#alternative route | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seiyaryudreamer · 2 years

Text

Fire Emblem three Houses -Halcyon Fields

Chapter 1: White Clouds –Shambhala

It was that same dream again; the world was on fire and there was little he could do to stop it. The torrent of screams from the dying, lightning from the heavens raining down upon the land, and that demonic presence that loomed over all. He was sure it was going to come, and they were the ones that would unleash such a beast. The young man ran, ran as fast as his legs would carry him, through the mad rush of people that clawed at each other to get away. He was being called, and he pushed and shoved to make his way through the crowds that tried to shove him down. The further in he got, the more he could hear the voice. A child’s? No… and yes…, he wasn’t sure. Yet as he grew closer to the epicenter, he saw the beast, giant, evil, its eyes burning with anger, and its voice thundered over his head with rage as it unleashed fire from its mouth.

A dragon?! No, not quiet and yet not. It was hard to tell. The thing seemed to fill every crevice in the crater that it had made in the center of the city. But the young man’s eyes were not upon the monster that towered above him and everything else; no, he was watching the young man that stood before the beast, eyes at the creature.

He knew this young man, not well, but he knew him. He’d seen his face before he had killed him. The purple hair tied back loosely, the noble clothing of the Fraldarius house hold, it was all the same from that day four years ago. The man in the black robe panted as he caught his breath and called out to the stranger that he knew of only in death.

“Who… Who are you… Why are you in my dream? What’s happening here?!”

The purple-haired man turned and looked over his shoulder at him, blue eyes staring with contempt, annoyance, but something else, not anger, nor hostility, something different that he couldn’t put his finger on. A nobility that didn’t ooze naturally from the man, something almost child-like. And, when the man of Fraldarius spoke, his voice wasn’t that of a man’s at all. It was of a young girl.

“I should like to ask you the same question of who you are and how you can see this. But I assume it has something to do with your bloodline.” The Fraldarian man turned to face him, almost lazily. “If this is a dream of yours, then it is one of mine too, which means we’re both seeing the same thing. How odd.”

“So you can’t give me a name?” the man in the black robe called out to the other man in the blue cloak. The young man shook his head. “And you know not why you are in my dream?” again a head shake. “Then what can you make of this scene?”

“Oh, you can already tell what this is…” the man with the purple hair opened his arms wide. “This is what your leaders wanted, is it not?”

“No… No, it can’t be. This… this isn’t….” the man in the black robe muttered as the other walked towards him. “This isn’t what I want. I… No…”

“No… it’s not what you want, it’s what he wants, they want. It’s what they’ve wanted for a long time and it’s what will happen if things don’t change. You know things… you feel them.” The other man stooped down some to catch the man in black’s cheeks in his hand and turn his face up. “Look upon what your master’s will wrought. The time is coming, you know it. You know what is true in that heart of yours and you know what you have to do. So… are you willing to do what you can to change things, or will you let it play out again and again until it becomes right?”

The man with the black robe watched as the figure of the man before him shifted into that of a child with long green hair. Her green eyes stared back at him as if expecting something.

“Well, then….? What do you say…? The choice is yours. You can see what’s coming, and they can’t. Will you stand by and do nothing? Or…”

He tried to speak, tried to get the words out, but something pulled him from his slumber and he thrashed as he felt hands around his shoulders and a different voice calling out to him.

“Wakey Wakey Doctor Sleep. Time to get your ass out of bed.” The new voice seemed to yank him sideways and pull him from the green-haired girl’s grip. Suddenly, he was tumbling head over heels and crashing to the ground with a groan as he hit a hard floor.

Looking up, the man adjusted his eyes to the dim green neon light that surrounded him. He blinked a few times as he stared up into the eyes of the orange-haired girl who was leaning over him. A gleefully, dangerously amused smile had slipped on her face as she stared back at him. The man sighed. “Kronya, what are you doing in my room yet again?”

“Waking you up, stupid. Thales would be rather upset if you didn’t come and join us on time.” The pale young woman giggled as she cupped his face. “And you know how he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

“What are you going on about? I know all this.” Her flirtations were getting on his nerves. Not that she wasn’t an attractive woman, she was. Most of those in Shambala thought so, but he knew her too well and her attitude never made her anything more than an annoyance to him.

The man reached up and gripped her hands, then pulled them away from his face. “You can tell him I’ll be there on time if he’s worried. Now, would you move for me? I have no intention of brushing against your chest on the way up.”

Kronya pouted and huffed as she got up from her crouched position over his head. “Oh, you are no fun, Anacharsis.”

“Just like my father,” he muttered as he sat up. Anacharsis cracked his neck and glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. She didn’t move and again he let out a long sigh. “Are you going to sit there while I dress?”

“Why not?” She smirked and played with a strand of her orange hair. “Not like I wouldn’t like the view.”

He stood and stretched. “Yes, well, you may, but I would rather not be your view. So leave.”

Kronya moved closer and put a hand on his chest as she leaned up to him. “And if I don’t?”

Anacharis grabbed her wrist again, “Then I will remind you of why I am considered to be as dangerous as my father.”

She backed off then as he stared her down with contempt, and there was a flicker of fear in her eyes. He knew he was using a card he didn’t like to, but if she thought for a moment he could be as cruel as his father had been, if it would get her to leave him alone for a moment, then using his father’s name was worth it. Kronya stared for a moment as she moved back to the door with a ‘Fine, whatever, be that way’ and left without looking back.

Alone, Anacharsis let out a sigh as he sat down on his bed and ran his hand through his hair. He reached over to his bedside table and pulled open a drawer, then pressed a button on the underside revealing a hidden drawer with a book inside. Good, still there, he thought before he shut it. All his notes, all his thoughts, all his research was tucked away in that simple tome, and, should Thales find out about it, it could be the death of him.

Once standing, he went to his washing closet, quickly cleaned and dried off. No reason to feel disgusting, even if he was soon to be surrounded by disgusting people. He thought as he pulled on his black warlock robes and fixed his collar. Unlike the men and women under him, he sported blue colors and a blue vest that made him stand out as a leader. His blue-green eyes stared back at him under a mop of blue hair, which he pinned up as best he could to keep off his neck and out of his eyes. The bangs on the right still never could stay up and he sighed deeply, pulling out the pins on that side, letting his hair hang loose, and then fixed his circlet around his head. The brand of their cult upon his forehead.

What does it matter anyway? It’s not like I care what he thinks. Anacharsis thought as he moved away from his mirror and collected his items for the meeting. Thoughts swirled though as he pulled out books to carry to at least look like he’d come prepared to contribute to the matter at hand, though in truth, his mind was already racing on the dream he’d had.

The boy. The place. The beast. The voice, the four things that kept repeating in his thoughts. He needed to figure them out. The place… he couldn’t quite place it, even after the extensive travels he had undergone for his leader, and that was more likely because of the nature of the dreams in the first place and the situation he saw. He’d worry about the location later, once the others had been sorted.

The beast, it looked familiar, a dragon of some sort, yet not a dragon. Large, imposing, a monster that seemed to have lost all of its senses, and yet not going on instinct. No, it knew what it was doing, knew in his dream what it was destroying, who it was killing. But it seemed lost, and not reveling in the blood and death and destruction. It was angry, in pain, the roar it sounded let him know that. But trying to remember the look of the beast, a white giant of a creature, he just couldn’t. The only thing that stood out were the eyes. He felt that there were many of them, but that only two could truly see. His face pulled into a concerned thoughtful scowl. What did the dragon mean in this case? A warning or a real threat for the future.

Anacharsis shook his head. This dream was bothersome and vexing. The voice, a child, or merely sounding as one? Who owned it, not the boy that was before him in the dream? No he remembered that voice. How could he forget it, it haunted his thoughts when he tried to be alone? Placing a hand to his forehead as he sat on his bed, he forced himself to think about the voice. Young, yet old in tone and way of speaking. She–he was sure it was a 'she'–seemed to want something from him. He knew, deep down he knew, but he was scared.

“If…” He muttered as he held his head and rested his elbow on his knee, “If Thales finds out what I’m thinking… he would kill me in an instant. Yet… yet this child was… was she encouraging me to do what she thinks I must?” He pressed his thumb to the silver sigil upon his brow, feeling the shape of the eye in the center. “Will I stand by and let it happen, or do what I must? What I have to.”

Again, a deep sigh rose from his lips. He’d always done what they expected of him, since he was young, since… since… Mother died. Since then, Anacharsis had simply done as told by Thales, or his late father. It was easier than rejecting them and being tortured. Give them what they wanted to hear from his visions and then let them do what they desired. But it was after her death that he realized she had been shielding him from the worst of it. He’d always known that Thales and his ilk were planning things she didn’t agree with, seeing as she was from the surface, but being a foreigner as well saved her from some of their more duplicitous acts against her. His mother had been gifted, as his father had told him ages ago, that he had been blessed with her gift.

With her gone, they had matured him, trained him, and taught him to focus on his powers and skills. He became their weapon and their oracle. The eye of the snake and he played the part well, at least till he was twelve and he found the book from his mother. It was the same book he had hidden in the drawer. He’d rebound it to give it more pages over time, but it held knowledge of outside Fódlan, outside Shambhala. Knowledge that he read, knowledge that lead him away from Those Who Slither in the Dark’s teachings, and knowledge that allowed him to understand more of what he saw when he had his visions.

It was because of that book that he wanted to learn more, needed to know the truth, and sought it out under the guise of trying to find information about their enemies. Any merchant who he passed by who was selling traveler books, or letters, from anywhere outside of their country, he would buy and consume. That was how he learned of the goddess that landed on the world of blue water, of how she created a single race that later became the Beorec and the Laguz, and of the strange world of Archanea that was blessed under the watchful eye of a divine dragon, whatever that was. So much of this world was far larger than he had ever figured, and his mother had led him to it with her writings.

He shook his head. Thinking of her would not work here. That girl in his dream wanted an answer, and he would have to make a choice. As he stood, he fixed his cloak and gathered his items. He would contemplate on the boy as he walked to the meeting. Being late would not be the wisest of choices.

The halls of the dorm where he slept were dark and only lit by the thin lines of glowing green energy that pulsed down the walls. He was used to the dim lights and the cold feeling of the world he belonged to. Even glancing at his pale skin on his hand, he knew exactly what he looked like, some ungodly demonic monster from the grave.

That’s probably what the Frauldarian man saw in me on that day. A demon come to destroy everything he loved. Anacharsis thought, moving down the halls. It was four years ago; he was not yet fifteen, and his father was still alive. The plan had been simple and put into motion. Cleobulus had taken the place of the mage Cornelia, and set herself into the role of keeping the second wife of King Lambert, Patricia, from her husband’s side and slowly poisoning her to make her a more willing accomplice to his assassination. Her daughter, Edelgard, was taken by Thales, who had inserted himself into the role of her uncle, whom he easily dispatched. The two, along with his father, Periander, who was acting as a noble to instill feelings of anger towards the king of Faerghus and his political motions, caused the need for the death of the man who was the holy king. Everything seemed to go according to plan.

They had sent him to help assist in the attack, to kill any noble left standing that needed to die, should the fools, as Thales called them, fail in their assassination attack. The sight of the flames and the screams were enough to make him disgusted by their actions. How was this to help revive their god? How was any of this going to make others see the faults in the Goddess Sothis? He’d moved down closer as the fighting went on, hoping to understand why Thales was so determined in these deaths. Yet nothing he saw that day had ever made him feel anything but empathy, pain, and suffering for those on the surface.

“There is no need of this,” he muttered as he moved among the wreckages. “No need at all.” He could see it in the faces of the men that lay dead on the ground, and ducked behind a standing carriage. He blinked when he saw his father take a woman from the carriage and spirited her away. A frown had crossed his lips. He did not remember this being part of the plan he had heard, but then again, they had kept much from him. Observation; that was his role here. Observe and record, was Thales’s orders on that day.

Anacharsis, though, didn’t just want to observe. He wanted to understand, and what he saw made him understand that this was not what he wanted for the surface. He wanted to live with the people here, to pray to whom he choose. Why then was this happening? What reason was there for all this bloodshed from a kingdom whose king had not sinned against them?

There was a strange ache in his heart that day, one it took four years to fully understand. Guilt. Guilt for the suffering that befell those at the tragedy that he witnessed. Guilt because it was his people's actions that had led to this, and guilt because he could have stopped it had he lied to Thales and told him a vision of failure of this plan. He’d seen it pan out the way the man wanted, but there was something in the distance, a light, a woman who appeared sleeping in that vison, but glowing with a light so powerful that he had to look away. This… person, this being, whomever she was, was going to be their downfall, he was sure of it. And it would start with this attack.

Anacharsis heard the sounds of a man muttering nearby, and turned away from his father, only to glance back and see the man was gone. Figuring he’d just wandered off with the woman some place, Anacharsis made his way to where the muttering man’s voice came from, and saw an older blonde man hovering over a young blonde boy. Both dressed in Faerghus garb and, while bloody, the two were clearly of noble birth. He moved closer, curious how the two could have escaped the attack, and listened as they spoke, staying low.

“Father, father, please get up!” the boy was saying. He was younger than Anacharsis, of that the young man was sure, but his voice showed he was no small child, though he looked younger. The boy was shaking his father, as if in disbelief at the whole thing. The Agarthan warlock bit his lip. The scene was depressing, and he wanted to turn away from it and leave them to their mourning. But something about the older man bothered him. Maybe it was the way he was standing, or the twitchy nature of his person, or just the way he held himself that bothered Anacharsis. Regardless, it gave him pause, and the young man stayed to watch.

“Uncle, he’s hurt, but he’s not getting up.” The boy was saying as he shook the body harder, probably not realizing that the man in the carriage was dead. Or if he did, he didn’t want to see it.

“No, he’s not…” the man the boy called his uncle said and Anacharsis watched as he drew a dagger from his back scabbard. “And soon you’ll be with him…”

He didn’t realize he had reached down and picked up the rock until he felt it firmly in his hand and had heard the sick crack of the stone upon the meat and bone of the skull of the blonde older man. Anacharsis watched as he fell forward, unconscious, but breathing. The boy cried out and turned to see the pale-looking teen behind him.

Anacharsis stood there for a moment, rock in hand, blood on it, along with blood on the man’s head. He tossed it aside, sure that the other cries of the dead would mask the screams of the boy or dying. He put his hand to the boy’s mouth and stared at him, his blue-green eyes meeting the bright blue of the boy’s.

“Hush. Not a sound. I’m going to get you out of here. You did not see me, do you hear?” The boy gave a nod and the young warlock nodded as he gripped the boy by the wrist. “Good. Now come. We haven’t much time.”

That was the moment things had changed for him. That was the moment he had rejected the will of Thales and Those who slithered in the Dark. He pulled at the boy firmly. He would get him away from the field. Find out who he was, where his home was, and get him to a safe town from where the boy could be brought back home to. He wouldn’t engage with the boy, he didn’t want to. But the safety of this child was now in his hands.

He knew there were those among the boy’s people who were dangerous, so he wasn’t about to take any chances. He’d locate someone outside the battlefield, a merchant, or farmer, or someone, anyone who could take the boy. He’d guide him safely from this mess. This was his goal, to lead him to safety and then vanish. He would not return to those who slithered. He would not allow for them to use him again. No more blood would be on his hands! That was his vow to himself.

They ran carefully, but quickly, through the battlefield. The boy holding his hand and stumbling a few times. The blue-haired warlock looked back at him only in these moments. “Try not to fall. The faster we go, the safer you will be.”

“But… Father… and my step mother… I…” the boy was confused, scared, and haunted by what he saw. “Why am I alive?”

“I don’t know, but bury those memories in your mind. Keep them tight and locked up. Then, when you’re older, and a man, revisit them and avenge them. Take those who killed them to task and never forget their faces, their voices. Kill every last one of them and make them pay for this tragedy.” Anacharsis told him as he lifted him over a fallen man and set him down. “Such is the will of the dead.”

The boy stared at him and was about to say something when he held up his finger to his lips. “The less we converse, the better for you. You need not know who I am. Only that my goal is to leave you alive.”

He grabbed the boy’s hand again, as he recalled, and dragged him farther from the main area of combat. Slowing down only when he was sure they were away from the fires that were set. He wiped his face and looked at the boy as he caught some breath. Good as his word, the boy said nothing to him, nor did the boy look back behind him. A small smile slipped on Anacharsis’s lips, a better choice to make for his own sanity.

As they walked, the older teen looked around. There had to be a path to lead them from most of the chaos, but it was growing darker and hard to see. “We may have to hide till morning and then, once the light of dawn comes, we can make our way to a village and you’ll be safe….”

Fast running footfalls caught his attention, and Anacharsis turned behind to see a young man about his age running for them. Sweat matted his purple hair to his forehead, and the lower tail he wore in his hair was loose. He was dressed as a Frauldarian noble, and one of the knights that had been part of the group that had been attacked. His eyes were filled with anger as he rushed them, and he was wounded. This was not good. He would not be thinking straight, Anacharsis thought at the time as the man neared.

“Let him go, you bastard. Let his highness go now!” The shout carried intimidation in its tone as the purple haired noble stopped. The blue-haired warlock stared at him. He couldn’t trust any of them. Anyone of them could be a danger to the boy he was with. Anacharsis’s grip on the boy tightened. He didn’t want to take any chances. If this boy was the prince, if the dead man was the king, then this boy was the heir and needed to make it out alive, no matter the cost.

The purple-haired knight saw this action and drew his sword. “I warn you…”

“You are in no condition to fight. The boy is safe in my care. I will not release him to you.”

Anger twitched in the young man’s face. “How dare you! Trying to kidnap the prince and daring to think that I’m a threat to him, or that I can’t fight you! I’m not so weak that I can’t stand on my own, wound or not! I’m the heir to House Fraldarius! You should remember that name, bastard.”

“An heir to a house, well that makes all the difference in the world.” Anacharsis rolled his eyes. “I say to you once more, oh heir of Fraldarius. Leave me to pass. If you are truly an ally to this boy, then you will understand I offer no harm to him. I simply intend to get him away from this battle.”

“Lies! Like I would believe a monster like you! What are you even! A demon? A ghost? Some wrath from below?” the young knight shook his head and held his sword out to Anacharsis. “No matter, I will defeat you and protect the prince!”

“Protect him from one not wanting to harm him. Bravo, such bravery,” Anacharsis’s voice dripped with contempt, “but I suppose I can’t talk any sense into that thick skull of yours. Your arrogance will not keep you safe here. So I say this to you one more time; Stand down!” His blue-green eyes were bright with annoyance as he let go of the boy’s hand and prepared to fight.

“So be it.” The knight with the purple tail said and attacked, rushing at the warlock who, as he neared, waved his hand in a fast slashing motion, cutting the air and the young man before him. A spell he had made himself and one he only used when he was in danger. The knight stumbled back, blood coming from the wound on his chest. His eyes were wide in shock, and he stared at the boy. “Why…?”

Then he fell, his face twisted in a look of pain, and one of regret, clearly thinking of something in his last moments. Anacharsis saw the boy move closer to the body and tears ran down his face. “G… Glenn!”

Sorrow came over the young warlock’s face as he saw the boy looking at the body. He moved to grab at him. They couldn’t stay here. Even if this was his friend, he didn’t know if others were coming. His hand trembled as he moved to touch the boy. Had he made a mistake? The look on the young man’s face in death haunted him. He’d come to protect the boy. But distrust was part of their way of life, or more accurately, part of his.

“I… I am…” he said when the boy got up and turned away from him. He ran, and Anacharsis rushed after. “Wait. Don’t run please! You’ll be killed back there.”

He only stopped when he saw a tall, older knight with orange hair come around the corner with other men. Something about the man’s face, his gait, his look, told Anacharsis that this man was someone whom the boy would be safe with. This prince of Faerghaus, this boy, at such a young age, had seen such tragedy. And for what, he had wondered. The young prince had run to the knight and hugged onto him. He was sobbing, shaking. Anacharsis had wondered at the time if his actions had only added to that trauma.

When the man looked up at his way, they exchanged a glance. The young warlock wasn’t sure what it was, or what it meant, but he knew the man was going to let him leave. Whatever the young prince had said, it had allowed him a moment to flee. So he took it and ran and ran. He ran hard and fast deep into the forest and slept under a tree for three days, only getting up to find some small amounts of food and water to sustain himself. He didn’t like the feelings he had. The guilt, the frustration, the fear from the boy’s eyes after he killed the purple-haired boy. And the haunting feeling of knowing he’d taken a life, something his mother had begged him not to do. It was why he’d stayed away from combat. Now, his hands were stained with the blood of that young knight, and there was nothing he could do to change it.

As he thought back on that day, Anacharsis recalled how he had been found by some of the lower rank-and-file Agarthans. How they had brought him back and Thales informed him that his father had not returned from the battle. He’d held in the truth then, about what he saw when his father took the woman from the Carriage, denying he knew where the man was. They believed him, after all his visions had brought them good fortune. His father never returned, and they promoted Anacharsis to Periander’s leadership position among the Elites in their cult.

The young warlock rubbed his temples. How was this dead knight, this man who haunted his dreams, connected to the girl? Or had she used him to get his attention and enter his mind? He was confused, but he was sure that he needed to leave, and soon. Or else his mind would break from the guilt and anger and seething hate he felt for the likes of Thales.

In the four years that had followed, he’d learned more about the surface world, about the people that dwelled there, and about the creatures that were so much more powerful than them. The one thing that he had connected to was the goddess Naga, a being that reminded him so much of his mother. He wanted to escape from here and find what he could about her. He wanted to travel away, to be free of this wretched group and bring his people above the surface to let them learn the truth of what happened with the Nabatans and the goddess Sothis.

Approaching the door to the main room, Anacharsis paused and looked at the handle. He thought of turning and walking away, but they would send Kronya to find him again. Scowling, he sighed and pulled open the door. Inside, the others were waiting, except for two. Solon, whom he didn’t know where he was at, and Cleobulus, whom was still playing the role of Cornelia in the holy kingdom. He kept his face natural as he came in.

“See, I told you he would make it in time.” Commented Bias as he stood across from her. Thales nodded and turned his white eyes upon the younger man in the room.

“A few moments more, and I would wonder if you were trying to run away again.”

“Perish the thought. Why run away when I can spend time with all of you lovely people?” He commented simply in a cool tone. “You bade us come, and I came. So,” he bowed to Thales, “What do you need of me?”

“We’re pulling together a plan to gather what we need, and we need your sight for knowing about the chances.” Thales motioned for him to raise his head. “Specifically, the day of the Goddess’s Rite of Rebirth…”

Anacharsis bowed and allowed himself a vision. He stayed in his mind as the others talked. They debated and discussed and slowly, a thought came to his mind, a way to get out and free himself from the chains that bound him to them. Raising his eyes to the group, bright and full of light, Anacharsis spoke, confirming what Thales wanted to hear. After all, it was easier to tell half-truths to keep himself safe. Hearing his words, Thales seemed pleased only to explain who would go.

“If I may…” Anacharsis bowed to his leader. “I should like to accompany the men of the western church on this. It would be a wise idea to monitor them lest they try to conceal anything they find from us.”

Chilon nodded fully. “On this, I can agree. We can’t just trust these surface dwellers, nor our Flame Emperor. It would be a wise choice to have Anacharsis go with them... as a way to protect our interests, of course.”

Pittacus stared at the younger man, “Are you certain you want to venture out? Your gift is something we cannot do without.”

“I assure you, I will be safe, and will simply observe what is happening, as I always do.” Anacharsis waved off the worry and looked at Thales. “You’ve seen my work and my reports. And you can’t move the others, lest suspicious airs come upon them.” He smiled at the leader, holding in the bile he wanted to spew onto the man. “Then it is only a wise choice to send one who has given you the blessing of sight. Do you not think so?”

Thales snorted. “Don’t use such flowery words with me. I understand what you mean to do. Spying on them is a good idea though, so I’ll give you leave… this time. Don’t think you can deceive me, Anacharsis.”

“Oh, I would never dream of doing such a thing, Lord Thales.” He bowed again, his blue bangs drooping over his eyes, covering the look of loathing that echoed in them. It wasn’t long before the group was dismissed and Anacharsis hurried back to his room. He’d settled on it now. He would leave them and use this as a means out.

My answer to your question, girl, is yes. I’ll stop what’s coming and stop them from whatever their plans are. He thought as he marched down the hall with determination and a prayer to never look back.

6 notes · View notes