Request: Can you do a crossover of Caim going to Fire Emblem Awakening world after the ending where he killed Angelus? I want see how characters react to him being so bloodthirsty and ruthless.
I hope this fits all the criteria! This takes place after ending c in Drakengard, where Caim kills Angelus and runs off into a bright light outside the altar.
"A pitiful child shall defy the hands of the gods, and a door will close."
The last thing Caim remembered was the sky. A blinding white sky, plagued by thousands of dragons. A want to slay them all, and the red dragon's final words; "You have become strong."
Now he was here.
He woke up with a start, gasping heavily and sitting straight up. He patted himself down, in complete disbelief at the fact that he was alive. He was alive, shaken to the core, but alive. His rough hands covered his mouth in an attempt to muffle his cries of glee. He had escaped his fate—but what of the Union? What of Midgard? What of the world? Suddenly his relief seem so misplaced. Did he kill all the dragons? He slayed the red dragon, that was for sure. His hands came to rest at his damaged breast plate, hovering over his heart. The weight he felt in his chest was unusual; it was not so long ago his heart was connected to the red dragon he killed, lessening the heaviness in his breast. To him, his heart was an unnecessary burden that just weighed him down; unnecessary feelings that got in the way of his vengeance. Vengeance… how could he exact revenge when he didn't even know where he was? His brows furrowed, a deep pit in his stomach forming. Wherever he was, it certainly wasn't Midgard.
Caim awoke in a field of wild grass, trees sparsely littered across the green pastureland. The grass sprung up to the prince's chest, and swayed effortlessly in the calm, foreign breeze. Tall mountain ranges grazed the sky with their jagged heads, cutting away at the thin clouds above. This peaceful field was definitely nowhere near the Imperial City—such is evident in the undeniable peace that radiated from the field. The fallen prince sat alone, wondering if he had died and gone to heaven. He quickly dismissed the thought; he had killed far too many to be anywhere else but hell. He scoffed, the thought of the gods banishing him reminding him of Verdelet. Caim was finally alone, finally without the hierarch's dreadful warnings and woes, and finally away from the annoyances that were his allies. The only one he could moderately stand was Seere, whose behaviour he excused by the fact that the small boy was but a child. Leonard and Arioch, however, he was glad to be away from. To think so badly of the dead was surely a sin, but a sin he cared not for. He sighed, letting himself fall once more into the bed of grass. He breathed in the fresh air, taking in the peaceful surrounds. Just where was he? Why was he here? These thoughts troubled the young prince, but what troubled him most was what became of Midgard. This place was so different from his, he wondered if he had, perhaps, entered another world. He smirked at the idea, laughing at the thought. He didn't deserve to start over in another world, and he wouldn't allow himself to. There were still dragons he needed to kill, parents he needed to avenge. He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth and allowing himself to be enveloped by the weeds and tallgrass. The scent of the earth washed over him, a smell so different from the blood-soaked battlefield and the gardens of Caerleon's castle. Yet he welcomed it, and surrendered himself to the heat of the sun and the tickling of ladybugs on his gloved fingertips. He knew he didn't deserve this feeling of peace, but he paid that thought no mind. He wanted to use and abuse this moment; to let it revitalise him, and to let him forget about everything that had happened between him and the red dragon, if only for a little while. For the longest time, all he could hear was the rustling of the grass, leaves and the humming of tiny insects. For the longest time, that was all he needed. But all good things must come to an end, and that end was the sound of irregular rustling through the wild grass. Laying still, Caim reached for his sword, only to find it wasn't in its sheath. His sheath wasn't even on him—and this is when the lone prince started to panic. He wouldn't let it show, though. He never showed his fear—not to the Union or Empire, not to his pact-beast, and certainly not to whoever was approaching him. So he lay unmoving, waiting for the band to make their first move. They quickly met him, and Caim's eyes fluttered awake to see those who would dare trample on his peace. He was met with the stares of a party of four; a young girl with bouncy blonde haired tied into messy pigtails, a tall man with brown hair in heavy armour, a young man in a cloak with a book at his waist, and yet another man with a kind smile and short, royal blue hair.
"What should we do?" The blonde girl asked, turning to the blue haired boy. From where Caim laid, he could see a clear mark on his shoulder. Could he have a pact-beast? Maybe he wasn't so far from home after all.
"This is like Robin all over again, huh?" He spoke, tone friendly and calm. Caim guessed he wasn't the first person to wind up in this situation after all.
"His armour is mangled…" The cloak-wearing man spoke, ogling the fallen prince with a suspicious eye. It seemed neither one of the party caught onto the fact that Caim's eyelids were in fact parted, allowing him to see and analyse the situation.
"Yeah, maybe he's dangerous. He's not bleeding, though… maybe we can leave him here?" The young girl asked, steel-blue eyes wrought with worry. Yes, maybe if Caim just laid here, they would leave him be.
"We have to do something," the cloaked stranger spoke up, peering down at the 'sleeping' prince's unmoving form, "and I'm pretty sure—"
"Ah, you're awake." The marked man interrupted, looking down at Caim with kind eyes. Figuring his act would no longer work, the prince sat up and looked at the four people who had found him. The man with royal blue hair offered him his hand, but the prince got up without even acknowledging the action. "Are you all right?" He queried, swiftly retracting the hand he had held out. Caim shrugged, watching the friendly man carefully.
"… I suppose I am." The brunet prince replied after a pause, looking all around him. "Where am I? Who are you?" His voice was still stiff from not talking for so long. His pact had stolen his voice—and now that it was broken, it had returned. He was unsure about whether or not that fact was good, or bad.
"How about you tell us your name first?" The armoured man spoke, suspicious of Caim. And rightfully so; a stranger in foreign armour, found lying in the middle of the field, was not one to be trusted. The dethroned prince decided to comply with their demands.
"… My name is Caim. I'm the prince of the kingdom of Caerleon, and member of the Union." He replied, voice thick with an accent unknown to the band of four. The armoured man looked at him in distaste, the other three in disbelief. They were all bewildered at the claim, and each member looked to each other in surprise and discomfort.
"Caerleon? The Union?" The tall man repeated, all the more suspicious of the prince, "There is no kingdom of Caerleon here, and there is definitely no Union of any kind. Not involving Caerleon." He continued, voice gruff and full of aggression.
"Hold, Frederick. Maybe he's just confused." The blue haired man spoke, raising a single palm to calm the situation. "But, Caim, you really don't know where you are?" He spoke, bewildered. Caim simply shook his head, fists returning to his breastplate to reassure himself that he was alive. "Do you know how you got here?" The man pressed, brows furrowed in worry, his steel blue eyes baring all his concern to the entire world. Once more, the brunet prince shook his head.
"This has gotta be amnesia, right?" The small blonde piped up, pointer finger aimed at the heavens as if she had just figured out a trifling puzzle. "Just like Robin!"
"Don't you think this is different from me, though?" The cloaked stranger spoke, bringing a hand to his chin in thought. His white hair ruffled in the wind, making the man pull his hood down lower. "I had no memories. I had none, except for Chrom's name."
"Have you all seriously given away our identities to this brigand?" Fredrick spoke, refusing to believe what he had just heard. Caim flinched at the word brigand, his inner rage slowly resurfacing. Chrom, the marked man, gave his armoured ally a stern look.
"There's no need for such allegations. For all we know, prince Caim could be the hero of a country overseas." The royal blue gentleman spoke, eyes softening when his made contact with Caim's. The brunet prince clenched his teeth and looked away, arms lowering to his sides and hands clenched into tight fists.
"Pardon me, milord, but I don't believe a word he's saying." Frederick retaliated, lips turned downwards in a frown. The small girl's eyes darted between the two, looking confused.
"Hey, we're talking about Caim like he's not even here!" The pig-tailed girl pointed out, eyeing both bickering men with annoyance. The marked man paused, before breathing a sigh.
"You're right, Lissa. And we can't just leave him here, alone and confused." He admitted, turning once more to the foreigner before him. "We're Shepherds. It's our duty to make sure Caim's safe."
"Such is the reason we should emphasise caution," Frederick warned, his tone less aggressive than before. "'Twould be for the worst to let a wolf into our flock." Caim raised an eyebrow at the mention of 'Shepherds', and only became more confused at the mention of sheep herders. Were these simply metaphors, or were they actually shepherds, monitoring sheep in full armour? The brunet shook his head, trying to comprehend what in the world was happening.
"Alright—let's bring him to town and sort this out there," Chrom reasoned, a silence of agreement settling between the group. Caim could only tilt his head, brows furrowed with both frustration and confusion.
"Could you tell me where we are, first?" The prince queried, hoping to get his question answered instead of ignored. Frederick frowned at the query, and Lissa gave an awkward smile.
"We'll tell you all you need to know once we're in town," the armoured man began, "and I do hope you will tell us the truth in turn." He finished, expression as stern as ever. The small girl had a pitiful look cast across her face, as if she were saying a silent 'I'm sorry about this'. Caim assumed Frederick's behaviour to be no different from usual, and bit back the aggressive words that threatened to spill out. These men were armed, after all—and without his sword or dragon, Caim was nothing.
"Fear not, friend. We mean you no harm," Chrom reassured, arms spread out as a notion of peace, "we ask only that you come with us. Then you will know the answer to your question." Caim nodded, complying with the man's demands and following him as they began to walk; Chrom leading, Frederick guarding the rear with Robin, Caim and Lissa situated in between the two armed men. The walk was silent, yet not particularly uncomfortable. Caim didn't mind the company he was in—it certainly beat being anywhere near Verdelet, and everyone in the party actually seemed sane, which was a rare sight for the prince indeed. They walked along, the peaceful breeze being all that graced their ears. Yet Caim sought to break that silence by asking yet another question;
"What will you do with me?" He queried, face aloof and seemingly uncaring. He had thoughts of what was to come; imprisonment, or mayhap extraneous amounts of manual labour. They called themselves shepherds, yet the fallen prince couldn't help but harbour his suspicions. What if they were imperial soldiers, merely acting oblivious to Caim and the Union to ambush him later? He had an abnormal amount of distrust towards the strangers, but he couldn't help himself. He was betrayed by his pact-beast, after all, and such a twist would rend any man distrustful.
"Fret not." The blue-haired man chuckled, an amused smile gracing his features, "once we establish you are not a threat to Ylisse, you'll be free to go." The cloaked stranger in front of Caim couldn't help but smile, as he had been in a similar situation before.
"… Ylisse? Is that where we are?" Caim prodded, eyes narrowing. He was in deep thought, flipping through his memories trying to find the mentioned 'Ylisse' in them. Yet he could not, and his suspicions grew ever more intense. They had to be pulling his leg, now.
"You speak like you've never heard of the halidom." Frederick butted in, eyes burning into the back of Caim's skull. Caim remained silent, seeing as he had made a fool of himself.
"Don't worry—I had never heard of it before, either." Robin piped up, attempting to reassure the lad. "Then again, I did have amnesia…"
"Exactly! So Caim does have amnesia!" Lissa proclaimed, fist hitting her palm. "It's the only explanation! I told you so."
"Or it's utter Pegasus dung." Frederick retorted, aggression aimed at the foreign prince. It took all Caim had to not let out a chuckle at the strange saying, and instead decided to try his best to ignore the retort. Chrom opened his mouth as if to say something, but Caim spoke up before he had a chance.
"Tell me more about Ylisse. And the… halidom, too, if you will." The brunet requested, albeit nervous about the bluntness present in his voice. Chrom seemed to pay no mind, and was happy to oblige in his request. Robin couldn't help but grin behind his hood, amused by the fact that he was not the only person to wind up in a situation like this.
"This land is known as the Halidom of Ylisse. Emmeryn, our ruler, is known as the exalt." He answered, seriousness thick in his voice. Caim couldn't help but believe his words, lingering doubts pressed to the back of his mind. "I suppose we should introduce ourselves properly…" Chrom began once more, and the brunet couldn't help but agree. He was only basing who they were on assumptions, after all. Caim assumed them to be shepherds, but their armour and weapons pointed to knights more than sheep herders. "My name is Chrom—but I suppose you already guessed that. The delicate one here is my little sister, Lissa." He continued, arm motioning towards the small blonde in front of Frederick.
"I am not delicate!" Lissa let out a huff, lips stuck out in a pout, "Why do you say that to every amnesiac we meet?!" She sighed, deciding to let the matter off for now. "Please, ignore my brother. He can be a bit thick sometimes." The small blonde spoke, a cheeky smile spreading across her cheeks. "But you're lucky the Shepherds found you. It wouldn't be nice to wake up to a brigand instead!"
"You call yourselves shepherds, but… you herd sheep, in full armour?" Caim questioned, hoping for more clarification.
"I was confused about that, too…" The albino stranger spoke, dark cloak fluttering in the wind, "but we're not actually shepherds." He said, an all-knowing smirk stuck to his face.
"Right. Just ask Frederick the Wary here." Chrom suggested with a smile, a teasing tone evident in his voice.
"A title I shall wear with pride. Gods forbid one of us keeps an appropriate level of caution." He spoke, bowing. Robin tried his hardest to contain a laugh—he swore Frederick had said the exact same thing to him not so long ago. "I have every wish to trust you, Caim, but my position requires otherwise."
"I understand. I would be the same, had I been Caim the Wary." He joked, catching himself by surprise. He was telling jokes, now? Either the world has gone mad, or the poor prince was high from the sweet air of peace. Lissa let out a laugh in response, and Robin couldn't help but smile at the small jest. Frederick simply chose to ignore the remark, as he appeared not to be in the joking mood. Caim considered his seriousness to be a part of his wary nature, and dismissed his unwillingness to find the humour in his remark as Frederick just being… well, Frederick. Suddenly, Chrom stopped walking, turning to face the group that had been brought to a halt.
"We're almost to town. Once we—" The blue-haired gentleman was brought to a stop by the shouts of his younger sister.
"Chrom, look! The town, again!" She yelled, eyes full of alarm and form radiating distress. She pointed in front of her, all amongst the group following her finger to the wreckage met at the tip.
There was a small country town, beautiful—besides the fact that half the buildings were ablaze. Screams filled the atmosphere, putting the roars of the fire to shame. People were running around in a panic, and every member of the party was wrought with shock.
"Gods dammit, this is the second time since Robin…!" Chrom clenched his teeth, charging into the village, "Come on, Shepherds. Quickly!" He commanded, voice transforming into one belonging to a stern leader. Frederick, Lissa and Robin nodded their heads in unison, rushing into the town with looks of determination. Chrom paused for a moment to look back at Caim, allowing his companions to overtake him and enter the scene. "Caim, stay close. We can't have you getting hurt." He ordered, an unpleasant look across his face. Caim's eyes burned with a want—a want to slaughter whoever did this to the town. The deranged prince brushed past the astounded Chrom, pausing only for a moment to acknowledge the Shepherd's command.
"I can fight. If you lend me your sword, I can help you." Caim spoke, the rage within revitalised. He had forgotten the feeling for a brief moment, and he felt guilty. Guilty that he forgot about everything he had been through, guilty that he forgot his very reason for living; to slaughter all who got in his path. Maybe the enemies were not in his way, per say, but he wished for their death nonetheless. Chrom mistook the disgusting rage in the foreign prince's eyes for determination, and passed the man a spare sword that was previously sheathed at his waist. Caim nodded, grateful, and charged into the burning town.
"Ba ha ha ha! Get to it, boys!" A gruff man shouted, chest muscles rippling with every mighty laugh, "Grab all the valuables, and light the rest! Rob the town blind! Teach these Ylissean scum the meaning of fear!" He commanded, eyes frenzied with greed and a lust for treasure. He was a deplorable man indeed, deep brown hair thinning and sticking out in every which direction. His breath was as rotten as his goals, and his teeth were clinging to his gums by a thread. This was Worrick—a notorious brigand hailing from Plegia, his reason for living to put all Ylisseans through hell and come back with trophies to show for it. Right now, his trophy was a young boy—eight or ten years old. He was a hostage, yet no one would dare step forward to save the child in fear of being cut down themselves. When the boy called for help, however, the Shepherds were there to spring into action.
"Guys, we have to stop them!" Lissa pleaded, taking in the burning town around her. The group of brigands was not huge nor deadly, but they still held enough power in their palms to devastate a small village. Caim gritted his teeth at the sight, bloodlust overcoming him for the first time after waking up in the field.
"Don't worry—this will be the final time these brigands step into this town…" Chrom hissed, blood boiling with anger. How dare the Plegians invade one town after the other, and how dare they think they could get away with it? If there was one thing Chrom hated most in the world, it was unnecessary suffering, and that was exactly what Plegians loved most. Before the royal blue man could order his comrades, Caim charged forward, spare sword at the ready. "Hold, Caim—"
"Chrom, you have no idea how long I've waited for this." Caim spoke, a sick grin spreading across his face. The brunet prince suddenly became a stranger in the eyes of the Shepherds, his unmatched will to massacre a foreign energy to the Ylisseans.
"Caim, it will be easier if you just listen to me. I'm a tactician, and—" Robin began, but was quickly cut off by Caim's increasingly loud voice.
"Me, listen to you?" Caim spat, raising his sword, "I've killed hundreds of soldiers! I've killed dragons! And you think you can tell me what to do?" He shouted, will to kill tipping over the edge. Robin reached out a gloved hand to stop him, but there was no stopping the unmatched force of the deranged prince.
Caim charged onwards, right into the fray. He was met with two opponents—Plegian brigands, if he had heard correctly—and he did not hesitate to send his blade their way. He ran towards them, feet shuffling along the stone paths, Chrom's borrowed sword light in his strong arms. He slashed forward, leaving a massive dent through the closest enemy's breast plate. Caim was astonished at how little damage the weapon dealt—it was nothing compared to the final weapon he held when slaying his former pact-beast. He clenched his jaw tighter, almost embarrassed to be seen holding such a poorly effective instrument. Chrom had a stronger looking sword fastened to his waist—why was Caim only given this one? Mayhap the tattooed man doubted the brunet prince's power, which only served to fan the flames of rage burning so deeply within Caim. He slashed once more, and again, combos repetitive. His attacks would be useless if it weren't for the strength behind them—Caim was powerful indeed, his temporary sword an inappropriate vessel to contain the pure muscle propelling it forward. Just as the blade felt as if it were about to break, Caim beheaded his first foe whilst the second could only watch on in fear. He smiled a demonic smile as he felt blood spray over his body, relishing in the smell and the sight. The kidnapped boy stood terrified at the opposite end of the plaza, across a stone bridge. All the other criminals looked on in horror; this had not been what they expected. Without warning, Caim charged forward once more, disposing of the second brigand with ease. The paved roads were filled with blood, as Caim hit very notable arteries for the very best of reactions. He let out a chuckle, pleased beyond infinity as his laugh echoed throughout the town. Oh, how he's missed his voice—the voice used to command hundreds, the voice used to challenge Inuart, the voice used to soothe Furiae. Furiae… at the sudden thought, his bloodlust increased twofold; of all people who deserved to die, Furiae was definitely not one of them. His darling little sister, killed herself… because of him. He couldn't help but feel like her death was his fault—after all, he did not reciprocate her romantic feelings, and that loneliness led her to commit suicide. No, he was wrong. It was the empire that took her away. It was the soldiers who kidnapped her, razed towns until they were nothing, kidnapped innocent Union children… Kidnapped children.
The brigands must die.
The Shepherds were busy taking care of the small fry, Lissa throwing a healing spell Caim's way every now and then. He watched as his blood marvellously snaked back into his veins, his wounds closing. This magic was indeed nothing belonging to Midgard, but he was grateful for it nonetheless. Feeling as energised as ever, he ran over the blood slicked bridge, charging towards the man who held a small boy in his hand; Worrick.
"Oh, little lost lamb!" Worrick cooed, foul breath spreading through the thick air, "Prepare to be butchered!"
But Caim wouldn't be butchered.
Oh, no. Quite the opposite, in fact.
With one fell swoop, the rusty sword dug into the brigand leader's shoulder—cutting completely through. Straight through his lungs, his heart, his bones, his muscles. It was over in a split second, a fountain of blood spurting out not a moment later. Unfortunately, the child was also in Caim's line of sight. With warm blood coating his rage imbued optics, he sliced through the boy, leaving a shrill scream to hang in the air from the child. Lissa turned, facing to where she heard the shout of desperation. She covered her mouth in horror, thinking she would scream. No sound came out. The poor blonde was far too scared to even let out the tiniest squeak.
The rest of the Shepherds dealt with their foes before turning to look across the bridge, eyes meeting Caim's broad back, and the two corpses that hit the ground. Bile rose in Robin's throat, miraculously keeping back the foul fluid with a forceful palm. Chrom and Frederick could only stand and stare at the bloodbath that lay before them. Caim, however, felt amazing. He felt refreshed. He felt like a man who had spent a week in the desert, finally tasting the sweetness of fresh water. In this moment, bathed in the blood of both his enemies and the innocent, he felt truly alive.
"A monster…" Lissa could only mutter, tears welling in her steel blue eyes.
"Surely this manner of murder goes against the gods themselves…!" Robin panted, brown eyes a mix of disgust, terror and bewilderment. He had never seen a scene such as this. None of them had.
"And for standing idly by, oblivious…" Frederick whispered, the great knight exhibiting an uncharacteristic tremble in his voice, "… have the doors to heaven closed for us, too?"
And all Chrom could do was stare.
What beast had he just rescued? What monster had he saved? He swallowed hard, knowing full well this was only the beginning of Caim's unrelenting murder.