Fire Emblem Oneshots

Awakening! Tiki x Male! Reader || Happily Ever After

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-Tiki's POV-

That strategist that Mar-Mar's little descendant, Prince Chrom, found in a field... he's got the tactics, but can't remember a thing for the life of him. At least Mar-Mar was a prince and had courage as his right-hand man. This caped amnesiac pales in comparison in every single way.

Mar-Mar had that legendary sword, but this guy mainly wields common tomes bought off the latest generation of mysterious merchants, the numerous and multiplying of the new Anna sisters.

The newbie Shepard hardly remembers his name and fails to recall what happened before Ylisse's crown prince awoke him. Mar-Mar was the Prince of Altea, saving his world and becoming the famed hero in the history books forever after, the Hero-King.

Fate had it that I was at Mar-Mar's side when he fought for his hard-earned victory. It seems the same destiny brought me to this rising star of a tactician, (Y/N). The way he easily wielded the volumes containing spells and curses to absolutely obliterate the Risen was awe-inspiring.

When the mass hordes of enemies were pursuing us as I had no means of self-defense or protection, he was the one who positioned all of the fighters to fend off the approaching reinforcements. In the end, the mission failed, but we retreated successfully and moved on to the next challenge looming ahead.

I can clearly see in my mind the moment he resigned to failure. Mar-Mar would never do that, but perhaps the tactical retreat was necessary. The outcome could be predicted with ease. I would've died. Close scrapes with Mar-Mar taught me a lot, but (Y/N) knew when leaving with your lives was necessary.

That battle, the one where all we were striving for was divine revelation when zombie-like monsters happened upon us, was nothing compared to the one right now.

"Hey, Kellam, advance toward the swordsman Risen to your right!" (Y/N)'s voice rings out over the harsh wind and screaming foes and slashing weapons and the growls of the monster whose enormous plated back we now rode on top of.

Grima's vessel was up ahead, his eerily similar features to (Y/N) sending shivers down my back. He had the same (h/c) hair whipping in the gale and bright (e/c) eyes that pierced into my ancient soul. It wasn't him. I was fully aware and accepting that it wasn't the guy I'd fallen for... but it frightened the wits out of me every time I glimpsed him across the surreal battlefield.

"Now, Tharja! Blast that armored unit with a good dose of Arcfire!" The real (Y/N) continues to advance, narrowly avoiding being seriously impaled by the barrage of javelins, arrows, and other assortment of flying weaponry.

I nimbly follow at his heels, trying also not to acquire any severe injuries. War was going to be war, but I needed to stay alive to see this one through. My thousands of years in these worlds haven't told me to give up.

(Y/N) and the others were so close to defeating Grima.

A sacrifice was going to be made, and everyone knew it. The last to strike Grima down would change the course of fate drastically. If it were anyone but (Y/N), Grima would fall back asleep. But after a revelation and several life-changing events, it was discovered that (Y/N) was the pawn and the prince of another, evil nation. His father was in cahoots with Grima, wrapping their grubby little fingers on the (Y/N)'s mind.

"Right! Chrom, you're next! Get just out of range of Grima with your Falchion in hand!"

What was our tactician planning? Even I couldn't read his thought process. I had a feeling that it wasn't going to end how happily ever after should. Even with my mother's, Naga's, help to reach Grima's weak spot, this grueling struggle was not unlike trudging knee-deep in a pit of mud. It was a sticky situation, to say the least.