Foreword

Just a few things I'd like to get out of the way.

I'm not usually big on fan fiction. I've always preferred to write my own material. However, having recently finished Fire Emblem: Awakening, I was inspired to write this fic.

This is an altered novelization of the events of the game. Pairings, children, etc. are all assumed. Because the perspective character is Lucina, some events will be mentioned only second hand and some will not be mentioned at all. This fic is focused on Lucina, Avatar/Destin, and to a lesser extent Chrom and Morgan. If other characters seem unused or underdeveloped, that's probably why. There are a lot of them, and unfortunately they can't all get the love they deserve.

There will be changes. If a section of dialogue or a scene is different, there's a good chance the change was intentional, either because I felt it aided the overall narrative or simply made things flow better. It could have been a mistake as well. There's a lot of information tucked away in Awakening, and I'm not going to trawl through every support conversation in the game to ensure I didn't miss a single fact.

I've noticed a few names for Avatar/My Unit that seem to have become standard, but didn't really care for any of them. I named him Destin for this fic, half because I liked the name and half as a reference to the Ogre Battle series (the namable player character from the first game appeared in later games with the canon name Destin).

With all that said, I hope you enjoy the fic.

Prologue: To Change the Future

My name is Lucina.

I was born in the eye of the storm, a scant two years of peace in between periods of war and upheaval. The latter of these would change the world forever, and not for the better.

My father was Chrom, a Prince of the Halidom of Ylisse. While his older sister, Emmeryn, guided and nurtured the nation as their Exalt, Chrom led the Shepherds, Ylisse's volunteer military. The Shepherds patrolled throughout the country, protecting the people against brigands and other threats and providing a sense of security. He died when I was still very young – betrayed by a close friend, or so I've been told. The only memories I have of him rightly belong to others. They say he was kind, brave, honest, and a born leader; the sort of man who could bring out the best in others with his presence alone. They also say he was stubborn and reckless, but only because he cared so much about the people around him.

My mother was Sumia, a Pegasus Knight and longstanding member of the Shepherds under Chrom. For years she admired and loved my father for his compassionate nature and heroic leadership. At the end of the war between Ylisse and Plegia she finally found the courage to confess her feelings to him. He had held feelings for her as well, and they were wed soon afterwards. She outlived Chrom by many years, and though she was never less than a gentle and caring mother I eventually realized that part of her had died with my father. Sumia was even more empathetic than Chrom, and she had a gift for dealing with animals. She was incredibly clumsy, often tripping over herself - though she did less of that as the years went by. She could be flighty and even airheaded at times, but she always came through when it mattered.

There were many others I once knew that I now have only memories of. Between the war with Plegia and the later campaign against the Valmese Empire, the Shepherds expanded greatly until they formed the core of the so-called Ylissean League. Their combined strength and determination eventually unseated Walhart the Conqueror himself. Each and every member was a trusted comrade of my parents, and I considered those that survived long enough my friends.

Survival. I've come to hate that word, as though life merely existing is a good enough reason to justify itself. Life, even the lowest of the low, should be worth more than that. But it's all we have now, and not for very long.

The end began the day my father died. Grima, the Fell Dragon whose only purpose is the extinction of all life, returned to the world on that day. The destruction of every city worthy of the name took the beast less than a year, at which point he started attacking smaller towns and moved his way down. Those settlements he didn't destroy himself were razed by hordes of Risen, his mindless undead servants.

These days Grima just maintains his position in the sky, an omnipresent reminder of the death that awaits. No man, woman, or child can look up at the clouds without seeing Grima, and knowing that their days are numbered. The Fell Dragon no longer bothers to attack us himself, as his Risen armies have grown to an unstoppable size. People dare to hope, and without the threat of Grima's direct involvement they come together to form communities. Then the Risen come, and the hopeful perish at the hands of endless undead warriors. This is what Grima wants more than anything: to destroy our hope.

I stand against him, to the best of my ability. Wielding Falchion, the sacred sword that was once my father's, I began using the name Marth after the hero king of legend. I had hoped that even a portion of the ancient warrior's valiance would enable me to stem the inexorable tide of death. I have destroyed Risen beyond counting, but I can never destroy them all.

Grima was defeated once before with the aid of Naga, the Divine Dragon and protector of humanity. Both slept for hundreds of years following that defeat, but the Awakening ritual that summoned Grima did not bring back Naga. The Fire Emblem, required to perform the Awakening ritual, was lost in the chaos following the Fell Dragon's return.

Yet Naga did awaken, in a fashion. Unable to directly influence the nightmarish world that had come to be, she came to me in my dreams, telling me of a way to alter this ruinous path. But not for ourselves. What she offered was the ability to travel into the past and prevent Grima's return. Once this journey was undertaken, none who embarked upon it would be able to return to our world.

I called together my closest comrades, the children of the men and women my father had once fought alongside, to discuss this option. In the end, we all agreed that our world was doomed. The only question was how long it would take for the Risen to hunt down the last living creature. With this terrible truth in the open, we decided to take Naga's offer. We would travel back in time in an effort to change history, so that at least one world might exist without knowing the scourge of Grima.

Even though I agreed to the plan, inside I was torn. Regardless of how hopeless the situation was or how I justified it, the fact was that I was abandoning my people. I was the oldest surviving member of Ylisse's ruling bloodline, and the Brand of the Exalt in my left eye reminded me of that each and every day. Emmeryn and others before her had died doing what they believed was best for their people, and here I was running away.

The day upon which my comrades and I had agreed to meet at Mount Prism to begin our journey through time dawned, and I still had no answer. Gazing into the pristine waters of a river that ran through the mountain, I wondered if I was making the right choice. Who would look after my people if not me?

A tiny object floating down the river caught my attention, and I fished it out. It was a mask, colored deep blue and gold with a shape and design reminiscent of a butterfly. As I stared at the mask, the realization came to me that what we were doing was more important than me or my people. This was about the fate of the world and life itself. If walking away from the responsibilities of the Exalt's bloodline was necessary to correct the path of reality, then it was the right decision.

I fastened the mask over my face. With it, the Brand of the Exalt was no longer visible, and I became one more soldier in the fight against evil. Determination filled me, and I knew that I had to be prepared to do anything in the name of our cause. I vowed, then and there, that I would not remove the mask until the day that Grima's return had been prevented, and the world's future was safe. Only then would I face the consequences of my actions and everything I had left behind.

We gathered before the altar of Naga, ready to begin. The Divine Dragon warned us that the pathways of time could be unpredictable, and that we would not all arrive in the same place or even at the same time. She opened the Rift through which we would travel…

…and then the Risen arrived. Hundreds of them, swarming over the mountain from all directions. Our only recourse was to flee through the Rift, and hope that those that followed us through could be dealt with on the other side.

I don't know what I expected travelling through time to be like, but the instant I entered the Rift I was pulled into a swirling vortex without color or form. Oddly enough, I didn't find it disorienting but rather focusing. The Rift purified me, cleansing away what I was before and reminding me of the task that awaited me.

I am on a mission to change the future. This is my story.