Under the Shadow of the Fell Dragon
The desert winds of Plegia carried the scent of sun-baked stone and something else—something ancient and foreboding. The Shepherds advanced across the shifting sands, a formation that spoke of both diplomatic intent and battle readiness. At the center walked Chrom, the Fire Emblem secured at his side, its four embedded gemstones catching the harsh sunlight.
Sarai moved beside him, her dark elven heritage evident in her silvery skin and piercing eyes. Though pregnant with their second child, she carried herself with a warrior's poise. Her hand occasionally brushed against Chrom's—a gesture of reassurance amid mounting tension.
"The air feels wrong here," she murmured, her voice low enough that only Chrom could hear. "There's a magical current beneath the surface—corrupted and twisted."
Chrom nodded slightly. "I feel it too, though perhaps not as keenly as you do." His eyes remained fixed on their destination: the imposing structure of Plegia Castle, rising from the sands like the manifestation of an ancient curse.
And above it all, dominating the landscape, loomed the massive skull of Grima—a monument to the very entity they sought to prevent from awakening. Its hollow eye sockets seemed to follow their progression, a silent sentinel watching their approach with malevolent attention.
Farther back in the formation, Lucina faltered momentarily at the sight. The skull had been more than a monument in her timeline—it had been the harbinger of the world's end. Memories flooded unbidden: cities burning, skies darkened, the screams of those who couldn't escape the Risen hordes.
"Steady," came Odyn's voice beside her, low and grounding. The dark elven prince moved closer, his flame-orange eyes surveying her face with concern. "That future isn't written yet."
Lucina drew a steadying breath, her hand finding the hilt of Falchion. "In my time, this place was the beginning of the end. Where everything changed."
Odyn nodded, understanding the weight of her words. The Dragon Crest on his forehead pulsed faintly, responding to the concentrated dark energy that permeated Plegia's capital. "The magical signatures here are... complex. Grimleal sorcery, certainly, but there's something else beneath it. Something older."
"Demonic influence?" Lucina asked, her voice barely audible.
"Perhaps," Odyn acknowledged. "Or perhaps the remnants of ancient wards against such influence. It's difficult to discern."
Behind them, the rest of the Shepherds advanced with measured steps. Frederick remained vigilant, his eyes constantly scanning for threats. Robin kept close to Chrom, the tactician's mind clearly working through countless scenarios and contingencies. The dark elven contingent—Roy, Lyra, Hailfire, Valvaderhn, Xander, Saibyrh, Lynnia, Khanna, and Alek—had distributed themselves strategically throughout the formation, each ready to employ their specialized defensive arts if needed.
As they drew closer to the castle gates, Sarai spoke again, her voice carrying the authority of her royal heritage.
"Remember what we discussed," she said, addressing the group. "Maintain the protective formations we practiced. Keep the mental shields active. Trust nothing that seems too convenient or too tempting."
Chrom nodded in agreement. "We enter as diplomats, but remain vigilant as warriors. Validar offers the final gemstone—Sable—but we must be prepared for treachery."
The massive gates of Plegia Castle loomed before them now, intricate carvings depicting ancient battles between dragons and men adorning their surface. Guards stood at attention, their expressions unreadable beneath ornate helmets.
"The Exalt of Ylisse approaches," announced one of the guards, his voice echoing across the courtyard beyond. "King Validar awaits within."
As the gates slowly swung open, revealing the shadowed interior of the castle, Sarai's hand found Chrom's again, this time gripping it with subtle intensity.
"Whatever happens in there," she whispered, "remember that we face it together."
Chrom's eyes met hers, a silent promise passing between them. Then, with the practiced dignity of a ruler, he led his people forward, into the heart of their enemy's domain.
Behind them, the massive skull of Grima seemed to watch their entry with ancient, patient malice.
Beyond the Fell Dragon's Shadow
As they crossed the threshold into Plegia Castle, each member of the group carried not just weapons and armor, but the heavy knowledge imparted by the dark elven royals. The warnings echoed in their minds as they moved through the shadowed corridors, past Plegian guards whose eyes seemed to follow them with unnatural focus.
"Grima is but the surface of a deeper darkness," Odyn had told them during one of their night training sessions, his voice grave as the campfire cast strange shadows across his face. "A powerful entity, yes, but one that exists within the natural order of this world. The Devils and their king, Mordred, exist beyond it—they seek not to rule this world, but to consume it."
Frederick kept his hand near his weapon, recalling Valvaderhn's precise instructions on detecting demonic possession: the subtle discoloration around the eyes, the unnatural stillness, the slight delay in speech patterns. So far, the Plegian guards showed none of these signs, but his vigilance never wavered.
"The Grimleal believe themselves to be masters of their own destiny," Saibyrh had explained. "In their arrogance, they have no concept that they might be pawns in a greater game. This makes them perfect vessels for demonic influence."
Sarai walked with graceful alertness, her pregnancy doing nothing to diminish her readiness. Her fingers traced subtle protective sigils in the air—movements so fluid they appeared to be nothing more than nervous gestures to the uninitiated. But each motion strengthened the invisible barrier around their group, a technique Khanna had taught them for detecting demonic intrusion.
"The Devils will not announce themselves," Roy had warned. "They work through corruption and suggestion, making their hosts believe the dark thoughts are their own. A Grimleal sorcerer may serve Grima faithfully, never realizing that the whispers guiding their most destructive impulses come from something far older and darker than the Fell Dragon."
Robin's tactical mind was racing, mapping not just the physical layout of the castle, but also the strategic positioning for the protective formations they had practiced. The dark elven training had expanded their understanding of battlefield dynamics, incorporating magical defenses that went beyond conventional warfare.
Lucina felt a chill that had nothing to do with the castle's temperature. Her hand unconsciously sought Odyn's, drawing strength from his presence. In her timeline, she had fought against Grima's devastation without knowing there was an even greater threat lurking behind the chaos. Now, with that knowledge, the weight of their mission felt almost unbearable.
"The time of Grima's awakening," Alek had told them solemnly, "creates a thinning of the barriers between realms. The Devils will use this opportunity. They will use the fear, the chaos, the desperation to slip through the cracks in reality."
Chrom's face remained composed as they approached the grand doors to the throne room, but his mind returned to Sarai's final warning before they had entered Plegia's territory.
"My love," she had said, her eyes holding his with unusual intensity, "when the moment comes—and it will come—trust what you know of the hearts around you, not what your eyes and ears tell you. The greatest weapon the Devils possess is deception."
The doors to the throne room swung open, revealing a vast chamber dominated by Plegian iconography—dark dragons, ancient runes, and at its center, the figure of King Validar. He rose from his ornate throne, a smile that never reached his eyes spreading across his gaunt face.
"Exalt Chrom," Validar called, his voice echoing unnaturally in the cavernous space. "How gracious of you to accept my invitation. I trust your journey was... uneventful?"
As Chrom stepped forward to engage in the diplomatic dance that would hopefully secure the final gemstone, the dark elven members of their group exchanged subtle glances. Khanna's fingers twitched almost imperceptibly, casting a detection spell that rippled unseen through the chamber. Her eyes widened slightly, a warning sign they had established.
Something was here. Something beyond Validar and his Grimleal devotion. Something watching, waiting for the perfect moment to turn chaos to its advantage.
The true game was about to begin.
The Spider Observes
Validar's eyes, dark and calculating, moved across the assembled group with meticulous attention. Though his words remained focused on diplomatic pleasantries, his gaze catalogued every detail, every connection, every potential weakness among the unexpected gathering before him.
"Exalt Chrom," he said, his voice a carefully modulated purr, "and Lady Sarai of Albanahr. What an... interesting union." His eyes lingered on Sarai's pregnant form, noting the gentle curve of her belly beneath her ornate dark elven attire. "I see congratulations are in order. A second heir to Ylisse's throne, carrying both human and dark elven blood. How... progressive."
Chrom's hand rested protectively near Sarai, his posture betraying nothing but diplomatic courtesy. "Thank you for your hospitality, King Validar. As discussed in our correspondence, we've come regarding the gemstone Sable."
Validar's thin smile remained fixed as his attention shifted, deliberately, to Robin. "And the master tactician returns to Plegia's halls. How fitting that you stand at the Exalt's side, Robin. Almost... destined, one might say."
Robin met his gaze with unwavering composure, though those who knew the tactician well could detect the subtle tension in their stance.
"I serve Ylisse now," Robin replied simply.
"Of course, of course," Validar said, waving a dismissive hand while his eyes revealed a deeper interest. "Allegiances shift like desert sands."
His attention moved methodically through the group, lingering on each dark elven face—studying features so rarely seen in Plegia since the fall of Albanahr. He noted Odyn, standing with protective proximity to Lucina, the Dragon Crest on his forehead partially visible beneath his hair. The prince's flame-orange eyes met Validar's without flinching, a silent challenge in their depths.
"The royal children of Albanahr, returned from exile," Validar observed, his tone suggesting this was far from surprising information. "The Dragon-Touched Prince, the Warrior Princess, the Tactician Prince, and the Flame-Hearted Princess. Stories of your scattered escapes from the fall of your kingdom have become quite legendary, even here in Plegia."
His gaze shifted to Valvaderhn and Maribelle—noting how the noblewoman stood with uncharacteristic silence beside the dark elven strategist, their proximity speaking of bonds that transcended diplomatic alliance.
Validar continued his visual assessment: Alek and Nowi—an unusual pairing of dark elf and manakete, both ancient races with complicated histories. Roy's protective stance near Lissa did not escape his notice, nor did Lyra's casual yet deliberate positioning near Vaike. The subtle watchfulness of Khanna as she maintained proximity to Frederick registered in his calculations.
"Such a diverse assembly," Validar remarked, his fingers steepling together. "Ylisseans, dark elves, manaketes, Feroxi warriors... even a Taguel, if I'm not mistaken." His eyes found Panne in the group, the last of her kind standing with dignified caution. "One might almost think you were assembling an army rather than a diplomatic envoy."
"One might think your observation unnecessarily provocative," Sarai countered, her melodic dark elven accent adding a cutting edge to her words. "Especially when we come in peace to discuss matters of mutual benefit."
Validar's smile tightened fractionally. "Forgiveness, Lady Sarai. Merely an observation from one who appreciates... strategic thinking. Your people were always known for their foresight, after all."
A subtle tension rippled through the dark elven contingent at his words. The fall of Albanahr had not been the result of poor planning, but of betrayal from within—a fact that gave Validar's comment a barbed undertone.
"Perhaps," Validar continued smoothly, "we should proceed to the matter at hand. The gemstone Sable has indeed been in Plegia's safekeeping for generations." He gestured toward an ornate chest positioned near his throne. "But before such treasures change hands, there are... details to discuss."
Chrom maintained his diplomatic composure, though the set of his shoulders betrayed his awareness of the precarious situation. "Of course. That is why we've come."
As the formal negotiations began, Validar's eyes continued their careful assessment, particularly drawn to Robin. Behind his calculating gaze, thoughts formed and reformed like desert mirages—plans within plans, contingencies layered upon contingencies.
And somewhere, beneath the surface of these machinations, something darker watched through Validar's eyes—something that saw the dark elves not just as political actors, but as ancient enemies from a conflict far older than the current tensions between Ylisse and Plegia.
Echoes of a Shattered Timeline
As Validar's voice droned on about diplomatic protocols and historical claims, Lucina's awareness began to slip sideways. The throne room's oppressive atmosphere—thick with Grimleal energy and Validar's thinly veiled threats—triggered something deep within her mind. The present moment blurred at the edges, and without warning, she was plunged into a memory so vivid it felt like more than recollection.
Castle Ylisstol, the broken future
Smoke choked the grand corridors of what had once been the pride of Ylisse. The tapestries that had depicted generations of peace now burned, their edges curling into ash. The risen had breached the final defenses, their inhuman groans echoing through chambers where laughter had once reigned.
Odyn stood at the end of the great hall, his Dragon Crest blazing with desperate power. Behind him huddled the last of the survivors—the children who would soon attempt the impossible journey through time. His flame-orange eyes, normally so calm and calculating, now burned with a final, terrible resolve.
"You cannot hold them forever," Lucina had pleaded, Falchion gripped in white-knuckled hands. At seventeen, she already carried the weight of a fallen kingdom on her shoulders. "Come with us. We need you."
I need you, her heart had screamed silently.
Odyn's gaze had softened briefly when it fell on her. "The portal requires time to stabilize," he said, his voice steady despite everything. "Someone must ensure you have that time."
The sounds of combat grew closer—the inhuman shrieks of the risen, the desperate cries of the few remaining royal guards.
"Lucina," Odyn said, his voice dropping so only she could hear. "You must lead them now. The future—all futures—depend on it."
"I can't," she had whispered, her composure cracking. "Not without—"
"You can," he interrupted gently. "You are your father's daughter. And you are..." He hesitated, something unspoken passing between them. "You are stronger than you know."
The doors to the great hall shuddered under the force of the risen assault. Splinters flew as ancient wood began to give way.
Odyn stepped forward, creating distance between himself and the group of young survivors. The Dragon Crest on his forehead erupted into brilliant azure light as he summoned power that would cost him everything to wield.
"Go," he commanded, no longer just her protector and mentor, but the Prince of Albanahr making his final stand. "Now, Lucina!"
The next moments blurred in her memory—Laurent pulling her back, Gerome and Kjelle forcing the others toward the portal chamber, her own voice screaming protests that went unheeded.
What remained crystal clear was her return—after the others had gone through, after she had ensured they were safely on their way to the past. She had broken away, racing back through corridors now littered with the second-dead bodies of risen.
She found him in the great hall, surrounded by dozens of fallen enemies. The Dragon Crest was dim on his forehead, its power spent. His breathing came in ragged gasps, dark elven blood pooling beneath him.
"You... should be gone," he managed, his flame-orange eyes struggling to focus on her face.
"I couldn't leave without—" She knelt beside him, her hands hovering uselessly over wounds too severe for any healing.
"Stubborn... just like your father," he whispered, a faint smile touching his lips.
"Don't leave me," she begged, the stoic princess finally breaking as tears streamed down her face. "I was waiting... just one more year..."
Understanding flickered in his eyes. They both knew what she meant—the promise unspoken between them, the feelings they had acknowledged but agreed to postpone until her eighteenth year, as was proper. A future they had planned in whispered conversations during brief moments of peace.
"Find me," he said, his voice growing fainter. "In the past. Find me... and change everything."
His hand, surprisingly gentle despite its warrior's calluses, brushed her cheek. Then it fell, his flame-orange eyes dimming as the last of his life slipped away.
Lucina's composure shattered completely. The princess who had maintained her strength through the fall of nations and the death of her father finally broke, sobbing as she cradled his body. In a gesture of farewell, of regret for all they would never have, she pressed her lips to his—their first and final kiss in that doomed timeline.
Present day, Plegia Castle
"—Lucina?"
Odyn's concerned voice pulled her back to the present. His hand had found hers, hidden from Validar's sight by the folds of her cloak. The warmth of his living touch anchored her, dispelling the ghostly cold of her memories.
"I'm here," she whispered, forcing herself to focus on the diplomatic dance unfolding before them. On Validar, whose very existence threatened to set in motion the events that would lead to that terrible future. On the Fire Emblem at her father's side, key to preventing Grima's resurrection.
Odyn's eyes studied her face, recognizing the haunted look she could never fully hide. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze—a promise without words. This time would be different.
She straightened her shoulders, drawing strength from his presence—not a memory or a ghost, but solid and real beside her. Whatever game Validar was playing, whatever darkness lurked beyond him, she had crossed time itself to prevent the future she had witnessed.
And this time, she would not fail.
The polished granite floor of Plegia Castle's throne room seemed to absorb what little light filtered through the high narrow windows. Validar's voice had shifted from diplomatic pleasantries to thinly veiled threats, the words winding like serpents between them as he spoke of Ylisse's "obligation" to complete the Fire Emblem.
Aversa moved with calculated grace, sidling up to Validar's side. Her eyes, sharp and perceptive, lingered not on Chrom or Frederick, but on the dark elven contingent standing among the Shepherds. Her painted lips curved into a knowing smile as she leaned to whisper something in Validar's ear.
Lucina felt Odyn tense beside her. Though his expression remained diplomatically neutral, she could feel the sudden alertness in his posture. The other dark elves in their party—Kivara with her twin blades and Naevin with his silent bow—exchanged glances so brief most would have missed them entirely.
"The gemstone Sable has been a treasure of Plegia for generations," Validar continued, his skeletal fingers steepled before him. "It is not something we would part with... lightly."
Chrom stepped forward, diplomatic but firm. "We seek not to diminish Plegia's heritage, but to prevent a calamity that would destroy us all. The Fire Emblem must be completed if we're to stop Grima's resurrection."
Validar's smile thinned. "Ah, yes. Grima. The fell dragon your Ylissean histories paint as such a villain." His gaze slid to the dark elves, lingering particularly on Odyn's Dragon Crest. "Speaking of dragons and those blessed by them..."
Aversa's voice cut in, silken and venomous. "We've heard such fascinating tales from Valm. How Walhart the Conqueror, who subjugated an entire continent, fell before warriors bearing marks not unlike the one your companion wears." She gestured toward Odyn with a languid wave. "Dragon-blessed dark elves, they say. With powers that blur the line between mortal and divine."
The atmosphere in the throne room shifted. The Plegian guards lining the walls seemed to straighten, hands drifting closer to their weapons. From the shadows beyond the throne, figures dressed in Grimleal robes watched with hungry curiosity.
"The tales have spread far," Aversa continued, circling like a vulture. "Some whisper that these dark elves command a power that could rival even Grima's chosen." Her eyes locked with Odyn's. "How fortunate for Ylisse to count such allies among their ranks."
Frederick stepped slightly forward, a protective gesture toward Chrom that hadn't gone unnoticed by the Plegians. Lucina remained still, though her hand had drifted closer to Falchion's hilt.
"We value all our allies equally," Chrom responded evenly. "As should any wise ruler."
"Indeed," Validar agreed with a smile that never reached his eyes. "And wise rulers must also be... cautious. Those with dragon blood have changed the course of history before. The question becomes—toward what end do your elven friends guide Ylisse's destiny?"
Odyn finally spoke, his voice calm but resonant with subtle power. "We guide nothing, King Validar. We stand with those who would prevent needless suffering."
"Noble words," Aversa purred. "Though I wonder—did Walhart consider his suffering needless?"
Kivara, the dark elven warrior whose patience had always been her thinnest virtue, stepped forward. "Walhart died as he lived—believing might makes right. He simply discovered his might was not without equal."
A tense silence followed, broken only by the subtle shifting of armor as guards throughout the room adjusted their stances.
"Perhaps," Validar said, rising from his throne with deliberate slowness, "we should discuss the matter of Sable more... intimately. Exalt Chrom, would you and a smaller contingent of your choosing join me in my private chambers? These formal surroundings make genuine negotiation so difficult."
Lucina caught the warning glance from Robin, Chrom's tactician. This was clearly an attempt to separate them, to isolate Chrom from the full strength of his guardians.
"A gracious offer," Chrom replied carefully, "though I would insist on bringing my advisor Robin, as well as my daughter and her protector." He gestured to Lucina and Odyn.
Validar's eyes narrowed fractionally, but his smile remained fixed. "Of course. Family is precious, is it not? And protectors..." his gaze slid to Odyn once more, "...are essential in these uncertain times."
As they prepared to follow Validar deeper into the castle's winding corridors, Lucina felt a prickling sensation at the back of her neck—the feeling of being watched by more than just the visible guards. In the shadows of a high gallery overlooking the throne room, she caught a glimpse of movement, a flash of darkened metal, the subtle glow of enchantment.
"We're being observed," she whispered to Odyn, her lips barely moving. "Not just by Validar's obvious forces."
"I know," he responded just as quietly. "The Grimleal have their elite hidden throughout the castle. They fear what they've heard of Albanahr's dragon-blessed warriors. Fear can make even the most patient predators strike too soon."
Lucina's mind raced back to her shattered timeline—to the moment when Validar had betrayed them, when the Emblem had been stolen, when everything had begun unraveling toward that smoke-filled final stand in Ylisstol's great hall.
"History will not repeat itself," she murmured, as much to herself as to Odyn.
His hand found hers again, hidden within the folds of their cloaks. "No," he agreed, his flame-orange eyes reflecting a promise forged in a future that now existed only in her memories. "This time, we write a different ending."
As they followed Validar's robed form deeper into the castle, Lucina felt the weight of time itself pressing down upon her shoulders. In her original timeline, this diplomatic mission had ended in betrayal and blood. The gemstone had been taken, the Emblem compromised, the first domino toppled in Grima's inexorable rise.
Behind them, she could feel the wary gazes of the hidden watchers, those who feared the dark elves for their role in Walhart's defeat. Before them lay Validar's treachery, still unfolding, still malleable.
And beside her walked Odyn, alive and strong—the man she had watched die in another life, the man she had crossed time to save, among so many others.
This time would be different. It had to be.
Echoes of a Shattered Timeline (Further Continuation)
As they proceeded toward Validar's private chambers, the formation of the Ylissean delegation shifted subtly. What had initially appeared to be a modest escort of Shepherds revealed itself as something far more strategic—and far more threatening to Plegian sensibilities.
Aversa's confident smile faltered slightly as her gaze drifted beyond the immediate circle around Chrom. Standing with quiet dignity beside the Exalt was a figure whose presence commanded attention despite her restrained demeanor. Queen Sarai of Ylisse, her lavender and blue hair cascading down her back in intricate braids interwoven with royal Ylissean symbols, moved with the measured grace of Albanahr nobility. Her hand rested protectively over the slight swell of her pregnancy, where Chrom's second child grew beneath her heart.
What struck Aversa most was not merely the dark elven queen's beauty, but the unmistakable authority in her bearing. The Dragon Crest upon her forehead—similar to Odyn's but with its own distinct pattern—seemed to pulse with a subtle light that resonated with the power of the Fire Emblem itself.
Validar's eyes narrowed minutely. The intelligence he'd received had mentioned Chrom's foreign bride, but had severely underestimated her significance. This was no mere political marriage—the way Chrom oriented himself toward her, even while maintaining his diplomatic stance, spoke of genuine partnership and shared power.
"Queen Sarai," Validar acknowledged with a belated bow that carried just enough depth to avoid outright insult. "Plegia extends its... congratulations on your impending addition to the Ylissean royal line."
"Your consideration is noted, King Validar," Sarai replied, her voice melodic yet unyielding. "Though I find it curious that your intelligence failed to mention my presence in advance of our arrival. One might almost suspect... oversight."
Before Validar could formulate a response, movement among the Shepherds drew Aversa's attention further. What she had initially dismissed as a standard honor guard was revealing itself as something far more cohesive—and far more alarming.
Frederick the Wary, Chrom's stalwart knight commander, stood not alone but alongside a dark elven woman whose armor bore the distinctive markings of both Ylissean knighthood and Albanahr craftsmanship. Khanna, her posture mirroring Frederick's vigilant stance, wore the same severe expression as her husband. The familial resemblance between her and Odyn was subtle but unmistakable—cousins by blood, united in purpose.
"The royal chambers should be adequate for our discussion," Validar continued smoothly, though his eyes continued to assess the Ylissean party with growing wariness. "Though I had not anticipated quite so many... distinguished guests."
"Surely the King of Plegia can accommodate a proper diplomatic contingent," came a new voice—cultured, refined, yet carrying an edge of steel beneath its politeness.
Roy stepped forward, his resemblance to Odyn unmistakable despite his more scholarly bearing. The younger brother of the dark elven prince wore the formal attire of an Ylissean royal advisor, though the ceremonial sword at his hip was no mere ornament. At his side, Princess Lissa stood with unusual solemnity, her hand resting on his arm. The betrothal rings they wore caught the dim light of the corridor.
"Prince Roy of Albanahr," Validar acknowledged, his forced smile thinning further. "I had heard the younger prince had found... favor within the Ylissean court."
"Not merely favor," Lissa interjected with unexpected firmness. "Family."
Aversa's calculating gaze swept the group again, recognition dawning as she began to truly understand the depth of what they faced. These were not merely allied forces or diplomatic accompaniment. The dark elves had woven themselves inextricably into the very fabric of Ylisse's power structure.
Behind Frederick and Khanna stood Maribelle, the noble-born troubadour whose acid tongue had fallen conspicuously silent. Beside her was a dark elven man whose crimson armor and severe expression had earned him the moniker "Red Knight" among his people. Valvadehrn's hand never strayed far from his weapon, his eyes constantly scanning for threats to both Maribelle and the royal family.
"Perhaps," Aversa suggested with forced lightness, "we might reconsider the scope of today's discussion. Such... comprehensive matters might be better addressed in more formal surroundings."
She had recognized the strategic error too late. What Validar had intended as an isolation of key targets had instead drawn them into closer proximity with an unexpectedly formidable force.
Further along the procession, Aversa noted Nowi—the manakete child whose deceptively youthful appearance belied her true nature and power—walking alongside a dark elven warrior whose protective stance suggested more than casual alliance. Alek, brother to Khanna, wore the distinctive leather bracers of Albanahr dragon-hunters, though now his skills served to protect rather than hunt the dragon-blooded.
"I assure you," Validar said, his composure regained though tension remained evident in his posture, "Plegia has nothing but peaceful intentions toward our Ylissean... neighbors and their allies."
"Peaceful intentions require transparent actions," came yet another voice, this one younger but no less resolute.
The speaker was Lyra, her resemblance to Odyn and Sarai marking her clearly as their younger sister despite her less formal attire. She had positioned herself strategically beside Vaike, whose boisterous personality had been temporarily subdued by the gravity of their surroundings. Though seemingly the least experienced of the elven contingent, the way she monitored the shadows spoke of thorough combat training.
As they turned a corner into a broader corridor, a flicker of motion from above caught Lucina's attention. In the gallery overlooking their procession, shadowy figures shifted with predatory intent. Without breaking stride, she exchanged glances with Ricken, who had positioned himself—seemingly by chance—beneath one such vantage point. Beside him stood Saibyrh, her Albanahr guardian's training evident in every controlled movement. The sister of Valvadehrn carried no visible weapon, yet the faint shimmer of magical readiness surrounded her hands.
"The gemstone Sable," Chrom continued, maintaining the diplomatic conversation despite the palpable tension, "represents more than merely a historical artifact. Its power, combined with the complete Fire Emblem, could ensure peace for generations to come."
"Peace through power," Validar observed with a thin smile. "A familiar refrain throughout history."
"Not power for conquest," countered a refined voice from near the rear of their procession. Virion, the archer of noble bearing, had spoken with uncharacteristic gravity. Beside him, Lynnia—eldest sister to Valvadehrn and Saibyrh—maintained a vigilant watch on their surroundings. Her elven heritage was less immediately apparent than that of her siblings, but the keen awareness in her eyes missed nothing.
"Then for what purpose?" Aversa challenged, her patience wearing thin as she recognized how thoroughly they had underestimated the situation. What should have been a simple diplomatic manipulation had transformed into a dangerous standoff.
"For protection," Lucina stated firmly, her hand never straying far from Falchion's hilt. "Against a threat that would consume us all without distinction—Plegian, Ylissean, human or elf."
Validar paused before an ornate doorway, his long fingers resting on the carved surface. His eyes met Chrom's with calculated intensity.
"Such conviction," he observed quietly. "One might almost believe you have seen such a future with your own eyes, Princess."
Lucina felt a chill run through her that had nothing to do with the castle's perpetual coolness. Beside her, Odyn shifted imperceptibly closer, a silent reminder of her purpose and their shared resolve.
"Some threats require no foresight to understand," Sarai interjected smoothly, drawing Validar's attention back to herself. "Only wisdom and the willingness to set aside old grievances for common survival."
As the door swung open to reveal Validar's private chambers—a space designed for intimate negotiations and, Lucina knew from bitter experience, for betrayal—the Ylissean contingent moved with coordinated precision. What had appeared to be casual groupings revealed themselves as carefully planned defensive formations, with each dark elven warrior positioned to protect not only their direct partners but the royal family as a whole.
Aversa and Validar exchanged glances, a wordless communication passing between them. Their plan to isolate, intimidate, and potentially eliminate key members of the Ylissean leadership had collapsed before it could begin. What they faced was not merely Chrom and his Shepherds, but a unified force bound by both alliance and family ties—with the dragon-blessed warriors of Albanahr fully integrated into its core.
"After you, Exalt Chrom," Validar offered with a gesture that could no longer disguise his unease. "Let us discuss the future of the Fire Emblem... and all our peoples."
As they entered the chamber, Lucina caught Odyn's gaze once more. In his flame-orange eyes, she saw the same determination that had sustained her through the horrors of her shattered timeline. This time, the dark elves of Albanahr stood not as distant allies but as family. This time, the bonds between them might prove strong enough to rewrite fate itself.
This time, perhaps, they could break the cycle of destruction that had claimed everything she had ever loved.
Another perspective.....
Echoes of a Shattered Timeline (Further Continuation)
The Ylissean forces fought their way through the dimly lit corridors of Plegia Castle, the combined strength of the Shepherds and their dark elven allies proving formidable against Validar's guards. Odyn and Lucina cleared a path at the vanguard, their fighting styles perfectly synchronized after countless battles together. Behind them, Chrom and Sarai maintained a protective formation around Robin, whose tactical guidance was their lifeline through the labyrinthine castle.
As they approached what appeared to be an exit to the eastern courtyard, a hulking figure stepped into their path. General Algol, one of Plegia's most feared commanders, blocked their escape with a battalion of elite guards flanking him.
"Heh heh..." Algol's deep voice echoed through the corridor as he raised his massive axe. "Leaving Plegia so soon? No, please, stay awhile. Stay...forever!"
Roy immediately pushed Lissa behind him, while Valvadehrn and Maribelle prepared for the new threat. Khanna and Frederick moved forward in perfect tandem, their weapons ready to engage the Plegian general.
The ensuing battle was fierce but brief. The Shepherds' coordination, honed through countless battles and strengthened by the presence of their dark elven allies, overwhelmed Algol's forces. The Plegian general, for all his brutal strength, found himself outmatched by the combined might of Ylisse and Albanahr.
As Chrom delivered the final blow, Algol fell to his knees with a look of disbelief. "No! Hyaughhh..." he cried out before collapsing.
"Almost there!" Chrom called, gesturing toward the exit now visible ahead. "The exit is just—" He stopped abruptly, his expression changing. "Wait. Do you feel..."
Before anyone could react, the air before them shimmered with dark magic. Validar materialized as if from nowhere, unleashing a blast of fell energy directly at Chrom. The attack struck before anyone could intervene, sending the Exalt staggering backward.
"Hnrgh..." Chrom grunted in pain, one hand pressed against the smoking wound on his chest.
Sarai rushed to her husband's side, her Dragon Crest flaring with protective magic as she supported him. Her eyes, normally calm and diplomatic, blazed with fury at the Plegian king.
Validar's thin lips curled into a triumphant smile. "Run all you like—you can't escape fate. Don't you know that?"
"Father!" Lucina cried out, the scenario unfolding with terrible familiarity. This was how it began in her shattered timeline—the moment everything started to unravel.
Odyn positioned himself protectively between Validar and the royal family, his flame-orange eyes narrowed as he assessed the threat. The other dark elven warriors formed a defensive perimeter, with Khanna and Frederick guarding the rear against potential reinforcements.
"The Fire Emblem," Validar demanded, his voice echoing with unnatural resonance. "Give it freely, or it will be taken."
Despite his injury, Chrom stood tall, one hand still on Falchion's hilt. "Just try it!"
Validar's expression shifted to one of malevolent amusement. "Heh heh... I won't need to do anything..." His gaze shifted beyond Chrom to where Robin stood. "Robin!"
A horrified silence fell as Robin suddenly staggered, clutching at his head in obvious agony. The tactician's face contorted in pain as he fought against some invisible force.
"Nngh! Ahh..." Robin groaned, his body trembling with the effort of resistance.
"Robin?" Chrom turned toward his friend, momentarily forgetting his own wound.
Validar raised his skeletal hands, dark magic coursing between his fingers. "Seize the Emblem and bring it to me."
"Nngh, no, I... Aarrrgh!" Robin's entire body shook as he fought against Validar's control, his steps jerky and uncoordinated as he was forced toward Chrom.
Odyn moved to intercept, but Lucina caught his arm, her expression stricken. "Wait," she whispered, her voice tight with dread. "This moment... it must play out."
Robin approached Chrom, his eyes pleading even as his body betrayed him. There was a flash of light as their hands met.
"Robin... What are you...doing?!" Chrom's voice was filled with disbelief rather than accusation.
In a motion that seemed to cause Robin physical pain, he extracted the Fire Emblem from Chrom's possession. As the sacred artifact changed hands, Validar produced the gemstone Sable from within his robes, inserting it into the final empty socket of the Emblem.
"Well done, my child," Validar crooned, his voice dripping with satisfaction as the complete Fire Emblem materialized in his grasp. "At last, the Fire Emblem belongs to me. And with my Gemstone, it is complete! Now, to set the Table and perform the rite..." With a gesture of triumph, he vanished in a swirl of dark magic.
"D-damn you, Validar! Nngh..." Chrom clutched at his wound, leaning heavily on Sarai for support.
From the shadows beyond where Validar had stood, Aversa emerged with a mocking smile. "Robin had an escape route all planned out... How preciously clever of him. You should be proud." Her eyes swept over the assembled Ylissean forces, lingering particularly on the dark elven contingent. "Such exotic allies, and yet... fate remains immutable, it seems."
With a final taunting laugh, she disappeared in a shimmer of dark magic, leaving them with the bitter taste of defeat.
"Ah! Nngh...ahh..." Robin collapsed to his knees, freed from Validar's control but crushed by the weight of what had happened. "What have I...done?!"
Chrom pushed away from Sarai, staggering toward his friend despite his injury. "Robin! We must go!"
"Chrom, I'm sorry!" Robin's voice broke with anguish. "I don't...know what came over me... I'm so sorry!"
"I know you are," Chrom replied without hesitation, "but right now we need to focus on getting out of here!"
Robin struggled to his feet, his eyes haunted but resolute. "...Understood."
As they finally made their escape to the courtyard where Cordelia and the pegasus knights awaited, the weight of their failure hung heavy in the air. The Fire Emblem—complete with all five gemstones—was now in Validar's possession, setting in motion the very events Lucina had crossed time to prevent.
The journey back to their camp was made in somber silence. Once they were safely beyond Plegia's borders, they established a defensive perimeter, with the dark elven warriors taking the first watch alongside their Ylissean counterparts.
Away from the others, Robin stood alone, staring into the distance with hollow eyes. "What I did... It's...it's unforgivable."
Chrom approached, his wound bandaged by Lissa and Maribelle's combined healing efforts. "Enough of that, Robin. Save your energy for helping us track him down."
"No, I..." Robin shook his head vehemently. "You must leave me behind. He could use me again... I can't be trusted! This cursed blood in me must somehow give...my father...dominion over me..."
Sarai joined them, her pregnancy making her movements more deliberate, but her expression no less determined. "Blood is not destiny, Robin," she said quietly. "My people have known this truth for generations. What flows in your veins does not command your heart."
"But he never had full control..." Chrom added, his faith in his friend unwavering. "You can fight it, Robin. And if he expects you to blindly obey, that might be the surprise we need."
Robin looked between them, his expression tortured. "Chrom, you...you put too much faith in me."
Frederick and Khanna approached, their usual stern expressions somehow reassuring in their familiarity. "Get back on that horse, Robin," Frederick commanded. "You can't give up now!"
"But you're not listening!" Robin protested, his voice rising in desperation. "I told you, I'm not—"
"The deed is done," Chrom interrupted firmly. "But you can still try to undo the damage. It's not too late!"
Robin's shoulders slumped in resignation. "All right. I'll...I'll try."
From the edge of the gathering, Lucina watched in silence, her expression unreadable as her gaze followed Robin. Her hand rested unconsciously on Falchion's hilt, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by Odyn, who stood nearby.
Later that night, as the camp settled into an uneasy rest, Lucina sought out Robin, finding him alone near the edge of their encampment. The tactician stood with his back to her, shoulders bowed beneath an invisible weight.
"Beg pardon, Robin," she said quietly. "Might I have a word?"
Robin turned slowly, his eyes reflecting the same haunted look she remembered from her shattered timeline. "...Lucina. What is it?"
"It's about my father," she began, choosing her words carefully. "I have memories of him, you know. From when I was little. Before he...died."
"I see..." Robin's voice was barely audible.
"He was courageous, and kind, and everyone spoke fondly of him," Lucina continued, each word heavy with memory. "People say he was brave right up until the very end. I always yearned to know him better. And now that I do... I can see that the world will be robbed of a very great man." Her voice hardened with resolve. "I won't allow that to happen."
"I understand," Robin replied, his expression softening slightly. "You love him. ...We all do."
Lucina took a deep breath, her hand finding Falchion's hilt. "Robin, I... Please, forgive me..."
In one fluid motion, she drew her sacred blade, pointing it at Robin with a steady hand that belied the turmoil within her.
"Lucina?!" Robin's eyes widened in shock.
"Stay where you are, Robin!" she commanded, her voice steely with determination. "I have no choice. I must kill you."
"What?!" Robin stepped backward in disbelief. "What madness is this?!"
"In my future, you..." Lucina's voice caught momentarily before she forced herself to continue. "You are my father's murderer."
"No!" Robin protested vehemently. "That's insane! Why would I kill Chrom?"
"I was not certain myself, until now..." Lucina explained, her blade unwavering. "I knew he had been killed by his closest friend. Having witnessed your bond with him, I doubted it could be so... But today's events make it clear. You are at Validar's mercy. I suspect it's he who forces you to take my father's life, and very soon..."
"Lucina, wait," Robin pleaded, making no move to defend himself.
"If my father is right, then we can change our fates," Lucina continued, her voice growing more desperate. "If this dark future is to be averted, sacrifices must be made. I am sorry, Robin! I know this is murder, I... I know that..."
"Lucina, you don't have to—"
"Don't make it harder!" she interrupted, her composure beginning to crack. "Don't resist, and your death will be swift and painless. If you hold any love for Chrom, then let this be done..."
From the shadows beyond their confrontation, silent figures watched—Odyn, his flame-orange eyes reflecting understanding rather than judgment; Sarai, one hand resting on her swollen belly where the future of two bloodlines grew; Roy and Lissa, their hands clasped tightly as they witnessed the desperate measures of a princess who had already lost everything once before.
Before Robin could respond, a commanding voice cut through the tension. "Enough!"
Chrom strode forward, his expression a complex mixture of anger and understanding as he inserted himself between Robin and Lucina's blade.
"Father, you don't—" Lucina began, her sword still raised.
"Lucina, lower your sword..." Chrom's voice was firm but not unkind.
"But, Father—"
"LOWER YOUR SWORD!" This time, there was no mistaking the command of the Exalt.
Lucina's resolve finally crumbled. "A-all right." Slowly, she lowered Falchion, its tip touching the ground.
"...I can explain," she offered weakly.
"There's no need," Chrom replied, his expression softening. "You're not the only one who can eavesdrop. I heard every word." He moved closer to his daughter, his eyes full of compassion. "Lucina, I know your heart is in the right place... But I trust Robin. You cannot shake my faith in him."
"This is not about trust!" Lucina protested, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. "He'll be the death of you!"
Chrom placed his hands on her shoulders, his gaze steady and sure. "Robin and I have held fast through good times and ill... We swore to be two halves of a greater whole. You underestimate the strength of those ties, the bonds we share. I believe in them more than some foretold 'destiny.'"
"That is easier to say when you haven't seen it yourself..." Lucina's voice caught on the memory of her father's body, of a world consumed by darkness.
"Lucina," Chrom continued gently, "aren't our ties stronger here now than they were in your future? You said so yourself. In this flow of time we are bound tighter than ever, you and I. Not just as father and daughter... But as friends. We can change things—we already have...and we will again."
Sarai stepped forward, joining her husband and daughter. "The future you remember is not set in stone," she said softly. "Here, you are not alone. Here, we stand together—humans and elves, bound by more than blood or duty."
From beyond the immediate family, Odyn spoke. "The Dragon Crest we bear," he said, touching his forehead where the mark glowed faintly, "reminds us that destinies can be rewritten. It is why our ancestors were blessed with this power—to guard against forces that would bind the future to a single path."
Lucina looked around at the gathered faces—not just her parents and Odyn, but all the others who had quietly assembled: Khanna and Frederick standing side by side, Valvadehrn with his arm protectively around Maribelle, Roy and Lissa with their hands still clasped, Lyra and Vaike, Alek and Nowi, Saibyrh and Ricken, Lynnia and Virion—all of them united in purpose despite their different origins.
These bonds, these connections that transcended blood and borders, had not existed in her shattered timeline. Perhaps, she thought with cautious hope, they might indeed be enough to change fate itself.
"...Very well, Father," she finally conceded, sheathing Falchion. "I would ask your forgiveness, Robin, but I cannot expect it."
Robin stepped forward, his expression one of understanding rather than resentment. "I do forgive you, Lucina. You needn't speak of it again."
Lucina's gaze swept over the assembled faces one more time before settling on Odyn. In his flame-orange eyes, she found not judgment but steadfast support—a silent promise that echoed across timelines.
"I pray..." she began, before correcting herself. "That is, I trust the both of you will prove me wrong. And that this future will fall to pieces before your bond ever would."
As the group dispersed, returning to their duties and preparations for the confrontation that surely awaited them, Lucina remained with Odyn beneath the star-filled sky. The weight of memory—of that smoke-filled great hall, of a final desperate stand, of a kiss that came too late—pressed upon her, yet no longer threatened to overwhelm her.
"This time," Odyn said quietly, his voice carrying to her alone, "you are not fighting alone. This time, the burden is shared."
Lucina looked up at the stars—the same stars that had witnessed the end of her world, yet now seemed to shine with new possibility.
"This time," she agreed, reaching for his hand, "we write a different ending."
To be continued in Chapter 19: An ill Pressage; The Devils make their move?!