The Weight of History
The moon hung low over Castle Ylisstol's courtyard, its silver light casting long shadows across the carefully tended gardens. Chrom stood alone by the central fountain, his reflection fragmenting across the rippling water. The gentle splash of the fountain couldn't quite mask the sound of approaching footsteps – two sets, one measured and precise, the other slightly quicker.
"Chrom?" Sarai's voice carried gentle concern. She and Robin drew near, sharing a worried glance at the prince's unusually tense posture.
"I thought I might find you here," Robin added, noting how Chrom's hand rested on Falchion's hilt – not in preparation for battle, but as if seeking comfort from the ancient blade.
Chrom didn't turn immediately, his eyes fixed on the water. "Gangrel," he finally said, the name bitter on his tongue. "For all his madness, for all his provocations... he wasn't entirely wrong about Ylisse."
Sarai moved closer, close enough to see the conflict etched across his features. "What do you mean?"
"My father..." Chrom's grip tightened on Falchion. "The previous Exalt. History remembers him as a warrior, but that's too kind a word for what he truly was." He finally turned to face them, moonlight catching the pain in his eyes. "Fifteen years ago, he launched a campaign against Plegia that became known as the Crusade. But 'crusade' makes it sound noble, justified. It was nothing of the sort."
Robin listened intently, noting how Sarai instinctively moved closer to Chrom, though she didn't quite touch him.
"He believed that destroying Plegia was Naga's will," Chrom continued, each word seeming to cost him. "Villages burned. Families torn apart. He didn't discriminate between soldiers and civilians – anyone who worshipped Grima was deemed an enemy of the faith. The brutality..." He shook his head. "It was the bloodiest campaign in our history. Countless lives were lost on both sides before he finally fell in battle."
"That's why Emmeryn's path of peace was so crucial," Sarai realized aloud. "She had to heal not just the wounds of war, but the very soul of Ylisse."
"She was only ten years old when she inherited the throne," Chrom said softly. "Ten years old, facing a kingdom in ruins, its coffers empty, its people bitter and grieving. And still, she chose peace. She chose forgiveness, even when many would have understood if she'd chosen vengeance against those who opposed her."
Robin's tactical mind was already connecting pieces. "And now Gangrel uses this history to justify his actions. He paints himself as the defender of Plegia against potential Ylissean aggression."
"Yes." Chrom's voice was heavy. "Every time I draw Falchion, I carry not just its blessed power, but the weight of my father's sins. When Gangrel speaks of Ylissean crimes, he's not entirely fabricating them. He's twisting real wounds, real grief, into weapons against us."
Sarai reached out then, her hand finding his arm. "The sins of the father are not the sins of the son, Chrom. You and Emmeryn have shown Ylisse a different path."
"Have we?" He looked down at her hand, then back to the fountain. "Here we stand on the brink of another war. Despite everything Emm has worked for, despite all her sacrifices..."
"This isn't the same," Robin interjected firmly. "Your father sought war. You seek to prevent it. There's a world of difference between invasion and defense."
The night breeze stirred the garden, carrying the scent of night-blooming flowers. For a long moment, only the fountain's steady splash broke the silence.
"Sometimes," Chrom finally said, "I wonder if the brand of the exalt is as much a mark of penance as it is of divine blessing. A reminder to do better, to be better, than those who came before."
Sarai's grip on his arm tightened slightly. "Then honor that meaning by being exactly who you are – a leader who fights to protect, not to destroy. A prince who walks among his people instead of standing above them."
"And you're not alone," Robin added quietly. "Whatever comes, you have people who believe in your path, not your father's."
Chrom looked between them – his tactician and his... whatever Sarai was becoming to him. In their faces, he saw not blind loyalty, but reasoned faith. Perhaps that, more than anything, was what separated his path from his father's.
"Thank you," he said simply. "Both of you."
Above them, clouds drifted across the moon, momentarily dimming its light. Yet in the darkness, three figures stood together, their shadows merging into one as they faced whatever tomorrow might bring.
A Future Hidden
"Well spoken, sir." The voice cut through the night air, causing the trio to turn. Marth emerged from the shadows, the butterfly mask gleaming in the moonlight. Sarai's grip on Chrom's arm tightened imperceptibly, a flash of recognition crossing her features before she carefully schooled her expression.
"Good evening to you," Marth greeted them formally.
Chrom's eyes narrowed slightly. "How did you get in here?"
There was an almost imperceptible hint of amusement in Marth's voice. "The cleft in the castle wall, behind the maple grove."
A flush crept up Chrom's neck. "There? But how would you...?" His voice trailed off as Sarai's musical laughter filled the air, her hand still wrapped around his arm as she tried to stifle her giggles.
"You know the place, Chrom?" Robin asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, well..." Chrom cleared his throat. "I bashed in part of the wall while training the Shepherds. It's only a small hole, and I'd thought it well concealed, but..."
"Your secret is safe with me," Marth assured him, though there was something in the swordsman's tone that Sarai seemed to find particularly amusing. "I come tonight only to warn you."
The levity of the moment evaporated instantly. "Warn us?" Chrom's expression grew serious.
"The Exalt's life is in danger."
Those five words transformed the atmosphere entirely. Chrom's posture stiffened, while Robin's eyes narrowed in tactical assessment. Only Sarai seemed unsurprised, her elven gifts of foresight allowing her to sense the truth in Marth's words.
"That's absurd," Chrom protested. "Emm has her guard detail. The palace itself is heavily fortified..."
"Would you believe me if I told you I could see the future?" Marth's question hung in the air.
Chrom's skepticism was evident. "I'm afraid I'd have a hard time with that, yes."
"Then perhaps a demonstration is in order." In one fluid motion, Marth drew his blade. Chrom's hand instinctively went to Falchion's hilt, but Marth's next words gave him pause. "I'm about to save your life... from him."
The assassin burst from the bushes with deadly intent, but Marth was already moving. The mysterious swordsman threw his blade skyward, leaping after it in a graceful arc. Catching it at the apex of the jump, Marth brought the sword down in a perfect strike, ending the assassin's life in one clean motion.
"I trust this proof will suffice?"
But fate wasn't finished with its revelations. A second assassin emerged, catching even Marth off guard. As the swordsman turned to parry, his foot caught on the fallen assassin's blade. The attacking assassin's weapon found its mark – not in flesh, but in the butterfly mask, cleaving it in two.
Chrom surged forward, Falchion flashing in the moonlight as he cut down the second attacker. When he turned back, he found himself staring not at the mysterious swordsman he'd known, but at a young woman with features that struck him as oddly familiar.
"Wait, you're—You're a woman?"
A slight smile curved Marth's lips. "And quite the actress, too. Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't figure it out until just now."
Sarai's gentle laughter drew Chrom's attention. Realization dawned in his eyes. "Wait, Sarai... did you know?"
The dark elven princess offered an apologetic smile. "I'm sworn to secrecy regarding Marth's true identity," she explained, earning a grateful nod from the newly revealed swordswoman.
Before any further explanations could be offered, an explosion rocked the castle grounds, the sound of shattering stone and screaming metal echoing through the night. As one, the four warriors turned toward the castle, personal revelations forgotten in the face of immediate danger.
"Emm!" Chrom's voice carried both authority and fear as they broke into a run.
Whatever secrets Marth still held would have to wait. The night had only begun to reveal its dangers.
Shadows in the Palace
As they raced through the castle corridors, Marth caught Sarai's eye, mouthing a silent 'thank you' for keeping her secret. Her gaze lingered briefly on Chrom and Sarai's proximity, a hint of knowing – perhaps even hope – crossing her features. But there was no time for such thoughts as the sounds of battle echoed through the halls.
In the grand corridor, Validar stood among his assassins, dark magic crackling at his fingertips. "Remember, I want the Emblem in my hand and Emmeryn dead on the floor. Let nothing distract you from either purpose."
"As you will it, sir," his subordinate responded with a bow.
Near the shadows, a red-haired thief shifted uncomfortably. "Woah, woah, did I just hear that right? We're to KILL the exalt?" Gaius's usual casual demeanor gave way to genuine concern. "I'm just here for the plunder. You know, line my pockets with some royal goods. The exalt's such a sweet lady... Sure, I'll rob her blind, but I'd never harm her!"
The scene at Emmeryn's chambers was chaos as Chrom and the others arrived. "Emm!"
"Chrom!" Emmeryn's voice carried both relief and worry. "Take Lissa and flee while you still have time!"
"No! We're not leaving you! Just stay where it's safe!" As Chrom took his defensive stance, Roy, Odyn, and the other Shepherds arrived to reinforce their position.
Robin's tactical mind was already working. "The assassins should scatter if we can defeat their leader."
Validar's attention shifted to the assembled defenders, his expression darkening at the unexpected resistance. "Hmph! Two assassins and the little princeling was not even wounded? ...Wait. Some of these actors do not belong on this stage..." His eyes landed on Robin, and a wicked smile spread across his face. "Ho ho! Can it be?! After years of searching... Tonight, fate truly piles gifts at my feet!"
Near Emmeryn's door, Falchion began to emit a strange glow. "Falchion is gleaming..." Marth muttered.
"What's wrong?" Chrom asked.
"It's not your concern."
"Seems like nothing ever is with you."
"My apologies." Marth's response was met with an encouraging nod from Sarai, which she returned with subtle gratitude.
"Just stay at Emmeryn's door. We'll handle the killers."
Emmeryn's plea rang out once more: "Chrom, please! Flee while you still can! You each have but one life, and I do not wish it weighed against mine!"
The battle erupted in earnest, corridors becoming battlegrounds as the Shepherds engaged the assassins. Amid the chaos, they found unexpected allies – Panne, the proud Taguel warrior, joined their ranks, honor-bound by an ancient debt to Chrom's bloodline. And through Sarai's insight and Chrom's compassion, they even managed to turn Gaius to their cause, the thief's sweet tooth proving as powerful as his conscience.
But it was the confrontation between Odyn and Validar that would define the night. The dark sorcerer's eyes widened with recognition as he faced the young prince – something about the boy's presence unsettling him in ways he couldn't explain. His confidence turned to shock as Odyn unleashed rare light magic, the holy energy cutting through his dark spells like sunlight through shadow.
"Impossible," Validar hissed as his magic failed him. "This power..."
Odyn's response was silence, his orange eyes burning like twin flames as he channeled his light magic into a final, devastating strike. As the spell struck true, Validar's last words echoed through the corridor: "No... This is... all wrong... How could... you have known the plan..."
The sorcerer's body dissolved into shadow, leaving behind questions that would haunt them in the days to come. Why had he recognized Robin? What had unsettled him so about Odyn? And how had Marth known of the attack?
But for now, at least, Emmeryn was safe, and the palace secure. The night's shadows began to recede, though the darkness that had spawned this attack still lurked somewhere, waiting for its next opportunity.
Bonds of Trust
Relief flooded the castle corridor as the threat finally passed. Chrom rushed to his sister's side, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank the gods you're safe!"
"It is you I have to thank, Chrom." Emmeryn's serene gaze swept over the assembled group, lingering on the elven contingent. "And you all as well."
Sarai and her fellow elves offered respectful half-bows. "No problem, we are glad to see you safe, your Grace," Sarai responded with characteristic grace.
Phila stepped forward, shame evident in her bearing. "I beg your forgiveness, milord! I failed in my duty—they should never have made it into the castle in the first place."
"Peace, Phila. You couldn't have known what was coming. Only Marth could..." Chrom's voice trailed off as he glanced around the corridor.
"...Marth?" Emmeryn questioned.
"Yes, I would speak more with... Um..." Chrom turned to his tactician. "Robin, where's Marth?"
Robin scanned the area with a frown. "Hmm... An excellent question. She was here a moment ago..."
"...Not again!" Chrom's frustration was evident as he darted from the corridor in pursuit.
In the wake of his departure, Emmeryn's gentle gaze found Sarai, a knowing smile gracing her features. "Miss Sarai, if it's not too much trouble, could I inconvenience you for a short while to discuss something?"
A silent understanding passed between Sarai and Odyn. "Not to worry, sis," her brother assured her. "I'll follow them and keep an eye on Chrom. You go on ahead. It seems Lady Exalt has something important to talk with you about."
"Thank you, brother," Sarai nodded, though her eyes betrayed curiosity about the upcoming conversation.
In the castle courtyard, Marth's attempted quiet exit was interrupted by Chrom's arrival. "Going somewhere? You have a bad habit of leaving without saying goodbye, you know."
"Yes, I'm afraid I have a few bad habits." There was something almost wistful in her tone.
"Good ones as well—you saved my life, as well as both of my sisters. Is there some way I can repay you? Some favor I can grant?"
"Hearing you offer is reward enough."
"But there must be something..."
Marth's response carried weight beyond its words: "I already have what I came for: history has been rewritten."
"And what future averted?"
"After the exalt's untimely assassination, the Fire Emblem would be stolen. This, in turn, would lead to a great war, and soon to the end of mankind itself." She paused, gauging his reaction. "...But I'm sure that sounds like madness to you."
"...Strangely, no. It doesn't. Somehow I know I can trust you. And I hope someday to repay your favors."
"Perhaps one day you shall. Though I suppose if there was one thing..."
"I'm listening."
"Your bond with princess Sarai... Cherish her, that's one way how you can repay me."
Chrom's surprise was evident. "That's really all you want? Surely there-..."
Odyn's timely intervention cut through the moment: "Chrom, I think our mystery swordswoman here has her reasons for requesting this of you, it's not up to us to pry into personal matters of hers."
Marth's grateful nod to Odyn spoke volumes before she departed into the night.
Back in the castle corridor, a different kind of tension unfolded as Panne, the taguel warrior, faced the gathered humans. Emmeryn's gratitude was met with bitter history and justified suspicion, yet her genuine remorse seemed to reach something in the proud taguel.
"You seem sincere, man-spawn," Panne finally admitted. "You feel my pain as your own. ...I've never felt that before. Look at me. ...See what I am. I will never trust mankind. But you... Perhaps you truly are not like the others."
Emmeryn's response was both humble and hopeful: "All I ask is a chance to earn your trust."
The night's events had rewritten more than just the immediate future – they had begun to forge new bonds of trust, understanding, and perhaps even love, that would prove crucial in the days to come.
Words Unspoken
As the others filtered out of the corridor, Emmeryn and Sarai found themselves in a moment of privacy, the castle's torch-lit halls casting warm shadows around them. The Exalt's serene smile held a knowing quality that made Sarai's heart skip a beat – she had clearly noticed far more than the dark elven princess had given her credit for.
"Walk with me?" Emmeryn's invitation was gentle but carried an underlying purpose that Sarai couldn't miss.
They moved together through the castle's quieter passages, their footsteps echoing softly against ancient stone. Sarai's keen elven senses picked up the subtle way Emmeryn chose their path, leading them to a small private garden – one of the few places in the castle where conversations could truly remain private.
"I hope you'll forgive my directness," Emmeryn began, her voice carrying its characteristic warmth, "but I've noticed something developing between you and my brother."
Sarai felt heat rise to her cheeks, the tips of her pointed ears turning slightly pink. Of course Emmeryn would have noticed – those same observant eyes that made her such a skilled diplomat hadn't missed the lingering glances, the subtle touches, the way Chrom's voice softened when speaking to her.
"Your Grace, I—"
"Please," Emmeryn raised a gentle hand, "there's no need for formality here. Not when we're discussing matters of the heart."
The garden's night-blooming flowers released their subtle fragrance into the air as Emmeryn continued, "I've watched Chrom carry the weight of his duties, always putting Ylisse first, always conscious of what others expect of him. But when he's with you..." Her smile deepened. "When he's with you, I see my brother as simply himself."
Sarai's hands clasped together, an unconscious gesture of vulnerability. "We haven't wished to make any formal announcements, not with the current situation with Plegia..."
"A wise decision," Emmeryn nodded. "Though I suspect the Shepherds already have their own thoughts on the matter." Her light laughter joined Sarai's at this observation. "But I didn't bring you here to discuss politics or timing. I wanted to tell you something as Chrom's sister, rather than as the Exalt."
She turned to face Sarai fully, and in that moment, the dark elven princess saw not the ruler of Ylisse, but simply a woman who loved her brother dearly. "I've seen how you strengthen him, how you support him while still challenging him to be better. You see him as Chrom, not just as Ylisse's prince. And that..." Emmeryn's eyes shone with warmth, "that is worth more than any political alliance could ever be."
"I never intended..." Sarai began, then found her honesty. "When I first came to Ylisse, the last thing I expected was to fall in love with its prince."
"The heart rarely follows our expectations," Emmeryn observed wisely. "Sometimes it leads us to exactly where we need to be." She reached out, taking Sarai's hands in her own. "Whatever challenges lie ahead, know that you have my blessing – not as the Exalt, but as someone who wants nothing more than to see her brother happy."
Sarai felt tears prick at her eyes, overwhelmed by the acceptance and understanding in Emmeryn's words. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
"Though I must admit," Emmeryn added with a hint of mischief that reminded Sarai startlingly of Lissa, "I'm looking forward to having a sister who can help me keep Chrom from breaking quite so many training dummies."
Their shared laughter echoed through the garden, a moment of joy in the midst of uncertain times. As they made their way back inside, Sarai felt a weight lift from her shoulders – one she hadn't even realized she'd been carrying. Whatever the future held, she now knew that her place in it had been blessed by more than just Chrom's love.
In the distance, the sounds of the castle settling back to normal operations could be heard, but here in this moment, two women had forged a bond that went beyond titles and politics – a bond of family, formed not by blood, but by love.
What Time Could Not Erase
The castle grounds had grown quiet, the chaos of the assassination attempt fading into memory. As Chrom and Robin made their way back to the castle, Odyn lingered behind, his request for a moment alone drawing curious but understanding looks from his companions.
He waited by an ancient oak, its branches casting dappled shadows in the moonlight. Marth had paused in her departure, sensing his presence – a presence that for her carried the weight of memories not yet made.
"Your bearing," Odyn said softly, his flame-colored eyes reflecting the moonlight. "Like my sister, I recognize the hints of elven blood in your movements. In the way you carry yourself."
Marth's breath caught, her composure threatening to crack at his words. This Odyn – younger, somehow both softer and stronger than the one she knew – watched her with the same penetrating gaze that had once seen through all her childish attempts at deception.
"Your secret is safe with me," he assured her, offering a gentle smile that made her heart ache. "I simply wished to thank you, for everything you've done for my family... and everything you will do."
There was something in his tone, a hint of understanding that suggested he knew more than he let on, but before she could respond, he had turned away, following the path Chrom and Robin had taken back to the castle.
Only when she was certain he was gone did Marth allow her composure to crumble. Her hands trembled as she pressed them against the rough bark of the tree, tears threatening to spill from beneath her mask. This Odyn was so like and unlike the one she had known – the one who had been her teacher, her protector, her first love.
Memories flooded unbidden: Odyn at thirteen, standing between her and certain death, his light magic blazing like a star as he bought her time to escape. His last smile, even as his life ebbed away, had been for her. "Live," he had told her with his final breath. "Live and change it all."
She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to still the ache there. How cruel fate was, to bring her face to face with him again, when he was still whole, still alive, still untouched by the horrors that would claim him in her time. This Odyn was different – there was a strength to him that her timeline's version had never had the chance to develop, a quiet confidence that spoke of battles won rather than lost.
"Dear Naga," she whispered into the night air, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I came to save my father, my mother, to prevent the end of everything... but is it selfish of me to want to save him too?" She looked up at the stars, the same stars she had watched with a different Odyn in a different time. "Is it wrong to hope that maybe, just maybe, this time..."
She couldn't finish the thought. Her mission had already been complicated enough – preventing Emmeryn's assassination, stopping the Fire Emblem's theft, averting the chain of events that would lead to devastation. But now her heart had thrown everything into chaos, making her question motivations she had thought pure.
This Odyn would never know the depths of what his future self had meant to a young princess. He would never know of the nights spent training her in swordplay, of the stories he had told her of his own childhood, of the way his death had nearly broken her resolve completely. And perhaps that was for the best – this timeline's Odyn deserved the chance to write his own story, free from the shadow of a future that she was fighting to prevent.
Still, as Marth finally turned to leave, she couldn't help but whisper one last prayer to the night air: "Please... let me save him too. Just this once, let me be selfish enough to want that."
The wind carried her words away into the darkness, offering no answer to the paradox of loving someone who would never know the version of himself she had lost.
The journey back to her hidden camp was longer than usual that night, each step weighted with memories that refused to stay buried. Marth found herself pausing frequently, her hand straying to the hilt of the sword he had helped her master in another lifetime. The familiar grip offered little comfort now, serving only as another reminder of all she stood to lose – or perhaps gain – by changing the course of history.
Dawn was breaking by the time she reached her temporary shelter, the first rays of sunlight painting the sky in hues that reminded her painfully of Odyn's flame-colored eyes. She removed her mask, allowing Lucina – for that was who she truly was – to emerge from behind Marth's carefully constructed facade. The weight of her true identity settled heavily upon her shoulders as she sank down onto her bedroll.
"You always told me that the hardest battles are fought within ourselves," she whispered to the memory of her mentor. "But you never warned me about this one."
She pulled out a small journal, its pages worn from frequent handling. Within it, she had documented everything she could remember about the events leading up to the catastrophe – every detail that might help prevent the future she had fled. But there, in the margins, were other notes: little observations about Odyn that she couldn't help but record. How he moved differently here, unburdened by the injury that had plagued him in her timeline. How his laugh, when she had heard it echoing from the castle gardens, held none of the sadness that had colored her memories of him.
"The butterfly effect," she murmured, recalling one of his lessons about the delicate nature of time. "Change one thing, and everything shifts." Already, she could see how her interventions had altered small details of the past. The way Chrom carried himself with more caution, how Robin's tactical decisions showed greater consideration for unexpected variables. And Odyn... Odyn was forging connections with his companions that her timeline's version had never had the chance to make.
A bitter smile crossed her face as she realized the irony – every change that made this timeline's Odyn stronger, more whole, made him less like the man she had known and loved. The Odyn who had taught her to wield a sword had been tempered by loss and hardship. This one might never need to develop that same gentle patience, that deep understanding of pain that had made him such a compassionate teacher.
"Perhaps that's the price of saving someone," she reflected, watching the sunrise paint the sky in ever-brighter colors. "You have to be willing to let them become someone else entirely."
She thought of his words from the previous night – "Your secret is safe with me." Had he truly recognized something in her, or was it simply his natural intuition at work? The possibility that he might have glimpsed even a fraction of their shared future both thrilled and terrified her.
Rising from her bedroll, Lucina began her morning training routine – the same sequences he had taught her, modified now with the experience of countless battles. Each movement was a prayer, each strike a promise. She would save them all – her father, her mother, her world – but she would do it as herself, not as Marth. The mask could hide her face, but it couldn't hide the truth in her heart.
As she completed the final sequence, she made a new vow, one that encompassed all the others: "I will give you the future you deserve, even if it means letting go of the past I cherish. This time, you'll live to write your own story, Odyn. And maybe... maybe that's the greatest way I can honor what you meant to me."
The morning breeze carried her words across the training ground, and for a moment, she could have sworn she felt the ghost of his hand on her shoulder, giving her the strength to face whatever changes destiny had in store.
The night air grew colder as Marth forced herself to move forward, each step a battle between duty and desire. Her father had always told her that the heart knows what it wants, but what of a heart torn between two versions of the same person? She thought of Odyn's gentle smile tonight, so different from the battle-worn expression she remembered from her timeline, yet somehow just as captivating.
"Focus," she whispered to herself, adjusting her mask. "The fate of the world depends on more than just one heart's wishes." Still, she couldn't help but remember how his eyes had lingered on her, carrying that hint of recognition that made her wonder if somehow, across time itself, some part of him remembered her too.
But the night held darker secrets than matters of the heart. Far from the castle grounds, in a realm between shadows and reality, destiny was unfolding in a far more sinister fashion.
Validar lay sprawled in the void, his body wracked with pain from his defeat. The darkness around him seemed to pulse with malevolent energy, and the air grew thick with an ancient, terrible presence. His wounds should have been fatal – would have been fatal – if not for the intervention now taking place.
"Validar." The voice that spoke his name carried the weight of millennia, each syllable dripping with dark purpose. "Your weakness disappoints, but your role is far from over."
The sorcerer's eyes widened as the figure stepped closer, their presence making the very air crackle with fell energy. The mere proximity of the being made Validar's branded flesh burn with recognition. This was power beyond mortality, beyond human comprehension – this was the very essence of destruction given form.
"My lord Grima," Validar gasped, struggling to prostrate himself before the fell dragon's manifestation. "I... I failed you. The prince and his companions—"
"Are insignificant obstacles," Grima interrupted, darkness coiling around them like living smoke. "Do you think this petty setback matters in the grand scale of what is to come? Time itself bends to my will, Validar. Even now, the future struggles to rewrite itself, but some destinies cannot be undone."
A cold laugh echoed through the void, making Validar shudder. "Even that meddlesome princess, thinking she can change what is written... she has no idea that every step she takes only draws us closer to the inevitable."
Validar's eyes widened at this revelation. "Princess? What princess—"
"Silence," Grima commanded, and the very air seemed to still. "Your understanding is not required. Your obedience is all I demand. Rise, my servant. Rise and fulfill the destiny for which you were bred."
Dark energy swirled around Validar's wounds, knitting flesh and bone back together with unnatural speed. He could feel strength returning to his limbs, but it was a corrupt power, tainted with the essence of the fell dragon itself.
"The time will come," Grima continued, the lower half of their form shifting like smoke, "when all the pieces will align. The Shepherds think they have won a victory today, but they have merely postponed the inevitable. And as for that time-lost child..." A sound like grinding mountains filled the void – Grima's laugh. "Let her play her little games of destiny. In the end, all paths lead to my awakening."
As Validar rose to his feet, fully healed but forever changed by this encounter, he couldn't help but wonder about Grima's words. What princess dared to challenge the fell dragon's will? But such questions were dangerous, he knew. His role was not to understand, but to serve.
And serve he would, until the world itself burned in Grima's dark fire.
Back at Castle Ylisstol...
Emmeryn, Chrom, Robin and Phila are metting in the corridor when Odyn, Sarai, Roy, Hailfire, and Valvaderyhn join them.
"Then it's settled," Phila said, her posture relaxing slightly though her eyes remained alert. "I'll arrange for an escort of my most trusted Pegasus Knights to accompany Her Grace."
Emmeryn nodded, her serene expression masking the weight of her decision. "I'll need some time to arrange matters here before departing. The people must not think I'm abandoning them in their hour of need."
"We can help with that," Valvaderyhn offered, stepping forward. "Perhaps a public appearance before you leave? Something to reassure the citizens that their Exalt remains strong and devoted to their welfare."
Hailfire crossed his arms, his expression thoughtful. "We should also consider spreading some misinformation about your destination. If Plegia truly is behind this, they'll have spies watching your movements."
"Agreed," Frederick said, nodding approvingly at the suggestion. "We can make it appear as though preparations are being made for Her Grace to travel in several different directions."
Chrom placed a hand on the Falchion's hilt, a gesture that had become habit when he was deep in thought. "We'll need to split our forces carefully. Too large a group traveling with Emm would draw attention, but too small leaves her vulnerable."
"I can help coordinate the defensive formations," Odyn offered, his tactical mind already working through the possibilities. "We'll need to account for both ground and aerial attacks, given Plegia's capabilities."
Sarai stepped closer to Emmeryn, her voice gentle but firm. "Your Grace, I hope you understand that this isn't just about political strategy. Everyone here..." she gestured to the gathered group, "we've all come to care for you as more than just our Exalt."
Roy nodded in agreement. "The peace you strive for, the kindness you show to all – these aren't just noble ideals to us anymore. They're worth protecting at any cost."
Emmeryn looked at each face in turn, her eyes lingering on her brother before scanning the loyal companions gathered around her. For a moment, her careful composure softened, and they could see the touched expression beneath her royal bearing.
"My dear friends," she said softly, "your devotion humbles me. Very well – we shall proceed with all due caution, but let us not forget that our greatest strength lies not in our defensive measures, but in our unity."
"Speaking of unity," Frederick interjected, ever practical, "we should begin preparations immediately. The sooner we can secure Your Grace's safety, the sooner we can address the broader threats facing our kingdom."
"Indeed," Phila agreed. "I'll need to coordinate with the palace guard to ensure a smooth transition. Your Grace, if I may have a word in private about the security arrangements?"
As Emmeryn and Phila stepped aside to discuss the details, Chrom turned to the others. "We'll need to move quickly but carefully. Odyn, can you and Roy work with Frederick to plan our route? Sarai, Hailfire, Valvaderyhn – I'll need your help to organize our forces without drawing attention."
"Leave it to us," Odyn assured him, already pulling out a map from his robes. "We'll find the safest path to the eastern palace."
As the group dispersed to their various tasks, the weight of their responsibility settled over them like a heavy cloak. The assassination attempt had shaken them all, but it had also strengthened their resolve. They would protect their Exalt, their peace, and their future – no matter what dark forces gathered against them.
"Sir Valvaderyhn," Emmeryn called softly, her voice carrying just far enough to catch the dark elven knight's attention before he could follow the others. "A moment, if you would."
The red-armored knight turned, his proud bearing tempered with respect as he approached the Exalt. The torchlight caught the elaborate etchings on his armor, casting dancing shadows that seemed to emphasize the gravity of the moment.
"Your Grace?" he inquired, bowing slightly.
Emmeryn's eyes held a knowing warmth as she spoke. "Word of your actions at the border has reached me – how you stood against overwhelming odds to protect Lady Maribelle. Such valor does not go unnoticed."
Valvaderyhn remained silent, though his posture straightened almost imperceptibly at the mention of the duke's daughter.
"I have a personal request," Emmeryn continued, her voice dropping lower still. "These are dangerous times, and Maribelle's position as the duke's daughter makes her a potential target for those who would seek to destabilize our alliances."
Understanding dawned in Valvaderyhn's eyes as Emmeryn spoke. The recent assassination attempt had made it clear that no one of importance was truly safe.
"Would you extend your protection to her?" Emmeryn asked. "Not as an official guard – that would only draw unwanted attention – but as a watchful ally? Someone who would ensure her safety in these uncertain times?"
The dark elven knight's response was immediate and resolute. "You have my word, Your Grace. I will guard her life as carefully as I would guard your own."
A gentle smile graced Emmeryn's features. "Thank you. Your dedication brings me comfort in these troubled times." She paused, then added with subtle emphasis, "Maribelle's safety is... particularly dear to me. She represents not only her house but the future of Ylisse's diplomatic relations."
Valvaderyhn nodded, reading the layers of meaning in the Exalt's words. This wasn't just about protecting a noble's daughter – it was about preserving the delicate political balance that Emmeryn had worked so hard to maintain.
With a final bow, Valvaderyhn turned to join the others, his mind already formulating plans to fulfill this new duty while maintaining the discretion it required. As he walked away, Emmeryn watched him go, knowing she had entrusted Maribelle's safety to someone who would take the responsibility as seriously as she hoped.
To be continued in Chapter 7: Incursion