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Protecting a Sword	By : The13thStranger Category: +A through F > Fire Emblem (all) > Fire Emblem (all) Views: 4478 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I swear I own nothing of Fire Emblem, and make no money at all with it.

Chapter List
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Marisa awoke feeling… good. Weirdly good, even. Better then she had ever felt.

Which should have been impossible, since she had been gutted and she was missing an arm an-

…She should’ve been dead. Instead she was… not only alive, but whole. What manner of…

“Good morning!” Somebody said. Marisa looked up to see, if she remembered correctly, the woman who she had died to save yesterday. Marisa said nothing, instead wondering what the woman could possibly be so happy about. Perhaps she was proud of the wound she healed…?

“I should be dead.” She instead said, more to herself then to the woman. She was quite sure she should be dead. She herself had killed with less then she had been inflicted with.

“…you almost were.” She said, thankfully settling down into something calmer. “I almost didn’t save you, even with the bond-“ Marisa’s eyes snapped up and coldly seized the cleric’s.

“The what?”

“The bond. When you were dying, I could hear your soul-“ Her hold on it must have slackened as she lost consciousness. The venom probably hadn’t helped either. “-and I am a Sentinel-“ That would explain her accent. Grado’s Sentinels were a mysterious lot. “-so I bonded with you to save you. It made my healing more effecti-“

“Why are we still bonded?” Natasha stopped her explanation with an odd choking noise. And she stared, as if Marisa’s question made absolutely no sense. Perhaps it didn’t. Marisa didn’t know much about the Sentinels.

“…why…?” Natasha asked her, probably unknowing of any other way to respond.

“I am healed. I don’t need the bond anymore.” And with that, Marisa gathered her focus, and quelled her soul immediately. It was evoking feelings she was unused to, and needed to be silenced.

Natasha seemed to notice the difference and her eyes widened in disbelief, gasping and stepping back, hand over her chest as if she had been dealt a physical blow.

“You don’t need…”

“End it.”

“I…” Marisa’s eyes narrowed in irritation.

“Now.” Natasha seemed to be at a complete loss, staring at her with what was obvious fear. She stumbled backwards, tripping as she backed away, and scrambled out of the tent.

Marisa sighed. It was probably going to be one of those days…

--

Franz walked through the camp whistling his favorite tune. Really it was a wonderful day.

Sister Natasha had explained what exactly the miracle he saw was, and what it meant, and knew that she was waiting with baited breath to meet her guide and discover what sort of person she was.

It was a rare and welcome sight to see the normally somber woman in such high spirits, and he had finally finished her satchel, so he was looking forward to brightening her day even further.

He was made very aware in the following second that he should pay more attention to his surroundings when the cleric he was talking about slammed into him and knocked the both of them in their behinds.

“Ouch my-… S-sister? Are you alright?” She looked horrible, eyes wide and terrified, tears running down her face, trembling like she had never known warmth.

She lunged forward into his arms, sobbing and mumbling incoherently.

Franz’s jaw tightened, figuring that the swordswoman she’d saved hadn’t reacted in a favorable way.

With that understatement out of the way, Franz got them to their feet, and led Natasha towards her tent, determined to get to the bottom of this matter.

--

Marisa, for the most part, went through the motions of her life with no change. After she had left the tent, she had gone to seek out the one who would acknowledge her joining the present company, and was properly hired and graciously compensated for the services she had already rendered. Apparently she was already somewhat famous for killing three Baal and assisting in the kill of an elder.

She shrugged and took it in stride. She was a sword. Pride was pointless. Said fame greased the wheels and little else.

Whatever the bond had done had made her soul harder to quiet, and over the course of a couple of days, she could feel slightest of leaks through her walls, as if it was starting to spill over the sides of a cup. She noticed other people, probably also from Grado, start to study her in a way they hadn’t before.

She hadn’t been able to find the cleric, and hadn’t been able to provide a good reason to seek her out as she wasn’t injured and had no prior history with her, especially when she couldn’t even provide a name. The bond remained, and it was starting to vex her that it would probably start interfering with her fighting when it came time for combat.

The next battle had arrived, and she gave up trying to find the cleric for the umpteenth time. She could work off her frustrations on the battlefield.

--

The terrain was easy enough to navigate, and the weather was calm. The enemy was poorly trained. Ideal conditions. Killing came easily.

Then it happened. She saw the archer taking aim at one of the mages. Tethys’ brother, she realized. That wouldn’t do.

She also noticed an enemy cleric decide to put an end to her success, and raise a sleep staff to make it so.

She made the choice in seconds and dashed towards the archer, severing the bowstring and cutting his throat at the same time. The bow and arrow clattered uselessly to the ground as the solder clutched at the fatal wound. Satisfied, Marisa felt the sleep spell take hold, and she struggled to find a safe place to ride out the effects.

Then a huge axe man rounded the corner, saw her, and immediately knew what was going on.

Fuck.

He walked forward, knowing that Marisa was little threat in her current state. Leaning his axe against the wall, he casually began loosening his pants while looking her body up and down. And as Marisa tried to drag what little strength she had left to kill this man before she succumbed, something happened that she would never forget.

It was the angry scream of a woman. Marisa concluded that it wasn’t for her since the only woman who would care enough about her to make a war cry like that was Tethys. And she couldn`t fight at all.

There was a blast of light and the axe man flew backwards. A woman in white flew towards him, yelling death and blood and killing intent at the man who’s fumbling hands managed to grab his weapon. Another blast of light blew his arm clear off, and he could only scream as the divine magic began to cook his body.

Marisa lost consciousness before the woman turned around to face her. At least she was probably safe…
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Protecting a Sword