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Preface: This was a short, spur-of-the-moment bit of writing I did a few years back. It's not long, it's nothing phenomenal, but I am actually somewhat fond of it for its sparseness. Inspired by the true ending of FE6, and I had this perception of Idunn as a broken, lost soul, with a confused and one track mind, after being made what she is. The grammar and flow are deliberately broken up to capture the confusion, it's not just sloppy writing. I figured i'd share it, not sure for what reason exactly. It is the only FE based free writing I've done. 


Footsteps, behind. I turn. There they stand. Blocking me. With them comes a faint…so faint…breeze. The caress of a time long past.

A boy. He’s…sad. He walks forward, looking at me, that blade – that familiar blade – held firmly in his young fist. His hair blazes slightly as that faint breeze dies, bound only by a strip of blue.

Behind him stand a few. His…friends? This word, what does it mean? The nights were so long.
Only darkness. It means nothing to me. I have only my duty.

Stop? I cannot stop. My path has been lit. I was awakened solely for this path. I cannot stop. Why do you block me? I can’t let you block me. I cannot stop.

I grow. I feel darkness uncoiling inside me, I feel myself being freed from the mortal bindings. Hair recedes. My robe, grows, a part of me, until my wings stand tall, to block the sky. My skin blackens, hardens, fractures, morphs again. I breathe, shifting. I will not go back to darkness. My path is lit, for the first time in so long…

I cannot stop.

He strikes, blade whistling through the air. It hurts. Pain…pain was long forgotten to me. Yet, despite pain, I feel nothing. I strike in return. This boy is unfazed. In the periphery I see my attendants. One is cut down by a resonating pillar of fire. One is killed by…myself? No. She is young, yet she is familiar…so familiar. How long has it been?

I am weak. Each strike pushes me lower. I cannot stop…I cannot.

I am going to be stopped.
This boy with a head of flame has defeated me, like so long ago. The blade sings a sad song of remorse as it falls. It cuts deep, so deep – sending me back into the blackness, binding me once again.

But…something feels…loose. Yet strong. Deep inside. I feel a twinge of…something. Is this…?
Darkness falls once more.


I look at her, back in human shape. Pale, smooth skin – like the moon. Her hair, the moon’s light, quicksilver. Beneath her sleeping eyelids, I know, are two eyes. One the color of life, as a forest filled with light, gone dark. The other, the red of passion, a scarlet to match that of burning blood – gone dull.

The blade held back, as I did, in that final blow. Perhaps…there is a way. Her smooth breast beneath her robes rises and falls in the smallest of movements. She is so frail. I can’t just leave her here.

The ruins shake. Stones begin to fall. I order my friends to run. I will follow. I can’t leave her here, she deserves better. Her body, slight and frail, weighs little upon my back. The dust chokes me as I rush outside, breathing in the clean air with a desperation akin to that of a drowning man.

We are safe. We are all safe.


The girl who is so much like who I was smiles. “This is a tree,” she says, the very model of the child she appears to be. She keeps talking as I watch. Why was I saved? I am nothing. My path was lit, and now it’s nothing. I’m told I can live on my own, but what is my purpose?
The young dragon shakes the tree, and a fruit falls solidly on her head with a solid (and hollow) thunk. She sits on the ground and rubs her head, shooting a rueful look at the tree. I feel a warmth
inside me, and make a noise much akin to a grunt. What? It, it feels good. I smile again.

“Wait, did you just laugh?” the girl asks, a look of hope on her face.

“Laugh…?” What is a laugh? I remember…faintly. It feels good. Maybe I can learn to laugh again.


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