Title: Not Again
Fandom: Fire Emblem 7
Pairing/Characters: Eliwood, Hector, Mark (Tactician MAAAAN)
Warning(s): Stupidity, fourth wall breakage.
Genre: Gen

"Don't look now," Hector said, "But I think there is something strange about the tactician."

Anyone who wasn't listening might have thought the scene to be pristine- Eliwood of Pherae and Hector of Ostia standing by a cliff that rolled into gentle forest, the wind at their back, the green of the grass highlighting the contrast between red and blue hair. Anyone who knew them or could hear would realize that Hector was talking nonsense and Eliwood wasn't listening.

"Is that so," Eliwood said, a faraway quality to his voice.

"I'm serious, Eliwood. Don't you think?"

"Give me something to think about."

"Well," Hector said, "We've been fighting this blasted war for ages, and not one death in the army. You'd think he'd slip up at least once."

"Mark is a talented tactician...we should think ourselves lucky, rather than him strange."

"Okay, I'll give you that." Hector paused. "But don't you...ever wonder how he, uh, tacticians us? I don't think I've ever heard him say anything. It's like we just know what to do, and he just walks around and watches."

"We have council with him every day."

"Yeah, but- don't you ever have that weird sensation like you've just died, and then-"

A bolt of lightning raced over his head, singing his hair. In the not-so-far distance, the Fang were on the march, heading straight for their camp. The two of them immediately raised a cry for arms, and in the space between breaths the army prepared itself as well as it could to meet a surprise attack.

Hector found himself on the front lines again, because the Tactician seemed to have a thing for the fact that he could smash the stuffing out of someone faster than anyone else in the army (well, except for Marcus, but Marcus seemed to be sitting out of an awful lot of battles lately). He had stumbled into Florina one second too late.

She screamed, a bloodcurdling sound, as the arrows fell onto her and her mount- the thing died even before the last beat of its wings were finished.

"Florina?"

Grabbing her wounded arm, she had no time to adjust her position before they fell together, ten feet to the ground.

"Florina!"

He ran over- but Mark had gotten there first, and was frowning with- frustration?

"Christ, not again," Mark said. Hector suddenly found himself unable to move. Opening his book to the first page, Mark sighed and spoke.

"By the powers vested in me," he chanted in an unnecessarily eerie voice, "I call upon the powers of Ae, Bee, Starte and Selecte! Take us back to the place we were before! RESETTE!"

x x x

"Don't look now," Hector said, "But I think there is something strange about the tactician."

Anyone who wasn't listening might have thought the scene to be pristine- Eliwood of Pherae and Hector of Ostia standing by a cliff that rolled into gentle forest, the wind at their back, the green of the grass highlighting the contrast between red and blue hair. Anyone who knew them or could hear would realize that Hector was talking nonsense and Eliwood wasn't listening.