Fire Emblem 6.5

Chapter 3- Our Paths Are Crossing Again

(Insert Unecessary Disclaimer Here)

OOC: Yes! The bold print has been omitted from the chapter, so the result shouldn't be so painstakingly difficult to read. As you can see, Chappie 3 had to go bye-bye :3..not the right place in the story. When this side tale is finished, I'll probably repost it. Until then. By the way, finding a usage checker is virtually impossible (if it exists :(), so please excuse my using (e.g you're instead of your or anything that bypassed the speelcheck)

Aura: You should give me a cameo..:P

Our story shall now break away from the tales of our established hero and villains.The events that take place from here on will state the happenings of the monarchy superpower known as Bern. Comparable in mass to the nearby country of Etruia, no country has had the courage to stand up to Bern's might in fear of starting a full-scale war. What few know, however, is one of the the country's many dark secrets. Citizens were aware of the emotional feud between the king and queen going on for some time. Yet when Queen Hellene passed on some time ago, before that was an onslaught of battery, hatred, and even a rumored assasination. Even in midst of this trouble, the government's "Crowned Jewels" flourished. Prince Zephiel and Princess Guinevere: at some point, one of these two were destined to become a firm voice to influence all of Elibe. For now, though...

Bern Manse, 11 Years before the Second Scouring

It is indeed surprising that, in the center of the day, the castle stood silent. The halls had no serfs to attend to the noble's rooms. No maiden was present to clean the pantries. No even a thread of tapestry moved inside on any corridor. What had been responsible for the quiet? In actuality, the kingdoms laborers lay in their own rooms, given the day off by the crown prince himself. In the echoing throne room, he had merely been seated by the main throne, gazing at the large, gold-finished hinged door that was placed smack in the center of the rectangular sitting place. Zephiel sat with a melancholy expression, only slightly lightened by his sister's nearby conversation with a nearby guard. With his head laying on the palm of his hand, his glazed eyes switched slyly to the right to get a glimpse of the two. "Milady, surely you cannot have me rest while your security is at risk!" bellowed the obese watchman. "This "break" as you so calmly put it can do nothing but harm. What if a thief enters the castle? What if a nearby province send an army. Or if the entire continent itself would-" Guinevere payed almost no attention to her guard's detestment to her suggestion. Merely looking at him with a warm smile and a suppressed giggle, she politely ended his rambling with a few words of her own. "Sir Ferdinand, you can't honestly mean that. For nearly the past decade, not one trouble has truly offset the balance of nature here. In fact, with the sentries volunteering, no harm could be done without prior notice. You honestly have been overworked these past few weeks. Some time to yourself shouldn't be so much of a disaster."

Again, quiet befell the room where the dispute had been halted. That was until the guard let out a hearty laugh from his girth at his own expense. "Aha! The Princess indeed prepared before the time comes. Maybe she is correct in those words. Very well! I shall retire to my quarters for now. You will be seeing me on the morrow to defend Her Majesty once more!" And with that, the man waddled through one of the smaller doors on each side of the thrones, and left. In a sense, he was now dumbfounded by the conversation. Giving a light sigh, he turned his head in order to speak to his sister. "You honestly do have a knack for simplifying things," he barely whispered. "Do you, my sister, for a second truly think Father will allow this without his leave?" Guinevere merely gave a quick nod because of her success and responded. "Dear brother, you make it sound so...negative. I only want to ensure that our loyal guards receive fair treatment. I am sure that Father will understand." "If you must have it that way," he responded with a hidden smirk, giving up on winning an argument with his younger sister. As the chapter in that small book closed, a ferocious yell rang through the western end of the building. The sound was so loud that a family of crows perched on one of the roofs frantically fled, leaving a slew of feathers floating in the sky. The voice yelling was that of Desmond, the current king of Bern and the siblings' father. Though muffled, one could decribe the voice as yelling, "ZEPHIEL?! WHAT BUSINESS DOES THAT BLASTED BOY HAVE WITH PALACE AFFAIRS?!" Many rushed out in an attempt to pacify the king, but they fail due to fact that he was too angry to listen to reason. He raised one hand to burst open a door leading to the throne chamber. From there, the corridor split into three directions, Desmond taking the left one as he mumbled to himself the entire time.

Reaching the end of the hall, he again flung open the door to enter the room where his children sat. Stroking his mustache, the way he usually did as a habit when angered, he surprisingly did not yell. However, while giving a cold glare at his son he uttered some angry words in a nonchalant tone. "In these 24 years I have raised you, this should not have surprised me. I awoke at around midday due to the extensive matters I had to attend to concerning the national welfare last night...very tiresome indeed. Immediately after I awoke, I summoned a maiden to bring me a small cup of wine to ease my headache. Do you know what she told me? "The prince had given most of the workers a brief relaxation period. We will be settling down for most of the day." ...Do you know how MUCH that infuriates me?!" As his father then began to ramble on about just how much the event infuriated him, the prince tried his best to explain himself. "Father, when these people where dismissed, I meant no harm to you. They had seemed overexerted." "No harm, boy? I will-!" "It was I, Father," the Princess blurted to stop the argument. "Brother had nothing to do with this mishap. If you must reprimand someone, I should be the one to blame." Flabbergasted by his own behavior, the king turned his eyes to his daughter to speak to her. "G-Gui...this was your doing?" "Yes, Father," she meekly responded. With this knowledge, the once unsettled king was reduced to his regular demeanor, only lecturing his daughter at most. "This girl of mine..honestly! I demand the servers be put back to work as of now. I will return to my quarters. Yet I promise this, daughter: if you defy me in such a way again, the consequences will be far more severe."

With that, King Desmond of Bern left just the way that he had arrived: stomping, grumbling, and all. "I will return in a few hours," Zephiel said, embittered by his father's biased assumption. "Guinevere, I trust that you will be able to maintain things until then." "But-!" Before she had time to say anything other than, she watched as her brother gripped his key to open the main door, flying through the crease as soon as it opened. The slam resounded for a few more seconds, until the only sound left was that of a lonely woman and her conscience, regretting the mistake that had caused much discord. "Father...why do you hate my brother so?" she lamented as she gazed upon her lap, a slight blur affecting her vision. Wiping the drops away with a stroke of her red velvet sleeve, Guinevere calmly left to attend to the castle. Alas, silence was the victor in this pageant of contempt.

Meanwhile, concerning the prince, the day had become dark. Being able to slip past security determined to confine him, he found himself strolling through the courtyard in the back of the castle. Letting out a large sigh, he stood in the center of the lush field and began to reminisce. It was quite obvious that he and his father were never on agreeable terms. This started from his childhood and eventually worsened. It was in this yard that Guinevere had received a pet from her brother's hunting trip...where Desmond had condemn the boy's mere presence...and where the assassination attempt on the boy's life was so foully planned. "Disgusting", Zephiel uttered. "It seems that in this time...I have become bitter. On no terms can I agree with Father. Through youth I have tried my absolute best to gain his favor. In the meantime, I have received almost nothing in return. It is even a fact that in this very spot, that dark night was caused by-" "Ah! Help!" A cry rang out in the bushes. "Who is there?!" the nobleman hurriedly questioned. The voice was that of a woman, apparently snagged in a thorn bush. He cautiously stepped forward to get a good look at the victim. It was a girl of about his own age, if not older. Her attire, at best, was quite shameful: a peasant's brown rags sewn together with cheap orange string, tearing at the hem. Her hair was a violet red, straight and flowing to her backside. In her worried and teary eyes was a hint of either purple or brown: extremely difficult to determine given the situation. Her supple and slim figure were completely hidden by a tattered mess. When Zephiel slowly reached his gloved hand outward to lend a hand, seemingly out of nowhere, the girl pulled a dagger from a cotton pouch, imploring him to stay back.

"Be calm," he soothingly replied. "The wound on your ankle seems grave. You'll have to get it fixed. By the way, what are you doing here?" She maintained her fearful look and edged away, her skin still ripping from the thorn. Stopping to wince in pain, she looked at him. "G-Go away! I don't need any help from you. I...came here for food: the village needs it. If you do not let me go-" "You'll do what?" Zephiel retorted. "You truly are a member of the lower class. Tell me: what harm do you think will befall you if I have nothing to gain from it. Come closer. I'll bring you inside. You can have all the time you wish. I will merely remain here." One minute then passed...then two, maybe even three. The prince started for the castle gate, when at that moment... "You...promise I will not be harmed?" she muttered, hoping to be heard. "Not one word," as he took her by the hand, careful to remove the stray vines from the girl's path. "I will lead you to the dungeon. Rest assured, not a hand will touch you until you recuperate. Before we go..your name, if I may."

"Brenya," a now bashful woman piped with the strength she had. "What a lovely name," Prince Zephiel commented. "Let us go now. i know a certain someone who would be pleased to make your acquaintance.