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smashconTitle:The Blood of Legends
Rating: PG
Prompt: Orenda (n.) – A mystical force present in all people that empowers them to affect the world, or to change their own lives
Fandom/Series: Fire Emblem: Awakening
Word Count: 2,429
Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, profit from the story and all creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).
Summary:
In the final days of Grima’s conquest, it is all Lucina can do to hold onto hope. With her last chance at saving the world approaching, she must remember the reason she is fighting in the first place if she hopes to succeed.
THE BLOOD OF LEGENDS
Cynthia’s fingers combed through her hair, pushing long blue strands into gentle hiding places. With that calming presence, all she need do was close her eyes and it would seem as if they were back home again, her sister having snuck into her chambers to play with her hair and tell legends she’d heard a thousand times before. Maybe their parents would discover them, Cynthia always terrible at keeping her voice down, but it wouldn’t matter. They could never stay mad at their girls. If it was a festival night they’d even join in, climbing onto her bed and telling stories of their battles together as Shepherds. No matter how hard she tried to take in every word, she’d soon find herself drifting asleep and only waking when her sister started jumping on her in demand for breakfast. They’d eat with her cousin and play heroes in the courtyard; the castle walls keeping watch over them.
“Lucina, the Risen are on the move.”
But that was not her life anymore. Ylisse was torn and burnt under the claws of Grima, her mother, father and everything she’d ever known now lost to the Fell Dragon’s fire. She became acutely aware of the gauntlets that protected her sister’s careful hands and of the mask that covered her own face. They were soldiers now, not children.
“How many?” asked Lucina, rising from her sister’s ministrations.
“Too many,” replied Gerome. “I spotted their camp while out with Minerva. They’re headed our way with a force too great to hold back.”
Lucina felt her heart grow cold, her brow lowering with the weight of her responsibility. No matter how far they ran, how well they hid, the Risen always seemed to find them. They’d been so careful this time, even some of her friends hadn’t known where the ritual was going to be conducted until they arrived. For a long time she’d feared there was a spy in their midst, but in her heart she knew it all came down to the power of Grima. It seemed almost her destiny to fall at his hand in some way or another, even if it meant collapsing from exhaustion after being chased across the world.
“Never mind the Risen,” she said. “We’ve accomplished plenty with them on our tail before, and we’ll do this too. Assemble everyone – we must make haste.”
Gerome nodded and left the princesses’ tent, leaving Lucina with her sister.
“Your disguise looks awesome, sis!” Cynthia smiled. “You look just like the Hero King himself!”
“It’s no festival costume – I only need to hide my heritage,” replied Lucina, opening the tent flap for her sister. “But thank you for your help.”
They found their small band of resistance already waiting in the centre of camp, all eyes on Lucina. It was only a small group in a small circle of tents with their group down to a mere twelve soldiers, all of them the children of the first opponents to Grima’s tyranny. It made Lucina’s very soul ache to see such a brave resistance now lost to the silence of time, and leaving so little behind to aide their successors. A few swords, a wyvern, eleven engagement rings, a hat, a dwindling camp of soldiers, and a responsibility so great it made Lucina dizzy to think of it. Not the inheritance she’d been hoping for.
Not that she had any right to complain, she’d remind herself whenever her thoughts strayed. She was one of the lucky ones. Her parents, thanks to the illustrious lineage she so frequently cursed beneath her breath, remained in frozen image among the items salvaged from her wrecked home. Their portrait hung in her tent, watching her every failure with glazed eyes and liquid smiles, deaf to the cries of desperation that wracked their community. The others had it so much worse.
They’d had to stand and watch as their Exalt had failed to awaken Naga and her Falchion, unable to assist in any way. They were the ones forced to march double-time through the night to escape Risen tracking her Holy Blood, and they were the ones trying to operate as an army with only a teenage orphan as a leader.
She counted her blessings every day that they had not yet deserted her.
“The Risen have found us again,” Lucina announced to the gathering.
It was a testament to just how much they’d been through that there was only a mild sigh of disappointment in response.
“How soon?” asked Kjelle. Lucina smiled as she realised her friend was already shouldering her spear.
“An hour,” Gerome replied. “Maybe two, if we’re lucky.”
“Will the ritual even be done by then?” asked Severa.
“I’ll talk to Naga,” Lucina replied. “Nah, can you help?”
The Manakete nodded and all eyes of the camp slowly climbed to the edifice that towered above them all. The Outrealm Gate was to be the location of Naga’s ritual, and hence the group had camped in its shadow. There was something about the structure that Lucina couldn’t quite put her finger on, for no matter where she went in camp she could always feel its presence, like the cold chill of knowing someone was watching you, except somehow not unpleasant. The holy power of Naga was strong here, and Lucina couldn’t tell if she should be comforted or afraid.
Her friends made their way to well-worn defence positions around the camp as she and Nah approached the Gate.
“Exalt,” Nah said, “your Brand marks you as one of the descendants of Naga, correct?”
Lucina looked to her friend with slight confusion. “You know that well – it was you who taught me most of Naga’s lore.”
“Then can you feel it?” Nah asked, her eyes steady on the Outrealm Gate. “Her presence?”
Lucina nodded, mouth dry. “It’s like the moment I attempted the Awakening. It is as if I am closer to another being than I have ever been.”
“It reminds me of my mother,” Nah whispered. “Her power, her age… So different to the presence of humans.”
“Do you remember her?” Lucina asked.
Nah was quiet for a moment, and the tore her eyes from the Gate. “We have no time to lose,” she said. “We must contact Naga immediately.”
The two sat before the edifice, Lucina’s partially-Exalted Falchion resting between them. It was easy to call Naga here, with her presence beating through the Gate like a second heartbeat, but initially contacting her had been hell. Laurent and Nah had spent countless nights throwing themselves into what few holy texts had survived the war, searching for any way to contact the goddess. Brady had tried what he could with his priestly training, but everyone could tell his instruction had been almost purely combat-based. There had been no place for religion in the war, not until it was too late.
In the legends her sister used to tell her, the heroes would always be blessed with some beautiful way of meeting the divine dragon. A whisper on the wind, a prophecy in a dream, a visit from the Voice, she’d hoped for any of them. In reality, she had been bombarded with random mental intrusions from the goddess ever since her aborted Awakening, throwing her into fits of holy illusion at the most inopportune of times. There was a definite bond between her and Naga now; she only wished she could control it.
The two began a joint prayer, bringing together Nah’s manakete’s mind and Lucina’s holy bond to call upon Naga. It was a technique that had taken much training, the two being frequently interrupted by the dangers of their time, but in their desperation to save the world, they had been more than willing to sacrifice a few nights to the pursuit of Naga.
“Exalt of my blood, you are afraid.”
Lucina had never known how to act towards Naga – thanks to her power and their mental link, she could always probe to the depths of the princess’ heart. Not to mention the fact that Lucina was speaking to the actual subject of her religion.
“Divine dragon, the Risen are nearly upon us,” Lucina said. “Please, we need your help in performing the ritual as soon as possible.”
“The ritual is yours to perform,” replied Naga. “I merely designed it. The power lies within you, Exalt, to complete it in time. Have you not everything I asked of you?”
“We have all we need,” said Lucina.
“Then I do not understand,” replied Naga. “Surely your time would be better spent performing the ritual than convening with me?”
Lucina fell silent, and the divine dragon sighed in comprehension.
“It is not the Risen you fear, then.”
“My soldiers are of the highest calibre,” said Lucina. “They will be able to hold off the Risen for a long time yet.”
“They are not mere soldiers, Exalt,” replied Naga. “They are also your friends. Together you have accomplished more than often even I hoped. They have seen what you are capable of, and they will not desert you as you so fear. Nor will you fail them. My Blood still flows through your heart, and you are still the Exalt.”
“They deserve more from a leader,” said Lucina. “All I’ve given them is one sword and a world of troubles.”
“You will give them better,” said Naga, “once you complete the ritual. You alone can lead them to their new path. Remember why that is.”
Lucina took a deep breath, and began to reconnect with the physical world.
“Thank you for your council, as always, divine dragon,” she said. “Now I must act upon it.”
“Godspeed, my exalted daughter.”
Lucina’s eyes snapped open, and she rose at once.
“I’ll begin setting up the ritual,” she said to Nah. “Gather the others to the Gate.”
“But they’re defending the camp,” Nah replied. “The Risen…”
“I… I had it wrong,” said Lucina. “Please, Nah, I cannot do this on my own.”
The manakete watched her with scholar’s eyes for a moment, before nodding and running off to the perimeter, transforming as she went.
Lucina adjusted her mask as she assembled candles in a spell circle Laurent had drawn earlier. Marth… the choice of disguise had seemed obvious from the beginning – if she was to save the world, who better to masquerade as than the Hero King himself? But had there really been such a need to adopt a full persona? A simple eyepatch even would be enough to obscure her Brand, all else was superfluous. And yet, embarking on this mission without the weight of legend behind her… The thought made her feel almost naked.
The others arrived, helping her fine-tune the spell circle and arranging themselves within it. They all knew the legends of Marth, together they’d told plenty of them around night time campfires, and none had made any remark about her choice of disguise. Except of course her sister and cousin, but what with their “Justice Cabal” and everything, that was inevitable. Lucina couldn’t help but smile at the thought of how excited they still got at the idea of playing heroes, even after everything that had happened. Without their indomitable spirit, she was sure they would have lost long ago.
As she took her cousin’s hand to begin the ritual, she gave him a gentle smile. Momentarily shocked, he soon replied with one of his finest grins, and all twelve companions turned to face the Outrealm Gate. Why had she chosen the persona of Marth for this mission? Well, that all came down to the nature of the mission itself. Like everything she did, both her task and the very idea of legendary heroes were now linked forever with her friends, with peace, the past and hope. The stories weren’t inspiring because of the deeds they described, but because of who told them to her. The exploits of the Hero King would have been of no interest to her had they not been crooned to her as a child, if she hadn’t seen Inigo compose dances inspired by them or heard Noire conquer her shyness by reciting a ballad of Marth one night.
And this mission, too, it was all for them. They deserved a life where they could rest and tell as many stories as they wished, a life with complete families and the guarantee of a tomorrow. If she had to become a legend in creating such a life, then so be it. No cost was too great, no sacrifice too difficult for these companions of hers.
With their combined prayers, the ritual was complete within half an hour. The Outrealm Gate began to tremble and then, slowly, illuminate. Aglow, it seemed almost as if Lucina was staring into infinity itself. Within the growing portal she could see nothing, yet everything at the same time. They’d done it. At last, she’d found a way to save those who meant more to her than life itself.
And then, from over the hill, came a clamour like a summer storm. The thunder of a thousand undead feet raced ever closer, and as all twelve companions turned to face the horizon a sea of Risen came into sight.
“No, oh gods, no.” Lucina felt the hands she was holding drop as her friends drew weapons she was so tired of seeing.
Perhaps it truly was her destiny to fall here, in this broken and burnt world.
And then she caught her sister’s eye. That glimmer of childish hope was gone now, replaced with a soldier’s steadiness, a willingness to fight and even die for her cause. When had Cynthia learnt to glare like that? Lucina felt herself rise to her most regal of postures, releasing Falchion from its scabbard and into the light of the portal. There would be no giving up of hope today. Too much had been lost already. She would bring her sister into the world she deserved, and no predetermined course of fate could change that.
“Into the portal!” she cried to her friends. “We can make it!”
Her friends paused for just a second, but Lucina didn’t let herself doubt their loyalty. If she deserved their trust, they deserved hers. She turned with them and all ran together, the wind of the past blowing fresh onto their faces. Even as she felt the Risen catching up she did not falter. With one final push, out of the grasp of the monsters, she launched herself into the portal with raised sword and battle cry on her lips.
“I challenge my fate!”
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Rating: PG
Prompt: Orenda (n.) – A mystical force present in all people that empowers them to affect the world, or to change their own lives
Fandom/Series: Fire Emblem: Awakening
Word Count: 2,429
Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, profit from the story and all creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).
Summary:
In the final days of Grima’s conquest, it is all Lucina can do to hold onto hope. With her last chance at saving the world approaching, she must remember the reason she is fighting in the first place if she hopes to succeed.
THE BLOOD OF LEGENDS
Cynthia’s fingers combed through her hair, pushing long blue strands into gentle hiding places. With that calming presence, all she need do was close her eyes and it would seem as if they were back home again, her sister having snuck into her chambers to play with her hair and tell legends she’d heard a thousand times before. Maybe their parents would discover them, Cynthia always terrible at keeping her voice down, but it wouldn’t matter. They could never stay mad at their girls. If it was a festival night they’d even join in, climbing onto her bed and telling stories of their battles together as Shepherds. No matter how hard she tried to take in every word, she’d soon find herself drifting asleep and only waking when her sister started jumping on her in demand for breakfast. They’d eat with her cousin and play heroes in the courtyard; the castle walls keeping watch over them.
“Lucina, the Risen are on the move.”
But that was not her life anymore. Ylisse was torn and burnt under the claws of Grima, her mother, father and everything she’d ever known now lost to the Fell Dragon’s fire. She became acutely aware of the gauntlets that protected her sister’s careful hands and of the mask that covered her own face. They were soldiers now, not children.
“How many?” asked Lucina, rising from her sister’s ministrations.
“Too many,” replied Gerome. “I spotted their camp while out with Minerva. They’re headed our way with a force too great to hold back.”
Lucina felt her heart grow cold, her brow lowering with the weight of her responsibility. No matter how far they ran, how well they hid, the Risen always seemed to find them. They’d been so careful this time, even some of her friends hadn’t known where the ritual was going to be conducted until they arrived. For a long time she’d feared there was a spy in their midst, but in her heart she knew it all came down to the power of Grima. It seemed almost her destiny to fall at his hand in some way or another, even if it meant collapsing from exhaustion after being chased across the world.
“Never mind the Risen,” she said. “We’ve accomplished plenty with them on our tail before, and we’ll do this too. Assemble everyone – we must make haste.”
Gerome nodded and left the princesses’ tent, leaving Lucina with her sister.
“Your disguise looks awesome, sis!” Cynthia smiled. “You look just like the Hero King himself!”
“It’s no festival costume – I only need to hide my heritage,” replied Lucina, opening the tent flap for her sister. “But thank you for your help.”
They found their small band of resistance already waiting in the centre of camp, all eyes on Lucina. It was only a small group in a small circle of tents with their group down to a mere twelve soldiers, all of them the children of the first opponents to Grima’s tyranny. It made Lucina’s very soul ache to see such a brave resistance now lost to the silence of time, and leaving so little behind to aide their successors. A few swords, a wyvern, eleven engagement rings, a hat, a dwindling camp of soldiers, and a responsibility so great it made Lucina dizzy to think of it. Not the inheritance she’d been hoping for.
Not that she had any right to complain, she’d remind herself whenever her thoughts strayed. She was one of the lucky ones. Her parents, thanks to the illustrious lineage she so frequently cursed beneath her breath, remained in frozen image among the items salvaged from her wrecked home. Their portrait hung in her tent, watching her every failure with glazed eyes and liquid smiles, deaf to the cries of desperation that wracked their community. The others had it so much worse.
They’d had to stand and watch as their Exalt had failed to awaken Naga and her Falchion, unable to assist in any way. They were the ones forced to march double-time through the night to escape Risen tracking her Holy Blood, and they were the ones trying to operate as an army with only a teenage orphan as a leader.
She counted her blessings every day that they had not yet deserted her.
“The Risen have found us again,” Lucina announced to the gathering.
It was a testament to just how much they’d been through that there was only a mild sigh of disappointment in response.
“How soon?” asked Kjelle. Lucina smiled as she realised her friend was already shouldering her spear.
“An hour,” Gerome replied. “Maybe two, if we’re lucky.”
“Will the ritual even be done by then?” asked Severa.
“I’ll talk to Naga,” Lucina replied. “Nah, can you help?”
The Manakete nodded and all eyes of the camp slowly climbed to the edifice that towered above them all. The Outrealm Gate was to be the location of Naga’s ritual, and hence the group had camped in its shadow. There was something about the structure that Lucina couldn’t quite put her finger on, for no matter where she went in camp she could always feel its presence, like the cold chill of knowing someone was watching you, except somehow not unpleasant. The holy power of Naga was strong here, and Lucina couldn’t tell if she should be comforted or afraid.
Her friends made their way to well-worn defence positions around the camp as she and Nah approached the Gate.
“Exalt,” Nah said, “your Brand marks you as one of the descendants of Naga, correct?”
Lucina looked to her friend with slight confusion. “You know that well – it was you who taught me most of Naga’s lore.”
“Then can you feel it?” Nah asked, her eyes steady on the Outrealm Gate. “Her presence?”
Lucina nodded, mouth dry. “It’s like the moment I attempted the Awakening. It is as if I am closer to another being than I have ever been.”
“It reminds me of my mother,” Nah whispered. “Her power, her age… So different to the presence of humans.”
“Do you remember her?” Lucina asked.
Nah was quiet for a moment, and the tore her eyes from the Gate. “We have no time to lose,” she said. “We must contact Naga immediately.”
The two sat before the edifice, Lucina’s partially-Exalted Falchion resting between them. It was easy to call Naga here, with her presence beating through the Gate like a second heartbeat, but initially contacting her had been hell. Laurent and Nah had spent countless nights throwing themselves into what few holy texts had survived the war, searching for any way to contact the goddess. Brady had tried what he could with his priestly training, but everyone could tell his instruction had been almost purely combat-based. There had been no place for religion in the war, not until it was too late.
In the legends her sister used to tell her, the heroes would always be blessed with some beautiful way of meeting the divine dragon. A whisper on the wind, a prophecy in a dream, a visit from the Voice, she’d hoped for any of them. In reality, she had been bombarded with random mental intrusions from the goddess ever since her aborted Awakening, throwing her into fits of holy illusion at the most inopportune of times. There was a definite bond between her and Naga now; she only wished she could control it.
The two began a joint prayer, bringing together Nah’s manakete’s mind and Lucina’s holy bond to call upon Naga. It was a technique that had taken much training, the two being frequently interrupted by the dangers of their time, but in their desperation to save the world, they had been more than willing to sacrifice a few nights to the pursuit of Naga.
“Exalt of my blood, you are afraid.”
Lucina had never known how to act towards Naga – thanks to her power and their mental link, she could always probe to the depths of the princess’ heart. Not to mention the fact that Lucina was speaking to the actual subject of her religion.
“Divine dragon, the Risen are nearly upon us,” Lucina said. “Please, we need your help in performing the ritual as soon as possible.”
“The ritual is yours to perform,” replied Naga. “I merely designed it. The power lies within you, Exalt, to complete it in time. Have you not everything I asked of you?”
“We have all we need,” said Lucina.
“Then I do not understand,” replied Naga. “Surely your time would be better spent performing the ritual than convening with me?”
Lucina fell silent, and the divine dragon sighed in comprehension.
“It is not the Risen you fear, then.”
“My soldiers are of the highest calibre,” said Lucina. “They will be able to hold off the Risen for a long time yet.”
“They are not mere soldiers, Exalt,” replied Naga. “They are also your friends. Together you have accomplished more than often even I hoped. They have seen what you are capable of, and they will not desert you as you so fear. Nor will you fail them. My Blood still flows through your heart, and you are still the Exalt.”
“They deserve more from a leader,” said Lucina. “All I’ve given them is one sword and a world of troubles.”
“You will give them better,” said Naga, “once you complete the ritual. You alone can lead them to their new path. Remember why that is.”
Lucina took a deep breath, and began to reconnect with the physical world.
“Thank you for your council, as always, divine dragon,” she said. “Now I must act upon it.”
“Godspeed, my exalted daughter.”
Lucina’s eyes snapped open, and she rose at once.
“I’ll begin setting up the ritual,” she said to Nah. “Gather the others to the Gate.”
“But they’re defending the camp,” Nah replied. “The Risen…”
“I… I had it wrong,” said Lucina. “Please, Nah, I cannot do this on my own.”
The manakete watched her with scholar’s eyes for a moment, before nodding and running off to the perimeter, transforming as she went.
Lucina adjusted her mask as she assembled candles in a spell circle Laurent had drawn earlier. Marth… the choice of disguise had seemed obvious from the beginning – if she was to save the world, who better to masquerade as than the Hero King himself? But had there really been such a need to adopt a full persona? A simple eyepatch even would be enough to obscure her Brand, all else was superfluous. And yet, embarking on this mission without the weight of legend behind her… The thought made her feel almost naked.
The others arrived, helping her fine-tune the spell circle and arranging themselves within it. They all knew the legends of Marth, together they’d told plenty of them around night time campfires, and none had made any remark about her choice of disguise. Except of course her sister and cousin, but what with their “Justice Cabal” and everything, that was inevitable. Lucina couldn’t help but smile at the thought of how excited they still got at the idea of playing heroes, even after everything that had happened. Without their indomitable spirit, she was sure they would have lost long ago.
As she took her cousin’s hand to begin the ritual, she gave him a gentle smile. Momentarily shocked, he soon replied with one of his finest grins, and all twelve companions turned to face the Outrealm Gate. Why had she chosen the persona of Marth for this mission? Well, that all came down to the nature of the mission itself. Like everything she did, both her task and the very idea of legendary heroes were now linked forever with her friends, with peace, the past and hope. The stories weren’t inspiring because of the deeds they described, but because of who told them to her. The exploits of the Hero King would have been of no interest to her had they not been crooned to her as a child, if she hadn’t seen Inigo compose dances inspired by them or heard Noire conquer her shyness by reciting a ballad of Marth one night.
And this mission, too, it was all for them. They deserved a life where they could rest and tell as many stories as they wished, a life with complete families and the guarantee of a tomorrow. If she had to become a legend in creating such a life, then so be it. No cost was too great, no sacrifice too difficult for these companions of hers.
With their combined prayers, the ritual was complete within half an hour. The Outrealm Gate began to tremble and then, slowly, illuminate. Aglow, it seemed almost as if Lucina was staring into infinity itself. Within the growing portal she could see nothing, yet everything at the same time. They’d done it. At last, she’d found a way to save those who meant more to her than life itself.
And then, from over the hill, came a clamour like a summer storm. The thunder of a thousand undead feet raced ever closer, and as all twelve companions turned to face the horizon a sea of Risen came into sight.
“No, oh gods, no.” Lucina felt the hands she was holding drop as her friends drew weapons she was so tired of seeing.
Perhaps it truly was her destiny to fall here, in this broken and burnt world.
And then she caught her sister’s eye. That glimmer of childish hope was gone now, replaced with a soldier’s steadiness, a willingness to fight and even die for her cause. When had Cynthia learnt to glare like that? Lucina felt herself rise to her most regal of postures, releasing Falchion from its scabbard and into the light of the portal. There would be no giving up of hope today. Too much had been lost already. She would bring her sister into the world she deserved, and no predetermined course of fate could change that.
“Into the portal!” she cried to her friends. “We can make it!”
Her friends paused for just a second, but Lucina didn’t let herself doubt their loyalty. If she deserved their trust, they deserved hers. She turned with them and all ran together, the wind of the past blowing fresh onto their faces. Even as she felt the Risen catching up she did not falter. With one final push, out of the grasp of the monsters, she launched herself into the portal with raised sword and battle cry on her lips.
“I challenge my fate!”
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Thanks.
