Twisted Fate

Chapter One

It was over at last.

Falchion had struck true, and, at last the Fell Dragon, Grima had been defeated. The monstrosity screamed and railed as it faded into slumber for another thousand years. The power it released as it crashed knocked most of the wearied Shepherds unconscious. Their captain, however, now stood before them all, each slowly picking his or her head to the sound of their commander's voice. Felicitation and celebration broke out as Grima's defeat was announced. A particular voice begged to differ in Chrom's ear, however, the voice of his chief tactician, Robin, expressing some profound regret at not having destroyed the Fell Dragon altogether. His fanatically obsessed wife, Tharja, reassured him, however, stating with a yet unheard of tone of utter sincerity, "Forget saving the world-I just want you. Gods have mercy on anyone who interferes!" her eyes shimmering brilliantly with tears. Robin's face still hung in self-disapproval, but a smile warmed along it as he turned to face her, embracing her gently. She blushed a bit as he laid a kiss on her forehead, eliciting a slightly malicious giggle, followed by, "Not now!"

Yes, the war against the Grimleal and their accursed deity was, at last, ended, and every man and woman of the Shepherd's garrison returned to his or her own private pursuits:

Chrom finally took up the mantle of Exalt of Ylisse. He would have big shoes to fill, following in his sister's footsteps, but it was a challenge he was prepared to take on, prompting a new era of prosperity for the whole of Ylisse, as they carved the path to a brighter future.

Khans Flavia and Basilio returned to Regna Ferox, taking care to keep up their spartan traditions, but also reconciling their warrior culture with a love for life which would build the strength and fervor of Regna Ferox's people for decades to come.

Say'ri returned to head up the disorganized rebels in rebuilding Chon'sin. Later joined by the likes of Virion and, more surprisingly, the great Walhart, Say'ri was able to unite the entire continent of Valm under the banner of peace and striving for the common good.

And what of the shambles which remained of the Grimleal theocracy of Plegia? The Mad King Gangrel returned to his home, only to face militant opposition from his own people, still embittered by the circumstances he had created which (for all they knew) had killed Exalt Emmeryn. The last recognized king of Plegia had been Validar, killed by his own son in the fight to stop Grima, but now that same son was being considered for the crown. Tharja urged and begged that her husband return to his forgotten homeland, so as not to miss the opportunity. After a few days' mental deliberation, Robin have into his wife's pleas and took the throne of Plegia to a mixed response. Some Plegians despised Robin for sealing their deity, others feared he would use the Fell Dragon's power against them, though the trend generally continued toward approval of and contentment with the new sovereign as his rule proceeded benevolently.

Many years came and went, and Tharja bore Robin two daughters, arousing fear among Plegian proponents of primogeniture. Nonetheless, Robin's friendship with Chrom allowed their nations to enjoy a great warming of formerly icy relations. Chrom had carried a number of peaceful expeditions into Plegia for the purpose of discussing mutually beneficial futures for both nations after his compatriot took up the throne. At first glance, the one he made that day was no different, but the presence of his daughter from a ruined future, Lucina, altered the context greatly. As the two stood at the entrance to the Great Hall of Plegia Castle, (where the two parties typically met to discuss matters of policy) Lucina cautioned her father, face paled with fear, "Father, I wish to see you safe above all else, and I wish for Grima to no longer have a bearing on our world."

"Lucina-" her father began. Chrom had aged well, the only significant changes to his features being that his sapphire hair now occasionally touched his shoulders, his chin was broadened, and his eyes were set deeper, all the makings of a long-standing king.

His daughter of the future stopped him, "As long as the Mark of Grima is present, he remains a vessel for the Fell Dragon and, thus, a danger to us all, father."

Chrom turned to face his daughter, holding up a hand which commanded silence, "And he is a personal friend of mine whom , it has been shown, is capable of resisting Grima's power and influence."

"But do you know that that will always be the case, father? What if your friendship sours somehow and he suddenly decides to embrace Grima's power again?" Lucina begged of her father.

"Enough," Chrom declared, raising his hand again and, this time, clenching it into a fist, "This is no longer your future, Lucina. I will not murder a trusted friend on the grounds of your suspicions." He spat the last word like some vile substance from his mouth.

"Aw, come on, once more, father!" Morgan begged, her long, tousled, raven-black hair bouncing with her excitement.

"Morgan I must've read you that book a hundred times," Robin sighed with mock incredulity.

"I know, but you're always so busy, I just want to hear your voice a little while longer," Morgan glanced aside, wholly impressing the guilt on her father.

"I would, but I've a meeting, you know that," Robin patted his daughter's head softly. "Maybe you could have your mother read it to you."

"But she doesn't read it with that stoic voice like you do!" Morgan complained, eyes wide with admiration.

Robin left the room and began walking the castle hallways, his daughter's light footfalls traipsing behind him at twice the speed.

"C... Cor ceciderunt draco!" Noire repeated as a violet flame sparked along the castle wall, "Agh, oh no!"

"Relax," her mother calmed, "it won't burn anything you don't target. That's what's so powerful about our magic."

"Oh... Okay," Noire sighed nervously as the flame fizzled away.

"I'm actually rather impressed, Noire. For amateurs, the process usually takes longer. Though, you are my and your father's daughter. It's no surprise your magical skill is well developed," Tharja explained with a prideful smirk.

"Thank you, mother," Noire gave her mother a weary smile.

Tharja reciprocated the smile for a second, the realized what she was doing and made her face like stone again, "Don't expect any mushy speeches of admiration from me. Keep goin'."

Her husband entered the room, "I'll be meeting with Chrom now, honey."

Noire giggled a little to herself at the use of the nickname. She reveled in the love it was clear her parents shared. Tharja blushed a little and stood to wrap her arm around her husband's, "Maybe cut it with the cutesy stuff in front of the kids, they get the wrong idea of who their mother is," she whispered, but intentionally gave enough volume for Noire to hear.

"Aw, they know that behind all the doom and gloom, you're just a fawning sweetheart," he prodded at her.

"A fawning sweetheart loaded with enough dark magic to curse your loins right off," she gave a maniacal smile from which Robin could not divine if she was being serious.

"You are absolutely insane," Robin gave an incredulous nod, "and that's why I love you." Tharja laughed wickedly as the two strode down the hall. Noire had already long since stuck her nose into one of her mother's tomes.

"Chrom! It's good to see you again," Robin extended good-naturedly.

"You as well," Chrom reciprocated. Tharja and Lucina traded icy glares.

"Where is Olivia?" Robin asked.

"At home taking care of... her," Chrom gestured toward Lucina.

"Robin, may I speak to you in private a moment?" Tharja whispered in his back.

Robin held up a finger to indicate that he needed a moment and turned to his wife, "Something wrong, Tharja?"

"I can see absolute contempt in her eyes," she pointed to Lucina, "and believe me, I know contempt when I see it."

"Yes, Lucina's never been my biggest fan, what of it?" Robin placed a reassuring hand on his wife's shoulder.

She turned to gaze deeply and earnestly in his eyes, "Don't go in there with him."

Robin looked around, then returned to his wife, "Why? Where is this coming from, Tharja?"

"Please, just this once, heed my warning," she tugged at his sleeve. Robin returned a curious glare, his wife had never pleaded to him for anything.

"Tharja, honey, be reasonable. Chrom is my trusted friend. He'll keep Lucina in check, don't worry. Just go back and play with Noire some more. I think Morgan's in her room reading that history of the Hero-King you gave me years ago, you might check on her, too," Robin began to rub his wife's shoulder gently.

"No," she stared angrily, "at least let me wait at the door.

"Fine, fine," Robin continued, happy to have the matter resolved. "Henry!" he called, summoning up the lavender-haired dark mage.

"Hey! Whacha need?" he grinned gleefully, as he always did.

"Watch the kids while we're meeting, Tharja is worried about me," he glanced up, wondering if there was anything else, "Oh, and stay away from the blood talk this time, yes? You might make Noire faint again... Or worse."

"Aw, alright. Ooh! That reminds me of a good one, how did it go again? A Plegian falls on his face, and there's a Valmese, a Ylissean, and a Feroxi around to help him up..." he trailed off down the hallway, punctuating his exit with a trademark "Nya, ha, ha!"

"Shall we, then, Chrom?" Robin opened the door and gestured inward.

Lucina gave her father an irritable look as they entered the room as he and Robin sat and began to discuss policy as normal.

"I'm afraid I've one final question for you, Robin," Chrom announced as the Plegian king stood.

"Of course, out with it," Robin smiled back.

"Lucina is... Rather concerned about the presence of Grima and the fact that you bear his Mark," Chrom began, his voice uncertain, "and we were wondering if you would mind giving Sable to us for safe keeping."

"I bear you no ill will, Chrom, I assure you. The Fell Dragon is a threat no more. For the next thousand years, at least," Robin replied, his smile fading.

"Precisely, so you would not mind parting with Sable for now, given its power to keep us all safe?" Chrom pressed.

"I'm sorry, Chrom," Robin became deathly serious, "but Sable is an important balancing factor for the world at large, just like the other gemstones. Ylisse is the only nation which possesses more than one piece of the puzzle; if anything, you should be making a gift of the Emblem, Falchion, or Argent to me. If, that is, balance is your true goal."

Chrom gave his longtime friend and advisor a pained look, then raised Falchion, "Just give Sable to Ylisse, Robin, and this all goes away."

"Chrom, what are you doing? I am not the Fell Dragon; I have not harmed you," Robin exclaimed.

"Father, you must do this!" Lucina encouraged exasperatedly.

"Lucina, I- ...Just wait, give him a chance to think it over..."

Lucina ignored her father, she drew her Falchion and pointed it at Robin, grasping his neck.

"I will give you one more chance, as my friend, Robin, give Sable to Ylisse and my trust will be satisfied, no harm will come to anyone," Chrom attempted to calm the room.

Robin's stare bore directly into Chrom's face, searing it with an unbearable heat, "I offer no resistance, I have never harmed Ylisse, but I will not be shaken down to give up my homeland's only leverage out of fear for deeds I have not committed. Surely you can be reasonable, Chrom?"

Chrom 's face sank. As he turned to his daughter, she nodded her head in affirmation. Chrom swallowed hard and plunged Falchion into Robin's chest, whereupon the Plegian king started in surprise.

"I guess I... have my answer..." he managed, choking on spurts of his own blood. He slid down and left a ruby streak along the room's wall. Chrom withdrew the blade and grimaced to see it slick with the same ruby hue. His eyes and lips quivered, "I don't know that I can do this, Lucina."

"We must, father, for the good of the Halidom," she reaffirmed.

"Right."

Opening the door, the two were confronted with Tharja, who realized what had happened immediately, but was still too late. Lucina thrust Falchion into her stomach, and she, too, fell, bleeding profusely. "Gods damn you both..." she cried, "and all of Ylisse!" Her eyes fell and rested on her husband's corpse. For the first time in her life, Tharja's eyes welled up with tears. There she would remain, dead, glistening eyes transfixed on the man she'd loved all her life.

"Now, we need to find Noire and Morgan," Lucina breathed.

"What?! The children?! That wasn't a part of the plan, Lucina!" Chrom railed.

"We must be sure that Grima will never rise again!" Lucina screamed in retaliation, "And if it means I must kill these girls and do it without my father's help to protect the future, then, gods damn it all, I shall do it!" She flew off down the hallway. Chrom sighed bitterly and walked down a different hallway.

"...and the Feroxi rolls up his sleeve, picks the fly out and says, 'Alright, now spit it out!' Nya ha ha ha!" Came the voice from the room. A girl's laughter accompanied it. Lucina entered and quickly jammed Falchion down the dark mage's neck, as he crouched by the door. No time for japes today, she thought. Now the lanky, chestnut-haired girl before her shrieked and shriveled in fear, her face pale as a sheet. Lucina glanced at the girl's bare right shoulder and found the Mark she was looking for. The fact confirmed, she plunged Falchion into the quivering girl's body without another word, then removed it and set off elsewhere into the castle.

Morgan plodded over to the room where her father's meetings typically took place upon hearing the commotion. It was around the time when these things typically ended anyway. As she sidled forward, however, she noticed... No, it couldn't be... Morgan found her mother, dead upon the floor. She cried aloud for her mother but received no response. Please, she thought, please just let... Her worst fears were confirmed as she found her father in a bloody heap not far from her mother. Morgan weeped silently, only for that she was too distraught to make a sound. She clutched the lifeless body like driftwood on an open sea, tears flowing in a steady stream, washing some of the black bloody stains on the fabric of the cloak. Chrom appeared again in the doorway, faced again with the results of his and his daughter's deeds, he nearly vomited, but regained composure upon seeing the girl, eyes bloodshot, collapsed over her father. She was suddenly alerted and turned to face him, "You! You did this! Ylissean bastard! I'll kill you! I'LL KILL YOU!" she exploded, slamming Chrom with a flurry of aimless punches which glanced off his armor.

"Look," Chrom looked askance, unable to be confronted with the result of his choice, "If you want to live, you have to run, now!"

"Wha-? No, I- my father... You killed him! I have to- you-..." she babbled incoherently.

"I know. And I'm sorry," Lucina's footfalls could be heard drawing hastily near. Chrom stared into the child's face with a pained expression, "Please... go."

Suddenly more aware of her situation, Morgan picked herself up, covered her face with the hood of her robes, and scurried toward the castle door.

Lucina caught up with her father exiting the castle several minutes later, "Did you find the other one, Morgan?"

"Yes," Chrom stared at the ground, "she, too, is felled."

Lucina sighed deeply and put an arm on her father's shoulder, "I take no joy in it either, father, but it had to be done. We should make haste to Ylisstol."

Chrom nodded, still despondent. Images of killing Robin still flooded his mind. And the girl, what of little Morgan? She would probably die on her own anyway. Maybe a quick death would have been more merciful. Chrom plodded alongside his daughter from a ruined future and pondered the questions in deathly silence all the way to his home.

Thoughts, meanwhile, were a luxury for Morgan, who never spent more than a few minutes resting as she tore away from Plegia Castle in fear. For days on end, she subsisted on whatever berries she could pluck or small game she could manage to trap, all the while still rushing dazedly everywhere she went. No hiding, no rest, just running. Run. Run. The word repeated itself endlessly in her head, which otherwise spun as she rushed away, all things confusion and chaos, perpetual delirium, until her body finally refused to cooperate, and all became black. Soon after, or was it much later? Morgan's mind couldn't work it out. Nonetheless, she was awoken to the presence of a golden-blonde-haired woman and a bald, imposing man who spoke in unfamiliar accents. "You Plegian?" the bald one grunted.

"Gods sakes, Basilio, she's frightened out of her wits! How about a 'Hello, how are you feeling?' first?" the woman barked.

"Sorry, little lady," Basilio corrected himself, "Are ya alright? Need anything?" Morgan shook her head carefully.

"Easy, dear. You're among friends. You are Robin's little girl, aren't you?" the woman cooed. Morgan nodded slowly. "Then let me be the first to welcome you to Regna Ferox. I am Khan Flavia, and this," she smirked, "impertinent oaf is Khan Basilio."

"We're friends of your father," Basilio remarked simply.

"We'll be taking care of you after... What happened," Flavia avoided Morgan's eyes.

"I know my mother and father are dead," Morgan sniffed, nearly choking, "I could use something to eat, and then I'll be on my way home."

Flavia and Basilio exchanged concerned looks. "Your home is under siege, hon. Plegia and Ylisse are at war," Flavia explained.