SF's "Write Your Butt Off" II - Return of Writer's Block

[Dragoncat]

I have a shell of an idea, may or may not actually do it.

[Rapier]

3 hours ago, Shoblongoo said:

Plz feel free to use [Tsubkai x Severa/Selena =  Cordelia/Caeldori]; Through the wonderful nonsense of timefuckery, Severa accidentally slept with her maternal grandfather and became her own grandma as a jumping-off point 

  

Uh... you sure you haven't been playing too much CK2 and dwelling for too long on incest? :V

Except if it were CK2, it'd be through the wonderful nonsense of mechanics abuse and algorithmfuckery.

[Jotari]

I agree we should keep the word count limit the same. As I said before, while I think it's better for stories to be on the shorter side, I prefer it if people can write without worrying about their word counts. 10,000 does a pretty decent job of that.

[AnonymousSpeed]

[TheSilentChloey]

This story is taking a while.  I'm 95% sure of how it's going to end up but...eh I tried at least...

 

ETA:

Story is done so if anyone wants to proof read I'd appreciate it very much.  More the merrier.

Edited September 7, 2018 by TheSilentChloey

[SoulWeaver]

13 hours ago, AnonymousSpeed said:

...You ever heard the song about this? It makes it so much better.

[AnonymousSpeed]

On 9/7/2018 at 1:21 PM, SoulWeaver said:

...You ever heard the song about this? It makes it so much better.

I have not. Link?

[SoulWeaver]

14 hours ago, AnonymousSpeed said:

I have not. Link?

This version's my favorite since the video makes it that much better. My connection's being screwy so I can't tell if it's still up or anything, but I assume it is. If not, you can just google 'I'm my own Grandpa' and it should come up with some videos.

[Dragoncat]

I'm my own Grandpa is bizarre lol.

I've started on my idea! So I will be entering.

[AnonymousSpeed]

7 hours ago, SoulWeaver said:

This version's my favorite since the video makes it that much better. My connection's being screwy so I can't tell if it's still up or anything, but I assume it is. If not, you can just google 'I'm my own Grandpa' and it should come up with some videos.

The 2008 upload date is very discernable.

Edited September 10, 2018 by AnonymousSpeed

[eclipse]

I'm way too busy, and apparently we have another tropical storm on the way.  'sides, I don't even know where to start with that prompt.

Need to write up that second part I promised.  It'll be for the first story. . .and I decided on a worse fate than having the good Captain scream at everyone.

EDIT: DONE!  Well, sort-of.  It's as good as it'll get, for now.  I really like this word FSR.

Spoiler

Vincent rubbed his still-aching head.  It had been three days since Arthur had prematurely fired the stasis patch.  The usual vertigo, nausea, and fatigue sounded almost pleasant.  He'd woken up after two days, and the water he sipped an hour ago had finally stayed down.  Maybe he'd be able to hold down some soup in a couple of days.  Once he was able to eat properly, he'd be released, and then he'd have to catch up on all the physical training he'd missed.  His musings were interrupted by a still-scowling Captain Pierce.

"You've probably forgotten everything about that little incident in the simulator by now, and the doctors won't let me yell at you properly.  So in lieu of a proper debriefing, you are to memorize everything in this book.  Your next assignment will be as soon as you're released from the hospital.  Do I make myself clear?"  Vincent eyed the book, which looked to be about three hundred pages, bound by a worn blue cover that had definitely seen better days.  He thought he saw some dark spots on what little of the spine he could see.

"U-understood."  Without a word, his superior officer dropped the book on a nearby tray, and left.  Curiosity got the better of him, and he read the spine on the book, then did a double take.

"Mildred's Book of Manners?  What does this have to do with anything?"

---

Arrive fifteen minutes early.  Don't fiddle with things like hair or cuff links.  Stand up straight.  Greet her with a smile, then hold the door for her.  And above all, respect her wishes.  Reading the book had been almost as bad as one of Captain Pierce's debriefings.  The earpiece he wore crackled.

"How're you holding up?"  Vincent winced as Arthur's voice echoed painfully in his eardrums.

"I was fine, until you shouted in my ear," he grumbled.

"Ah, sorry!  Your mission begins in ten minutes.  Can I do anything for you?"  The next set of questions was at a much more comfortable volume.

"Explain what the hell the captain was thinking," Vincent said sarcastically.

"He wouldn't tell ME the specifics.  My job is to monitor you guys, and yours is to get through the evening without a fight.  I kinda wish I was in your shoes, for once."  Vincent couldn't help but chuckle.  He stood outside of Fleur's Finest, a restaurant whose quality was only matched by its unreasonable prices.  A careless patron could spend two week's worth of earnings on one dinner.  As this was an official assignment, Vincent would shoulder none of the costs - instead, the lucky taxpayers of the Lacrius Kingdom would sponsor it.  He caught his own reflection in the restaurant's glass door, and allowed himself a small smile.  Though he despised formal wear, he had to admit that the dark blue suit contrasted his blue-green eyes nicely.  The suit was accented by silver buttons and cuff links emblazoned with two crossed rapiers on a red shield - the royal emblem of Lacrius.  Oddly enough, he hadn't been given any sort of tie, and when he asked about it, he had gotten a shrug in reply.

A black car drove up to the front, its windows heavily tinted.  Vincent gasped as a familiar figure stepped out.  The blond woman from his training exercise stood in front of him.  Much to his surprise, her gaze lingered on him for several tense moments.

"You clean up surprisingly well, Vincent," she commented.  He recognized that voice!

"T-Thelma?!  Your Highness?" he managed to choke out.  "But why?"

"I'm under the name Amelia while I'm out and about," she whispered.  "Just as you're Conrad while you're in the restaurant.  We're supposed to be on our first date."

"R-right.  I met you while shopping for eggs or something like that, and you had the most beautiful laugh."  She rolled her eyes.

"It sounds like something that they asked Arthur to write," she commented wryly.

"I heard that!" came an indignant voice from Vincent's earpiece.

"Yes, Arthur, you came in loud and clear."  She shot Vincent a bright smile.  "Well, shall we?"

The interior of the restaurant had spared no expense.  A dark red carpet gently cushioned the duo's steps as they walked to the hostess station.  A few minutes later, and they were led to a table tucked away in the corner.  Vincent ignored Arthur's chatter as he took note of the glasses in a dark walnut cabinet behind him.  To the left, he noticed a trio of men in black suits, escorting what appeared to be a shorter gentleman who looked old enough to be Vincent's grandfather, an even shorter woman who almost looked young enough to be the man's daughter, and two children.  The older of the children appeared to be about ten years old, while the younger couldn't have been more than five.  The entire family wore dark green, though the suit color looked absurd on the man.  The woman's slim form moved seamlessly in her evening gown.  The older child fiddled with his jacket sleeves, while the younger child brushed something off of the flaring skirt of her dress.

"The Franklin family," Thelma whispered.  "They're barely considered nobility.  I don't know why they need an entire section to themselves.  Or a squad of guards."

"Word on the street is that they've been shorting their workers," Vincent whispered back.  "The news won't report it, of course."

"Tell me about it," Thelma said dryly.  "I'm not allowed out of the castle except for special occasions like these.  How am I supposed to be effective if I can't be among my own people?"

"Hell if I know," Vincent grumbled.  "But that's what I'm here for.  Along with Arthur, Norman, Flynn, Carrie, and Martin."

"You six are the reason why I haven't gone insane yet."  Vincent gave her a sympathetic nod.  Two years ago, she was given the choice of marrying a high-ranking noble from the Rothwell Empire, or joining the royal guard.  If she chose the latter, she wouldn't be allowed out of the castle unsupervised until she completed her training, which took five years.  He'd heard that she'd taken all of ten seconds to make her decision.

"Pity that Carrie and Martin were caught with cigarettes, and aren't allowed out for another month.  Norman's falling behind on his studies, so Flynn's tutoring him.  Arthur has his own training, so that leaves me to be your eyes and ears for the time being."

The waiter chose that time to interrupt Vincent's thoughts.  Much to his surprise, Thelma ordered a fish in a raspberry sauce.  Vincent went with a steak, something that he was familiar with.  Once the waiter had left, Vincent narrowed his eyes.

"Out with it," Thelma said pointedly.

"You know more about fancy restaurants than I do.  What's the turnover like?"  Thelma shot him a quizzical look.  "The waiter nearly dropped his pen, and spent his time looking around.  Sort of like how I was in that simulation."

"Yeah.  That."  The two fell silent for a few moments.  "Sorry about that, by the way.  I was told that someone would make an attempt on my life, and my job was to stop it by any means."

"If I'd known it was you, I wouldn't have been so gentle," Vincent said with a small chuckle.  "But why'd they make you wear the wig and the contacts in there?"

"Because I'm expected to grow my hair out before I finish my training.  And you'd recognize me without either of them."  As much as he hated to admit it, she was right.  His mental image of her was a tomboyish young woman with short-cropped chestnut hair, gray eyes full of mischief, and a lean figure.  Curves were out of the question!

"W-well, besides the wig and contacts," he stuttered, his eyes drifting below her neck.  He bit back a yelp as she stepped on his foot.

"We women have our secrets!" she snapped.  Thelma's gaze darted around the restaurant, and Vincent's followed.  A few heads were turned towards them.  Thelma took his hands in hers, and leaned over, giving Vincent an even better view.  "Be a good boy during dinner, and I might even tell you," she purred, something he never imagined she'd do.

"Y-yes dear," he said hastily.  His earpiece echoed with laughter.

Any other conversation was interrupted by the mixed greens that Thelma had ordered.  Vincent carefully extracted a slice of bread, grabbed what he thought was the butter knife, and took a pat and put it on the smaller plate.  The butter was dotted with small black specks, apparently some sort of poppy seed spread.  Thelma's attention was on the waiter, who spoke into his sleeve.

"That is not normal," she commented.  "And he's staring at the Franklins, yet he wasn't the one that took their order."

"Thelma, when your waiter comes back, lock eyes with him.  I want to check something," Arthur cut in.

"Why her?" Vincent blurted out.

"I can see through her contacts," Arthur explained.  "When you're really ready for duty, you'll get to wear them, too!"  The thought of putting his fingers in his eyes caused Vincent to involuntarily shudder.  Thelma glanced around, then tore into her salad as if she was back at the barracks, and had to report somewhere in five minutes.  She hastily patted her mouth down with her napkin and waited, a smug smile on her face.

"Are you done with that, miss?" the waiter asked.

"Yes, I am," Thelma replied, wearing her most disarming smile.  "The house dressing is really something else," she added.

"Something's not right," Arthur said gravely.  "I couldn't get a retinal scan.  He'd have to wear a pair of specialized contacts for that."  Vincent's attention wandered to the winding staircase that led up to a curtained something-or-other.  He held up a finger, and made a beeline towards the hostess station.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"What's that staircase for?" he asked.

"That is reserved for employees," the hostess replied, irritation in her voice.

"Thanks for your time," Vincent mumbled.  He came back just in time to see another waiter converge towards Thelma.

"Where's the bathrooms?" she asked sweetly.

"Past the staircase, and down the hall."

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Vincent asked.

"Check out the staircase?  Yeah.  I'll go talk to the Franklins, because I know how much you love rubbing elbows with nobles."

"Thanks dear, you're a lifesaver."  Thelma stuck his tongue out at him as he left.

A cord hung down one of the railings, the sign informing patrons that they were to keep out dangling at a near-unreadable angle.  Before he could think better of it, Vincent scaled the stairs.  He could always claim that he got lost on the way to the bathroom.

Two halls branched off.  One led deeper into the restaurant, while the other seemed to be some sort of walkway suspended above the restaurant.  The latter was occupied by a crouching figure.

"Hey, Arthur," Vincent said quietly.  "Tell Thelma to look up, and to the right of the staircase."

"Uh, okay.  Thelma, look up and to the right of the staircase."

"What the--AH!"  Vincent swore as the sound of a muted explosion came from the walkway.  Before the crouching figure could fully turn towards him, Vincent had tackled him.  He grunted as he felt a knee to his midsection, then cried out as something slashed his face.  He'd left his usual switchblade back in the barracks!

"The shielding unit protected me, but it's chaos down here.  What in the hell did Vincent do?"  Vincent allowed himself a small sigh of relief.  She was safe!

"Found the sniper, apparently.  But I'm not picking up Vincent's signal - or the sniper's!"  A loud crash interrupted everyone's dinner, as the unfortunate sniper landed in the middle of the restaurant.  Vincent followed, breaking his fall on an empty table.

"I have a visual on the sniper," Thelma said gravely.  "Hey, you guys.  Stop looking so damn lost and get them to a quiet corner!" she yelled.

"I could use some help here!" Vincent shouted, hoping that his journey to the ground floor hadn't damaged his communication equipment.  "Sniper's getting away."

"Not for long," Thelma said, then hiked her skirt, making a mental note to ask for a slit down the side.  She grabbed a plate and threw it, then grinned as it bounced off the sniper.  He paused long enough for her to deliver a kick to his knee.  He snarled and grabbed her, placing something sharp near her throat.

"Don't move, or she dies!" he yelled.  Vincent stopped in his tracks.  From the shadows, two waiters appeared, each wielding a gun pointed at the general public.

"This is your first and last warning.  Let go of me," she growled.

"I know you're both in there, but I can't find either of you," Arthur grumbled.

"An earpiece?" the man who held her said softly.  "You're worth something."

"And you're worthless."  She followed her comment by stomping down on his foot, heel first.  Her heel stayed true to its course until it hit the ground.  Her captor jerked in pain, and a couple of well-placed elbows freed her from his grasp.  She freed her heel and threw her back towards the wall, as the two waiters fired towards her.  One of the waiters went down as Vincent tackled him.

"Hey, Vincent," Arthur's voice came over his earpiece.  "Point your right fist towards your target, and tap your right cuff link twice."

"This had better not be one of your pranks," Vincent grumbled, following the directions he'd been given.  He let out a yelp as a pale blue energy blade shot out of his wrist and took off the head of his opponent.  The second waiter hesitated, as did Vincent.

"Are you crazy?  That's a fusion blade!" Thelma exclaimed.

"And?  We had to test the unit's casing, just as you're testing out your outfit," Arthur explained, his voice strained.

"But you can't hold it for that long!  This thing kills operators!  And wielders, if they're not up to it!"

"I'm placing my life in your hands.  Please, trust me, and each other.  That's the oath we took when we first started training."  The usual teasing was gone from Arthur's voice.

"Very well," Vincent said.  "But know that I'm going to personally kick the ass of whoever authorized this if you die."  He met the other waiter's gaze.  "You wanna join your buddy over there?" he asked lightly, motioning towards the headless corpse.  The waiter wisely dropped his gun and put his hands up in the air.  Thelma took out one of the pins that held her wig in place and stabbed the waiter in the cheek.  He collapsed in an undignified heap.  Vincent deactivated the blade, then held his side.

"Is it supposed to feel like I broke my ribs?" he gasped out.

"Take it easy," Thelma said, gently lowering him to the ground.  "You're lucky that you're alive."  She felt him stiffen, and sighed. He wasn't going to be happy about his stasis patch activating again!

---

The controls swam in Arthur's view.  Vincent's vital signs had plummeted, and the young operator was positive that it wasn't due to a leg cramp this time.  The fusion blade was a royal guard's last resort - unsheathing it put the lives of both operator and wielder on the line, as the blade drained the very life force out of both.  Yet nothing could compare to its raw destructive power.  It could cut through a bomb shelter's doors as if it were paper.  A mere graze from the blade could strip flesh to the bone.

And yet someone had thought that their combat unit, still in training, was capable of wielding such power.  Arthur was one of the youngest mages to be selected as an operator.  A mage of average aptitude could generate a light breeze.  Advanced mages could materialize small objects, and practiced this skill in simulations alongside their guards.  Only the best could even think about using themselves as one of the power sources for a fusion blade.  And he just did that.

"I'm good," he mumbled, as the room faded to black.  Were those footsteps he heard?

---

The captain swore as he saw the scene in front of him.  Thelma's camera was aimed towards Vincent, his face taking up most of her view.  He'd have to talk to her about that, later.  Even after a mission, she had to pay attention to her surroundings.  Her dress had blocked the bullets that had been aimed at her, but those hadn't been particularly powerful.  The shielding unit in her necklace absorbed the worst of the sniper's bullet, and would have most likely been fried.  Another light on the control panel indicated that Vincent's stasis patch was active.  A quick check of his vitals brought on another bout of swearing.  Another moment later, and the stasis patch would've activated on a corpse.  The operator in charge of the mission was on the floor, unresponsive.  Captain Pierce gently turned him over, biting his lip as he saw the boy's eyes rolled back into his head.

"Forgive me," he muttered, before concentrating on a spot on the floor.  In moments, what appeared to be a small orange materialized.  He squeezed the fruit into the boy's mouth, ignoring the juice that ran down his sleeves.  "Wake up, dammit!"  He was rewarded with a weak cough.

"Dad?  I hate oranges," the boy said weakly.

"Hate me all you want while you're alive," the older man said gruffly.

"You were. . .worried about me. . ."  The normally-gruff captain wrapped his son in a hug.

"Yeah.  Don't scare me like that again."

"I'm sorry.  And thank you."  The boy's eyes closed, but the color had returned to his face.  The captain put his son down, and typed a couple of commands into the terminal.  He felt the blood drain from his face as he read the data on the fusion blade.

Three minutes.  That's how long Arthur and Vincent were able to keep it up.  Teams that had specifically trained for it could keep the blade active for five minutes, but it usually cost the operator their life.  Two untrained rookies had pulled it off for over half of the time, and both would live to tell about it.

"You're gonna be a damned legend, if you don't get yourself killed first," he muttered.

---

Thelma finished the last of the report, and wiped the sweat off of her brow.  It had been a week since the incident in the restaurant, and Vincent still wasn't cleared to return to duty.  Arthur was allowed to study, but he wouldn't be able to use his magic for another two weeks.  Once the two surviving assassins had been arrested, Thelma had to analyze every last imperfection in her dress, as well as evaluate the cosmetics she wore, the damage to her right shoe, the fried circuitry in the shielding unit that had saved her from a bullet "that should've punched right through it", and the wear and tear on the fusion blade generator.  Though the reports were about as interesting as watching paint dry, the entire point of both the earlier simulation and the restaurant outing was to evaluate how each component handled itself.  The latter wasn't supposed to be a live-fire exercise, but she was silently thankful that Arthur had insisted that both of them wear a stasis patch.

The assassination attempt had been carried out by some no-names from the Lacrius Liberation Front, a group that wanted to rid the kingdom of the noble class, and turn it into a democracy.  Yet they had a romanticized idea of what the Falworth Islands were like - yes, everyone got a say, but it wasn't too hard to manipulate the vote when the populace was too busy to properly research the candidates!  Companies funded the campaigns through forced individual donations from their employees, and it wasn't uncommon to have certain industries boom when certain people were elected.

The nobility itself wasn't perfect either - families like the Franklins were just as bad as some of the corporations in the Falworth Islands.  Yet the nobility could have their title yanked at any time, while dissolving a company was a far messier process.  The monarchy wasn't perfect, but as long as the ruler knew what their people wanted, it wasn't so bad.

Worst of all, she didn't get a chance to eat her fish, and the restaurant didn't do take-out orders.  At least they were only charged for her salad!

The exhaustion from the past week caught up to her, and she lay down on her bed.  Though she was the princess, she was also a trainee, so she got the same basic gray bunk as everyone else.  The only difference was that she didn't have a roommate.

As her breathing slowed, she silently hoped that she wouldn't dream of the weird white light again.

---

"This isn't possible," the captain mumbled to himself, comparing the damage to Thelma's report.  "She should be dead.  Not even a power spike could've saved her."

"That's my daughter you're talking about," another man said sharply.

"My apologies, Your Highness," the captain said, unapologetically.  "But what could've stopped that bullet?  She had some bruises, but was otherwise fine."

"And two trainees pulled off one of the longest fusion blade sessions, without either of them dying," the king continued.  "Do you think it's true?"

"We've had several recruits with latent magic," the captain replied.  "This wouldn't be the first time an operator was paired with multiple guard candidates who had that untapped potential."

"When the sword and shield of Lacrius are brought to bear, only then will the empire of the dead strike."  The captain froze.  It was a prophecy carried by the royal family.  So far, it had predicted every single invasion attempt by the Rothwell Empire.  And so far, it had thwarted every single one.

"And when sword and shield have been laid to rest, Lacrius will know peace.  So it will continue until the living and the dead embrace, and then the war will come to an end."

"We're supposed to give the Empire scum a hug?  They're the ones that turned away from magic."  The king shook his head.

"It's a prophecy, and it's stupidly vague.  Have you had those two tested for magical potential?"

"Vincent's parents are from the Empire, so he should be as magic-dead as the lot of 'em.  Thelma's your kid, so she's gonna have some.  She ain't operator-level, if heritage is anything to go by."  The king chuckled at his friend's words.

"Have them both tested.  The analysis results don't lie."

"Yeah.  Also gotta trace those assassins.  They had all the tools to block our attempts to scan and track 'em.  And we know how common retinal-blocking contacts are."

"Rothwell Empire specialty, of course," the king added dryly.

"You think the next cycle's happening?  We're overdue by twenty years, if the record-keepers are any good."

"Yeah.  For now, train them like nothing's wrong.  If they're the ones the prophecy speaks of--"

"Evacuate 'em, and train 'em for real," the captain finished.

 

Edited September 10, 2018 by eclipse

[Interdimensional Observer]

15 hours ago, eclipse said:

I'm way too busy, and apparently we have another tropical storm on the way.  'sides, I don't even know where to start with that prompt.

It was Hector before, and now it's Olivia right? Thought she'd be too shy to make landfall. My sympathies. 

[SoulWeaver]

18 hours ago, eclipse said:

I'm way too busy, and apparently we have another tropical storm on the way.  'sides, I don't even know where to start with that prompt.

Need to write up that second part I promised.  It'll be for the first story. . .and I decided on a worse fate than having the good Captain scream at everyone.

EDIT: DONE!  Well, sort-of.  It's as good as it'll get, for now.  I really like this word FSR.

  Reveal hidden contents

Vincent rubbed his still-aching head.  It had been three days since Arthur had prematurely fired the stasis patch.  The usual vertigo, nausea, and fatigue sounded almost pleasant.  He'd woken up after two days, and the water he sipped an hour ago had finally stayed down.  Maybe he'd be able to hold down some soup in a couple of days.  Once he was able to eat properly, he'd be released, and then he'd have to catch up on all the physical training he'd missed.  His musings were interrupted by a still-scowling Captain Pierce.

"You've probably forgotten everything about that little incident in the simulator by now, and the doctors won't let me yell at you properly.  So in lieu of a proper debriefing, you are to memorize everything in this book.  Your next assignment will be as soon as you're released from the hospital.  Do I make myself clear?"  Vincent eyed the book, which looked to be about three hundred pages, bound by a worn blue cover that had definitely seen better days.  He thought he saw some dark spots on what little of the spine he could see.

"U-understood."  Without a word, his superior officer dropped the book on a nearby tray, and left.  Curiosity got the better of him, and he read the spine on the book, then did a double take.

"Mildred's Book of Manners?  What does this have to do with anything?"

---

Arrive fifteen minutes early.  Don't fiddle with things like hair or cuff links.  Stand up straight.  Greet her with a smile, then hold the door for her.  And above all, respect her wishes.  Reading the book had been almost as bad as one of Captain Pierce's debriefings.  The earpiece he wore crackled.

"How're you holding up?"  Vincent winced as Arthur's voice echoed painfully in his eardrums.

"I was fine, until you shouted in my ear," he grumbled.

"Ah, sorry!  Your mission begins in ten minutes.  Can I do anything for you?"  The next set of questions was at a much more comfortable volume.

"Explain what the hell the captain was thinking," Vincent said sarcastically.

"He wouldn't tell ME the specifics.  My job is to monitor you guys, and yours is to get through the evening without a fight.  I kinda wish I was in your shoes, for once."  Vincent couldn't help but chuckle.  He stood outside of Fleur's Finest, a restaurant whose quality was only matched by its unreasonable prices.  A careless patron could spend two week's worth of earnings on one dinner.  As this was an official assignment, Vincent would shoulder none of the costs - instead, the lucky taxpayers of the Lacrius Kingdom would sponsor it.  He caught his own reflection in the restaurant's glass door, and allowed himself a small smile.  Though he despised formal wear, he had to admit that the dark blue suit contrasted his blue-green eyes nicely.  The suit was accented by silver buttons and cuff links emblazoned with two crossed rapiers on a red shield - the royal emblem of Lacrius.  Oddly enough, he hadn't been given any sort of tie, and when he asked about it, he had gotten a shrug in reply.

A black car drove up to the front, its windows heavily tinted.  Vincent gasped as a familiar figure stepped out.  The blond woman from his training exercise stood in front of him.  Much to his surprise, her gaze lingered on him for several tense moments.

"You clean up surprisingly well, Vincent," she commented.  He recognized that voice!

"T-Thelma?!  Your Highness?" he managed to choke out.  "But why?"

"I'm under the name Amelia while I'm out and about," she whispered.  "Just as you're Conrad while you're in the restaurant.  We're supposed to be on our first date."

"R-right.  I met you while shopping for eggs or something like that, and you had the most beautiful laugh."  She rolled her eyes.

"It sounds like something that they asked Arthur to write," she commented wryly.

"I heard that!" came an indignant voice from Vincent's earpiece.

"Yes, Arthur, you came in loud and clear."  She shot Vincent a bright smile.  "Well, shall we?"

The interior of the restaurant had spared no expense.  A dark red carpet gently cushioned the duo's steps as they walked to the hostess station.  A few minutes later, and they were led to a table tucked away in the corner.  Vincent ignored Arthur's chatter as he took note of the glasses in a dark walnut cabinet behind him.  To the left, he noticed a trio of men in black suits, escorting what appeared to be a shorter gentleman who looked old enough to be Vincent's grandfather, an even shorter woman who almost looked young enough to be the man's daughter, and two children.  The older of the children appeared to be about ten years old, while the younger couldn't have been more than five.  The entire family wore dark green, though the suit color looked absurd on the man.  The woman's slim form moved seamlessly in her evening gown.  The older child fiddled with his jacket sleeves, while the younger child brushed something off of the flaring skirt of her dress.

"The Franklin family," Thelma whispered.  "They're barely considered nobility.  I don't know why they need an entire section to themselves.  Or a squad of guards."

"Word on the street is that they've been shorting their workers," Vincent whispered back.  "The news won't report it, of course."

"Tell me about it," Thelma said dryly.  "I'm not allowed out of the castle except for special occasions like these.  How am I supposed to be effective if I can't be among my own people?"

"Hell if I know," Vincent grumbled.  "But that's what I'm here for.  Along with Arthur, Norman, Flynn, Carrie, and Martin."

"You six are the reason why I haven't gone insane yet."  Vincent gave her a sympathetic nod.  Two years ago, she was given the choice of marrying a high-ranking noble from the Rothwell Empire, or joining the royal guard.  If she chose the latter, she wouldn't be allowed out of the castle unsupervised until she completed her training, which took five years.  He'd heard that she'd taken all of ten seconds to make her decision.

"Pity that Carrie and Martin were caught with cigarettes, and aren't allowed out for another month.  Norman's falling behind on his studies, so Flynn's tutoring him.  Arthur has his own training, so that leaves me to be your eyes and ears for the time being."

The waiter chose that time to interrupt Vincent's thoughts.  Much to his surprise, Thelma ordered a fish in a raspberry sauce.  Vincent went with a steak, something that he was familiar with.  Once the waiter had left, Vincent narrowed his eyes.

"Out with it," Thelma said pointedly.

"You know more about fancy restaurants than I do.  What's the turnover like?"  Thelma shot him a quizzical look.  "The waiter nearly dropped his pen, and spent his time looking around.  Sort of like how I was in that simulation."

"Yeah.  That."  The two fell silent for a few moments.  "Sorry about that, by the way.  I was told that someone would make an attempt on my life, and my job was to stop it by any means."

"If I'd known it was you, I wouldn't have been so gentle," Vincent said with a small chuckle.  "But why'd they make you wear the wig and the contacts in there?"

"Because I'm expected to grow my hair out before I finish my training.  And you'd recognize me without either of them."  As much as he hated to admit it, she was right.  His mental image of her was a tomboyish young woman with short-cropped chestnut hair, gray eyes full of mischief, and a lean figure.  Curves were out of the question!

"W-well, besides the wig and contacts," he stuttered, his eyes drifting below her neck.  He bit back a yelp as she stepped on his foot.

"We women have our secrets!" she snapped.  Thelma's gaze darted around the restaurant, and Vincent's followed.  A few heads were turned towards them.  Thelma took his hands in hers, and leaned over, giving Vincent an even better view.  "Be a good boy during dinner, and I might even tell you," she purred, something he never imagined she'd do.

"Y-yes dear," he said hastily.  His earpiece echoed with laughter.

Any other conversation was interrupted by the mixed greens that Thelma had ordered.  Vincent carefully extracted a slice of bread, grabbed what he thought was the butter knife, and took a pat and put it on the smaller plate.  The butter was dotted with small black specks, apparently some sort of poppy seed spread.  Thelma's attention was on the waiter, who spoke into his sleeve.

"That is not normal," she commented.  "And he's staring at the Franklins, yet he wasn't the one that took their order."

"Thelma, when your waiter comes back, lock eyes with him.  I want to check something," Arthur cut in.

"Why her?" Vincent blurted out.

"I can see through her contacts," Arthur explained.  "When you're really ready for duty, you'll get to wear them, too!"  The thought of putting his fingers in his eyes caused Vincent to involuntarily shudder.  Thelma glanced around, then tore into her salad as if she was back at the barracks, and had to report somewhere in five minutes.  She hastily patted her mouth down with her napkin and waited, a smug smile on her face.

"Are you done with that, miss?" the waiter asked.

"Yes, I am," Thelma replied, wearing her most disarming smile.  "The house dressing is really something else," she added.

"Something's not right," Arthur said gravely.  "I couldn't get a retinal scan.  He'd have to wear a pair of specialized contacts for that."  Vincent's attention wandered to the winding staircase that led up to a curtained something-or-other.  He held up a finger, and made a beeline towards the hostess station.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"What's that staircase for?" he asked.

"That is reserved for employees," the hostess replied, irritation in her voice.

"Thanks for your time," Vincent mumbled.  He came back just in time to see another waiter converge towards Thelma.

"Where's the bathrooms?" she asked sweetly.

"Past the staircase, and down the hall."

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Vincent asked.

"Check out the staircase?  Yeah.  I'll go talk to the Franklins, because I know how much you love rubbing elbows with nobles."

"Thanks dear, you're a lifesaver."  Thelma stuck his tongue out at him as he left.

A cord hung down one of the railings, the sign informing patrons that they were to keep out dangling at a near-unreadable angle.  Before he could think better of it, Vincent scaled the stairs.  He could always claim that he got lost on the way to the bathroom.

Two halls branched off.  One led deeper into the restaurant, while the other seemed to be some sort of walkway suspended above the restaurant.  The latter was occupied by a crouching figure.

"Hey, Arthur," Vincent said quietly.  "Tell Thelma to look up, and to the right of the staircase."

"Uh, okay.  Thelma, look up and to the right of the staircase."

"What the--AH!"  Vincent swore as the sound of a muted explosion came from the walkway.  Before the crouching figure could fully turn towards him, Vincent had tackled him.  He grunted as he felt a knee to his midsection, then cried out as something slashed his face.  He'd left his usual switchblade back in the barracks!

"The shielding unit protected me, but it's chaos down here.  What in the hell did Vincent do?"  Vincent allowed himself a small sigh of relief.  She was safe!

"Found the sniper, apparently.  But I'm not picking up Vincent's signal - or the sniper's!"  A loud crash interrupted everyone's dinner, as the unfortunate sniper landed in the middle of the restaurant.  Vincent followed, breaking his fall on an empty table.

"I have a visual on the sniper," Thelma said gravely.  "Hey, you guys.  Stop looking so damn lost and get them to a quiet corner!" she yelled.

"I could use some help here!" Vincent shouted, hoping that his journey to the ground floor hadn't damaged his communication equipment.  "Sniper's getting away."

"Not for long," Thelma said, then hiked her skirt, making a mental note to ask for a slit down the side.  She grabbed a plate and threw it, then grinned as it bounced off the sniper.  He paused long enough for her to deliver a kick to his knee.  He snarled and grabbed her, placing something sharp near her throat.

"Don't move, or she dies!" he yelled.  Vincent stopped in his tracks.  From the shadows, two waiters appeared, each wielding a gun pointed at the general public.

"This is your first and last warning.  Let go of me," she growled.

"I know you're both in there, but I can't find either of you," Arthur grumbled.

"An earpiece?" the man who held her said softly.  "You're worth something."

"And you're worthless."  She followed her comment by stomping down on his foot, heel first.  Her heel stayed true to its course until it hit the ground.  Her captor jerked in pain, and a couple of well-placed elbows freed her from his grasp.  She freed her heel and threw her back towards the wall, as the two waiters fired towards her.  One of the waiters went down as Vincent tackled him.

"Hey, Vincent," Arthur's voice came over his earpiece.  "Point your right fist towards your target, and tap your right cuff link twice."

"This had better not be one of your pranks," Vincent grumbled, following the directions he'd been given.  He let out a yelp as a pale blue energy blade shot out of his wrist and took off the head of his opponent.  The second waiter hesitated, as did Vincent.

"Are you crazy?  That's a fusion blade!" Thelma exclaimed.

"And?  We had to test the unit's casing, just as you're testing out your outfit," Arthur explained, his voice strained.

"But you can't hold it for that long!  This thing kills operators!  And wielders, if they're not up to it!"

"I'm placing my life in your hands.  Please, trust me, and each other.  That's the oath we took when we first started training."  The usual teasing was gone from Arthur's voice.

"Very well," Vincent said.  "But know that I'm going to personally kick the ass of whoever authorized this if you die."  He met the other waiter's gaze.  "You wanna join your buddy over there?" he asked lightly, motioning towards the headless corpse.  The waiter wisely dropped his gun and put his hands up in the air.  Thelma took out one of the pins that held her wig in place and stabbed the waiter in the cheek.  He collapsed in an undignified heap.  Vincent deactivated the blade, then held his side.

"Is it supposed to feel like I broke my ribs?" he gasped out.

"Take it easy," Thelma said, gently lowering him to the ground.  "You're lucky that you're alive."  She felt him stiffen, and sighed. He wasn't going to be happy about his stasis patch activating again!

---

The controls swam in Arthur's view.  Vincent's vital signs had plummeted, and the young operator was positive that it wasn't due to a leg cramp this time.  The fusion blade was a royal guard's last resort - unsheathing it put the lives of both operator and wielder on the line, as the blade drained the very life force out of both.  Yet nothing could compare to its raw destructive power.  It could cut through a bomb shelter's doors as if it were paper.  A mere graze from the blade could strip flesh to the bone.

And yet someone had thought that their combat unit, still in training, was capable of wielding such power.  Arthur was one of the youngest mages to be selected as an operator.  A mage of average aptitude could generate a light breeze.  Advanced mages could materialize small objects, and practiced this skill in simulations alongside their guards.  Only the best could even think about using themselves as one of the power sources for a fusion blade.  And he just did that.

"I'm good," he mumbled, as the room faded to black.  Were those footsteps he heard?

---

The captain swore as he saw the scene in front of him.  Thelma's camera was aimed towards Vincent, his face taking up most of her view.  He'd have to talk to her about that, later.  Even after a mission, she had to pay attention to her surroundings.  Her dress had blocked the bullets that had been aimed at her, but those hadn't been particularly powerful.  The shielding unit in her necklace absorbed the worst of the sniper's bullet, and would have most likely been fried.  Another light on the control panel indicated that Vincent's stasis patch was active.  A quick check of his vitals brought on another bout of swearing.  Another moment later, and the stasis patch would've activated on a corpse.  The operator in charge of the mission was on the floor, unresponsive.  Captain Pierce gently turned him over, biting his lip as he saw the boy's eyes rolled back into his head.

"Forgive me," he muttered, before concentrating on a spot on the floor.  In moments, what appeared to be a small orange materialized.  He squeezed the fruit into the boy's mouth, ignoring the juice that ran down his sleeves.  "Wake up, dammit!"  He was rewarded with a weak cough.

"Dad?  I hate oranges," the boy said weakly.

"Hate me all you want while you're alive," the older man said gruffly.

"You were. . .worried about me. . ."  The normally-gruff captain wrapped his son in a hug.

"Yeah.  Don't scare me like that again."

"I'm sorry.  And thank you."  The boy's eyes closed, but the color had returned to his face.  The captain put his son down, and typed a couple of commands into the terminal.  He felt the blood drain from his face as he read the data on the fusion blade.

Three minutes.  That's how long Arthur and Vincent were able to keep it up.  Teams that had specifically trained for it could keep the blade active for five minutes, but it usually cost the operator their life.  Two untrained rookies had pulled it off for over half of the time, and both would live to tell about it.

"You're gonna be a damned legend, if you don't get yourself killed first," he muttered.

---

Thelma finished the last of the report, and wiped the sweat off of her brow.  It had been a week since the incident in the restaurant, and Vincent still wasn't cleared to return to duty.  Arthur was allowed to study, but he wouldn't be able to use his magic for another two weeks.  Once the two surviving assassins had been arrested, Thelma had to analyze every last imperfection in her dress, as well as evaluate the cosmetics she wore, the damage to her right shoe, the fried circuitry in the shielding unit that had saved her from a bullet "that should've punched right through it", and the wear and tear on the fusion blade generator.  Though the reports were about as interesting as watching paint dry, the entire point of both the earlier simulation and the restaurant outing was to evaluate how each component handled itself.  The latter wasn't supposed to be a live-fire exercise, but she was silently thankful that Arthur had insisted that both of them wear a stasis patch.

The assassination attempt had been carried out by some no-names from the Lacrius Liberation Front, a group that wanted to rid the kingdom of the noble class, and turn it into a democracy.  Yet they had a romanticized idea of what the Falworth Islands were like - yes, everyone got a say, but it wasn't too hard to manipulate the vote when the populace was too busy to properly research the candidates!  Companies funded the campaigns through forced individual donations from their employees, and it wasn't uncommon to have certain industries boom when certain people were elected.

The nobility itself wasn't perfect either - families like the Franklins were just as bad as some of the corporations in the Falworth Islands.  Yet the nobility could have their title yanked at any time, while dissolving a company was a far messier process.  The monarchy wasn't perfect, but as long as the ruler knew what their people wanted, it wasn't so bad.

Worst of all, she didn't get a chance to eat her fish, and the restaurant didn't do take-out orders.  At least they were only charged for her salad!

The exhaustion from the past week caught up to her, and she lay down on her bed.  Though she was the princess, she was also a trainee, so she got the same basic gray bunk as everyone else.  The only difference was that she didn't have a roommate.

As her breathing slowed, she silently hoped that she wouldn't dream of the weird white light again.

---

"This isn't possible," the captain mumbled to himself, comparing the damage to Thelma's report.  "She should be dead.  Not even a power spike could've saved her."

"That's my daughter you're talking about," another man said sharply.

"My apologies, Your Highness," the captain said, unapologetically.  "But what could've stopped that bullet?  She had some bruises, but was otherwise fine."

"And two trainees pulled off one of the longest fusion blade sessions, without either of them dying," the king continued.  "Do you think it's true?"

"We've had several recruits with latent magic," the captain replied.  "This wouldn't be the first time an operator was paired with multiple guard candidates who had that untapped potential."

"When the sword and shield of Lacrius are brought to bear, only then will the empire of the dead strike."  The captain froze.  It was a prophecy carried by the royal family.  So far, it had predicted every single invasion attempt by the Rothwell Empire.  And so far, it had thwarted every single one.

"And when sword and shield have been laid to rest, Lacrius will know peace.  So it will continue until the living and the dead embrace, and then the war will come to an end."

"We're supposed to give the Empire scum a hug?  They're the ones that turned away from magic."  The king shook his head.

"It's a prophecy, and it's stupidly vague.  Have you had those two tested for magical potential?"

"Vincent's parents are from the Empire, so he should be as magic-dead as the lot of 'em.  Thelma's your kid, so she's gonna have some.  She ain't operator-level, if heritage is anything to go by."  The king chuckled at his friend's words.

"Have them both tested.  The analysis results don't lie."

"Yeah.  Also gotta trace those assassins.  They had all the tools to block our attempts to scan and track 'em.  And we know how common retinal-blocking contacts are."

"Rothwell Empire specialty, of course," the king added dryly.

"You think the next cycle's happening?  We're overdue by twenty years, if the record-keepers are any good."

"Yeah.  For now, train them like nothing's wrong.  If they're the ones the prophecy speaks of--"

"Evacuate 'em, and train 'em for real," the captain finished.

 

Oof, that was great, thanks for sharing it!

[TheSilentChloey]

Welp I was going to hold out a little longer but screw it.  Here's my entry:

Fandom: Fire Emblem Awakening

Words: 2, 090

Title: Unexpected Consiquences

Spoiler

You know what IS intended with their default pairings.  So then what if Lucina and the others are their “default pairings" gone back in time to my M!Robin Apotheosis Team playthrough?  Not so much humour as horror for poor Lucina...let the darkness ensue I guess?

 

When Lucina first came back in time, her thoughts were to save her father from the horrors that were to come.  Not to change everything that was supposed to happen.  It was truly troublesome for her as she tried to make both sense of what was going on and the fact that things were not as they should be. Why were things so wrong?

 

It all started when she first came back in time.  She saved her Aunt Lissa from certain demise by the risen fighter that attacked her, Chrom, assisted in its destruction.  That was the first change of events that happened and Lucina would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy that moment in time.  She fought alongside her father as an equal and not an observer like she’d so often been. It was like a dream come true for her and she felt like she was going to cry.  However she was also worried by his almost lack of experience and constantly had to remind herself he was only just starting out, that he'd likely be at his known skill in time.

 

The first battle was difficult enough to distract her from what was going on with her father as Lucina focused on dealing with the risen that were before her and not what her father and aunt were saying to one another.  Had she known...well it was too late to contemplate the changes that had come to pass due to her interference in with time now.

 

The next most major change was of her own device.  She bested Lon'qu in battle in order to face her father in single combat and expected her father to start bonding with her mother Sumia at this stage, after all she had just saved his life and if not for her timely intervention Lucina’s father could have gotten seriously hurt and not been able to fight in the tournament.  What Lucina did not expect to see was the male tactician at her father's side.  He was...different than she was expecting, a mere boy tasked with guiding the Shepherds.  The way he looked at her...she didn’t like it. He looked at her with the eyes of admiration and something else she couldn’t place...Robin didn’t look at all like she remembered him to.  Sure his hair was as white as the snow, but it looked different.

 

Lucina thought little of it instead focusing on the next important change.  Saving Emmeryn. Nothing was more important than that. It was successful. She was worried however as she noticed that her father wasn’t spending time with her mother Sumia like he should have been.

 

Robin was the one who had stayed out talking to Chrom...and she found out he wasn’t Robin...he was Caleb.  She frowned under her mask. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go at all. Still she followed her plan.  She warned them about the danger to Emmeryn and to her dismay she was revealed as a woman. Caleb had looked at her and she saw him blush.  This was not going to end well she knew it…

 

Lucina guarded the door leading to Emmeryn as Caleb directed the Shepherds.  It was the first time that she saw Maribelle with Chrom. She felt sick when she realised that quite possibly her father would end up marrying Maribelle…

 

She had left that night, having spoken to Chrom and thought that history wouldn’t repeat itself.  How wrong she was…history was going to twist on its head and she would end up in the throws of it.

 

~~~

 

Things just weren’t adding up.  Lucina didn’t know why but there was something off.  She stayed fairly close to the Shepherds and she was beginning to get worried.  No matter how much she tried to work out how to fix things, her mother, Sumia was nowhere near her father Chrom like she should be.  Lucina was at a loss.  This wasn't right. Her mother should have been at least battling alongside her father.  Something was vastly wrong and Lucina didn’t like it.

 

Lucina blanched as Maribelle got closer to her father, talking with him, healing his injuries and genuine concern started to pop up as Lucina could see where it was going.  This wasn't right! This wasn't how things were supposed to happen! Chrom was supposed to marry Sumia!  He wasn’t supposed to marry any other woman!

 

The worst part was that there was nothing she could do to fix things.  Caleb’s plans kept Sumia as a Vanguard with Sully or Frederick and when Sumia did get to be near Chrom, it was always short lived as she was quickly pulled into other duties away from the Prince.

 

Lucina happened to see one particular afternoon where her father had been talking with Maribelle when Caleb was sat with a strategy book when Maribelle said,

“Caleb darling, would like to join us for some tea?”

“Yes, please Maribelle.” the boyish voice chimed politely, “I appreciate it very much.”

Lucina saw her father chuckle and ruffle the wavy hair of the tactician, “You should always take the time to rest Caleb.” he said and Lucina wondered why this was so foreign.  The tactician was never this close to her father…

She watched in shock and horror as Chrom and Maribelle got married at the end of the war.  Lucina couldn't wrap her head around it. Everything was wrong. Nothing was happening as it was supposed to.  She watched as Maribelle grew with her father's child. Was shocked to find out it was a baby girl, born the same day as her.  They called the tiny baby Lucina and she'd heard enough she didn't want to know anything else as the knife wedged into her heart painfully.

 

She pretended she didn't care.  She watched as the other Shepherds married, Cordelia married Virion, Lissa married Lon'qu, Miriel married Gregor, Nowi married Libra, Panne married Frederick, Sully married Donnel.  Nothing was what it should have been. Caleb didn't marry.  He like Robin refused to marry, though the fact he was a boy likely was the reason.  He was too young for all of that. The knife slowly retreated, at least something was the same.  But that didn't stop the gods awful pain from returning as she realised the path history was taking wasn't a welcome one.

 

When it came time for the Shepherds to ask for help from Plegia, then the reality of the changes set in.  Lucina had saved her father from harm. It was an unthought through act that lead to even more consequences than before.

 

He looked into her eyes and called her his daughter.  She knew in her heart then that there was no way he'd have known this if that girl back at the castle wasn't the same as her on some level.  She had cried then. Her father comforting her. The moment was broken when Caleb came, though he tried to be as unobtrusive as possible.  He spoke gently, understanding the frailty of the situation.  Maribelle was beside him, unamused.

 

It did not take long for Maribelle to accept Lucina, even though Lucina wasn't her daughter.  It was mildly mortifying to see Sumia standing there eyes shining with tears at what could have been for her as the story slowly came out, Chrom had been forced to choose a wife and he chose Maribelle due to their stronger relationship.  Sumia had feelings for Chrom she couldn't act on and it hurt her beyond reproach.  Caleb stood smiling softly as Maribelle embraced Lucina.  He wiped an errant tear from his eye. Lucina wondered why that was the case.  Was he happy ?  About this? Was he somehow responsible for this unrelenting pain? She didn't know.

 

Lucina therefore wasn't prepared for what came next.

 

She had been engaging in a sparring match with one of the training dummies.  It was her blade stopped when she spotted a pile of books and a pair of familiar brown boots heading past.  She realised that Caleb was a dangerous one, as she tried to isolate the changes. He had to be the force that was behind her father marrying the wrong woman, there was nothing more prominent to her than that.  He had to be the one...

“Caleb!” Lucina yelled as the tactician and books went flying.  He'd not been able to see the pebble and had tripped up.

“Ooof!” He grunted, “Ouch…”

“Are you alright?” Lucina said with a frown,

“Y-yeah.” he said blushing a violent shade of crimson across his cheeks as Lucina tried to read his intentions.  She sighed,

“No harm done at least.”

“R-right…” Caleb said still blushing as he hastily assembled the books again, “I-I’ll s-see you a-around!” in his haste to escape the tactician forgot at least three books,

“Caleb!  Wait! You forgot your books!” Lucina called picking the three up.  One of them made her pause. She looked at the title and frowned, “ How to Make Her Fall For You in a Fortnight ?  What are you planning Caleb?” Lucina murmured.  This wasn't a good sign. Worry started to eat at her.  Who was he intending to…? He'd already done enough damage!  She couldn't let him do any more!

 

She came to the strategy tent and heard Caleb talking with Vaike, “...You want to further your relationship with her?  I did have it here somewhere...ah drat.” Caleb sighed, “I know I had the book to help you…”

“Ya egghead!” Vaike laughed, “Of course you'd have a book fo’ that.  The Vaike don't’ need no book!”

Caleb sighed, “It had some useful information.  You know, like how to get on Cherche’s good side…”

“Aw, that's sweet o’ ya to care Caleb.” Vaike's voice half boomed through the tent, “But the Vaike’ll be just fine.  If anything Teach’ll walk you through the motions!” Lucina heard a nervous laugh from Caleb. She cleared her throat and came in to see Vaike covered in bandages with Caleb sat across from him,

“Hey squirt, don’ mind Teach, he's just givin’ our tactician the finer points on romance.”

Poor Caleb was red in the face again and Lucina was thoroughly confused, “I thought it was the other way…” he said softly and Lucina was surprised.  Caleb was an odd one to be sure. Still she had to keep a close eye on him. She did not want him to ruin anyone else's families any longer.

 

The first day she watched him, Caleb spoke with Chrom about battle tactics and strategy, how they needed to proceed and what the most optimal partnerships were.  Lucina was surprised when Chrom said, “Caleb, I appreciate the effort I really do, but for the love of the gods stop over thinking it.”

“This is about our survival!” Caleb had yelled, “Don't you get that?!”

“Caleb…” Chrom groaned, “Look I know you're trying to avoid what happened to us in Lucina's timeline.  I get that, I really do. However you need to relax. We've got the best tactician that there ever was.  I'm sure you can make it work.”

Caleb sighed. “Then I'll be Lucina's battle partner-"

“THE HELLS YOU WILL!” Chrom yelled,

“Think about it will you?” Caleb reasoned calmly, “I can keep her safe, you won't have to be without Maribelle and she’s got someone to help her.  Surely you understand that much.”

Chrom groaned as he was out maneuvered by the tactician again , “Fine.  Don't make me regret this.  If she gets so much as a scratch on your watch-"

“You'll have Frederick kill me.” Caleb said brightly and Chrom winced, “Understood.”

“Caleb that's not what I-"

Lucina almost was caught, Caleb bounced on out of the tent and Lucina barely got herself hidden.  This wasn't how things were supposed to go…

 

Everything that happened put her out of step, Caleb fought alongside her and he was a good fighting partner.  He said something about tactical advantages but Lucina wasn’t sure about it. Nothing was as it was supposed to be.  She was ill-prepared when Caleb spoke with her. Everything was wrong and yet...with him...everything was alright…

 

He proposed to her.  She felt like something was finally right instead of wrong.  Perhaps...perhaps it would be alright then...

I am no comedy writer but eh, growth is growth no matter if I like a theme or not unlike some people.

[Dragoncat]

May I ask for a deadline extension please? I'm having difficulty getting around to working much on my story, but I still want to enter.

[AnonymousSpeed]

5 minutes ago, Dragoncat said:

May I ask for a deadline extension please? I'm having difficulty getting around to working much on my story, but I still want to enter.

The deadline is still nearly two weeks out- is that still not enough time?

[Dragoncat]

Just now, AnonymousSpeed said:

The deadline is still nearly two weeks out- is that still not enough time?

I thought it was shorter.

Carry on then.

[AnonymousSpeed]

I'm nearing the completion of mine- it's a bit long but should fall under the word limit. Would anyone care to help proof read it? Make sure all the weres and wheres aren't mixed up, and catch any typos that I might miss.

[Jotari]

1 hour ago, AnonymousSpeed said:

I'm nearing the completion of mine- it's a bit long but should fall under the word limit. Would anyone care to help proof read it? Make sure all the weres and wheres aren't mixed up, and catch any typos that I might miss.

I'll do you if you do me.

[AnonymousSpeed]

Just now, Jotari said:

I'll do you if you do me.

Lovely, you can expect mine either today or tomorrow. Well, it's tomorrow where I am but you know what I mean.

[AnonymousSpeed]

Firstly, I'd like to give a big thanks to Jotari- thanks to his proofreading, I feel confidence enough to post this now. I might give it another read over for small mistakes, but this should be quite near to whatever final state the work ends up in. This should be useful if you're crunched for time around the time submissions are due- my story ended up pretty long, but I was able to get it to just barely fit within the word limit.

Please Enjoy.

Title: The Chrom Conspiracy

Word Count: 9,999

Fandom: Fire Emblem Awakening

Spoiler

"Holy hell. You killed the shit outta him."

"I think they make a staff for that?"
Stahl glanced off to his side, nervously seeking any kind of affirmation.

"Maybe they do, but where do you plan on finding the damn thing?"

Maybe he shouldn't have asked Sully.

An awkward silence loomed over the two, just as they now loomed over a prone corpse.

"Well, it's gotta exist somewhere. Tons of other legendary weapons did, and in duplicates."
"That's just the thing though, Stahl," Sully spat. "We've found four Hot Eclairs-"
"Hautecleres."
"Four Gradivuses-"
"Gradivi?"
"Seven Parthias-"
"I think that one's right."
"And, uh, how many Mercuriuseses?"
"Mercuri-"
"Stahl."
"Just three, I think."

"Right." Sully placed her hands on her hips, puffed out her chest, and, while Stahl was about her height, his slouch made it easy for her to look down on him. "And how many staves that raise the damn dead?"
"Aum-"
"Stahl."
"...none," Stahl admitted.
"There. Now are you starting to get the picture?"
"...the original might still be around?"

Sully sighed in frustration. "Unless someone used the damn things enough times to break it. Couldn't blame someone for wanting to." Her gaze diverted towards the body. "The only weapon which doesn't seem to break like a twig after a while is...you know."
"Yeah." Stahl chuckled. A very tense, nervous, uncertain, and shame-filled chuckle, only half a magnitude below the chuckle that comes when you ask a not-pregnant woman if she's pregnant. "Too bad it doesn't make the wielder unbreakable..."
Stahl and Sully both turned their attention to the weapon in question: the Falchion, strapped to the back of a Ylissian lordling in a blue wifebeater and a cape, who was now lying with his face in a small pool of his own blood and probably some other fluids.

That was Chrom, by the way. He was the dead guy. Stahl knelt down beside the body.

He checked his pulse- nothing. He took the Falchion from the lordling's back to inspect it- it was quite light and very much like any other sword in design and usage- it quite baffled Stahl how it proved so difficult for anyone but Chrom to wield. It was a bit awkward to hold, true, but Stahl hadn't held a sword in quite some time. Then again, not using a weapon in a long time never seemed to dull anyone else's proficiency. As Stahl pondered these things, blade in hand, he began to feel dirty for touching it. It wasn't right to touch a sword belonging to Chrom, so he quickly laid it back down.

"Poor bastard probably didn't see it coming," Sully murmured.

"Maybe that's good?" Stahl asked, as if he had just previously asked Sully if she was pregnant.
"How the hell would it be good to be minding your own business and then suddenly be shot in the face with an arrow?"
"Quiet Sully!" Stahl snapped, more so whispered with above-average forcefulness. "Look, I'm just saying, maybe it was...painless?"

"Gods, Stahl, who cares? Dead is dead. You've gotta cover this shit up."
"Me?"
"It's your arrow in his damn skull."
"Right..."

Stahl looked to his feet, clutching his bow tightly against his chest. Stupid bow. If not for it, this whole mess wouldn't have happened.

"There's no way in hell we can deal with the mess this is going to make, so you better start figuring out how we un-screw ourselves."
"Right..."

Just the other day, the army's tactician had given Stahl a little blue ball and told him to stand still and hold it- Before you could say the names of every species of butterfly, the green cavalier's armor changed so that it was no longer green. Or a cavalier's. Instead, he was an archer, and was quickly benched for his E rank bows and terrible enemy phase.

"If anyone finds out, this was all your fault and I had nothing to do with it."
"Right..."

Stahl had hoped that he might be able to get back on the battlefield, where he could be helpful. He trained regularly to boost weapon rank, and tried getting as many of the experience barracks events as he could; But in the end, it didn't even matter how hard he tried; he'd done something horribly unhelpful instead.

"Stahl, you know you're an idiot and screw up everything, right?"
"Right..."

Today's training had gone horribly wrong when Sully startled Stahl. The crappy archer accidentally released his arrow at a high angle which completely overshot the target.
This wouldn't have been a problem, except for the fact that Miriel had been practicing with a Valflame tome nearby, and the explosion blew the arrow off course.
This wouldn't have been a problem, except for the fact that Ricken had also been practicing nearby with an Elwind, which blew the arrow even further off course.

This wouldn't have been a problem, except for the fact that there was a slight eastern wind which kicked in such that the arrow basically made a complete 90 degree turn to the right and was sent flying toward Chrom.
This wouldn't have been a problem, except for the fact that Chrom was too busy inspecting the Fire Emblem to notice the arrow coming and dodge.
This wouldn't have been a problem, except for the fact that Chrom had heard all the spells and winds and junk and so lowered the Fire Emblem from his face at just the right moment to allow the stray arrow to fly through his eyeball and kill him. Crit-blicked by a level 6 archer.

"...Stahl, you're a fa-"
"No need for that kind of language, Sully!"
"Hah!" Sully's laugh was full of venom. "Glad to see you're still with the living. But no. Really. We really gotta do something about this body or we're dead."

"Ri-"
"Stahl."
"That is correct."

The rider-nonconsensually-turned-archer glanced around to make sure there were no other witnesses. He wasn't really sure what he'd do if there were, but thankfully it didn't come up: Ricken and Miriel were too far away and too busy training to notice the accidental regicide they unintentionally helped bring about. "Well," Stahl said, looking back at the body. "Hm...well, maybe...even if we don't know where to get an Aum Staff here...maybe we can find one somewhere else?"
"What, you want to set sail for Valm and-"
"No, I mean, what if we go to the Outrealm Gate!" Stahl explained. "It links to all kinds of other worlds- at least one of them has to have staves that revive the dead readily available.”
"Hah! Maybe you'll find a world where people get chopped into bloody halves and can just sleep it off between battles."
"If not that, we could at least try to find a world with a Chrom that isn’t dead. You got a better idea?"
"No," Sully said plainly. "But before you go off on your little escapade, you gotta think of how you're going to hide the body."

***

The room was filled with weeping. The tears never seemed to end- eyes ached. Curses and pleas filled the air. A small creak broke through the cascade of crying, as Lissa meekly pushed through the door to the barrack's kitchen. "Sully? Stahl?" The two wiped their eyes and turned them to the delicate war cleric. Nervousness could not show through their pained expressions. "Are you two...cutting onions?"

"Yep!" Stahl quickly answered with a chuckle. "Juuuust cutting onions."
"Uhuh..." Lissa glanced around the cooking space, dotted with literally medieval instruments, including vast numbers of bloody knives stuck in a nearly equal quantity of wooden cutting surfaces. Large chunks of meat generally flanked these knives, though there was no discernable presence of flank steak. "What are two making?"
"Bear," said Stahl.
"Chicken," said Sully.
"We're stuffing bear meat into chickens," explained Stahl.
"Ugh, bear meat?" Lissa pouted. "Fine. Just go a little easy on the onion, okay? I don't think Chrom or me can stand that much of it."

"Hahah! Will do!" Stahl said with a grin as large as he could forcibly fit onto his face. "Not a problem at all, wouldn't want to do anything to upset Chrom, or you, not at all. Hah!" Sulfuric tears poured down his tightened cheeks.

"...okay then..." With all deliberate slowness, Lissa began backing out of the cheap wooden door, being very careful to avoid the all-to-common incident of getting a splinter from it. "Oh, by the way, Sully? Have you seen Chrom? Or Gaius, for that matter."
"Those two?" Sully, whose skin had been turned red by the heat of the cooking fires, suddenly resumed her normal complexion. "I'm not their damn baby sitters, how the hell should I know?"

It was then that Stahl, who looked as tight as a bowstring but at the very least less like a kidney bean than Sully, interjected. "They went on sabbatical."
"Sabbati-what?" Lissa asked, puzzled. Well, she at least seemed puzzled. Maybe it was just the onions getting to her.
"Oh, you know, it's like an extended vacation," the archer explained.
"In the middle of a war?"
"Well, what can you do? He was-is the boss after all. Said they'd be back in a week, maybe roughly, it might be longer it all just sort of depends." Stahl usually slouched. He now stood up so straight that he resembled a pasty pretzel stick, with the knuckles of his tightly clasped hands serving as an insignificant amount of white pretzel salt. All in all, a terrible and very suspicious pretzel.

"How'd you find out?"
"They told me about it before leaving," Stahl grinned.
"Wha-? Hmph!" Lissa stiffened herself indignantly. "Well then, if my husband and my brother are going to go off on a vacation without even telling me, then- well, I'm going to have some strong words for them when they get back!" With great fury, the cleric stormed out and slammed the door after her. "Ow! Splinter!"

After some growling and accusing of inanimate objects and the gradual dying away of footsteps, Stahl let out a sigh of relief. It made him feel like throwing up, though that might have been the heat and the onions and the overbearing sense of stressful guilt. "Whew. Good thing she didn't check under the stack of fruitcakes."

Stahl and Sully then quickly moved a few bricks from a massive building of fruitcake, confirming that the fourteen and a third layers of sheets which wrapped up Chrom where still stored safely underneath. The Shepherds made multiple fruitcakes every year, but since Stahl was the only one who ate them they just sort of built up in piles around the base. It made him wonder why they still made the fruitcakes, but at the very least they were always good- some of the fruitcakes near the bottom were older than Donnel but still tasted like the newest batch. Now, though, he wasn't quite sure if he ever wanted to eat these particular fruitcakes.

Barely had the last fruity, cakey, immortal brick been put back in place than Sully slammed her elbow into Stahl's shoulder. "Ow!" cried the archer. The extra defense of a cavalier would have really helped him there.
"You damned fool!" Sully scolded. "Why'd you have to make up that stupid-ass story? Once Lissa finds Gaius-"
"Hey, hey, don't worry!" Stahl interjected. Sully's face grew sterner and Stahl's body grew smaller. "I paid for Gaius to go on sabbatical."

The red rider slowly pulled herself out of Stahl's face. "That's actually not a totally crap idea," she said with a smile. "How'd you get Gaius to go through with it without telling Lissa?"
"I told him it was Lissa's idea." Stahl gradually expanded to his normal size.

"And that she'd arranged for a carriage that was waiting on him," Stahl elaborated. "At first, he seemed a little skeptical that she'd do that, but I think he trusts me. I really did get a carriage for him- 'on behalf of Princess Lissa,' and once I showed him the paperwork from that, he went along with it."
Sully smirked. "Identity theft, huh? Real knightly, Stahl."
"It's a desperate circumstance!" Stahl insisted.
"What do we do once Gaius gets back and spills the beans?"
"That depends a lot on whether we have Chrom back or not."

Sully groaned. "You better hope this plan of yours works out."
"Don't worry, I do-" Stahl replied, "especially with how much that sabbatical cost..."

***

"You two are going on a sabbatical too?" Lissa was both confused and indifferent to this revelation, leaving her visibly unsure as to the appropriate sort of pout to put on.
"Just for a week or so," Stahl explained in the same way a used car salesman would explain that a car with 30,000 miles on it was still in excellent condition. "Besides, you guys don't even deploy me anymore- and Sully could probably use a little break too, you know?" The archer leaned in to the cleric and whispered, "just between us, don't you think she seems a little stressed out?" The kick to his shin let him know he wasn't quiet enough.

Nonetheless chuckling at his misfortune, Lissa had to admit that Stahl had a point. Sully had been MVP on every map since her promotion to Paladin, and despite Stahl's uselessness on the battlefield, both of them did seem to be suffering from sudden onset stress. "Oh, alright," she ceded, "I guess we have enough soldiers to pick up the slack- just don't be late coming back, alright? In fact, come back a little earlier. I don't want Chrom thinking that I'm just giving out free vacations while he's gone!"

"You don't have to worry about him thinking that," Stahl replied, and was promptly kicked in the shin again. "Ow-"
"It's not like Chrom was such a tough guy about it either," Sully added, "Kellam's been off doing whatever for months and Chrom hasn't said crap about it."

"True. Well..." Lissa thought on that a moment, "don't get any ideas though! If anything, I'm going to be tougher on these sorts of things than him! So when you say you'll be back in a week, you better be back seven days from now."

Lissa felt very proud for her bold assertion and felt even prouder when Stahl and Sully readily agreed to it. They left quite hurriedly, which Lissa understood, but still with that awkward tension which seemed to tie the two together over the past few hours. Oh well, Lissa thought, picking at the tiny fraction of wood still stubbornly stuck in her finger. It probably just meant that they really needed that sabbatical anyway.

***

It then happened that Stahl paired up with Sully and the pair up and ran across the continent to the Outrealm Gate, a travel which lasted for nearly ten consecutive hours and during which breaks for urination were the most interesting events. After their long-ish journey, the two arrived at the stone archway which encompassed a swirling blue portal, like water being flushed down the toilets they didn't know they wanted.

"So, uh...how does this work, exactly?" asked Stahl.
"No idea," Sully answered. "Can't be that hard though, right? Seems like we just followed Chrom through it whenever we did it before."
"Yeah, but wasn't there something else he had to do after that?"
"Hell if I know. I figured you'd remember."
"Sorry, I guess I didn't notice what to do either."
"Well, crap," Sully spat on a poor clump of grass. "How the hell did we not notice how we were navigating a giant mess of other worlds?"
"..."
"..."
The two stared at the swirling door for a few seconds, unsure of their next action. Each independently considered just walking in and seeing what happened- it couldn't be any worse than going back empty-handed.
"Hey Sully," Stahl turned towards his companion and she towards him, "why don't we just walk in and...see what happens? It can't be any worse than going back empty-"

"Excuse me!"
The duo jerked their heads towards the source of the new and yet familiar voice- that of a young woman whose red-topped head was popping through the portal.
"I couldn't help but overhear the little predicament you two are in," the head elaborated, "and I think I might be able to help out!"

"Oh, uh, thanks?" Stahl replied. "Hey, Anna- what are you doing here, and not with the rest of the army?"

Anna equipped a confused expression. "With the rest-oh, I see," she chuckled. "You must be confusing me for one of my sisters!  You're probably thinking of Anna- she mentions being in an army when she writes. My name is 'Anna-' there's a subtle but important difference in pronunciation."
"Anna?" Stahl asked.
"No, 'Anna.'"
"Anna?"
"Close, 'Anna'."
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"Right, sorry." The archer rubbed the back of his neck.

"So. How do you plan on helping us?" asked Sully, more to the point.
"Ah, now that's simple, hon!" The merchant smiled so broadly and tightly that it forced her eyes shut like an Asian man with two black eyes cutting onions while marathoning Holocaust films, her lips squeezed together just as tightly. "You see," she began, and then she saw as well, "whenever your tactician led you and your allies to wander the Outrealms, they used my help to make sure they got to a safe destination. Not that they always knew exactly where they ended up- but that's the thing about wandering, isn't it? And if they had a specific realm they wanted to go back to, I could lead them to just the right place!"

Anna then took on a more solemn, almost apologetic expression. "Unfortunately, I can't afford to do this sort of work for free. We've all got bills to pay and mouths to feed, and there ain't nothing in this world for free. As such, there's a small fee for my services- two and a half to three dollars American."
"What's a Merican?" whispered Stahl as an aside to his companion.
"That's about five hundred gold," Anna conveniently explained.

"Five hundred gold? That's robbery!" Sully exclaimed.
"I would charge less, but I need the money to support my sisters." Anna chuckled, "I do have quite a few of them, you know."

Sully held her own chuckle behind her lips. "I guess your family lusts after more than gold," she muttered with toxic smugness.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" the merchant called out, putting a hand to her ear. "Did you say something? That you'd be willing to pay six hundred to help my humble family?"

Sully paused, then scowled. "Nope. Didn't say anything," she growled, digging her nails into her arms. "Nothing. At. All."

"Aw, that's what I though..." Anna replied. "Well then, are you two able to pay for my services?"

"Yeah, we can do that," Stahl walked up with a small sack and pulled from it a few silver coins, which Anna graciously accepted into her palm.
"Thanks hon! Now then, what sort of realm are you two looking to go to?"
"One with a Chrom, please," Stahl replied.
"That's a bit broad. Any other stipulations?"
"...he's not dead?"
"...right then, well, that'll do it, I guess. Follow me!"
The mahogany merchant's arm popped from the portal for just a second to beckon Stahl and Sully, before it and her head vanished into the gate. The two companions exchanged glances, then shrugs, then a series of simultaneous steps into the swirling mass- after that they exchanged not being able to remember what exactly occurred. After what had been no time or a lot of time or something outside of time itself (they weren't exactly sure, and really, how could you be with that last one?) they popped out from another Outrealm Gate into a visibly distinct realm.

Everything was well lit- too well lit, like the sun was actually multiple pure white suns, burning with the pure white fury of a fiery sun. Stahl even stared at the sun to confirm that there was only one sun, which he did.
"Alright, you got us to an outrealm. Great." Sully glared across the landscape while Stahl glared at the inside of his eyelids, trying to rub sight back into them. "Now how the hell do we find a Chrom?"
"Ask, I guess," Stahl muttered, blinking at the ground repeatedly. "There's people here, and Chrom is pretty famous in our world. He might be well known here too."
"Not exactly a small assumption," Sully countered. "Well, there's at least one familiar face." The paladin pointed to a figure sitting on the corner of the dirt road, leaning back against a stone building- an Anna. Anna. Anna? Stahl.

"Ah, good eye Sully!" Stahl exclaimed with a chuckle. "I'll go ask her if she knows were a Chrom is-"
"Just don't say 'a' Chrom," Sully scolded, "and try not to make too much of an ass of yourself."

Stahl nodded and walked over to the merchant, criss-cross applesauce and also eating applesauce, the archer noticed as he drew near. "Hey, er, Anna?"
"Oh, hello hon!" Anna exclaimed, and the two exchanged a waving of hands. "I don't think we've been introduced, handsome- have you heard about me from a friend?"
"No," Stahl replied, coming to a stop. "I know one of your sisters."
"...oh."
"Anyway," Stahl began, resuming his casual slump and tone in the ever growing confidence he had in his plan, "I was wondering if I could ask you something of you."
"Sure thing, hon. For just two hundred gold, I can do anything you want me to."
"Oh, really?" Stahl exclaimed. "Anything?"
"Anything."
"Can you lead me to other realms for two hundred gold?"
"...no, I don't offer those kinds of services."
"But I thought you said any-"
"Anything within my field of business. You wouldn't buy a map from a fishmonger now, would you hon?"
"I guess not," Stahl replied with a nervous chuckle of defeat. "Well, would it be two hundred gold for you to tell me where a- where the Chrom is?"
"...no," an increasing confused Anna answered, "that's...free. If you're asking for a Chrom-"
"The Chrom."
"What?"
"Stahl- I mean, nothing."
"...right, you're probably looking for the Chrom who lives in that mansion up there-" As she spoke, Anna pointed a finger to a monolithic residence resting on a hill, a moderate walk along a dirt road away.
"Neat," the archer replied, eyes following the finger to the structure. "Woah, that is neat. Thanks!" With a wave, Stahl jaunted off towards Sully, who stood with her arms crossed, bitterly scrutinizing passersby.

"Hey Sully, guess what I found out?" 
"Nothing helpful?" a still-distracted Sully scorned.
"The opposite, actually! Anna said Chrom lives in that giant building over there-" Stahl explained, stretching his arm in revelatory fashion towards the elevated estate. "She called it a mansion, actually. I guess that's just like a big house. Pretty neat, huh Sully? Sully?"
Stahl swiftly swung his head to his traveling companion, still people-watching wordlessly.

"They must not have as much fabric in this realm," she muttered.
"What?"
"You said Chrom was in that big house, right?" Sully pointed towards the mansion and Stahl affirmed with a nod. "Let's not waste any more damn time then. Let's go!"

And so the two went off along the dirt path, past the green grass, until they came to the great wooden double doors of the palace, made of a pure white stone to match the sun in painful brightness. Each exchanged a glance. "Ladies first," Stahl remarked, and so Sully stepped forward and viciously struck the door several times, nearly knocking it off its hinges.

A brief respite allowed the door to creaked open, revealing the opener to be Tharja...in her swimsuit? This was quite disconcerting to the two knights, but they supposed not horribly out of the question. Her normal outfit was already pretty much a swimsuit, and it was very possible that she could actually be going swimming.
"What?" asked the dark mage, her terse tone unchanged. In complete contrast to how it regularly worked, this brought a bit of comfort.
"We're here to see Chrom," Stahl explained, and was met with disgruntled sigh.
"Fine, wait here."

Tharja walked back into the mansion, but left the door open, granting Stahl and Sully their first peak inside. The outside consisted almost entirely of white stone, and the inside was equally garish. More so, even- though the black swirls in the marble added some contrast, both travelers agreed that the extra polish and the light of the foyer's central fireplace were simply too much. Flanking said furnace was a curved staircase on each side, leading to an equally monochrome second floor. The two were afforded a minute or so of interior design critique when Tharja walked back into view on the second floor, a blue-haired man trailing behind her.

"Stahl! Sully!" The blue-haired man shouted, scurrying down the stairs with the Plegian shortly behind. "Just who I was hoping to see!"

As the figure approached, the shape of his face became more apparent, and when he spoke, his voice was instantly recognizable. Otherwise, Chrom looked unrecognizable. This Chrom’s hair was disheveled, and he wore a blue robe instead of his normal wife-beater. Perhaps most distracting was his mustache, which Stahl and Sully would have identified as Mexican, had they any concept of what Mexico was. Still, clothes could be changed and mustaches shaved, so maybe it would work.

"Hey, same here!" Stahl proclaimed, and all four convened near the bottom of the stairway. "So, Chrom, Sully and I had a few-"
"Ap-ap-ap!" Stahl's lips were shut by a pair of fingers which smelled of herbs and tar. "Say no more," Chrom instructed, releasing Stahl from his ashy scent. "Stahl, I have something very important to discuss with you. Tharja? Please take Sully here to the blank room." With a snap, the dark mage complied, and being both confused and wishing to see this whole thing work out, both Stahl and Sully did as well, though their doubts were quickly mounting. Chrom led Stahl back up the stairs into a room with two chairs around yet another fireplace, and the archer began to wonder what they were doing to keep the building from turning into an oven.

"So...what's a blank room, exactly?" Stahl asked as they sat down.
"You know what a blank room is," Chrom scoffed playfully. "It's the one without any windows- you know, so you can get the lighting just right."
"I see. Why's the lighting important, again?"
"Because the artists need the exactly perfect lighting to get the best painting," Chrom explained. "I craft my scenes very delicately, and I don't want a single detail hidden in a shadow, or messed up because the sun moved."
"Right. Sounds like...a shame, if that happens."
"Tell me about it," Chrom said with a lurching swing of the head, like he was trying to build up the momentum to fling it from his shoulders. "I can't afford any errors in this project- it's going to be big, you know!"
"I...do know that," Stahl nodded slowly. He could not get over the fact that this Chrom had covered both his shoulders. "Uh, hey Chrom, what about...Plegia?"
"Geeze, awful inquisitive today, aren't you Stahl?" said Chrom. "I like it! If you keep this up with this curiosity, you might just find a very bright future in the business."
"Sounds...very profitable," Stahl replied.
"It's not that your apothecary skills aren't appreciated, they work wonders for the models, but I'm glad to see you taking interest in some of the finer aspects- anyway, Plegia. They've got some beautiful girls there- like that Tharja there, eh?"
"...aren't we at war with Plegia?"
"Let the past be the past!" Chrom said with a dismissive air-slap. "Besides, that's more Emmeryn's problem."
"Emmeryn?"
"Yeah, you know, my older sister, the Exalt? I tell you, I love her to death, but sometimes I wish she was dead-"
Stahl was very silent and very wide-eyed, like a deer caught in the headlights of a car.
"Well, not dead, but unable to fulfill her royal duty, or wasn't the oldest. I think I'd make a pretty good Exalt, don't you?"
"OhI'msureofit."
"But when life gives you horses, you made glue, you know?" Chrom slumped back in his seat. "Got to make my own way in the world, and despite what I just said, I wouldn't trade this business for the world. Anyway," he continued, leaning forward again, hands together in front of him, "are you still up to do that extra scene for the project? The painters should be free to capture it in a couple of hours."
"Uh...right..." Stahl said with desperate uncertainty. "What's the name of the project, again?"

Chrom straightened himself out and grinned very proudly. "I am pleased announce that I just came up with the perfect title last night. The project after which I, Chrom Jeremy, will be a household name: Fucker Emblem, Awakening Wood!"
Stahl blinked repeatedly, like the hazard lights of a car.
"I came up with the title myself. Once it’s completed, Awakening Wood will be the greatest gallery of erotic artwork ever produced!"

Things...suddenly began to dawn on Stahl.

This was a realm like Old Hubba and Tharja's horrible scribbles- "fanfictions."

"Now," Chrom continued, "for your scene, I need you to take your horse and shove the whole animal waaaaaaay up your butt-"

Stahl was out of that room, down the stairs and standing by the exit in fifteen seconds flat, the most exceptional pace he'd ever made. Sully walked up to him a few seconds later, drenched from head to toe in absolutely copious amounts of blood. "Sully, this-"
"I know."
The two very quickly hightailed it to the Outrealm Gate and demanded the Anna within take them to a different world, one that was more PG-13, not that they used that exact word because film ratings boards were an entirely unknown concept to them.
"Five hundred gold," Anna answered them.
"Now look here-" Sully began.
"Is that the sound of wanting to stay there I hear?"
"Five hundred it is!"

"So, any additional stipulations about the realm you'd like to go to?" Anna asked as Stahl deposited silver coins, one by one, into her waiting hand.
"Take us to a world that isn't like a fanfiction," Stahl emphatically responded.
Anna nearly burst out laughing, but because she didn't the three could still hear the forming lynch mob. "You'll have to see the bar a little lower," she explained.
“Why?” Sully demanded.
“It’s complicated. Metaphysical reasons. You wouldn’t understand.”
"Then take us to a world that isn't a sexy fanfiction," said Stahl.
"That I can do!"

***

Stahl and Sully arrived in the middle of a rainy night. A faint orange light could be seen through the windows of the nearest building, a small shack with no visible neighbors. The two rushed to the shelter, and upon entering found it to be a very cramped tavern.

"Evening," said the barkeep, a very large man with a missing arm. His one hand was holding a white cloth, which with he attempted to dry a glass mug. Alas, with no second hand to stabilize it, the mug was jostled inconveniently with every motion to dry it, ever being slid across the wooden counter.
"Uh, evening," Stahl said with a faint wave.
"Nice little dive you got here," Sully remarked, though she personally felt quite in disagreement with that statement. Still, it didn't seem right to insult the place of business of a one-armed man, especially one which seemed to only support one customer who wasn't even drinking anything.

"You..." Stahl trailed off, feeling awkward for much the same reasons as Sully, "wouldn't be able to tell us...about anyone named Chrom, would you?"
"Chrom? Think I heard Volke talk to one of his customers about that name a few months ago." The one-armed barkeep raised his one hand, which was trapped in a cloth which was trapped in a mug, and pointed that mug hand at the one other person in the establishment.

In the corner sat a slim man in a trench coat and with a red cloth covering his face- edgy, but stylish. In his hand was a pen, and scattered across his table were papers and ink jars.

Archer and paladin approached the huddled mass. "Mr. Volke?" Stahl asked.
The hunched figure glanced up at the two. "Are you two looking for a fireman?"
"No. We're looking for a Chrom."
"Hm. Sorry, haven't written anything about him in months. Closest sample I have now is this." Without missing a beat, the writer gathered up a stack of papers from his table and presented them to the pair. Stahl quietly took the stack against his chest, and Sully leaned in to read aloud the title at the top of the first page.

"Moulder and Sully: The XXX Files, an Interdimensional Love Story, featuring...Dante from the Devil May Cry Series and Knuckles?"

"I take commissions," said Volke.

Stahl deposited five hundred more gold worth of silver coins into Anna's eager embrace.

***

"Only a version of our world," they instructed, which at first seemed to have been where they ended up. Things began to unravel a bit though, as people kept giving Stahl very dirty looks. On the positive side of things, the cautious crowds gave the duo quite a bit of space, so their journey to the royal palace went physically unimpeded. The emotional scarring and mental stress, however, were enough to sue someone for damages and have your case thrown out of court.

After entering the castle, the pair headed towards the throne room, and as they approached the throne room, they ran into Flavia, dressed in...some sort of inadequate pelt, like a berserker's garb, but sexier. It was perhaps best, they thought, that there no female berserkers- the quantity of exposed cleavage would be most unbecoming. Prudence aside, Stahl decided to engage the familiar face in a bit of conversation.
"Hey Flavia! What're you doing in the Ylissean palace?"
"Being Exalt, of course."
"Oh. Did you marry Chrom?"
"Marry my sister? Disgusting."
"..."

"Take us somewhere as close to our world as you can get, got it?" Sully instructed Anna, as Stahl handed over another portion from his ever decreasing funds.

***

This next world was even more promising than the last. A promising sign was the first pair of people they encountered- Gaius and Lissa, sitting under a tree, sowing and eating apples and being all sappy. When asked where Chrom was, the couple happily pointed them towards the Shepherd's base camp, and as Stahl and Sully approached to barracks, the image of Chrom became clearer and clearer- wife beater and all. He was talking about something with Vaike, neither of who noticed Stahl and Sully walk up until they were only a few meters out.

Whatever serious subject they were discussing was interrupted once the warrior caught sight of the two and drew the noble's attention to their approach. Both stood awed for a moment, then Chrom suddenly ran towards the pair.

"Stahl? Thank goodness," he remarked. "I thought you were dead."
"Same to you?"
"What? Hah, well, a lot can happen in the time you've been gone," Chrom smiled, then turned to Sully. Before anyone could say anything, he had wrapped his arms around her and crunched her against his chest, as with a body pillow on prom night. "Oh Sully, my love, to know Stahl's alive brings me almost as much joy as being around you." The lordling stepped back, but kept his arms firmly on the shell-shocked shoulders of the paladin. "I'll get everyone together for a feast tonight- we must celebrate the unexpected return of our comrade! We'll prepare a special dish for our guest of honor!"

Chrom walked away, beckoning Vaike to follow him, which the latter did. "Oh, and Stahl? We simply must meet alone sometime and catch you up on how things are going now. The sooner the better! Keep yourself low as well, I want to surprise everyone with your return!"

Sully and Stahl briefly exchanged glances, and wordlessly reached a consensus.

"Maybe it's rude that we didn't stay for the feast?" Stahl asked, coughing up the last of his silver coins.
"Not a chance in hell," Sully remarked. "I'm not married in the next world, got it Annie?"
"And Chrom should be married to Sumia," Stahl added. Some of the charge was left uncovered, and so he had to finish paying the gold in gold.

***

The pair appeared on a plain. It was a familiar Ylissean plain. They prayed to their various unspecified and primitive heathen gods that this would be it. They walked for a very long time, at least five minutes, until they found Sumia standing next to her pegasus, Chrom standing in front of the beast. Thankfully, his very distinct cape and weird mismatched pant legs made him easily identifiable.

"Chrom!" Stahl shouted over. The blue blood and his wife turned to see them.

This Chrom again had a mustache that Sully and Stahl would have identified as Mexican, except they still didn't know what Mexico was. He also wore a sombrero, which they somehow did know what it was. "Buenas noches Stahl y Sully. ¿Puedo ofrecerte un lindo huevo en estos tiempos difíciles?"

***

"Sully, I'm almost out of money," Stahl moaned, handing over all but one of his gold coins.
"Don't be such a baby," Sully scolded. "We're trying one more realm. Now look here Annie, I'm getting real tired of this crap. Next Outrealm you take us to better give us a true, honest-to-the-gods image of our Chrom, or my boot is going firmly up your tight-fisted-"
"Sully!"
"Okay, fine, I won't kick your ass if you screw this up. Don't anyway."

"I'll do my best to do what you asked," replied Anna with an incongruous cheerfulness.

***

"She screwed it up."

Sully stared bitterly at the dark, iron wall in front of them. It was actually titanium but they didn't know what titanium was. From behind came unceasing sounds of panic, like a trapped beast, separated from them only by a metal door with entirely too many latches. It was clearly too strong for Stahl to force open, so Sully tried to force it open. When that didn't work either, they prepared to knock, but their struggling against the entrance had already substituted for that, and the door was enthusiastically flung open by a short, black bald man with a hair piece that bafflingly left the front half of his head uncovered. "Stahl!" he exclaimed. "You're exactly who I need to see! Get in here, quick!"

The paladin and archer cautiously complied- thankfully the lighting in the room was rather poor and there were no painters, so that was a good sign. A strange lamp with no oil sat on the table in the room's center, its white light illuminating all four walls and the mess of pictures and articles which covered every inch of them above knee level. The parchments were connected by a web of various colors of string, stuck to the documents by small needles with colorful shanks.

There came the heavy sound of the door being slammed behind them, and then the clanking of its many locks being locked while their host frantically looked around, as if expecting someone. "My name is Basilio Jones," he explained, locking the bottom lock and shooting to his feet. Swiftly he moved around the table and so as to face Stahl and Sully from across from it, and slammed his hands dramatically on its surface. "From this bunker I use unknown-to-you telecommunications technology to expose the truth to people. We must never submit to Waifu Emblem agenda! They're sick, perverted freaks!"

Basilio Jones was now sweating. In a flurry, he reached for a chest under his table and began searching through it. "I have conclusive evidence to prove that Chrom is part of those dirty deviants! Behold!" With a mighty heave, he slammed a puppet stage onto the table. Suddenly, he seemed much calmer, and with positively knightly composure put a small puppet on each hand- one of Cordelia, and another of a similar looking blue-haired lady.

"Have you ever noticed that Lucina is actually a lot like Cordelia? Think about it, her hair style, her flat chest, her fighting skills- all an awful lot like Cordelia's, right? What if Chrom chrom'd more than he should've, catch my drift? Some secret chroming perhaps? Fertilizing fields he doesn't own? It might sound crazy, but remember, every aristocrat who has had the ability to abuse their position for sexual gratification has done so- except Thomas Jefferson, of course."

"Who's Lucina?" Stahl whispered. Sully shrugged. They had not gotten that far in the game yet.

"Now, I can hear you saying," Basilio Jones continued, taking on a mocking, sniveling tone, "'I think his real wife  would've noticed not giving birth to Lucina. Male infidelity doesn't work like female infidelity. Unlike the other children, you actually see the present Lucina. Unless the wife was dense, the baby was obviously hers-' And that's where you've missed it! Dense! Sumia is canon!

"The baby was switched out at birth. It's all coming together!

"And who was the swapped baby? The same person who came back from the future to watch over his friends and who has a similar hair color to Sumia? The one and only true savior of Fire Emblem!" Basilio pointed a puppeted hand to the archer in the room. "Prince Stahl!"

Stahl and Sully looked at each other, then at the poster Basilio draped over his puppet stage, depicting a brief genealogy. "It's all pictured here," he explained, "the product of Chrom's affair with Cordelia is Lucina, but what about his legitimate child with Sumia? The baby was born without a brand, cast away by Chrom to be raised by a maiden- Living through Grima's future, he stays longer than the rest and hones himself, and goes back in time years before the rest years after the rest go back in time! You know him as Stahl, the same man who is able to use the Falchion. Yes, the one and true rightful king! Price Stahl of Ylisse!"

The puppets became important again. Basilio Jones discarded the Lucina puppet and replaced it with a Chrom puppet, and held each up in the stage.

"Cordelia wanted more than anything else, Chrom's love. But he used her body and dumped her and went back to Sumia. Whoa." Basilio's amazed face was flanked by puppets. "The face when you realize you can't pair Sumia and Stahl. It's all so clear now."

Sully almost recovered from shock enough to say something, but was cut off again. "But it goes deeper!" The puppets moved uncomfortably close. "I can conclusively prove that Chrom nonconsensually forced himself on Cordelia and impregnated her, then threatened her with a fate worse that death if she told anyone-" Basilio's Chrom hand loomed frighteningly over his Cordelia hand, and with masterful puppetry skills the former took on a very disturbing look. A very threatening look. A semblance of a face so flat, and so broad, and so much like a flounder that it could have only been worn by a scaly-hearted sociopath. "Chrom is very 'persuasive' when he needs to be.

"But why wouldn't she tell anyone, I hear you ask. Simple. She is terrified for her life as well as her daughters’. Chrom here would kill them all if word got out he had an illegitimate child with one of his knights. Kill. Them. All. It might sound crazy, but remember, monarchs have assassinated people they disagree with since the beginning of monarchy, especially in a nation with no constitution. What does Ylisse not have? A constitution!"

What came next was somehow more disturbing. Basilio Jones made silly voices and had the puppets talk to each other.
"Cordelia, heh, I'm the prince!"
"C-Chrom, I...I'll tell! Someone will believe me!"
"FEDERICK!"
Quickly a Frederick puppet tagged in for Cordelia.
"Frederick, escort this mad woman out of here."
"Shall I take her to the dungeon milord?"
"Yes. She will learn, and she will stay quiet."

Sully and Stahl stared, bewildered.

"This is getting a little scary, isn't it?" Basilio Jones asked. "The truth is slowly coming together! Chrom's reputation is ruined now, the world might not know, but we all know his dirty little secrets! They can't stay hidden forever! All the more evidence that Chrom is a lecherous wife beater. I mean just look, he's wearing an actual wife beater!" Basilio Jones pointed the Frederick puppet's hair at the Chrom puppet, which accurately reflected Chrom's wardrobe. High quality craftsmanship.

"Consider the Female Avatar's support with Chrom-" Basilio Jones replaced the Frederick puppet with a puppet of a girl with white pigtails. "Even if he's already reached S support, Chrom is always making sure she walks in on him nude! He's a womanizer!"

Frantically, Basilio Jones pulled of the white haired puppet and put the Cordelia puppet back on. "What have you done? Now none of us are safe! And that's why we're all stuck in this bunker!" Slamming his puppety fists on the table, Basilio Jones, breathing heavily, began to replace the Chrom puppet. "I know what you're thinking, 'neat theory.' Yeah right, theory. Sounds crazy, but remember Bill Clinton?"

Before anyone could ask anything about Bill Clinton, Basilio Jones raised a hand newly bearing a generic soldier puppet. "It's over now Cordelia," he said in another silly, hateful voice. "Chrom and Frederick are on their way to arrest you. You'll be sentenced to death and hung in front of your peers. There will be no jury, you will be taken into custody without hearing your rights. It's over. Come peacefully and you will at least be spared further humiliation."

Basilio Jones pulled off both puppets, put the Chrom and Frederick puppets back on, and then resumed. "Excuse me everybody in this discussion: Hi. My name is Frederick. Someone has been spreading filthy rumors about milord, and I will see to it that they are punished immediately. Please refrain from discussing such matters, or I will throw you in the dungeon, personally, myself. Milord has done nothing wrong ever. He is a saint. Also I’m a pyromaniac and burn children to the fire god Molech." Basilio Jones growled. "Spoken just like a Waifu Emblem cuck explaining how they're not technically related, doesn't it?"

The Chrom puppet was raised high. Masterful puppetry again made it look wicked. "It was all part of his plan. Emmeryn's death? Removing Gangrel and Validar? All part of his plan to expand his territory. He infiltrates Ferox by having both him and Lucina serve as both East and West's champions. he wins the loyalty of the Feroxi soldiers, who begin to think lowly of the Khans for not fighting in their own battles."

"Maybe he didn't plan for Walhart, but look how that turned out. Chrom gets an army of super-soldiers capable of wrecking any army in the Outrelams, even those of legends like Marth, Sigurd, and Ike, and he has access to any world in the Outrealms for a mere 500 gold."

"We've been playing into Chrom's hands all along. The avatar was the grandmaster of tacticians, but Chrom was the tactician. The man holding the strings, with two aces in his pocket the whole time. Chrom truly is the-" Basilio Jones swallowed, and through great pain said in a mocking, loathsome voice, "the greatest lord that ever was."

He then composed himself and draped another parchment over the sage. "Also here's a picture of Lucina with Cordelia's hair color which basically proves everything."

"...very insightful..." Sully said. Stahl stood, quite a bit too unnerved by the whole presentation to speak.

"Now that you know the truth," Basilio Jones replied as if Sully had said nothing, "it is your mission to go and spread it to your realm and all the realms. Chroms cannot be trust- all of them are Waifu Emblem pervert freaks who want to turn the frogs gay. It might sound crazy, but remember this- When Plegia goes to war against Ylisse as revenge for their previous defeat, what does Chrom do? Soundly defeats them and then empties their treasury for his own, comparatively untouched and prosperous nation's reconstruction. And remember: Never. Stop fighting. The Emblem War."

***

Stahl and Sully silently stepped out of the portal into their home realm. The wordlessly waved Anna goodbye, and headed to the stable where they left Sully's horse. When they left, it was just before dusk- now, it was just past dawn. Apparently, they found as they got the horse back, it was the very next morning. For many seconds after they began their ride home, they were silent.

"So...Sully."
"Stahl."
"I think we should just...let Chrom be dead."
"Probably."
"We'll just let people make up some other reason for his death- killed by an enemy sniper, or something. And we can never acknowledge this incident ever again."
"Good idea."
"...hey Sully."
"Yeah Stahl?"
"Kinda weird how you were...married to Chrom in that one world."
"Pretty weird."
"...so, we're going to forget this all happened, right?"
"Hell yeah we are."
"We still got six days of sabbatical left. Want to...go to a tavern, and drink until we don't remember tonight?"
"You know what Stahl? That sounds like a pretty damn good idea."
"Nice. But, uh...could you spot me some cash?"

The two chuckled tired chuckles, and rode off into the sunrise.

"But no, really, I spent all my money on Outrealms."

***

"Guys! Guys!"

Kellam chased after Stahl and Sully as they quietly rode towards a tavern. He went as fast as his legs could carry him flailing his arms over his head. "Wait up!"

They proved too fast for him, and the armor knight was forced to take a break. "Whew...darn seven move units..." Resting his back against a tree, Kellam slid down until he was seated on its roots. "I can't believe it...they didn't notice me! I've been following them since Stahl shot Chrom, and no one's noticed! Lissa didn't notice when I tried to tell her about it, Anna didn't notice me, the only one who even looked at me was Basilio Jones! Ugh..." With a sigh born of years of painful solitude, Kellam reached into his oversized armor’s excessively spacious spaces and pulled out a paper, a pen, a sealed bottle of ink, and a comfortable office desk. Setting up his own little writers workshop, Kellam sat down to write the sixty third chapter in More than Training Partners, the extended story of his OTP, the bull and the panther, Sully and Stahl. He had plenty of inspiration to work with.

 

Edited September 23, 2018 by AnonymousSpeed

[Rapier]

19 hours ago, AnonymousSpeed said:

Word Count: 9,999

 

I-I mean, I'll try to write something. Probably. Yeah.

 

[SoulWeaver]

On 9/20/2018 at 10:29 PM, AnonymousSpeed said:

Firstly, I'd like to give a big thanks to Jotari- thanks to his proofreading, I feel confidence enough to post this now. I might give it another read over for small mistakes, but this should be quite near to whatever final state the work ends up in. This should be useful if you're crunched for time around the time submissions are due- my story ended up pretty long, but I was able to get it to just barely fit within the word limit.

Please Enjoy.

Title: The Chrom Conspiracy

Word Count: 9,999

Fandom: Fire Emblem Awakening

  Reveal hidden contents

"Holy hell. You killed the shit outta him."

"I think they make a staff for that?"
Stahl glanced off to his side, nervously seeking any kind of affirmation.

"Maybe they do, but where do you plan on finding the damn thing?"

Maybe he shouldn't have asked Sully.

An awkward silence loomed over the two, just as they now loomed over a prone corpse.

"Well, it's gotta exist somewhere. Tons of other legendary weapons did, and in duplicates."
"That's just the thing though, Stahl," Sully spat. "We've found four Hot Eclairs-"
"Hautecleres."
"Four Gradivuses-"
"Gradivi?"
"Seven Parthias-"
"I think that one's right."
"And, uh, how many Mercuriuseses?"
"Mercuri-"
"Stahl."
"Just three, I think."

"Right." Sully placed her hands on her hips, puffed out her chest, and, while Stahl was about her height, his slouch made it easy for her to look down on him. "And how many staves that raise the damn dead?"
"Aum-"
"Stahl."
"...none," Stahl admitted.
"There. Now are you starting to get the picture?"
"...the original might still be around?"

Sully sighed in frustration. "Unless someone used the damn things enough times to break it. Couldn't blame someone for wanting to." Her gaze diverted towards the body. "The only weapon which doesn't seem to break like a twig after a while is...you know."
"Yeah." Stahl chuckled. A very tense, nervous, uncertain, and shame-filled chuckle, only half a magnitude below the chuckle that comes when you ask a not-pregnant woman if she's pregnant. "Too bad it doesn't make the wielder unbreakable..."
Stahl and Sully both turned their attention to the weapon in question: the Falchion, strapped to the back of a Ylissian lordling in a blue wifebeater and a cape, who was now lying with his face in a small pool of his own blood and probably some other fluids.

That was Chrom, by the way. He was the dead guy. Stahl knelt down beside the body.

He checked his pulse- nothing. He took the Falchion from the lordling's back to inspect it- it was quite light and very much like any other sword in design and usage- it quite baffled Stahl how it proved so difficult for anyone but Chrom to wield. It was a bit awkward to hold, true, but Stahl hadn't held a sword in quite some time. Then again, not using a weapon in a long time never seemed to dull anyone else's proficiency. As Stahl pondered these things, blade in hand, he began to feel dirty for touching it. It wasn't right to touch a sword belonging to Chrom, so he quickly laid it back down.

"Poor bastard probably didn't see it coming," Sully murmured.

"Maybe that's good?" Stahl asked, as if he had just previously asked Sully if she was pregnant.
"How the hell would it be good to be minding your own business and then suddenly be shot in the face with an arrow?"
"Quiet Sully!" Stahl snapped, more so whispered with above-average forcefulness. "Look, I'm just saying, maybe it was...painless?"

"Gods, Stahl, who cares? Dead is dead. You've gotta cover this shit up."
"Me?"
"It's your arrow in his damn skull."
"Right..."

Stahl looked to his feet, clutching his bow tightly against his chest. Stupid bow. If not for it, this whole mess wouldn't have happened.

"There's no way in hell we can deal with the mess this is going to make, so you better start figuring out how we un-screw ourselves."
"Right..."

Just the other day, the army's tactician had given Stahl a little blue ball and told him to stand still and hold it- Before you could say the names of every species of butterfly, the green cavalier's armor changed so that it was no longer green. Or a cavalier's. Instead, he was an archer, and was quickly benched for his E rank bows and terrible enemy phase.

"If anyone finds out, this was all your fault and I had nothing to do with it."
"Right..."

Stahl had hoped that he might be able to get back on the battlefield, where he could be helpful. He trained regularly to boost weapon rank, and tried getting as many of the experience barracks events as he could; But in the end, it didn't even matter how hard he tried; he'd done something horribly unhelpful instead.

"Stahl, you know you're an idiot and screw up everything, right?"
"Right..."

Today's training had gone horribly wrong when Sully startled Stahl. The crappy archer accidentally released his arrow at a high angle which completely overshot the target.
This wouldn't have been a problem, except for the fact that Miriel had been practicing with a Valflame tome nearby, and the explosion blew the arrow off course.
This wouldn't have been a problem, except for the fact that Ricken had also been practicing nearby with an Elwind, which blew the arrow even further off course.

This wouldn't have been a problem, except for the fact that there was a slight eastern wind which kicked in such that the arrow basically made a complete 90 degree turn to the right and was sent flying toward Chrom.
This wouldn't have been a problem, except for the fact that Chrom was too busy inspecting the Fire Emblem to notice the arrow coming and dodge.
This wouldn't have been a problem, except for the fact that Chrom had heard all the spells and winds and junk and so lowered the Fire Emblem from his face at just the right moment to allow the stray arrow to fly through his eyeball and kill him. Crit-blicked by a level 6 archer.

"...Stahl, you're a fa-"
"No need for that kind of language, Sully!"
"Hah!" Sully's laugh was full of venom. "Glad to see you're still with the living. But no. Really. We really gotta do something about this body or we're dead."

"Ri-"
"Stahl."
"That is correct."

The rider-nonconsensually-turned-archer glanced around to make sure there were no other witnesses. He wasn't really sure what he'd do if there were, but thankfully it didn't come up: Ricken and Miriel were too far away and too busy training to notice the accidental regicide they unintentionally helped bring about. "Well," Stahl said, looking back at the body. "Hm...well, maybe...even if we don't know where to get an Aum Staff here...maybe we can find one somewhere else?"
"What, you want to set sail for Valm and-"
"No, I mean, what if we go to the Outrealm Gate!" Stahl explained. "It links to all kinds of other worlds- at least one of them has to have staves that revive the dead readily available.”
"Hah! Maybe you'll find a world where people get chopped into bloody halves and can just sleep it off between battles."
"If not that, we could at least try to find a world with a Chrom that isn’t dead. You got a better idea?"
"No," Sully said plainly. "But before you go off on your little escapade, you gotta think of how you're going to hide the body."

***

The room was filled with weeping. The tears never seemed to end- eyes ached. Curses and pleas filled the air. A small creak broke through the cascade of crying, as Lissa meekly pushed through the door to the barrack's kitchen. "Sully? Stahl?" The two wiped their eyes and turned them to the delicate war cleric. Nervousness could not show through their pained expressions. "Are you two...cutting onions?"

"Yep!" Stahl quickly answered with a chuckle. "Juuuust cutting onions."
"Uhuh..." Lissa glanced around the cooking space, dotted with literally medieval instruments, including vast numbers of bloody knives stuck in a nearly equal quantity of wooden cutting surfaces. Large chunks of meat generally flanked these knives, though there was no discernable presence of flank steak. "What are two making?"
"Bear," said Stahl.
"Chicken," said Sully.
"We're stuffing bear meat into chickens," explained Stahl.
"Ugh, bear meat?" Lissa pouted. "Fine. Just go a little easy on the onion, okay? I don't think Chrom or me can stand that much of it."

"Hahah! Will do!" Stahl said with as large as he could forcibly fit onto his face. "Not a problem at all, wouldn't want to do anything to upset Chrom, or you, not at all. Hah!" Sulfuric tears poured down his tightened cheeks.

"...okay then..." With all deliberate slowness, Lissa began backing out of the cheap wooden door, being very careful to avoid the all-to-common incident of getting a splinter from it. "Oh, by the way, Sully? Have you seen Chrom? Or Gaius, for that matter."
"Those two?" Sully, whose skin had been turned red by the heat of the cooking fires, suddenly resumed her normal complexion. "I'm not their damn baby sitters, how the hell should I know?"

It was then that Stahl, who looked as tight as a bowstring but at the very least less like a kidney bean than Sully, interjected. "They went on sabbatical."
"Sabbati-what?" Lissa asked, puzzled. Well, she at least seemed puzzled. Maybe it was just the onions getting to her.
"Oh, you know, it's like an extended vacation," the archer explained.
"In the middle of a war?"
"Well, what can you do? He was-is the boss after all. Said they'd be back in a week, maybe roughly, it might be longer it all just sort of depends." Stahl usually slouched. He now stood up so straight that he resembled a pasty pretzel stick, with the knuckles of his tightly clasped hands serving as an insignificant amount of white pretzel salt. All in all, a terrible and very suspicious pretzel.

"How'd you find out?"
"They told me about it before leaving," Stahl grinned.
"Wha-? Hmph!" Lissa stiffened herself indignantly. "Well then, if my husband and my brother are going to go off on a vacation without even telling me, then- well, I'm going to have some strong words for them when they get back!" With great fury, the cleric stormed out and slammed the door after her. "Ow! Splinter!"

After some growling and accusing of inanimate objects and the gradual dying away of footsteps, Stahl let out a sigh of relief it made him feel like throwing up, though that might have been the heat and the onions and the overbearing sense of stressful guilt. "Whew. Good thing she didn't check under the stack of fruitcakes."

Stahl and Sully then quickly moved a few bricks from a massive building of fruitcake, confirming that the fourteen and a third layers of sheets which wrapped up Chrom where still stored safely underneath. The Shepherds made multiple fruitcakes every year, but since Stahl was the only one who ate them they just sort of built up in piles around the base. It made him wonder why they still made the fruitcakes, but at the very least they were always good- some of the fruitcakes near the bottom were older than Donnel but still tasted like the newest batch. Now, though, he wasn't quite sure if he ever wanted to eat these particular fruitcakes.

Barely had the last fruity, cakey, immortal brick been put back in place than Sully slammed her elbow into Stahl's shoulder. "Ow!" cried the archer. The extra defense of a cavalier would have really helped him there.
"You damned fool!" Sully scolded. "Why'd you have to make up that stupid-ass story? Once Lissa finds Gaius-"
"Hey, hey, don't worry!" Stahl interjected. Sully's face grew sterner and Stahl's body grew smaller. "I paid for Gaius to go on sabbatical."

The red rider slowly pulled herself out of Stahl's face. "That's actually not a totally crap idea," she said with a smile. "How'd you get Gaius to go through with it without telling Lissa?"
"I told him it was Lissa's idea." Stahl gradually expanded to his normal size.

"And that she'd arranged for a carriage that waiting on him," Stahl elaborated. "At first, he seemed a little skeptical that she'd do that, but I think he trusts me. I really did get a carriage for him- 'on behalf of Princess Lissa,' and once I showed him the paperwork from that, he went along with it."
Sully smirked. "Identity theft, huh? Real knightly, Stahl."
"It's a desperate circumstance!" Stahl insisted.
"What do we do once Gaius gets back and spills the beans?"
"That depends a lot on whether we have Chrom back or not."

Sully groaned. "You better hope this plan of yours works out."
"Don't worry, I do-" Stahl replied, "especially with how much that sabbatical cost..."

***

"You two are going on a sabbatical too?" Lissa was both confused and indifferent to this revelation, leaving her visibly unsure as to the appropriate sort of pout to put on.
"Just for a week or so," Stahl explained in the same way a used car salesman would explain that a car with 30,000 miles on it was still in excellent condition. "Besides, you guys don't even deploy me anymore- and Sully could probably use a little break too, you know?" The archer leaned in to the cleric and whispered, "just between us, don't you think she seems a little stressed out?" The kick to his shin let him know he wasn't quiet enough.

Nonetheless chuckling at his misfortune, Lissa had to admit that Stahl had a point. Sully had been MVP on every map since her promotion to Paladin, and despite Stahl's uselessness on the battlefield, both of them did seem to be suffering from sudden onset stress. "Oh, alright," she ceded, "I guess we have enough soldiers to pick up the slack- just don't be late coming back, alright? In fact, come back a little earlier. I don't want Chrom thinking that I'm just giving out free vacations while he's gone!"

"You don't have to worry about him thinking that," Stahl replied, and was promptly kicked in the shin again. "Ow-"
"It's not like Chrom was such a tough guy about it either," Sully added, "Kellam's been off doing whatever for months and Chrom hasn't said crap about it."

"True. Well..." Lissa thought on that a moment, "don't get any ideas though! If anything, I'm going to be tougher on these sorts of things than him! So when you say you'll be back in a week, you better be back seven days from now."

Lissa felt very proud for her bold assertion and felt even prouder when Stahl and Sully readily agreed to it. They left quite hurriedly, which Lissa understood, but still with that awkward tension which seemed to tie the two together over the past few hours. Oh well, Lissa thought, picking at the tiny fraction of wood still stubbornly stuck in her finger. It probably just meant that they really needed that sabbatical anyway.

***

It then happened that Stahl paired up with Sully and the pair up and ran across the continent to the Outrealm Gate, a travel which lasted for nearly ten consecutive hours and during which breaks for urination were the most interesting events. After their long-ish journey, the two arrived at the stone archway which encompassed a swirling blue portal, like water being flushed down the toilets they didn't know they wanted.

"So, uh...how does this work, exactly?" asked Stahl.
"No idea," Sully answered. "Can't be that hard though, right? Seems like we just followed Chrom through it whenever we did it before."
"Yeah, but wasn't there something else he had to do after that?"
"Hell if I know. I figured you'd remember."
"Sorry, I guess I didn't notice what to do either."
"Well, crap," Sully spat on a poor clump of grass. "How the hell did we not notice how we were navigating a giant mess of other worlds?"
"..."
"..."
The two stared at the swirling door for a few seconds, unsure of their next action. Each independently considered just walking in and seeing what happened- it couldn't be any worse than going back empty-handed.
"Hey Sully," Stahl turned towards his companion and she towards him, "why don't we just walk in and...see what happens? It can't be any worse than going back empty-"

"Excuse me!"
The duo jerked their heads towards the source of the new and yet familiar voice- that of a young woman whose red-topped head was popping through the portal.
"I couldn't help but overhear the little predicament you two are in," the head elaborated, "and I think I might be able to help out!"

"Oh, uh, thanks?" Stahl replied. "Hey, Anna- what are you doing here, and not with the rest of the army?"

Anna equipped a confused expression. "With the rest-oh, I see," she chuckled. "You must be confusing me for one of my sisters!  You're probably thinking of Anna- she mentions being in an army when she writes. My name is 'Anna-' there's a subtle but important difference in pronunciation."
"Anna?" Stahl asked.
"No, 'Anna.'"
"Anna?"
"Close, 'Anna'."
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"Stahl."

"Right, sorry." The archer rubbed the back of his neck.

"So. How do you plan on helping us?" asked Sully, more to the point.
"Ah, now that's simple, hon!" The merchant smiled so broadly and tightly that it forced her eyes shut like an Asian man with two black eyes cutting onions while marathoning Holocaust films, her lips squeezed together just as tightly. "You see," she began, and then she saw as well, "whenever your tactician led you and your allies to wonder the Outrealms, they used my help to make sure they got to a safe destination. Not that they always knew exactly where they ended up- but that's the thing about wandering, isn't it? And if they had a specific realm they wanted to go back to, I could lead them to just the right place!"

Anna then took on a more solemn, almost apologetic expression. "Unfortunately, I can't afford to do this sort of work for free. We've all got bills to pay and mouths to feed, and there ain't nothing in this world for free. As such, there's a small fee for my services- two and a half to three dollars American."
"What's a Merican?" whispered Stahl as an aside to his companion.
"That's about five hundred gold," Anna conveniently explained.

"Five hundred gold? That's robbery!" Sully exclaimed.
"I would charge less, but I need the money to support my sisters." Anna chuckled, "I do have quite a few of them, you know."

Sully held her own chuckle behind her lips. "I guess your family lusts after more than gold," she muttered with toxic smugness.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" the merchant called out, putting a hand to her ear. "Did you say something? That you'd be willing to pay six hundred to help my humble family?"

Sully paused, then scowled. "Nope. Didn't say anything," she growled, digging her nails into her arms. "Nothing. At. All."

"Aw, that's what I though..." Anna replied. "Well then, are you two able to pay for my services?"

"Yeah, we can do that," Stahl walked up with a small sack and pulled from it a few silver coins, which Anna graciously accepted into her palm.
"Thanks hon! Now then, what sort of realm are you two looking to go to?"
"One with a Chrom, please," Stahl replied.
"That's a bit broad. Any other stipulations?"
"...he's not dead?"
"...right then, well, that'll do it, I guess. Follow me!"
The mahogany merchant's arm popped from the portal for just a second to beckon Stahl and Sully, before it and her head vanished into the gate. The two companions exchanged glances, then shrugs, then a series of simultaneous steps into the swirling mass- after that they exchanged not being able to remember what exactly occurred. After what had been no time or a lot of time or something outside of time itself (they weren't exactly sure, and really, how could you be with that last one?) they popped out from another Outrealm Gate into a visibly distinct realm.

Everything was well lit- too well lit, like the sun was actually multiple pure white suns, burning with the pure white fury of a fiery sun. Stahl even stared at the sun to confirm that there was only one sun, which he did.
"Alright, you got us to an outrealm. Great." Sully glared across the landscape while Stahl glared at the inside of his eyelids, trying to rub sight back into them. "Now how the hell do we find a Chrom?"
"Ask, I guess," Stahl muttered, blinking at the ground repeatedly. "There's people here, and Chrom is pretty famous in our world. He might well known here too."
"Not exactly a small assumption," Sully countered. "Well, there's at least one familiar face." The paladin pointed to a figure sitting on the corner of the dirt road, leaning back against a stone building- an Anna. Anna. Anna? Stahl.

"Ah, good eye Sully!" Stahl exclaimed with a chuckle. "I'll go ask her if she knows were a Chrom is-"
"Just don't say 'a' Chrom," Sully scolded, "and try not to make too much of an ass of yourself."

Stahl nodded and walked over to the merchant, criss-cross applesauce and also eating applesauce, the archer noticed as he drew near. "Hey, er, Anna?"
"Oh, hello hon!" Anna exclaimed, and the two exchanged a waving of hands. "I don't think we've been introduced, handsome- have you heard about me from a friend?"
"No," Stahl replied, coming to a stop. "I know one of your sisters."
"...oh."
"Anyway," Stahl began, resuming his casual slump and tone in the ever growing confidence he had in his plan, "I was wondering if I could ask you something of you."
"Sure thing, hon. For just two hundred gold, I can do anything you want me to."
"Oh, really?" Stahl exclaimed. "Anything?"
"Anything."
"Can you lead me to other realms for two hundred gold?"
"...no, I don't offer those kinds of services."
"But I thought you said any-"
"Anything within my field of business. You wouldn't buy a map from a fishmonger now, would you hon?"
"I guess not," Stahl replied with a nervous chuckle of defeat. "Well, would it be two hundred gold for you to tell me where a- where the Chrom is?"
"...no," an increasing confused Anna answered, "that's...free. If you're asking for a Chrom-"
"The Chrom."
"What?"
"Stahl- I mean, nothing."
"...right, you're probably looking for the Chrom who lives in that mansion up there-" As she spoke, Anna pointed a finger to a monolithic residence resting on a hill, a moderate walk along a dirt road away.
"Neat," the archer replied, eyes following the finger to the structure. "Woah, that is neat. Thanks!" With a wave, Stahl jaunted off towards Sully, who stood with her arms crossed, bitterly scrutinizing passersby.

"Hey Sully, guess what I found out?" 
"Nothing helpful?" a still-distracted Sully scorned.
"The opposite, actually! Anna said Chrom lives in that giant building over there-" Stahl explained, stretching his arm in revelatory fashion towards the elevated estate. "She called it a mansion, actually. I guess that's just like a big house. Pretty neat, huh Sully? Sully?"
Stahl swiftly swung his head to his traveling companion, still people-watching wordlessly.

"They must not have as much fabric in this realm," she muttered.
"What?"
"You said Chrom was in that big house, right?" Sully pointed towards the mansion and Stahl affirmed with a nod. "Let's not waste any more damn time then. Let's go!"

And so the two went off along the dirt path, past the green grass, until they came to the great wooden double doors of the palace, made of a pure white stone to match the sun in painful brightness. Each exchanged a glance. "Ladies first," Stahl remarked, and so Sully stepped forward and viciously struck the door several times, nearly knocking it off its hinges.

A brief respite allowed the door to creaked open, revealing the opener to be Tharja...in her swimsuit? This was quite disconcerting to the two knights, but they supposed not horribly out of the question. Her normal outfit was already pretty much a swimsuit, and it was very possible that she could actually be going swimming.
"What?" asked the dark mage, her terse tone unchanged. In complete contrast to how it regularly worked, this brought a bit of comfort.
"We're here to see Chrom," Stahl explained, and was met with disgruntled sigh.
"Fine, wait here."

Tharja walked back into the mansion, but left the door open, granting Stahl and Sully their first peak inside. The outside consisted almost entirely of white stone, and the inside was equally garish. More so, even- though the black swirls in the marble added some contrast, both travelers agreed that the extra polish and the light of the foyer's central fireplace were simply too much. Flanking said furnace was a curved staircase on each side, leading to an equally monochrome second floor. The two were afforded a minute or so of interior design critique when Tharja walked back into view on the second floor, a blue-haired man trailing behind her.

"Stahl! Sully!" The blue-haired man shouted, scurrying down the stairs with the Plegian shortly behind. "Just who I was hoping to see!"

As the figure approached, the shape of his face became more apparent, and when he spoke, his voice was instantly recognizable. Otherwise, Chrom looked unrecognizable. This Chrom’s hair was disheveled, and he wore a blue robe instead of his normal wife-beater. Perhaps most distracting was his mustache, which Stahl and Sully would have identified as Mexican, had they any concept of what Mexico was. Still, clothes could be changed and mustaches shaved, so maybe it would work.

"Hey, same here!" Stahl proclaimed, and all four convened near the bottom of the stairway. "So, Chrom, Sully and I had a few-"
"Ap-ap-ap!" Stahl's lips were shut by a pair of fingers which smelled of herbs and tar. "Say no more," Chrom instructed, releasing Stahl from his ashy scent. "Stahl, I have something very important to discuss with you. Tharja? Please take Sully here to the blank room." With a snap, the dark mage complied, and being both confused and wishing to see this whole thing work out, both Stahl and Sully did as well, though their doubts were quickly mounting. Chrom lead Stahl back up the stairs into a room with two chairs around yet another fireplace, and the archer began to wonder what they were doing to keep the building from turning into an oven.

"So...what's a blank room, exactly?" Stahl asked as they sat down.
"You know what a blank room is," Chrom scoffed playfully. "It's the one without any windows- you know, so you can get the lighting just right."
"I see. Why's the lighting important, again?"
"Because the artists need the exactly perfect lighting to get the best painting," Chrom explained. "I craft my scenes very delicately, and I don't want a single detail hidden in a shadow, or messed up because the sun moved."
"Right. Sounds like...a shame, if that happens."
"Tell me about it," Chrom said with a lurching swing of the head, like he was trying to build up the momentum to fling it from his shoulders. "I can't afford any errors in this project you know- it's going to be big, you know!"
"I...do know that," Stahl nodded slowly. He could not get over the fact that this Chrom had covered both his shoulders. "Uh, hey Chrom, what about...Plegia?"
"Geeze, awful inquisitive today, aren't you Stahl?" said Chrom. "I like it! If you keep this up with this curiosity, you might just find a very bright future in the business."
"Sounds...very profitable," Stahl replied.
"It's not that your apothecary skills aren't appreciated, they work wonders for the models, but I'm glad to see you taking interest in some of the finer aspects- anyway, Plegia. They've got some beautiful girls there- like that Tharja there, eh?"
"...aren't we at war with Plegia?"
"Let the past be the past!" Chrom said with a dismissive air-slap. "Besides, that's more Emmeryn's problem."
"Emmeryn?"
"Yeah, you know, my older sister, the Exalt? I tell you, I love her to death, but sometimes I wish she was dead-"
Stahl was very silent and very wide-eyed, like a deer caught in the headlights of a car.
"Well, not dead, but unable to fulfill her royal duty, or wasn't the oldest. I think I'd make a pretty good Exalt, don't you?"
"OhI'msureofit."
"But when life gives you horses, you made glue, you know?" Chrom slumped back in his seat. "Got to make my own way in the world, and despite what I just said, I wouldn't trade this business for the world. Anyway," he continued, leaning forward again, hands together in front of him, "are you still up to do that extra scene for the project? The painters should be free to capture it in a couple of hours."
"Uh...right..." Stahl said with desperate uncertainty. "What's the name of the project, again?"

Chrom straightened himself out and grinned very proudly. "I am pleased announce that I just came up with the perfect title last night. The project after which I, Chrom Jeremy, will be a household name: Fucker Emblem, Awakening Wood!"
Stahl blinked repeatedly, like the hazard lights of a car.
"I came up with the title myself. Once it’s completed, Awakening Wood will be the greatest gallery of erotic artwork ever produced!"

Things...suddenly began to dawn on Stahl.

This was a realm like Old Hubba and Tharja's horrible scribbles- "fanfictions."

"Now," Chrom continued, "for your scene, I need you to take your horse and shove the whole animal waaaaaaay up your butt-"

Stahl was out of that room, down the stairs and standing by the exit in fifteen seconds flat, the most exceptional pace he'd ever made. Sully walked up to him a few seconds later, drenched from head to toe in absolutely copious amounts of blood. "Sully, this-"
"I know."
The two very quickly hightailed it to the Outrealm Gate and demanded the Anna within take them to a different world, one that was more PG-13, not that they used that exact word because film ratings boards were an entirely unknown concept to them.
"Five hundred gold," Anna answered them.
"Now look here-" Sully began.
"Is that the sound of wanting to stay there I hear?"
"Five hundred it is!"

"So, any additional stipulations about the realm you'd like to go to?" Anna asked as Stahl deposited silver coins, one by one, into her waiting hand.
"Take us to a world that isn't like a fanfiction," Stahl emphatically responded.
Anna nearly burst out laughing, but because she didn't the three could still hear the forming lynch mob. "You'll have to see the bar a little lower," she explained.
“Why?” Sully demanded.
“It’s complicated. Metaphysical reasons. You wouldn’t understand.”
"Then take us to a world that isn't a sexy fanfiction," said Stahl.
"That I can do!"

***

Stahl and Sully arrived in the middle of a rainy night. A faint orange light could be seen through the windows of the nearest building, a small shack with no visible neighbors. The two rushed to the shelter, and upon entering found it to be a very cramped tavern.

"Evening," said the barkeep, a very large man with a missing arm. His one hand was holding a white cloth, which with he attempted to dry a glass mug. Alas, with no second hand to stabilize it, the mug was jostled inconveniently with every motion to dry it, ever being slid across the wooden counter.
"Uh, evening," Stahl said with a faint wave.
"Nice little dive you got here," Sully remarked, though she personally felt quite in disagreement with that statement. Still, it didn't seem right to insult the place of business of a one-armed man, especially one which seemed to only support one customer who wasn't even drinking anything.

"You..." Stahl trailed off, feeling awkward for much the same reasons as Sully, "wouldn't be able to tell us...about anyone named Chrom, would you?"
"Chrom? Think I heard Volke talk to one of his customers about that name a few months ago." The one-armed barkeep raised his one hand, which was trapped in a cloth which was trapped in a mug, and pointed that mug hand at the one other person in the establishment.

In the corner sat a slim man in a trench coat and with a red cloth covering his face- edgy, but stylish. In his hand was a pen, and scattered across his table were papers and ink jars.

Archer and paladin approached the huddled mass. "Mr. Volke?" Stahl asked.
The hunched figure glanced up at the two. "Are you two looking for a fireman?"
"No. We're looking for a Chrom."
"Hm. Sorry, haven't written anything about him in months. Closest sample I have now is this." Without missing a beat, the writer gathered up a stack of papers from his table and presented them to the pair. Stahl quietly took the stack against his chest, and Sully leaned in to read aloud the title at the top of the first page.

"Moulder and Sully: The XXX Files, an Interdimensional Love Story, featuring...Dante from the Devil May Cry Series and Knuckles?"

"I take commissions," said Volke.

Stahl deposited five hundred more gold worth of silver coins into Anna's eager embrace.

***

"Only a version of our world," they instructed, which at first seemed to have been where they ended up. Things began to unravel a bit though, as people kept giving Stahl very dirty looks. On the positive side of things, the cautious crowds gave the duo quite a bit of space, so their journey to the royal palace went physically unimpeded. The emotional scarring and mental stress, however, were enough to sue someone for damages and have your case thrown out of court.

After entering the castle, the pair headed towards the throne room, and as they approached the throne room, they ran into Flavia, dressed in...some sort of inadequate pelt, like a berserker's garb, but sexier. It was perhaps best, they thought, that there no female berserkers- the quantity of exposed cleavage would be most unbecoming. Prudence aside, Stahl decided to engage the familiar face in a bit of conversation.
"Hey Flavia! What're you doing in the Ylissean palace?"
"Being Exalt, of course."
"Oh. Did you marry Chrom?"
"Marry my sister? Disgusting."
"..."

"Take us somewhere as close to our world as you can get, got it?" Sully instructed Anna, as Stahl handed over another portion from his ever decreasing funds.

***

This next world was even more promising than the last. A promising sign was the first pair of people they encountered- Gaius and Lissa, sitting under a tree, sowing and eating apples and being all sappy. When asked where Chrom was, the couple happily pointed them towards the Shepherd's base camp, and as Stahl and Sully approached to barracks, the image of Chrom became clearer and clearer- wife beater and all. He was talking about something with Vaike, neither of who noticed Stahl and Sully walk up until they were only a few meters out.

Whatever serious subject they were discussing was interrupted once the warrior caught sight of the two and drew the noble's attention to their approach. Both stood awed for a moment, then Chrom suddenly ran towards the pair.

"Stahl? Thank goodness," he remarked. "I thought you were dead."
"Same to you?"
"What? Hah, well, a lot can happen in the time you've been gone," Chrom smiled, then turned to Sully. Before anyone could say anything, he had wrapped his arms around her and crunched her against his chest, as with a body pillow on prom night. "Oh Sully, my love, to know Stahl's alive brings me almost as much joy as being around you." The lordling stepped back, but kept his arms firmly on the shell-shocked shoulders of the paladin. "I'll get everyone together for a feast tonight- we must celebrate the unexpected return of our comrade! We'll prepare a special dish for our guest of honor!"

Chrom walked away, beckoning Vaike to follow him, which the latter did. "Oh, and Stahl? We simply must meet alone sometime and catch you up on how things are going now. The sooner the better! Keep yourself low as well, I want to surprise everyone with your return!"

Sully and Stahl briefly exchanged glances, and wordlessly reached a consensus.

"Maybe it's rude that we didn't stay for the feast?" Stahl asked, coughing up the last of his silver coins.
"Not a chance in hell," Sully remarked. "I'm not married in the next world, got it Annie?"
"And Chrom should be married to Sumia," Stahl added. Some of the charge was left uncovered, and so he had to finish paying the gold in gold.

***

The pair appeared on a plain. It was a familiar Ylissean plain. They prayed to their various unspecified and primitive heathen gods that this would be it. They walked for a very long time, at least five minutes, until they found Sumia standing next to her pegasus, Chrom standing in front of the beast. Thankfully, his very distinct cape and weird mismatched pant legs made him easily identifiable.

"Chrom!" Stahl shouted over. The blue blood and his wife turned to see them.

This Chrom again had a mustache that Sully and Stahl would have identified as Mexican, except they still didn't know what Mexico was. He also wore a sombrero, which they somehow did know what it was. "Buenas noches Stahl y Sully. ¿Puedo ofrecerte un lindo huevo en estos tiempos difíciles?"

***

"Sully, I'm almost out of money," Stahl moaned, handing over all but one of his gold coins.
"Don't be such a baby," Sully scolded. "We're trying one more realm. Now look here Annie, I'm getting real tired of this crap. Next Outrealm you take us to better give us a true, honest-to-the-gods image of our Chrom, or my boot is going firmly up your tight-fisted-"
"Sully!"
"Okay, fine, I won't kick your ass if you screw this up. Don't anyway."

"I'll do my best to do what you asked," replied Anna with an incongruous cheerfulness.

***

"She screwed it up."

Sully stared bitterly at the dark, iron wall in front of them. It was actually titanium but they didn't know what titanium was. From behind came unceasing sounds of panic, like a trapped beast, separated from them only by a metal door with entirely too many latches. It was clearly too strong for Stahl to force open, so Sully tried to force it open. When that didn't work either, they prepared to knock, but their struggling against the entrance had already substituted for that, and the door was enthusiastically flung open by a short, black bald man with a hair piece that bafflingly left the front half of his head uncovered. "Stahl!" he exclaimed. "You're exactly who I need to see! Get in here, quick!"

The paladin and archer cautiously complied- thankfully the lighting in the room was rather poor and there were no painters, so that was a good sign. A strange lamp with no oil sat on the table in the room's center, its white light illuminating all four walls and the mess of pictures and articles which covered every inch of them above knee level. The parchments were connected by a web of various colors of string, stuck to the documents by small needles with colorful shanks.

There came the heavy sound of the door being slammed behind them, and then the clanking of its many locks being locked while their host frantically looked around, as if expecting someone. "My name is Basilio Jones," he explained, locking the bottom lock and shooting to his feet. Swiftly he moved around the table and so as to face Stahl and Sully from across from it, and slammed his hands dramatically on its surface. "From this bunker I use unknown-to-you telecommunications technology to expose the truth to people. We must never submit to Waifu Emblem agenda! They're sick, perverted freaks!"

Basilio Jones was now sweating. In a flurry, he reached for a chest under his table and began searching through it. "I have conclusive evidence to prove that Chrom is part of those dirty deviants! Behold!" With a mighty heave, he slammed a puppet stage onto the table. Suddenly, he seemed much calmer, and with positively knightly composure put a small puppet on each hand- one of Cordelia, and another of a similar looking blue-haired lady.

"Have you ever noticed that Lucina is actually a lot like Cordelia? Think about it, her hair style, her flat chest, her fighting skills- all an awful lot like Cordelia's, right? What if Chrom chrom'd more than he should've, catch my drift? Some secret chroming perhaps? Fertilizing fields he doesn't own? It might sound crazy, but remember, every aristocrat who has had the ability to abuse their position for sexual gratification has done so- except Thomas Jefferson, of course."

"Who's Lucina?" Stahl whispered. Sully shrugged. They had not gotten that far in the game yet.

"Now, I can hear you saying," Basilio Jones continued, taking on a mocking, sniveling tone, "'I think his real wife  would've noticed not giving birth to Lucina. Male infidelity doesn't work like female infidelity. Unlike the other children, you actually see the present Lucina. Unless the wife was dense, the baby was obviously hers-' And that's where you've missed it! Dense! Sumia is canon!

"The baby was switched out at birth. It's all coming together!

"And who was the swapped baby? The same person who came back from the future to watch over his friends and who has a similar hair color to Sumia? The one and only true savior of Fire Emblem!" Basilio pointed a puppeted hand to the archer in the room. "Prince Stahl!"

Stahl and Sully looked at each other, then at the poster Basilio draped over his puppet stage, depicting a brief genealogy. "It's all pictured here," he explained, "the product of Chrom's affair with Cordelia is Lucina, but what about his legitimate child with Sumia? The baby was born without a brand, cast away by Chrom to be raised by a maiden- Living through Grima's future, he stays longer than the rest and hones himself, and goes back in time years before the rest years after the rest go back in time! You know him as Stahl, the same man who is able to use the Falchion. Yes, the one and true rightful king! Price Stahl of Ylisse!"

The puppets became important again. Basilio Jones discarded the Lucina puppet and replaced it with a Chrom puppet, and held each up in the stage.

"Cordelia wanted more than anything else, Chrom's love. But he used her body and dumped her and went back to Sumia. Whoa." Basilio's amazed face was flanked by puppets. "The face when you realize you can't pair Sumia and Stahl. It's all so clear now."

Sully almost recovered from shock enough to say something, but was cut off again. "But it goes deeper!" The puppets moved uncomfortably close. "I can conclusively prove that Chrom nonconsensually forced himself on Cordelia and impregnated her, then threatened her with a fate worse that death if she told anyone-" Basilio's Chrom hand loomed frighteningly over his Cordelia hand, and with masterful puppetry skills the former took on a very disturbing look. A very threatening look. A semblance of a face so flat, and so broad, and so much like a flounder that it could have only been worn by a scaly-hearted sociopath. "Chrom is very 'persuasive' when he needs to be.

"But why wouldn't she tell anyone, I hear you ask. Simple. She is terrified for her life as well as her daughters’. Chrom here would kill them all if word got out he had an illegitimate child with one of his knights. Kill. Them. All. It might sound crazy, but remember, monarchs have assassinated people they disagree with since the beginning of monarchy, especially in a nation with no constitution. What does Ylisse not have? A constitution!"

What came next was somehow more disturbing. Basilio Jones made silly voices and had the puppets talk to each other.
"Cordelia, heh, I'm the prince!"
"C-Chrom, I...I'll tell! Someone will believe me!"
"FEDERICK!"
Quickly a Frederick puppet tagged in for Cordelia.
"Frederick, escort this mad woman out of here."
"Shall I take her to the dungeon milord?"
"Yes. She will learn, and she will stay quiet."

Sully and Stahl stared, bewildered.

"This is getting a little scary, isn't it?" Basilio Jones asked. "The truth is slowly coming together! Chrom's reputation is ruined now, the world might not know, but we all know his dirty little secrets! They can't stay hidden forever! All the more evidence that Chrom is a lecherous wife beater. I mean just look, he's wearing an actual wife beater!" Basilio Jones pointed the Frederick puppet's hair at the Chrom puppet, which accurately reflected Chrom's wardrobe. High quality craftsmanship.

"Consider the Female Avatar's support with Chrom-" Basilio Jones replaced the Frederick puppet with a puppet of a girl with white pigtails. "Even if he's already reached S support, Chrom is always making sure she walks in on him nude! He's a womanizer!"

Frantically, Basilio Jones pulled of the white haired puppet and put the Cordelia puppet back on. "What have you done? Now none of us are safe! And that's why we're all stuck in this bunker!" Slamming his puppety fists on the table, Basilio Jones, breathing heavily, began to replace the Chrom puppet. "I know what you're thinking, 'neat theory.' Yeah right, theory. Sounds crazy, but remember Bill Clinton?"

Before anyone could ask anything about Bill Clinton, Basilio Jones raised a hand newly bearing a generic soldier puppet. "It's over now Cordelia," he said in another silly, hateful voice. "Chrom and Frederick are on their way to arrest you. You'll be sentenced to death and hung in front of your peers. There will be no jury, you will be taken into custody without hearing your rights. It's over. Come peacefully and you will at least be spared further humiliation."

Basilio Jones pulled off both puppets, put the Chrom and Frederick puppets back on, and then resumed. "Excuse me everybody in this discussion: Hi. My name is Frederick. Someone has been spreading filthy rumors about milord, and I will see to it that they are punished immediately. Please refrain from discussing such matters, or I will throw you in the dungeon, personally, myself. Milord has done nothing wrong ever. He is a saint. Also I’m a pyromaniac and burn children to the fire god Molech." Basilio Jones growled. "Spoken just like a Waifu Emblem cuck explaining how they're not technically related, doesn't it?"

The Chrom puppet was raised high. Masterful puppetry again made it look wicked. "It was all part of his plan. Emmeryn's death? Removing Gangrel and Validar? All part of his plan to expand his territory. He infiltrates Ferox by having both him and Lucina serve as both East and West's champions. he wins the loyalty of the Feroxi soldiers, who begin to think lowly of the Khans for not fighting in their own battles."

"Maybe he didn't plan for Walhart, but look how that turned out. Chrom gets an army of super-soldiers capable of wrecking any army in the Outrelams, even those of legends like Marth, Sigurd, and Ike, and he has access to any world in the Outrealms for a mere 500 gold."

"We've been playing into Chrom's hands all along. The avatar was the grandmaster of tacticians, but Chrom was the tactician. The man holding the strings, with two aces in his pocket the whole time. Chrom truly is the-" Basilio Jones swallowed, and through great pain said in a mocking, loathsome voice, "the greatest lord that ever was."

He then composed himself and draped another parchment over the sage. "Also here's a picture of Lucina with Cordelia's hair color which basically proves everything."

"...very insightful..." Sully said. Stahl stood, quite a bit too unnerved by the whole presentation to speak.

"Now that you know the truth," Basilio Jones replied as if Sully had said nothing, "it is your mission to go and spread it to your realm and all the realms. Chroms cannot be trust- all of them are Waifu Emblem pervert freaks who want to turn the frogs gay. It might sound crazy, but remember this- When Plegia goes to war against Ylisse as revenge for their previous defeat, what does Chrom do? Soundly defeats them and then empties their treasury for his own, comparatively untouched and prosperous nation's reconstruction. And remember: Never. Stop fighting. The Emblem War."

***

Stahl and Sully silently stepped out of the portal into their home realm. The wordlessly waved Anna goodbye, and headed to the stable where they left Sully's horse. When they left, it was just before dusk- now, it was just past dawn. Apparently, they found as they got the horse back, it was the very next morning. For many seconds after they began their ride home, they were silent.

"So...Sully."
"Stahl."
"I think we should just...let Chrom be dead."
"Probably."
"We'll just let people make up some other reason for his death- killed by an enemy sniper, or something. And we can never acknowledge this incident ever again."
"Good idea."
"...hey Sully."
"Yeah Stahl?"
"Kinda weird how you were...married to Chrom in that one world."
"Pretty weird."
"...so, we're going to forget this all happened, right?"
"Hell yeah we are."
"We still got six days of sabbatical left. Want to...go to a tavern, and drink until we don't remember tonight?"
"You know what Stahl? That sounds like a pretty damn good idea."
"Nice. But, uh...could you spot me some cash?"

The two chuckled tired chuckles, and rode off into the sunrise.

"But no, really, I spent all my money on Outrealms."

***

"Guys! Guys!"

Kellam chased after Stahl and Sully as they quietly rode towards a tavern. He went as fast as his legs could carry him flailing his arms over his head. "Wait up!"

They proved too fast for him, and the armor knight was forced to take a break. "Whew...darn seven move units..." Resting his back against a tree, Kellam slid down until he was seated on its roots. "I can't believe it...they didn't notice me! I've been following them since Stahl shot Chrom, and no one's noticed! Lissa didn't notice when I tried to tell her about it, Anna didn't notice me, the only one who even looked at me was Basilio Jones! Ugh..." With a sigh born of years of painful solitude, Kellam reached into his oversized armor’s excessively spacious spaces and pulled out a paper, a pen, a sealed bottle of ink, and a comfortable office desk. Setting up his own little writers workshop, Kellam sat down to write the sixty third chapter in More than Training Partners, the extended story of his OTP, the bull and the panther, Sully and Stahl. He had plenty of inspiration to work with.

 

My dude.

MY DUDE.

MUCH ENJOYMENT WAS HAD.

[TheSilentChloey]

We need more entries lol!

[SoulWeaver]

No. No we don't. I don't think it's possible to beat that majestic piece of pure literature we were treated to yesterday.