretty!” Was it? It was auburn, or whatever the term for brown-red was, and a common color in Plegia. To say nothing of how it was in a simple ponytail. All in all, it looked plain to me.
So, I chose against replying, only nodding in acknowledgement and walking down the road. Little miss buttons followed me closely, her eyes darting this way and that. She jumped at every shadow, but always kept an eye on my reaction before deciding if it was something to ignore or not. I pretended to not notice and, instead, followed the trail. Before long, we heard the sounds of fighting and stepped out into what might have been the main square. There, three people were killing the last of the bandits: a swordsman wearing a billowing cape, a lancer wearing armor that shone despite the blood, and Robin. The lancer quickly disappeared down one of the side-streets to secure the area, and the swordsman and Robin tag-teamed the last bandit in sight via the swordsman striking and Robin shooting a thunder spell over his shoulder. It was strange to see him use only one spell, but it made sense. He only carried a thunder tome, and he had to pretend to be normal around strangers.
Regardless, I was glad to finally find him and almost called out. But then the girl next to me squealed and rushed towards the swordsman standing near Robin. The swordsman turned with a laugh and I froze, because I knew him. I’d never met him, of course, saw him maybe once or twice in the distance, but I knew him. There was only one person with blue hair, blue clothes, and the Mark of Naga prominently displayed on his arm: the Crown Prince of Ylisse, inheritor of Falchion. Also known as ‘the person who would save the world if Robin or I ever ended up eaten by Grima’.
Well, damn. I needed to hide. Except I couldn’t, because I needed to get to Robin, and little miss buttons was dragging the prince over to me before I could unfreeze and move .
“Chrom, this is the lady who saved me, since Frederick was too busy saving your butt,” the girl laughed, gesturing to me with that bright smile. Given the familiarity, I wondered if this was the youngest princess of Ylisse. “She was helping the townsfolk too! They all told me about the pretty lady with auburn hair.” Oh, was this why she’d commented about my hair before?
“Is that so, Lissa?” Chrom replied, patting the girl on the head. She made a face and batted his hand away. “Well met, miss, and thank you for protecting my little sister.” Well, here was a dose of irony. Was it irony? Either way, it sure was something that a Fellblood protected one of the Exalted Blood. “I’m sure it was she was a handful, given how delicate she is.”
“I am not delicate!” She immediately scowled and huffed; Chrom laughed. “Hmph!” She crossed her arms and turned away, before relaxing and waving at someone. When I twisted, I saw it was the knight, returned with fresh blood. “Frederick, over here! Meet the lady who protected me!” I really didn’t do that much...
“You have my deepest thanks, miss,” the knight murmured, bowing slightly. Now that I was closer, I saw his armor was that of a Ylissean knight. And despite the polite words and formal demeanor, he did not bother to hide his suspicious look. Wasn’t surprised. Random girl shows up out of nowhere during a bandit attack and happened to protect a princess? It couldn’t sound more scripted if you tried, and as a knight, it was his job to be wary. Also, given what I was, I’d applaud his instincts if it didn’t make me look more suspicious. “Perhaps, my lord, my lady, we can discuss how to best thank her later? We have our original problem, after all.”
“Frederick, can that not wait until we’re done with helping the villagers?” Chrom countered, gesturing to the surrounding area. “The bandits might be dead, but the fires aren’t.” Yep, they were still burning. “Besides, he helped my people. My heart says that’s enough.”
“And does your head agree, my lord?”
“My head can wait.”
“Besides, isn’t he amazing?” Lissa gushed, grinning as Robin hesitantly joined us. Strange, he wasn’t usually so timid or awkward. “Holy wow! Sword, magic, and tactics! Is there anything you can’t do?” Oh gods, did Robin’s brooding attract another crush?
“Apparently, come up with an explanation that satisfies your companion,” Robin joked, smiling freely. And I had to stare because since when did he joke? With strangers ? It was as strange as his smile, as bright as it was when Mom was alive. Honestly, the fact that he didn’t take the first opportunity to escape with me was also peculiar. We should’ve long been gone. “If you’ll recall, I’ve failed to do that.”
“Oh, don’t mind Frederick. He’s grumpy like that.” She giggled, clapping her hands together. Frederick somehow did not roll his eyes, but exasperation radiated off him. “Anyway, we’re being rude. Miss... drat, I never got your name, did I?”
“It’s fine,” I dismissed, taking a step back as she tried to drift close again. No point in exchanging names, since I’d never see them again after this. Well, unless Chrom there was coming to kill us. “I was just looking for this one here.” I moved to stand in front of him, frowning as I scrutinized him. Between my eyes and blood sense, I could tell he had no injuries. Did the little princess heal the cut he tried to make, or had he forgotten due to the bandits? “You certainly didn’t make it easy for me, Robin.” Usually when I teased or chided, Robin would roll his eyes. But this time, he just stared. He stared blankly, studied my face like he’d never seen it, and I knew then that something was wrong. He wasn’t acting normal and his eyes... they were so bright. They hadn’t been that bright since we were three years old, since that bastard tried to force the Awakening on him. “Robin? What...?”
“Is... is Robin my name?” he finally whispered, and I felt like I was trapped under a frozen lake again. He didn’t know? How? Had they caught him? Did they try to break him? “I... I was in a field. They found me, but I don’t...” He gestured vaguely at the trio. Princey boy and his sister looked at me with pity; the knight was still suspicious. “Why was I there? Who are...?” An hour. I’d been gone an hour. Max. What the hell had happened? Who had that other pursuer been? “Wait, um...” A hesitant look creeped onto his face; I hadn’t seen that expression since we were six. “Is... is your name Kestrel?”
“Yes, it is.” This was... what in the hells was... “I’m your twin sister.”
I was so done with my life.
Robin remembered only three things: my name, Chrom’s name, and the fact that he was supposed to find me here. I did not know why he knew Chrom’s name; my only guess was that he instinctively knew who would have to kill him if the worst came to pass.
“Thank you for your assistance, Kestrel,” Chrom said, picking up box of debris. In light of everything, the trio agreed to help the visitors before confronting Robin and me, and Robin leapt to assist, meaning we couldn’t just slip away. Then again, Robin... “Kestrel?”
“Yes?” I replied, slipping another broken board into the box. He and I were clearing the streets, sifting through the rubble for anyone who might have been stuck and gathering up what we could find to make things easier to move. Frederick the knight was helping with emergency repairs, while Robin had been dragged off as Lissa’s assistant while she tended the wounded. “What is it?”
“I... nothing.” A pensive look crossed his face, but I ignored it to see if there was anything else we could gather. I didn’t want the pity. I didn’t deserve it. “This was the last area, yes?”
“Of the ones the townsfolk asked.” While other areas were damaged, they weren’t ‘residential’ and, thus, were lower on the priority list.
“Then let's head to the square.”
I nodded, seeing no reason to refuse, and he thankfully didn’t comment further. He just led the way, awkwardly giving me worried glances I could easily ignore. And when we made it to the square, he was quickly accosted by some of the villagers, and I was able to make my escape. Ducking through the crowd, I found the most out of the way spot I could find and hid so I could observe. While there was no sign of Frederick, Lissa was in the center of the crowd, chatting easily with each cheerful villager as she tended to their injuries. Robin awkwardly lingered near, bandaging those with lesser wounds. I watched him as he did, just... flabbergasted. When had he last shown his expressions so openly? Sheepish, awkward, shy, amused... all those emotions danced across his face with ease, yet no matter how much I dug into my memory, I couldn’t recall the last time I’d seen them. All of it really made it clear that Robin truly had forgotten and wasn’t faking it to get out of an interrogation.
In that case, should I kill him? The only reason we stayed alive this long was to see that bastard dead. That was the plan, the promise we made as children. We’d see him dead, writhing in pain and terror, and then we’d follow him to hell. But now, he didn’t remember, so what was the point in him staying alive? What was the point, when he had no idea what was at stake, the danger we were? He no longer knew the people and places we had to avoid at all costs. If the Grimleal found him, if they abducted him and there was no escape… he no longer remembered that last option.
And I could kill him easily, with my sword or the dagger I hid in my boot. Even if I didn’t manage it in a single strike, my blood manipulation could handle the rest. And if Chrom here killed me for it, executed me for murder? Well, he’d just get a jump on his destiny. That’s all.
...I couldn’t say it sat perfectly with me. I never wanted to hurt him. But I couldn’t say it was a bad plan just because of that. Either way, I had time to think. Killing him while surrounded by recovering villagers would just traumatize them further.
While I was debating and observing, I sensed blood coming closer, and I glanced to the side to see the missing knight coming my way. While he was mostly clean, I could still sense the blood lingering in the crevices of his armor. I hated sensing dried blood; it felt itchy in my head. But I knew by now to not let it show on my face, so I schooled my expression into something blank as Frederick stopped right in front of me.
“Ah, there you are,” he ‘greeted’, smiling politely. Too politely. Those sorts of smiles were always daggers in disguise. “The villagers have kindly offered us some cider in thanks for our help. Might you join us?”
“Why are we pretending you’re giving me a choice?” I replied bluntly, not seeing a point in playing along. It wasn’t like I could run and leave Robin alone with them. “Is it to pretend all is well in front of the villagers?” He didn’t respond, but he did glance to the side. And I saw a couple of villagers giving us worried looks. “...I’d said it in jest, but it seems to be the truth.” Just my luck. I didn’t want to make their already bad day worse. “Very well. Lead on, sir knight.”
“This way, miss.”
Frederick showed me to a nondescript house close to the main square, where a young girl wearing bandages was setting up a table with chairs. A jug of cider sat in the middle, surrounded by five mugs, and I sat down in one of the chairs to pour myself a cup. To my surprise, Frederick cut me off and checked each mug carefully before pouring a little bit in one to sip. At first, I thought he was just sneaking some, but then realized he was checking for poison or drugs. Was surprised he was checking all of them in that case. You’d think he wouldn’t care if Robin and I were poisoned.
But I chose against commenting and, instead, waited in the silence. It didn’t take long for Chrom to join us, followed by Robin and Lissa. Robin immediately took a seat next to me and Chrom sat on his other side. Lissa, surprisingly, sat next to me, but that might have been because Frederick wanted the seat across. Because what better seat was there when this was an interrogation?
“Here we are,” Frederick murmured, casually pouring and passing out the cider to us. The movements were as practiced as a butler’s. Maybe he was one before becoming a knight. I’d heard of stranger paths. “Now then...” Once all of us had our drinks, he sat down and regarded me coolly. “Since you’re apparently the only source of answers at the moment, miss, we can start with the basics.”
“Frederick, at least let us enjoy the drink first,” Chrom immediately chided. I had a feeling that if he had his way, we wouldn’t be questioned at all. Which made no sense because his knight was right to be suspicious. “It’ll get cold.”
“You can still drink while I asked my questions.” And to be perfectly fair, Lissa and Robin were doing just that. “I somehow doubt she’ll care about it being warm or cold.” He was also right about that, though I decided to drink some just to be contrary. “So, basics. You said your names were...?”
“Robin and Kestrel,” I answered easily, since I didn’t care. Though Chrom looked a little disgruntled, he didn’t try to interrupt. I noticed he didn’t touch his cider, though, perhaps in slight protest. "We’re twins, and believe it or not, he’s the elder.” If this had been the Robin I’d grown up with, he would’ve rolled his eyes at the distinction. The Robin that sat next to me looked smug about it, though he was quick to try and hide it in his own mug. “We’re eighteen years old, since I’m sure that’s your next question.” And even if it wasn’t, Robin deserved to know that much. ...He deserved to know a lot more, but how did I explain things? I never had to worry about that before. Strangers didn’t need to know, and we always just knew .
“I see,” Frederick murmured, his eyes narrowed slightly. Like Chrom, he didn’t touch his drink. So, I continued nursing mine, to emphasize how little I cared about this. “And why was Robin passed out in the middle of a random field?”
“Can’t answer that as I obviously wasn’t near.” Passed out? What happened? There were no lingering bloodstains or cuts on Robin’s clothes, so he hadn’t been injured. Something magical? No, that would have still left some sort of mark. Unless... did that bastard show up and try to overwhelm his mind again? But if so, where was he now? He wasn’t the type to be scared away by a princeling and his entourage. He’d probably be delighted to kill a potential threat to Grima.
“And where were you?”
“In the woods, hunting.” Ah, this sort of speculation was only making my head hurt. I needed to focus on the present, and think of how to answer these questions as unhelpfully as possible. “When I returned to the road, I saw the flames and had a feeling Robin would be in the middle of it.”
“I see.” His eyes narrowed and his attention flicked briefly to my hair. “Forgive me, but your features are Plegian.” Ah, yes, that would be particularly suspicious given the bandits’ accents. “With that said, your accents aren’t.”
“We were born in Plegia, yes, but Mom ran north during the last year of the war.” I spoke lightly, pretending I didn’t notice the two royals wince. I was more focused on Frederick, whose only reaction was a slight narrowing of his eyes. Interesting. Most Ylisseans squirmed when you mentioned the war. Did he know something about the reason why and thus, wasn’t as uncomfortable? Or did he see it, rightfully, as a little jab towards Ylisse’s less than peaceful past and decide to not give me the satisfaction of making him squirm? “After she died, we wandered, going wherever we willed. In fact, we’ve recently returned from a sojourn in Valm. The continent, not the country.” We’d hoped we could shake that bastard if we were on a different continent, to make it easier later when things finally imploded between Ylisse and Plegia and we could use the chaos to slip in and murder him. But sadly, the bastard’s agents still found us and burned the town we’d been living in to the ground. So, we returned. Probably a good thing, since there were rumors of some idiot gathering power there.
“How long ago did our mother die?” Robin asked then, frowning faintly. At least his frowns still looked the same, even if the question made me nauseous. He’d forgotten even her... “A couple years? Longer?”
“We were six,” I answered bluntly, draining my cup for good measure like I was trying to drown my sorrows. This may be non-alcoholic, but the action still served the same purpose: inducing discomfort. No more point in playing along when I learned what I wanted. Though I did feel a little bad about making the little princess uncomfortable, since she’d kept silent this whole time. “Anything else, mister knight?” I smiled blandly at him, ignoring Robin’s shocked confusion. Frederick met my gaze calmly, even as he looked uneasy. So, didn’t care about the war, but did care about children wandering on their own. Typical knight. “If not...”
“I have a question, though it’s more of a clarification,” Chrom cut in, voice gentle yet awkward. He also wouldn’t quite look me in the eye. “You stated you have no destination for your travels?”
“We don't have a home, yes.” Destination... no, we had that. Or, we once did. Plegia and then the grave. Everything else was just us biding our time until... “Why?”
“Might you consider joining us?” He smiled hesitantly and casually waved away his knight’s yelp of protest. Lissa, meanwhile, squealed, all discomfort forgotten in light of the offer. “I lead a group known as the Shepherds.” Oh, I’d heard some rumors about them. Founded by the crown prince to offset Ylisse’s distinct lack of military, they were also known for taking odd jobs to help the people. I didn’t think the prince would lead them himself, though. “It’s a very informal militia, completely volunteer. No one fights if they don’t wish to. Some, like Maribelle, handle things like investigating corrupt officials.”
“Is that so?” I blinked a few times, honestly taken aback. He’d known us for maybe a couple of hours, had only my word that we weren’t Plegian spies. Wasn’t this too much? Besides, shouldn’t he instinctively hate us? He was blessed by Naga, and we were freaking Grima. “And you just recruit random people you hardly know for such an illustrious endeavor?”
“If I think they can be trusted.” Chrom’s eyes met mine finally and he smiled warmly. When had I last seen a smile like that? “As I stated before, you and Robin helped save Ylissean lives. That’s enough.”
“And have you come up with an explanation your head is willing to believe?” Frederick asked wearily, looking politely exasperated. The suspicious scowl he gave Robin and me proved that he did not share his prince’s trust. “You said it could wait, but now...”
“My head reminded me that a certain someone was worrying just the other day about how we don’t have a proper tactician, given the gradual escalation of Plegia’s attempts at provocation,” Chrom replied airily, grinning. Frederick’s scowl deepened, while Lissa giggled-snorted. “We’ve bandits and unruly neighbors seeking to bloody our soil. We need all the help we can get, and they’re both skilled. Besides, I believe their tale, strange as the coincidences are.”
“My lord, that’s a little…”
“I’d be honored to join,” Robin blurted then, his eyes shining at the thought. Chrom smiled in relief, pleased by his enthusiasm, but I had to fight to keep from wincing. His eyes hadn’t sparkled like that since Mom died. “But do you mind me asking about these unruly neighbors? Is this... Plegia one of them?” Oh gods, he’d forgotten even basics. I should be grateful he remembered how to talk.
“Plegia is our westerly neighbor, and they send small bands across our border, seeking to instigate a war,” Chrom answered easily, unbothered at having to explain what should be common knowledge. Frederick’s scowl deepened, thinking this was still too suspicious. “Today was but the latest of them.”
“And whenever it happens, it’s the poor townsfolk who suffer!” Lissa chimed in, standing abruptly to slam her hands on the table. She actually looked ready to cry. “Totally innocent and totally helpless...” That would be due to Ylisse’s rapid demilitarization in the aftermath of the Ylissean-Plegian war. And their explanation conveniently left out how Plegia’s raids were do to lingering anger from said war, but I wouldn’t bring it up right now. One barb was enough, especially since Robin didn’t remember.
“That is why they have us, my lady, the Shepherds who protect the ‘sheep’,” Frederick gently chided, standing to rest a hand on her shoulder. He subtly urged her to sit back down and remained at attention behind her chair when she did. “Do not be swept up in your anger; it will cloud your judgement.”
“I know; I know...” She sighed heavily and returned to her drink. “I’ll get used to all of this.”
“One step at a time, Lissa,” Chrom reassured, reaching over to poke her cheek. She made a face at him, but the tension in her shoulders eased. “That’s the sort of thing we usually deal with. Well, that and sometimes helping farmers. We are Shepherds, after all.” He grinned and Robin grinned back. Robin grinned. I think we were four when I last saw that expression. “And what of you, Kestrel?” But I couldn’t focus on that, because Chrom’s attention turned to me. “The offer of recruitment is for you as well, after all.” The tone was gentle, careful to not be pressing. I could refuse with no consequences, and I was sorely tempted. Staying near Falchion’s wielder as Grima was only asking for trouble, at least until I fulfilled my goal. But Robin... Robin had already decided, and he glanced at me pleadingly, so I...
“Might as well,” I sighed, leaning back in my chair. Until I decided whether I was going to kill him or not, it was better to stay near Robin. And... well, he didn’t remember anything. If this meant he could somehow live a happy life, unburdened by our fate, then I could just kill our bastard of a sire and then off myself. Though the risk would still be high, and risking the world for something as inane as happiness was absurd. I ought to just solve it now, but that little whisper... “Someone needs to make sure Robin doesn’t kill you with food poisoning.”
“Food poisoning?” Robin repeated, eyes going wide. It hurt to see; he usually rolled his eyes at that little bit of teasing. “Surely I wasn’t that bad at cooking?”
“Worse. We defeated bandits once by feeding them your cooking.” And a couple of Grimleal, actually. “That’s why I had to learn and...” A flicker of blood grazed the edge of my awareness and I glanced up to see someone wearing fresh bandages lingering near the doorway. “Hello.”
“Ah, my pardon!” the villager yelped, jumping. They quickly bowed as all eyes turned to them. “I do not mean to interrupt, but...” They glanced up hesitantly, only relaxing when Chrom and Lissa smiled reassuringly. “My lord, my lady, will you be staying the night?” The smile on their face was warm, but it did not hide the strain in it. “We’re a simple place, but we’d be honored to throw you a feast!” Yes, ‘honored’. It was more an expectation, since these two were royals. I doubted they had the resources or mental fortitude for such an event, given what just happened, and they needed to know now if they had to dredge up both.
“A most generous offer, sir, and no doubt your hospitality would be grand...” Frederick began with a perfect smile on his face. Chrom looked amused by it; Lissa looked aghast. “But I am afraid we must make haste to Ylisstol.”
“Seriously?!” Lissa yelped, leaping to her feet once more. This time, she nearly knocked over the table, but Frederick was quick to right it. Chrom saved both his drink and Robin’s, passing Robin’s back to him once things had settled. “But Frederick, it’s nearly dark! Where are we going to sleep?!”
“Why, we’ll camp, of course.” Frederick’s perfect smile remained in place. It was almost fascinating. “Eat off the land, make our bed from twigs and the like...” With each word, Lissa’s expression grew more and more irritated. “I do believe you just said you would ‘get used to this’.”
“Frederick, sometimes I hate you.” She scowled. “Seriously? Twigs?!”
“Yes, twigs. And some leaves. Campfires.”
“Can’t you indulge your pyromania in a house?”
“I do not have pyromania. And fire in a house is usually dubbed ‘arson’, my lady.”
“You know what I mean!”
“You have quite the stern lieutenant there,” Robin observed, sipping his drink as Frederick and Lissa argued. He was careful to push himself away from the table in case someone nearly knocked it over again. “I’m almost impressed.”
“Just as a word of warning," Chrom laughed softly, finishing his own mug. He stood and, surprisingly, pointed to mine. “Did you want seconds or are you done?” Confused, I shook my head and pushed the cup towards him. “All right then.” He smiled, unbothered by my silence, and took it. “Back to what I was saying about the warning. Frederick the Wary only smiles like that when he’s about to bring down the ax.” He turned and handed the empty cups to the villager. “But as he said, we’ll head out after a brief bit of rest. Might I partake in that feast once your village has recovered?” Chrom’s smile was terribly kind. “I’d be delighted to have some of your famous apple wine, for one thing.”
“Ah, of course, my lord!” the villager blurted, beaming proudly. There was no sign of strain in the smile this time, only relief. Yes, it had been an obligation, one they’d gladly suffer if need be, but they were happy to have time to gather things for a ‘proper’ feast. “We should still have a few bottles left. Won’t you accept some?”
“I fear that is too tempting to refuse, so yes, happily.” Chrom chuckled and the villager bowed, nearly dropping the empty mugs, and rushed off. “Well, this will be a nice gift for Emm. She’s got a weakness for apple wine.”
“Is there something special about it?” Robin asked, sipping the cider. On the other side of the table, Frederick and Lissa were still having their argument. “The apple wine, I mean.”
“It’s a specialty of Southtown,” Chrom answered, sitting back down. He glanced at the arguing duo before shrugging and focusing on Robin again. “Southtown is where we are, by the way. As the name suggests, it’s the southernmost city on the mainland, though there are some villages on the nearby islands that are farther south.”
Chrom rattled off some more information about Southtown, casually slipping in basic details about Ylisse, and Robin listened eagerly, asking questions about practically everything. I pushed my chair back from the table, just to get some distance, and pulled my dagger from my boot to twirl about my fingers as I let the noise wash over me. Tried to figure out what to feel, but no matter how much I thought, I couldn’t find a word. It had been a normal day and yet, here we were. The Falchion’s wielder, inheritor of Naga’s legacy, destined to save the world from all death, destruction and doom… was talking happily with the perfect Vessel of Grima, inheritor of the Fellblood, destined to drive the world to death, destruction, and doom.
Let it never be said the divine didn’t have a sense of humor, I guess.
Kestrel
Class: Mercenary
Reclass: All
The younger of the twins born to the Hierophant Validar and his lady, High Priestess Raven, the full Fellbrand on her right shoulder blade marks her as a Vessel of Grima. Due to this, she inherited Grima’s knowledge of weaponry and battle, and Grima’s ability to manipulate blood. When combined with the Grimleal’s history of meticulous breeding for their ‘highblood lines’, she was literally designed to serve as the perfect general for Grima.
Despite inheriting a great deal of magical power from her parents, she primarily fights with a sword, taking advantage of her inherited knowledge to better hide and in protest of her sire’s expectations. The blade also makes it easier for her to use her blood manipulation, as the ability weakens with distance, and she must be able to see the blood in order to manipulate it. Strong, fast, and skilled, her disregard for her own life means her ability to defend herself is minimal. Though she doesn’t mind, because she can manipulate her own blood as easily as she does others.
Because of her naturally high resistance to magic, her ability to resonate with Grima’s Heart is reduced compared to her twin and, as such, she was considered the ‘backup’ to him. This did not mean, however, that the Grimleal did not treasure her as much as they did her twin, resulting in a sharp dichotomy of being spoiled yet subjected to brutal training and abuse until her mother managed to smuggle her and her twin away.