Chapter 1: Waking Up in a Foreign Land
The wind came first.
It swept through the tall grass in long, lazy ripples, carrying the sweet scent of wildflowers alongside something entirely foreign-a deep, sun-baked warmth that belonged to a world he didn't know. It brushed against his cheek, soft and indifferent, as if nature itself hadn't yet realized a stranger was lying in its midst.
Then, very slowly, Odyn Albanar opened his eyes.
A low groan slipped past his lips before he could stop it. A heavy, throbbing ache radiated from the base of his skull, feeling much like the aftermath of a heavy blow he couldn't quite recall taking. He blinked against the pale, open sky above-a clear, cloudless blue, devoid of any constellation or landmark he could name.
Where... am I?
The question surfaced sluggishly, forcing its way through a thick fog that clung to the corners of his mind. He tried to push himself up, but his limbs refused to cooperate. It wasn't from a severe injury-the pain wasn't sharp enough for that-but rather a profound, leaden exhaustion. It felt as though every drop of energy in his body had been completely burned up just getting him here, wherever here turned out to be.
With a long, measured exhale, Odyn let his head sink back into the grass.
All right. Fair enough. I'll lie here for a minute, then.
Staring blankly at the unfamiliar heavens, he tried to piece his thoughts together. The effort quickly proved frustrating. Whenever he reached back to grab hold of his recent memories, they simply dissolved like mist the moment he tried to grasp them-like trying to catch smoke in a closed fist. He remembered flashes of faces, a frantic sense of motion, the desperate feeling of urgency, and the terrifying sensation of something vast and uncontrollable tearing at the fabric of the world around him. And then: absolute nothingness. A blank slate.
Turning his head slightly-and wincing at even that small effort-he took a quiet inventory of himself.
His coat was still on. The familiar, deep black fabric remained layered over his blue undershirt. The thick brown belt crossed his chest just as it always did, with the weapon's sheath securely strapped to his back. His army-green trousers were stained with mud at the knees, but intact. His trusty silver fingerless gloves still covered his hands, and the dark green cloth headband was tied firmly across his brow, though it sat a little crooked.
Well, at least I kept my gear.
Before his eyes could search the surroundings, his pointed ears picked up a faint sound.
Footsteps. Slow and deliberate, moving along a path or road he hadn't noticed before. His survival instincts flared instantly. Whoever was approaching hadn't called out or announced their presence. That could mean trouble. His hand twitched instinctively toward the hilt resting at his back, but he forced his fingers to relax.
No. Don't be rash. Let's see who we're dealing with first.
He froze, holding his breath to listen. The footsteps remained unhurried. There were three sets of them, if his ears served him right, carrying no weight of alarm or haste. He could hear low murmurs of conversation, too-too far away to catch the individual words, but casual and relaxed in tone.
Hopefully, they're friendly.
As his gaze drifted to the side, his heart dropped a fraction. Scattered across the grass nearby were the still, crumpled forms of his companions, lying just as motionlessly as he had been. He clenched his jaw.
So the whole group went down, then.
Whatever force had dragged them to this place, it certainly hadn't planned on them landing on their feet.
---
The road wound quietly along the edge of the field, basking in the bright midday sun and cutting a gentle path through the rolling, picturesque countryside of Ylisse. It was a stunning kingdom when the weather cooperated-and today, it was cooperating splendidly. The sky was wide, bright, and completely clear, the fields stretched out green and unhurried, and the distant mountains still wore caps of glittering winter snow.
Three figures traveled the road.
The first walked with the loose, easy gait of a man who had spent most of his life on the move. He was tall and blue-haired, carrying the kind of earnest, open expression that instantly invited trust, though a sharp, quiet determination burned deep within his blue eyes. His dark blue tunic was strapped with functional, well-worn belts, and polished silver pauldrons sat heavily on his shoulders. A crisp white cape swept behind him with every stride. At his left hip rested a very distinctive sword-its circular guard gleaming with a silver sheen, the handle wrapped in dark grip-tape, and the pommel finished in a dull, muted copper. Bare from shoulder to wrist, his right arm bore a single, striking mark just upon the shoulder blade: a teardrop-shaped emblem entirely unlike any common crest in the realm. This was Chrom, the heir apparent to the Halidom of Ylisse-though you would never guess it by the simple, grounded way he walked.
Right beside him, walking half a step ahead and already grumbling about something, was a young girl with blonde hair tied back in two pigtails that bounced rhythmically with her steps. She shared the same fair complexion and striking blue eyes as her brother, but where Chrom's gaze remained steady and measured, hers was utterly expressive and impossible to misread. She wore a cheerful yellow dress layered over a simple white undershirt, sturdy brown boots, and dark gloves. In her hand, she carried a heavy healing staff that caught the sunlight whenever she swung it-which she did often, usually to punctuate whatever complaint she was currently launching. This was Lissa, the youngest royal of the Ylissean line, and she always had an opinion.
Trailing behind them both came Frederick. He was the literal embodiment of the kind of man stone buildings were designed to frame-broad-shouldered, impeccably composed, and encased in bright sky-blue plate armor that he wore as naturally as a second skin. His brown hair possessed the slightly unkempt look of a soldier who valued absolute discipline far above personal vanity, and his sharp dark eyes missed virtually nothing. He walked with his hands clasped firmly behind his back, wearing the practiced, mask-like neutrality of a man who had served the royal family long enough to have seen every crisis twice-and who was still quietly, intensely worried about every single one of them.
"Auggh!"
Lissa stopped dead in her tracks, forcing both men behind her to abruptly adjust their stride to avoid crashing into her. "Why are we out here anyway?!"
Chrom glanced back over his shoulder, a flicker of amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Come now, Lissa. A bit of exercise is good for you. Besides," he added, deploying the careful logic of someone reciting a thoroughly rehearsed argument, "you were the one who insisted we leave the castle."
Lissa opened her mouth to snap back, closed it, and then settled for a deeply exasperated sound that hovered somewhere between a heavy sigh and a groan. She couldn't actually argue with that.
With a shrug, they resumed their march, the road curving smoothly toward a wide expanse of open green. The three naturally fell into a comfortable silence-the kind that only exists between people who know each other inside and out.
It was Lissa who broke the quiet.
She stopped once more, though this time there was no irritated huff. She had frozen entirely, her hand rising slowly to cover her parted mouth. Her wide, startled eyes were fixed dead ahead on the field.
"Chrom," she breathed, her voice carrying an unexpected urgency. "Look."
Chrom stopped and looked.
There were four of them, scattered across the grass with the dead, unnerving stillness of the unconscious. A young man with dark blue hair lay slumped against the base of a sturdy tree. A boy with deep crimson hair sprawled face-down in the turf, one arm flung out uselessly. A girl with dark hair was curled tightly on her side, her weapon lying just a few feet beyond her outstretched fingertips. And further out, near the absolute edge of the field, lay a second girl-her crimson hair even longer-resting motionless against the grass.
Frederick's eyes swept over the scene once, with clinical, methodical precision. "They appear to have suffered through some manner of altercation," he observed, his tone analytical. "Though I note no obvious, visible wounds."
"Their clothing," Chrom murmured, stepping closer, speaking more to himself than his companions. "It isn't from anywhere near Ylisse."
That much was painfully obvious at a glance. The fabrics, the cuts, the styling-none of it resembled anything worn in the Halidom, nor in any neighboring nation Chrom could recall. And then there were the symbols. Identical crests were stamped into each of their outfits, marked clearly upon their gear: two crossed swords standing behind a shield, all neatly framed within a licking tongue of fire.
"Milord?" Frederick's voice cut in from behind him. "You look troubled."
"Just... thinking." Chrom shook his head, offering his loyal retainer a brief, tight smile. "The symbol. I've never seen it before. Not anywhere in Ylisse-and certainly not in Plegia, either."
"Nor have I," Frederick agreed, stepping up to study the insignia himself. "A most unusual emblem."
"So..." Lissa drifted up beside her brother, tilting her head as she eyed the still figures on the ground. "Are we going to help them?"
The debate, brief as it was, lasted only until the dark-blue-haired young man by the tree finally stirred.
---
Odyn heard the approaching voices abruptly cut off. A moment later, he caught the sound of cautious, deliberate footsteps coming straight toward him. He cracked his eyes open just in time to see a young woman about his age crouched down right in front of him. Blonde pigtails fell forward over her shoulders as she leaned in, her striking blue eyes wide with a mixture of genuine concern and unbridled curiosity. She blinked in surprise when she realized he was staring back at her.
"Hey there," she said softly, offering a quick, reassuring smile that genuinely reached her eyes.
Odyn blinked back, though his head chose that exact second to remind him how badly it was throbbing. He hissed quietly, pressing his fingers hard against his temple.
"Can you stand?"
A young man's voice cut through the air-calm, direct, and layered with an undertone of real worry. The blue-haired one, Odyn registered dimly. "Or would you like Lissa here to take a look at you?"
Odyn's immediate instinct was no, absolutely not-though admitting that while flat on his back felt even worse. Gritting his teeth, he pressed one palm flat against the turf and shoved himself upward, ignoring the dizzy wave that made the horizon tilt before finally steadying. He managed to get his boots under him. As the blonde girl and the blue-haired man moved to steady him, he held up a single gloved hand to stop them.
"I'm all right," he managed, before amending it more honestly a second later: "Mostly." He pressed the heel of his hand hard against his brow. "My head just... ugh. What on earth happened to me?"
"We were rather hoping you could tell us that," the tall man in sky-blue armor said evenly from where he stood a few paces back.
Odyn slowly looked up. He glanced at the armored man, shifted his gaze to the young man in the white cape, and finally back to the girl. Three total strangers standing in the middle of an unrecognizable field, looking down at him with the guarded, careful body language of people trying to determine whether they had just found a threat or a victim.
He straightened the rest of the way up and dropped his hand to his side. "Right. I suppose... introductions are in order first, then." He gave his shoulder a quick roll to test the tension. "My name is Odyn. Odyn Albanar."
A brief silence followed.
The blue-haired young man raised an eyebrow-not with suspicion, but with the look of someone encountering something genuinely novel. "You have a surname?"
Odyn blinked at him. "Of course. Doesn't everyone?"
The three of them exchanged a quick, silent glance-a wordless communication that clearly suggested the answer in their world was a resounding no.
The young man in the cape cleared his throat. "I wouldn't really know how to answer that, to be honest. Most people I've ever known go by a single name. I've always just been... Chrom."
Odyn rolled the name over in his mind, filing it away without comment.
"In that case," the tall armored man said, dipping his head slightly, "perhaps you would care to explain just how it is that you came to be lying in this field?"
Odyn looked at him again, this time with a bit more scrutiny. The man wore his heavy plate armor as if it were a second skin. His posture was cautious in the measured, professional manner of someone whose wariness was both a habit and a sworn duty. Not outright hostile, but certainly not welcoming either.
"That's the problem," Odyn admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with a grimace. "I genuinely can't tell you. I don't remember how I got here." He met the armored man's sharp gaze squarely. "And to be completely honest, I'm not entirely sure where here is, either."
"This is Ylisse," Chrom offered, gesturing broadly to the rolling, open countryside surrounding them. "The Halidom."
A beat of silence hung in the air.
"...Ylisse," Odyn repeated slowly.
"The Halidom of Ylisse," the armored man confirmed, his tone tightening. "Which I strongly suspect you have also never heard of, judging by your reaction."
"No," Odyn said. "I haven't." Before the armored man could voice the obvious skepticism already hardening on his face, Odyn pressed on: "I know how that sounds, sir-"
"Frederick," the man supplied curtly.
"Sir Frederick. And I completely understand if you find that hard to believe. I would too, if our positions were reversed. I can only assure you it's the absolute truth." Odyn held the knight's gaze without flinching. "The name Albanar-that I know. But Ylisse? The Halidom? I've never encountered either of them until today."
Chrom looked down at the grass for a moment, a thoughtful expression shifting across his face. Then, looking back up, he said, "One problem at a time. But first-" He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You mentioned companions."
"I was just about to ask the exact same thing," Odyn said, turning sharply to survey the wider field.
---
They found Khanna first.
The black-haired woman shared the same rich dark skin and sharp, pointed ears as Odyn, and she lay crumpled in the grass a short distance away. Odyn crossed the distance at a quick jog, dropping to his knees beside her and giving her shoulder a firm shake.
"Khanna. Hey-Khanna, come on."
She jerked awake with a low groan, one hand flying instinctively to her head. When her striking orange eyes-the exact same burning, fire-bright color as Odyn's-finally locked onto his face, the tense line of her shoulders visibly relaxed.
"Odyn." Her voice was rough with lingering sleep. "What on earth...?"
"I know. Take a second." He gently helped her upright. "How do you feel?"
"Terrible." She pressed her fingers hard against her temples. "What happened to us?"
"Your guess is just as good as mine." He steadied her as she wobbled to her feet. "Roy's up ahead, and Sarai's further down the road."
Khanna turned her head and immediately took in the three strangers standing at a respectful distance. She gave them a quick, practiced once-over-studying their posture, their gear, and their bearing the way rigorous training had taught her-before inclining her head in a polite nod.
"I should thank you," she said, her voice carrying the steady courtesy of someone who genuinely meant it. "For helping him. And for staying." She paused, offering a faint, tight smile. "My name is Khanna Andross."
"You're quite welcome," Chrom replied. "We couldn't very well just walk past."
Lissa grinned broadly. "Besides, Chrom's a hopeless softie when it comes to this sort of thing."
Chrom cleared his throat loudly. Lissa's grin only widened.
Khanna wore emerald-green armor trimmed with intricate gold plating, the forest-deep sheen of the metal suiting her intense demeanor perfectly. A sweeping cape billowed at her back. Slung securely across her shoulders on a padded cloth strap rested a warhammer of considerable size, perfectly balanced for travel. She wore her station the exact same way she wore her armor-like someone who had thoroughly earned it and didn't feel the need to brag about it.
It was Lissa who found Roy.
She practically tripped over him, catching herself with a small, startled squeak. Looking down, she found a young man clad in deep blue armor lying face-down in the turf, his breathing slightly labored while his vivid crimson hair stood out sharply against the green grass.
"Over here!" she called out, already dropping to her knees beside him and reaching for her healing staff.
The others quickly converged on the spot. Lissa pressed the glowing head of her staff close and let the magic flow-warm, steady, and radiant. A soft, pale light washed over him. His shallow breathing immediately smoothed out, his fingers twitched against the dirt, and his eyes fluttered open.
He found himself staring up at a cheerful blonde girl he had never seen before, who was watching him with wide, relieved eyes and a smile that quickly dissolved into a sheepish laugh.
"I'm sorry if that startled you," she said softly.
Roy sat up slowly, taking a moment to mentally take stock of himself. He was dark-skinned like his siblings, sporting the same deep crimson hair and blazing orange eyes that marked them all as kin. His armor was a crisp blue accented with silver and white detailing, looking surprisingly neat despite the rough landing. A lavender-and-gold headband rested across his brow, and a neatly sheathed red-and-gold sword hung at his hip.
"No," he said honestly. "Don't apologize. I should be thanking you." He stood up, offering her a steady hand. "And I do, sincerely."
Lissa took his hand, gave it a firm shake, and beamed. "I'm Lissa."
"Roy." He looked past her as the rest of the group arrived, blinking in surprise as he spotted familiar faces. "Brother? Khanna?"
"Good, you're awake." Odyn strode over, clapping a heavy hand onto Roy's shoulder to check him over with the brisk, efficient care of an older sibling. "How are you holding up?"
"Better now, thanks to-Lissa, was it?" Roy glanced down at her. She nodded enthusiastically. He turned back to Odyn. "Where are we? This doesn't look like anywhere back home."
"It isn't." Odyn's expression tightened into something cautious. "From what Chrom and the others have told me, we're in a strange land called the Halidom of Ylisse."
"Ylisse," Roy repeated slowly, his brow furrowing deeply. "And Sarai?"
"Down the road," Khanna answered, gesturing ahead. "We're heading for her now."
---
The conversation soon settled into an easier rhythm as they walked, the group spreading out across the dirt path in loose pairs and clusters. Near the back of the formation, Frederick dropped back to fall in beside Chrom, lowering his voice until it was barely a murmur meant only for his prince's ears.
"What do you make of them, milord?"
Chrom glanced ahead at the group-Lissa already chattering away at Roy with the full, unbridled force of her personality, while Khanna walked at a steady, measured pace beside Odyn, who was scanning the surrounding terrain with the alert, assessing gaze of someone deeply trained to read a landscape.
"I think they're telling the truth," Chrom said quietly.
"And if they aren't?"
"Then I'll deal with that when I know it." He cast a sideways look at his retainer. "I'm not asking you to lower your guard, Frederick. I'm asking you to give them a chance to earn your trust before you decide to withhold it."
Frederick was silent for a long moment. Then: "As you say, milord."
He did not, notably, say that Chrom was right.
They spotted Sarai from a distance, and Chrom slowed his pace without entirely realizing he was doing it.
She lay near the far edge of the road where the thick grass grew high, looking remarkably still and composed even in unconsciousness-carrying a natural grace with her regardless of the circumstance. The soft lavender plating of her armor caught the bright afternoon sunlight, traced delicately with lines of gold and blue. A silver belt cinched her waist above a neatly sheathed white sword, and from her ears hung delicate owl-feather earrings that stirred faintly in the gentle breeze. Her long crimson hair spilled across the green turf like something out of a painting.
Chrom realized, with a sudden, distant jolt, that he had stopped walking altogether.
"That's her," Odyn said from beside him, and Chrom abruptly realized the observation was directed at him specifically. "Sarai. Our sister."
Lissa had gone comically wide-eyed beside them. For once in her life, she didn't have a single word to say.
Chrom stepped forward, moving with deliberate care. He knelt beside her, instinctively reaching out a hand to offer assistance before she woke fully-some deeply ingrained habit of courtesy guiding his movements.
"Ah-I see you're waking. How are y-"
He barely got the syllable out before his world became very sudden, very loud, and very sharp.
Her eyes snapped wide open. Her sword cleared its white sheath in a blur of motion. The razor-sharp edge stopped a mere breath away from his face, held perfectly steady by a wrist that didn't even tremble.
"Who are you?" Sarai demanded, her voice dropping into a low, absolute control despite the alarm blazing in her eyes. "And where am I."
Chrom held completely still, slowly raising both hands, palms open and entirely empty. "Easy. Easy. I was only trying to-"
"Trying-" Her teeth clicked together with an audible snap. The blade didn't waver an inch. "You're going to stand there and tell me you tried to help me? While I was unconscious? Is that what you-"
"Sarai."
The single word cut across the field like a thrown stone.
She froze. The sword remained poised, but her gaze flicked away from Chrom's face-landing instead on her brother, who stood a short distance away with an expression walking a careful line between firm authority and deep relief.
"Brother?"
"Don't hurt Chrom," Odyn said, keeping his tone carefully even. "He's the one who helped us. All of us."
A long, suspended moment hung heavily in the air. Sarai's sharp gaze drifted back to Chrom-noticing, with a flicker of realization, that he was sweating quite visibly-before darting back to Odyn, and then back to Chrom once more.
Slowly, deliberately, she slid the sword back into its sheath.
She took a slow, deep breath, stood up, and brushed herself off. Then, with the distinct, heavy dignity of someone who found the entire situation deeply embarrassing, she inclined her head toward Chrom in a crisp, formal bow.
"I owe you an apology," she said. The words were precise and unhesitating-the kind of apology given by someone who, once they decided to admit a mistake, owned it completely. "I panicked. I shouldn't have drawn on you. I'm sorry."
Chrom let out a long, slow breath he hadn't realized he was holding, then offered a lopsided smile. "Honestly, I was partly at fault for startling you. Think nothing of it."
She straightened to her full height and gave him a long, measuring look. "You are... a rather unusual person, aren't you, Chrom?"
"I've been told that once or twice." He extended a hand toward her.
A faint smile touched the corner of her mouth. "Just Sarai, please. Drop the formality."
"Only if you do the same for me."
She considered the offer for precisely one second. "Done." She reached out and firmly shook his hand. "Though I should warn you-I'm keeping a running account. You still owe me one."
"That's entirely fair," he agreed immediately.
"Then we understand each other." She released his hand and turned toward the rest of the group, who had watched the entire exchange with varying degrees of residual tension and relief.
Lissa looked like she wanted to stand up and applaud.
---
They continued down the road together-seven of them now, though the number still felt tentative and unsteady, the way new bonds do before they have time to truly settle. The afternoon sun walked alongside them, unhurried and warm.
Sarai fell into step between Lissa and Khanna, absorbing every detail the blonde girl offered about Ylisse with the sharp, focused attention of someone taking mental notes. Meanwhile, Roy and Odyn drifted alongside Chrom, and their conversation quickly gravitated toward the one question none of them could answer.
"So you truly have no memory of how you arrived here?" Chrom asked.
"None at all," Roy said, a frown of frustration crossing his face. "And believe me-we've tried. Every time I reach back for the moments right before we woke up, there's just..." He shook his head.
"Nothing," Odyn finished for him. "It's not quite a gap, exactly. It feels more like the memory was... excised. As though something deliberately didn't want us to find it."
Chrom turned the thought over slowly in his mind. "Partial amnesia?"
"Partial," Odyn agreed, his jaw tightening. "We remember everything else clearly. Our past, our training, who we are. Just not how we got to this field."
Ahead of them, the road curved gracefully around a dense stand of ancient trees. In the deep shade of the largest oak-its massive roots spreading wide and gnarled across the earth-sat a young man who hadn't been visible moments before.
He was slight, silver-haired, and dressed simply in a dark black tunic, matching trousers, a practical brown belt, and a deep violet hooded cloak draped loosely around his shoulders. He was leaning back against the rough tree trunk with his chin bowed slightly toward his chest, as if dozing off-but even from a distance, there was an unnatural stillness to his posture that read more like physical collapse than peaceful rest. He held something clutched tightly against his chest, though it was obscured by the folds of his cloak.
"Chrom," Lissa murmured, having spotted him almost simultaneously. "There's someone else."
The group converged on the spot. True to form, Frederick stepped forward to assess the situation first. "Fainted, most likely. No visible cause of injury immediately apparent."
"From what, though?" Roy muttered, crossing his arms.
"Could be anything," Sarai observed quietly.
"Regardless," Odyn said, stepping closer, "we can't just leave him here."
Lissa was already nodding vigorously. "Absolutely not."
Chrom crouched down in front of the silver-haired stranger, studying him carefully for a second before reaching out to give his shoulder a brief, firm shake.
The man's eyes snapped open.
He blinked heavily, taking in the sight of all seven of them standing in a semicircle-quite a lot of company to wake up to. Lissa crouched down beside him, offering a small, friendly wave.
"Hey there," she said, using the exact same cheerful greeting she had offered Odyn earlier.
"There are probably better places to rest than the cold ground," Chrom said, extending a steady hand. "Here."
The stranger stared at the hand for a fraction of a second, then took it. He pushed himself to his feet slowly, finding his balance, and then looked directly at Chrom with an expression of profound, quiet bewilderment.
"I... thank you," he murmured. Then, his voice dropping in surprise: "Chrom."
Chrom's hand stilled slightly. "You know my name?"
"I-" The stranger blinked, looking just as shocked as the prince. "I do. I'm not... sure how. It just appeared in my head." He shook his head slowly. "That's... incredibly strange."
"Rather," Frederick agreed, and the single word carried the heavy weight of a dozen unasked questions.
"Can you tell us your name?" Sarai asked gently. "And perhaps what you're doing out here all alone?"
The man opened his mouth to reply. Then he abruptly stopped. A flicker of distress crossed his features-the unmistakable look of someone groping desperately for a word they are certain exists, only to find empty air.
"My name is... my name..." He pressed the heel of his hand against his brow, visibly frustrated. "How is that even possible? I can't-" He looked up at them, his expression turning almost plaintive. "I can't remember."
"Amnesia," Lissa declared with the absolute conviction of someone who had now diagnosed the exact same condition twice in a single afternoon.
Frederick let out a sharp, skeptical sound in the back of his throat. "More likely a very well-rehearsed performance. How remarkably convenient, I must say, to remember a lord's name while entirely forgetting your own."
"Frederick," Chrom warned softly.
"I swear to you, it's the truth," the stranger protested, a faint flush of embarrassment and frustration rising to his cheeks. "I know how it sounds-"
"It sounds precisely as strange as it is," Chrom said quietly, cutting off the impending argument before it could escalate. "And yet, these four told me essentially the same story an hour ago." He nodded toward Odyn and his siblings. "What I do know is that we can't leave someone confused and stranded on an open road."
He straightened up to his full height. "Welcome to Ylisse, friend. We'll sort out the rest once we're somewhere safer."
The silver-haired man looked over at Odyn, who offered a small, understanding nod.
"We're in the exact same situation," Odyn said simply. "Don't worry about it. You can talk as we walk."
The man hesitated for another beat. Then, a subtle shift occurred in his expression-a tentative, yielding click, like a heavy door opening inward.
"Robin," he said suddenly, his eyes widening slightly. "My name is Robin. I just..." He blinked, stunned. "That just came back on its own. How bizarre."
"Still less bizarre than nothing at all," Chrom said, a genuine, welcoming smile touching his face. "Robin it is, then. Glad to have you with us."
---
The group soon found an easy rhythm together-eight of them now-moving down the dirt road in the relaxed pattern of people who had already weathered at least one deeply awkward silence and made it to the other side intact. Introductions had passed back and forth seamlessly. Robin pieced together what few scraps of memory he could muster, offering them openly. The fire-eyed siblings listened attentively, asking gentle questions and making it remarkably easy for him not to feel like an outsider-a courtesy Robin found himself quietly, profoundly grateful for.
He still didn't know where he was. He still didn't know how he had ended up in that field. But somehow, in the middle of an unfamiliar road surrounded by complete strangers, a strange sense of calm settled in his chest.
His mind was already cataloguing the finer details of his situation with quiet, automatic precision-the way his eyes swept across the surrounding terrain, instinctively breaking it down into tactical quadrants; the comforting weight of the spell tome tucked against his hip, instantly familiar even if he couldn't explain why; and the sheath of the sword resting at his opposite side, ready for the moments when magic alone wasn't enough.
Chrom, clearly remembering an unfinished thought, turned back toward him. "About where you're from-have you-"
"CHROM!"
Lissa's sudden scream cut through the air, pitched at a completely different register. Every single person in the group froze and turned.
A small village nestled in the bend of the road ahead, half-hidden behind a thick line of trees. Or rather, what was left of it. Thick, dark columns of smoke were rising rapidly into the afternoon sky from somewhere beyond the initial row of cottages. Distant, terrified shrieks carried on the breeze, followed by the heavy, sickening sound of wood splintering.
Chrom was already moving before anyone else's mind had fully processed the danger.
"Curses-" His hand dropped instantly to the hilt of his sword. "The brigands again! Frederick! Lissa! Move, now!"
"And our new companions?" Frederick asked, already wheeling his armored horse around.
"Unless they're also on fire, they can wait!" Chrom shouted back over his shoulder, his white cape snapping in the wind as he sprinted forward. "Move!"
In a matter of seconds, the three of them were gone-the thunder of hooves fading quickly down the dirt path, leaving the remaining five standing in the sudden, ringing quiet.
Robin stared down the empty road after them. He took one tentative step forward, then hesitated.
"Wait-" he started, reaching out an useless hand. But they were already around the bend.
He looked down at his boots, his mind racing. Almost instantly, he could feel the faint blueprint of a tactical plan forming in the back of his mind. It wasn't words yet, but pure structure-geometry, choke points, line of sight, the brutally pragmatic logic of how many against how many, and what does the terrain afford us? It was entirely automatic. He hadn't consciously decided to start calculating; his brain had simply done it for him.
A heavy, grounding hand settled on his shoulder. Robin turned to find Odyn watching him with the calm, knowing expression of someone who recognized the look in his eyes.
"You want to go help them," Odyn said quietly.
"Of course," Robin replied. "But they've already run far ahead. We'd never-"
"Then we run after them." Khanna stepped up, her sharp orange eyes already scanning the smoky horizon. Her tone was strictly matter-of-fact. "They are capable-three very capable fighters, clearly. But capability has strict limits when it's three people against however many bandits that much smoke represents." She looked at her siblings. "Besides, they helped us when we were helpless. That counts for something."
Roy crossed his arms, offering a firm nod. "We owe them."
"Agreed," Sarai added, resting her hand on the hilt of her blade. "We don't leave allies to fight alone when we have the power to intervene."
Odyn looked back at Robin. "What do you say?"
Robin looked toward the rising plumes of smoke, his resolve solidifying.
"All right," he said. "But if we go, we go with a real plan. Charging blindly into a burning village with zero intelligence is how people get killed."
A faint, genuine smirk touched Khanna's lips. "That's what I like to hear." She turned to face the rest of her kin. "Here's how we divide."
She laid out the strategy with rapid efficiency. Odyn and Sarai would charge straight toward Chrom and Frederick-providing heavy steel at the front line where the pressure would be fiercest. Roy would head straight for Lissa-the healer needed a fast guard, and Roy's swift movement made him ideal for backline defense. That left Khanna and Robin.
"You," Khanna said, turning her burning gaze on Robin, taking in the spellbook on his hip and the hilt at his waist with the trained eye of a veteran, "are a mage who also carries steel. That tells me you prepare for contingencies." She stated it without a hint of judgment, like a scientist confirming a theory. "So: you and I will operate together. We stay flexible. We go wherever the line breaks and fill in the gaps."
Robin blinked in surprise. "You gleaned all of that just from-"
"The sword and the tome? Yes." She arched an eyebrow at him. "Was I mistaken?"
He thought about offering a counterargument, then realized there wasn't one to make. "No. You're completely right."
"Then let's move," Odyn barked, and together, the five of them sprinted toward the smoke.
---
The Village
The village was burning.
Not entirely-not yet. But the brigands who had set the torches were thoroughly enthusiastic about their work, and the thick, bitter stench of smoke had already choked the town square by the time Chrom, Frederick, and Lissa arrived. Terrified citizens scattered desperately across the periphery, pressing themselves flat into doorways and narrow alleyways, some crying out for help.
At the very center of the chaos, a man named Garrick stood laughing.
He was broad, loud, and thoroughly pleased with himself, directing his men with the casual, brutal authority of a seasoned raider who had done this a hundred times and expected to do it a hundred more.
"Strip it clean and torch the rest!" he bellowed over the roar of the fire. "Let's remind these Ylissean types what it feels like to be made an example!"
More screams echoed. More laughter followed.
And then Chrom arrived.
He came in fast and direct, with no preamble or hesitation, his blade already drawn. He slammed into the nearest cluster of bandits with the fierce momentum of a man who knew that speed was his absolute best opening argument. Frederick flanked him instantly without a word being spoken, cutting off their retreat with efficient, practiced brutality. A short distance away, Lissa stayed back-close enough to help, but far enough to breathe-her staff already glowing as the first wounded citizen staggered toward her.
For a minute, the three of them managed to hold the line.
Then the overwhelming numbers began to tell.
"Chrom!"
A sharp voice cut through the din from across the square.
Chrom caught the shout between hurried parries, twisting in his guard to see them streaming in from the southern approach-not enemies, but Robin and the others, moving at a dead sprint and instantly reading the battlefield.
"Robin?" He dispatched the bandit in front of him with a crisp, efficient slash and stepped back. "You followed us? Why-"
"Because three people aren't enough."
Sarai was already at his side, her sword cleared, her eyes flashing bright. She gave him a look that balanced warmth with the unmistakable expression of someone completely finished with that question. "Don't why me, Chrom. Face the other direction."
He turned and faced the other direction.
The tide of the battle shifted.
Odyn stepped into the thickest melee with an economy of motion that spoke of heavy, rigorous training. Nothing about his fighting style was flashy; every movement was purely effective, decisions made and executed before his body even needed to register them. When a squad of five bandits converged on him from multiple angles, he planted his boots firmly into the cobblestones and let the swirling energy gather in his blade.
"Beast Blade."
The shimmering wave erupted fast and low, slamming straight into the center of the group. Some were thrown violently backward, while others crashed sideways into the walls of the nearby houses with definitive, bone-rattling force. Odyn was already moving on to the next target before the last man even hit the ground.
Beside him, Sarai caught a ferocious axe swing that had been aimed squarely at Chrom's blind spot. The deafening clang of steel on steel rang sharp against the roar of the fire. She pushed back hard, leveraging her superior weight and timing against the much larger man's strength, and let the fire coating her blade speak for the rest.
"Incineration Wave."
A sheet of blistering flame tore through the remaining front line, scorching and scattering the raiders. Sarai pivoted smoothly without pausing, cleanly extracting her blade from a foolish bandit who had tried to flank her from behind.
Across the square, Roy had firmly stationed himself at Lissa's side with the unhurried certainty of a soldier who had chosen his post and intended to hold it. When a group of brigands tried to push past to reach the healer, Roy stepped forward and let crackling electricity answer the charge.
"Lightning Tiger Blade."
The blinding flash and loud pop against the cobblestones staggered the entire front line. Roy slipped through the gap while they were still blinking, his movements precise, controlled, and utterly decisive.
"Thank you," Lissa panted, never breaking the steady rhythm of her healing spell.
"Don't thank me yet," Roy muttered, his eyes locked on the next wave approaching. "We're not done."
In the center of the cathedral square, Khanna and Robin operated with the uncanny harmony of two minds that had only just met yet fit together like clockwork. Khanna watched the terrain; Robin watched the enemy formations. Between the two of them, they possessed a complete tactical picture of the square.
"Behind Frederick," Khanna called out, driving the heavy head of her warhammer straight into the stone.
"Earth Fang."
A violent shockwave rolled outward, buckling the stone pavement and catching the advancing group cleanly at the knees to shatter their formation. Before the men could even regain their footing-
"Elthunder."
Robin's hands moved through the incantation with effortless economy. A bolt of jagged lightning slammed down from the sky, clean and decisive, scattering the remaining men into disarray.
Khanna surveyed the aftermath with a sharp nod. "Not bad."
Robin exhaled a long breath. "No." He spun around, already calculating the next variable. "Bandits closing in on Chrom's left flank-Odyn!"
Odyn was already in motion.
The instant he heard Robin's voice, he grasped the geometry of the call-the angle, the vector, the exact window of opportunity. He lunged into the gap, intercepting three simultaneous axe strikes meant for Chrom directly across his own blade, absorbing the heavy impact and redirecting the force in a single fluid rotation.
Startled, Chrom looked over. "Odyn-"
"Worry about it later," Odyn barked, already pivoting. He felt the familiar energy surge, clean and absolute. "Demon Fang."
A bright blue wave tore across the ground, utterly destabilizing the final cluster of raiders. Chrom finished the job with a sweeping, overhead strike that ended the argument permanently.
Garrick, watching his entire crew dismantled piece by piece, realized the situation was no longer remotely amusing. Growling in frustration, he raised his heavy hand axe to throw it.
The weapon was knocked violently from his grip before he could even draw his arm back-a razor-sharp blade of wind conjured by Sarai caught the axe at its peak, sending it spinning wildly away. Garrick stumbled backward in shock. Odyn closed in from the left, Sarai pressed in from the right, and Chrom descended from above like a falling hammer, the sheer force of his landing shattering Garrick's remaining defenses entirely and leaving the bandit leader with nowhere left to run.
It didn't take long after that for the dust to settle.
---
The Shepherds
When the final bandit had been accounted for and the fires were successfully contained-Odyn having sensibly suggested they work systematically through the remaining structures before the flames could spread any further-the group gathered together in the square near the cathedral steps to catch their collective breath.
Robin stared down at his own hands for a moment, then glanced around at the others. Something crucial had clicked into place over the last hour that he couldn't quite put into words-not comfort, exactly, but the profound, resonant sense of having been useful in a way that felt entirely natural.
"Well," he murmured. "That's done."
Lissa immediately dissolved into a flurry of enthusiastic congratulations, gesturing wildly at all of them in turn. "You were incredible! All of you! That was-the coordination, and the attacks, and-is that magic? Or-what are those? Those techniques?"
"Artes," Odyn supplied, leaning his back against the cool stone of the cathedral wall and rolling a tense shoulder. "Combat disciplines developed back home. We embed small mana crystals into our weapons-they resonate directly with our internal energy, allowing us to channel elemental techniques without needing an external focus." He nodded toward the heavy tome tucked at Robin's side. "It's different from how Robin works, but it's built on a similar underlying principle."
"Fascinating," Chrom said, and his tone made it clear he genuinely meant it.
"We can compare notes another time," Sarai interrupted, her voice carrying the polite firmness of someone tabling a conversation that could easily span several hours. "For now-are you all alright?"
"Mostly." Chrom's gaze swept over the newly expanded group, a quiet, resolute expression settling into his blue eyes. "You all fought to protect Ylissean lives today. Complete strangers. For people you had no obligation to defend." He paused, letting the weight of it sink in. "I think that tells me everything I need to know about you."
Frederick stood rigidly to the side, his expression characteristically guarded. "Your mind, milord? Are you entirely certain you won't-"
"My mind agrees entirely with my heart in this case, Frederick." Chrom looked straight at Odyn, then at Robin, Khanna, Roy, and Sarai in turn. "The Shepherds could use people with your extraordinary talents. We've got rogue brigands on the borders, a neighboring nation that seems stubbornly determined to provoke a war, and more than enough trouble to go around. I would much rather face all of that with capable allies at my side." He let a brief silence settle over the square. "So. Will you join us?"
Robin exchanged a look with Odyn. Odyn looked back at his siblings and Khanna. A silent, seamless communication passed between them.
"I would be honored," Robin said softly.
"As would we," Khanna added, offering a respectful nod. "If you'll have us."
"The Shepherds would be more than glad to have you," Chrom replied, and there was no doubting his sincerity.
Naturally, Frederick had one final observation to make before they set off. He delivered it in the low, private register he always reserved for relaying uncomfortable truths without causing immediate panic.
"The brigands, milord. They spoke with distinct Plegian accents, if I am not mistaken."
The information gave Chrom pause, a shadow crossing his face as he turned it over in his mind. "Plegia is pushing harder across the lines, then."
"What's Plegia?" Robin asked, quietly enough that it was obvious the question came from genuine ignorance rather than rhetorical design.
"Ylisse's neighbor to the west," Chrom explained, his voice tight. "They've been sending raider bands across the border more frequently-trying to provoke an incident, we suspect, and constantly testing the Exalt's patience." He kept his tone carefully measured. "The ones who always suffer for it are the innocent people who live on the frontier. Like this town."
Lissa had gone uncharacteristically quiet. Her expression flickered between hot anger and deep grief, the two emotions sitting uneasily side by side. "Innocent people," she whispered. "Every single time."
"We protect them," Frederick said, his voice dropping any trace of harshness. "That is what we do. But anger, Lady Lissa, is a poor weapon. It obscures far more than it reveals."
"I know," she sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "I'll get used to this."
Before anyone else could speak, a village elder appeared timidly at the edge of the square, nervously twisting his hat between his hands with the restless energy of a man who had barely survived a disaster and was still slightly amazed he was standing. He bowed deeply the moment he caught sight of Chrom.
"Milord, please-you and your companions must stay the night! We may not have much to offer, but we would feed you well, and-"
"You are extraordinarily generous," Frederick interrupted smoothly, his tone managing to be genuinely warm while remaining entirely final. "Alas, we must return to Ylisstol without delay."
"What?" Lissa's head whipped around in shock. "Frederick, it's practically dark!"
"No matter. We will simply make camp on the road, as we have done many times before." He looked down at her with the faintest, teasing trace of what might have been a smile. "I believe you just remarked that you would get used to this, my lady."
Lissa stared at him in utter disbelief. Then, huffing indignantly, she turned her back on him, puffed out her cheeks, and began addressing the nearest brick wall.
"Frederick," she announced to no one in particular, "I genuinely 'hate' you sometimes."
From the back of the group, Odyn had to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek to suppress a grin. Beside him, Sarai pressed her fingers briefly over her mouth to hide her laughter, while Roy let out a sudden, muffled cough. Even Robin's carefully maintained composure slipped for a split second before he managed to pull it back together.
"Quite the lieutenant you have there," Robin observed dryly.
"Yes," Chrom agreed, wearing the patient, long-suffering expression of a man who had made his peace with his retainer's stubbornness years ago. "He certainly grows on you."
"I am still standing right here, milord," Frederick noted with unshakeable dignity.
"We know," Chrom said, smiling.
And despite everything-the smoke still fading into the evening air, the long, uncertain road stretching out before them, and the lingering mystery of where they had all come from-he felt surprisingly light.
---
The Road to Ylisstol
They turned their faces toward Ylisstol.
The capital wasn't far off. The road lay open before them, the evening air cooling into something crisp and pleasant. There were eight of them now, walking together in a loose, easy formation-the heavy, jarring weight of the day already fading into the kind of memory that feels lighter the further you walk away from it.
Odyn walked for a while in a comfortable silence, simply listening to the sound of the others talking. A few paces ahead, Lissa was eagerly pressing Roy to describe what his hometown looked like, and Roy was patiently attempting to do it justice. A bit further back, Khanna and Frederick had somehow struck up a surprisingly cordial conversation about tactical logistics, trading notes in the universal language of mutual military respect. Sarai trailed a step behind Chrom, and from the snatches of conversation Odyn could catch, she had already resumed her meticulous account-keeping-firmly informing the prince that owing her a favor was "still on the table, so don't think I've forgotten."
He couldn't hear what Chrom said in reply, but he caught the bright, genuine sound of Sarai's laughter cutting through the dusk.
Strange, Odyn thought, tilting his head back to look up at the evening sky-the very same sky, wide, unmarked, and unhurried, that had been suspended above him when he first woke up in the grass that morning, entirely blind to where he was. Very strange indeed.
He still didn't have the faintest idea how they had gotten here. He still couldn't explain what had dropped them into this particular field in an unknown kingdom, unconscious, disoriented, and stripped of all context.
Yet, here they were. They were standing upright. They were together.
Ahead of them lay a great city with its warm lights just beginning to flicker against the gathering dark. Beside them walked new companions who had already proven themselves worthy of trust. And looking forward, tomorrow felt like something he could actually navigate-for the first time since he had opened his eyes to the pale blue sky.
For now, Odyn thought quietly, that's enough.
He kept walking.
To be continued...
Next Chapter - Chapter 2: Unwelcome Change
Author's Note
Hey guys, I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter of a new story! I've had this idea kicking around in my head for a while, so I'm really glad I could finally put it down into story format. Openings and endings may or may not be introduced next chapter.
I started this project because I thought it would make things genuinely interesting if a few of the children featured mixed blood from our original characters. The main pairing is, of course, Odyn x Lucina-you'll see why later on as the plot unfolds! Aside from that one, and Chrom's pairing because I've already decided who he'll end up with, I want to hear your thoughts on the others.
Who do you want to see the other two OCs paired with? Cast your votes below!
Who should Roy be paired up with?
I. Lissa
II. Cordelia
III. Sumia
IV. Maribelle
V. Say'ri
VI. Cherche
VII. Sully
VIII. Nowi
IX. Tiki
X. Nah
XI. Cynthia
XII. Kjelle
XIII. Severa
XIV. Noire
XV. (F) Morgan
Who should Khanna be paired with?
1. Donnel
2. Robin
3. Lon'qu
4. Stahl
5. Kellam
6. (M) Morgan
7. Gaius
8. Owain
9. Inigo
10. Libra
11. Brady
12. Frederick
13. Priam
14. Henry
15. Basilio
16. Vaike
17. Ricken
18. Gregor
19. Gerome
20. Laurent
Let me know what characters you'd like to see paired up alongside the main two couples! Anyway, that's all for now. Hopefully you guys enjoyed the start of the journey, and I'll see you in the next update!