Brandless

[darkmage36]

Hey guys! I randomly had an urge to write a fanfic--my first one. I wasn't exactly sure what to do, so on a whim I just started a loose retelling of Awakening from Lissa's perspective. I'm not sure how far I'll get, but I thought I'd give this a try. You will be quick to notice that I've taken a few liberties with some of the characters. The only one who's different in this chapter is Maribelle (sorry if I offend any Maribelle fans...), but I intend to make a few other changes. Hopefully they will work out for the best. Let me know what you guys think of my first attempt at fanfiction. Here goes...

Chapter 1

“Lissa, wake up. Lissa!”

The sunlight felt bright on my face as I cracked my eyes open. I wasn’t ready to get up yet; this had to be earlier than normal.

“Lissa, they’re waiting on you,” Emm’s voice repeated.

That was when I remembered that today wasn’t going to be lesson day. Maribelle, my governess, would soon return to Themis. From now on, I was going to help Chrom as a Shepherd.

I nearly succeeded in knocking Emmeryn over as I rocketed out of bed. How had I managed to oversleep on such an important day?

“Good morning,” Emm said sweetly as I stripped off my nightgown, nearly ripping the silk in my haste. “Are you nervous?”

“I am now!” I shouted in exasperation as I hopped on one foot, trying in vain to shed my smallclothes in exchange for new ones. “Holy crow, Emm. How do you get up this early every day?”

She smiled. “You get used to it. And sometimes, it’s hard to sleep. I have the weight of an entire country on my mind. Night is often my best time for sorting out problems.”

I winced at her words; this was the closest she’d ever come to complaining. I knew she was exhausted, but she never truly complained, not even to me. In my mind, Emmeryn was a saint. She was everything I wasn’t: the image of physical perfection, fair, patient, gentle, humble, and persevering all at the same time. People looked to her to answer the most unanswerable questions, and she tried to help them. Being the exalted ruler of a war-torn kingdom took all the energy she had and then some, but Emm never let it show.

I admired my sister. Perhaps I even envied her, a fact I knew seemed silly. She had it harder than anyone—did I really want that for myself?

I tugged my brush through my tangled hair in an attempt to replicate the customary pigtails I always wore. Emm’s lips curled into yet another weak smile as she noted my frustration and came to my rescue. Her soft hands glided over my hair and gently tied the style into place.

As she worked, I looked at myself in the mirror. I was nowhere near as pretty as my sister, but that wasn’t what bothered me. My bare limbs shook with inadequacy as I glanced at my skin. It was creamy white, unmarred by any scar or blemish. I stole a glimpse at Emm’s Brand. The sign of royalty graced her forehead more regally than her circlet. I looked back at my naked frame and felt like a commoner. My brand was invisible, or maybe I didn’t have one.

Emmeryn’s eyes caught mine in the mirror, and her wise insight caught what I was thinking.

“…One of these days, you’ll forgive yourself, Lissa. You’re my sister. No Brand or lack of one will change that. Someday, you’ll understand.”

“I hope you’re right.”

I knew she was going to say more, but I ignored her and dressed as quickly as I could.

“Don’t forget this.” My sister passed my staff to me as I raced for the door. “Be safe. And know that I love you.”

I nodded without thinking to respond. She always said that, and we always came back safely. We were royals of Ylisse. We had the power of the first exalt flowing in our veins. Danger couldn’t touch us.

The halls attempted to swallow me as I raced to the courtyard where Chrom and Frederick were waiting. My impatient brother was attempting to mask his frustration but was failing miserably.

“About time,” he grumbled, his knuckles turning white as he gripped Falchion’s hilt.

“Sorry.” I didn’t bother to explain myself. It wouldn’t matter.

Our route was simple, and Frederick kept a mean pace. Everywhere, it seemed to be peaceful, idyllic even. For once, Plegia was leaving us alone. By the time we were headed to the last village in the late afternoon, Chrom’s anger had cooled. He hummed a tune under his breath.

I suddenly felt very happy. This day had been perfect—so much more exciting than reading, drinking tea, and doing needlework with Maribelle. All at once I felt like dancing, so I gripped my staff and spun in circles in rhythm with Chrom’s song. I laughed with giddy energy.

My foot must have caught on a tree limb lying in the field, because I realized with horror that I was going to hit the ground. The impact stung, but I was all right. It would just be a bad bruise.

“Lissa! My lady, are you all right?” The over-protective urged his horse to my side.

“Yeah,” I replied instinctively and peeled myself off the grass. “How’d this branch get in the middle of an empty field?”

But even as I spoke, I realized that what I thought to be a branch was actually a human leg. A shout of surprise rose in my lungs but caught in my throat when I saw I was in no danger. The stranger was fast asleep.

“Chrom! It’s a person!”

“Huh,” he murmured. “But why here? The town’s close by. Why take a nap here? Hmm.”

“Chrom, we have to do something!” I urged.

“But what? I know: maybe you could wake her with your staff. I know some of our priests do that.”

I sighed at my brother’s ignorance; anyone who knew anything about healing would have known that my staff was too weak for that work.

“Chrom, my staff can’t do that,” I retorted and searched my brain for ideas. “I don’t know what we should do.”

“First, we should see if she’s injured. Maybe if we tend to her wounds, she’ll wake up,” Frederick suggested.

“Lissa, can you do that?”

“Yeah. I’m on it.” I tried to let my voice display the confidence I didn’t have.

Before long, Chrom and Frederick went off to spar, or ‘make effective use of the spare time,’ as they put it. The clanging of sword against lance made my head pulse, but I forced myself to concentrate anyway. If my care didn’t wake this stranger, the racket would.

As I tried to care for her wounds—which, thank the gods, were minimal—I examined this stranger more closely. For someone who was lying in the middle of a field, she was remarkably clean and well-kept: her skin was free of dirt, and her raven hair fell in a neat braid over her shoulder. She had a refined air to her even as she slept. But she didn’t seem to be very old, either. She had to be close to Chrom’s age.

I swallowed hard when I saw the mark on her hand. It’s no mark of an exalt, I told myself with a twinge of relief. Still, it reminded me of my own unmarked skin. This is different—too ornate to be Ylisse’s brand. But what did the mark mean? As I picked up the girl’s hand to look more closely, I heard a thud. A thunder tome had fallen from her grasp. A mage?

This stranger could be dangerous. That thought made me shudder, but I didn’t let it stop me from healing the last cut on her leg. Enemy or no, I couldn’t just leave her to die, especially after I’d started to help her.

“Who are you?” I asked, not expecting an answer.

“…Validar…you’ll never get away with this,” the girl muttered in her sleep.

“Chrom! She’s coming around!”

By the time he was at my side again, the girl’s eyes were inching open.

“I see you’re awake now,” Chrom greeted her in a friendly tone.

“Hey there,” I giggled. When she was awake, the stranger didn’t seem like she could possibly be an enemy.

“You shouldn’t be taking a nap on the ground, you know. Can you stand?”

The girl’s dazed look faded a little as she nodded.

“Give me your hand,” Chrom instructed. He pulled up the girl’s slight frame with ease. Her hand looked like a dainty china doll in his rough, half-gloved one.

“Thank you, Chrom,” the girl said with a weak but genuine smile.

“Wha—ˮ I stammered as shock ran all the way to my toes.

“How’d you know my name?”

“Uh…I guess it just came to me.” She hesitated.

“Oh, well. Just as long as you’re okay.”

“Where am I?”

“The eastern region of the halidom of Ylisse,” I replied proudly.

“…Odd. I can’t remember hearing of it before. My brain is all fuzzy, really.”

“Right,” Chrom winced with doubt. “What’s your name, stranger?”

“…I have no idea. I can’t seem to remember,” she replied matter-of-factly.

“Allow me to get this straight,” Frederick began. “You mean to tell me that you can remember Chrom’s name, but not your own? That seems terribly suspicious to me.”

“Give her a break, Frederick. She must have hit her head or something. She has amnesia. That’s what the doctors call it. It should go away soon,” I volunteered my knowledge happily.

“You’ll heal with time, I’m sure of it. And you can come with us until you get your bearings,” Chrom offered.

“Do you think that is wise, my lord? She doesn’t even know her own name. She could just be a very good actress hired by those who seek to destroy you. She might be a spy. Can you really trust her with so little knowledge?”

“I…I have a feeling we were meant to find her. Yes, somehow I know we can trust her,” Chrom added confidently.

“As you wish, my lord. I just could not simply stand by without voicing my concerns to you.”

“I know, Frederick. And while I appreciate your zeal, sometimes you just need to relax. You worry too much. Even Emmeryn says so.”

Frederick blushed at the mention of my sister’s name and said no more. Sometimes I wondered if he served my sister for personal reasons that ran deeper than loyalty to the crown. But I wasn’t going to pry, nor did it matter.

“Stella!” the stranger exclaimed. “I remember now.” My name is Stella.” She smiled happily.

“It’s nice to meet you, Stella.”

As Stella returned the pleasantries, I thought I saw the wind tousle her hair in wild wisps above her head. For a moment, Stella looked ominous. A second glance dispelled my sense of unease, but the cure lasted only a moment. Those curls were not hair; they were tendrils of smoke.

The town was on fire.