In the Name of the Fang By: Capybara B:12-7-04 E:

Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem.

A/N: Hello, my gracious readers. In these next pages, I hope to tell you a decent story. This is totally different from fan fiction that I've written previously...and not so different. I don't know a lot about these character's history, so if anyone knows, tell me and maybe I can fix this story up a little. Please, enjoy the story. This is an original paring, I hope. Please review.

Prelude- I only want to protect others

He looked down at her, searching her features intently. She sat calmly on the ground, and by the way her legs were positioned gracefully under her he could tell that she was from a high born family. Her eyes were covered with the blindfold he had placed over her eyes, for as much intimidation as keeping her from knowing her surroundings. She had long sapphire hair that fell far below her shoulders. The skin he could see of her face was pale, she had a small nose and her lips were held tightly together.

She was nervous, but trying not to let on. Indeed, he eyed her costume and was able to conclude much about her. This woman...no, this girl, was wearing what looked like the clothes of a peasant. At least, what was supposed to be the clothes of a peasant. The fabric was too new, too soft of a material to be the cheap articles one could buy in a marketplace. And her earrings were not the poor-quality gold that was the only type of jewelry that peasants could afford. In each of the curved golden earrings, a small cluster of rubies and diamonds were arranged in a way that indicated exactly were she was from. Those jewels were the symbols of House Andria, a rather small noble family that was not particularly rich or influential.

Had not Lord Trey been killed by a mysterious assassin only weeks ago? He puzzled over this for a moment. Was this why she was here? Of course. And would this girl sitting before him, be one of Trey's daughters? He smiled in amusement. This would be interesting.

"Get up," he commanded her harshly, wondering at her reaction. She obediently stood up and waited for his next order. He grabbed her by the wrist. She showed no reaction. He tugged her towards that door. She followed silently. He proceeded to lead her outside the cottage, which was surrounded by only forest. If she panicked and screamed, as he expected her to sooner or later, no one would hear her. He made her walk into the thick forest, which was only now beginning to turn orange with the coming of fall.

Since she was blindfolded, he had to tell her when to watch her footing and when to make sure she did not run into a tree. After a short while, he turned her around a couple of times to disorient her. Then, satisfied that she did not even know the difference between up and down, promptly lead her back into the very same cottage.

This was a trick that he had used several times before. It made the blindfolded person less likely to bolt, for they believed that they were somewhere completely different, and did not know the terrain. This time, when he opened the door to the cottage and marched her into the room, he made her sit on a wooden stool. In the corner two men stood together, eyeing the girl.

"Now," he said in his fiercest voice, "what makes you think that you can join the Black Fang?" The girl was surprisingly composed for what she was going through. She swallowed and spoke in a voice that was strong and unwavering. "I have come here seeking a place. I have no home to return to, for I...killed someone."

That was not unusual. Most everyone who sought to join the Black Fang had killed someone, and thought that made them worthy. Still, she was so very young to have killed someone already. Not the youngest, but young. He doubted she knew what she was getting herself into.

"You killed someone?" His voice was a quiet whisper. He was always the person who interrogated people. He was well known for his silver tongue. Now he laughed softly to eat away at her confidence. "You killed someone, and you think that now you can join a league of assassins? A group of people who live in the shadows, who get their food from killing people? Tell me: Were you sick after you killed this person? Did you cry? Did you feel remorse, knowing that you robbed a person of the only real possession they had?"

Her face grew paler than what he figured was her normal skin color. Of course she had. Everyone who had a speck of conscience suffered greatly after the first person they killed. He had a difficult time after his first killing, but he got used to it. It never got easier, just less painful.

"I did," she admitted shamelessly. He was startled. She admitted it? No one had ever admitted it before. "But I knew that what I had done was necessary. I had to kill him. Or he would have killed another." She sat up straight and with a calm assurance.

"Do you realize what lives members of the Black Fang lead? We lead lives that we know that any day might be our final, any meal our last, every breath counts off one more second that we were safe, that we can never be assured of again. You, a pretty little noble child..." She stiffened. Obviously she had thought her disguise would fool him. Now it was time to reveal to her just how much he knew about her.

"You killed your own father. Lord Trey, was he not, Lady?" Her hands were tight fists in her lap, her knuckles white. That, however, was the extent of his knowledge. He had not had the chance to learn which daughter she was, and therefore, did not know her name.

"I had to," she defended herself. "I know that he would have killed my mother, had I not. My father was...a monster. Every night, he would scream at my mother, and if it was a good night, would only hit my eldest sister...blaming her for not being the male heir he needed. Then one night, he came to our chambers, and I could see that something had happened. He had had a bad day at court, too much drink, and his eyes were blazing with a rage I had never seen before.

"He had a knife...and went after my mother...and I knew if I did not do something...he would kill her...so...I grabbed the ornamental dagger on the dresser...and..." She paused, and continued with a voice that was thick with the effort of holding back her true emotions. "And I killed him. And now, I have no future. So I have come here. What use to society is a girl like me, who has bloodied her hands? But the Black Fang, though assassins, do what needs to be done. Your deeds are...noble. So I have come. I know a little of the skill of anima magic...and healing. Before I left, I was in training to be a Valkyrie."

He had almost approved of her, until she added the fact she was a Valkyrie in training. He had never heard of a person, who had trained in the art of healing, who was an assassin. She would be too in tune with her victim's pain. He looked to the other two men in the corner. They looked back at him, indifferently. She had not done anything to impress them yet, but she had not done anything to ruin her chances either.

"In the Black Fang, you cannot count on your fellow assassins not to politely shove a knife in your back," he stated. "In fact..." He drew his sword and lightly touched the blade to her exposed throat. She did not draw back like most people. Her body simply shuddered from the touch of the cold steel. She smiled grimly.

"Go ahead. Kill me. I am not worth living," She murmured. "I only hoped that by joining the Black Fang, I could help protect others from the type of people my father was."

That was it. She had said the exact ideal of the Black Fang. He only shot a cursory glance at the other two men and knew that they would nod in acceptance. She was not a person who enjoyed killing for the sake of killing. Those were accepted into the Black Fang as well, but were not as favored as those who killed, not happily, but because it had to be done.

This girl had just earned herself the chance to prove whether or not she was capable of becoming an assassin. If she truly had the skills to do it, she would live. If she failed, she would be killed. The Black Fang could not afford any loose tongues.

In one swift motion he slid his sword up from her neck to her forehead, where he deftly cut the blindfold. The cloth fell from her eyes, which were as blue as her hair. She gazed around the room, looking at the man who had been talking to her, and noting the two men in the corner with some surprise. The man who had been talking to her was a young man, just barely old enough to be called a man. He had golden hair and eyes to match. The men in the corner were different enough in age to be father and son. The elder man was just approaching middle age, with dull brown hair, sharp brown eyes, and terrible scars on his face. The younger man had sandy hair and the same eyes as the older man.

"What is your name?" The man asked, still with his blade out.

She looked him directly in the eye and said, "Ursula."