The following tale is set in Fire Emblem Awakening’s world, before the game takes place. I added personal headcanons to make this story.
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A clear blue sky and gentle breeze, making the trees rustle like a quiet whisper as the queen is about to give birth to the first heir of the Exalt King. Maids are going hectic, running from one part of the room to the other to get fresh water and towels to the queen. This event wasn’t expected until the summer solstice, but the newborn prince was excited to embrace life.
The royal physicians managed to appease the poor woman in torment and make this occasion the least painful possible.
It wasn’t until the sun went down that the kid finally showed up. A sudden silence could be heard for a second. Just some noises of breathing, the resonance of the wood cracking far away in the castle, and a sigh of hope. A scream - no, a baby cry. So acute, sharp, yet tender. Longing for his mother to protect him.
The King, who wasn’t in the castle during the premature delivery, went home at the speed of his messengers. He arrived a few days after Victor, his son, was born. The boy was such a calm baby, always napping silently, opening his eyes to stare at his parents. He was curious. Every new scent and sounds made him react with some babbles. As frail as he once was, the toddler grew stronger and taller. He was raised with ancient tales of Ylissean heroes, bringers of peace and historic novels. As the first heir, Victor went through a lot of studies; physical and intellectual.
At a very young age, he was able to wield real metal-heavy swords, beat his dad to chess games and help his mother with political treaties. His pen was as keen as his sword and his motivation as strong as the hottest spices from the Regna Ferox.
When he reached the age to be dubbed, sword training was his priority. He knew of the tales of Marth and the Holy Falchion. He knew why this type of weapon was the most important in the royal family of Ylisse. He saw the blade, its delicate thread of gold strewn on the knob, the deep red of the handle, resonating with his father’s cape.
Victor knew someday, his path will lead to his progenitor steps. He was ready for it.
Some time later, the king and queen, as well as the royal court, was striked by some terrible disease. A good part of the cortege sadly passed away. The King was already pretty weakened and peacefully died during his sleep. His Queen shared her bed with Victor, trying to protect each other as they both were hopeless at this moment. The teen’s vigor kept himself alive, but his mother perished in one last embrace. He was now alone to face his destiny. A young man to rule over a country he has never truly seen. Only through the castle’s windows, the capital merchants, and the woods surrounding it like a giant shield.
As a teenager, he often went too far in his training, ending up covered in bruises and wounds, trying to be stronger and be ready for the day of the coronation. Thankfully, the royal physicians had everything to assure a prompt recovery from his little extravagances. Their daughter could even practice her theory classes on him, supervised by her parents to make sure she doesn’t hurt the prince. Due to Victor’s terrible habits, the two of them met up constantly for days and days until we could even call them friends.
Mercy was a few years younger than his majesty, but close enough in maturity to understand his motivations and fears. At this point, no one is really sure if he was training too hard to get more robust or to pass some time in her company. The nights his injuries were too deep to magically recover, he stayed in the infirmary and chatted with the blondie until dawn. It’s like there was no social difference between them. Their backgrounds were similar in some ways. Both were born in this castle, lived in this castle and wanted to travel far from this castle. Both inheriting their parents’ duty, pursuing their trail, making their best to learn everything required before it would be too late.