Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem

Chris sighed as he toyed with his blue scarf, a habit that had not been broken since he was given the scarf at his ninth birthday. His family was not poor, they didn't miss any meals or anything but they weren't terribly well off either. He had left his little town of Sera and came to the Altean captial to see if there was anything he could do to help his people back home. He didn't have any high expectations and was preparing himself for bitter disappointment. And here he was sitting on a grassy knoll watching the veteran knights of Altea train. As friendly as everyone was, he still felt uncomfortably out of place.

It seemed like everyone in Altea was constantly decked out in armor. Aside of his leather shoulder guard and steel chest guard, Chris had not donned armor before in his life, well not full plate anyway. Not to mention the kind of boots that were worn in Altea, they were made of thin leather, not like his coarser bound boots, although the fur made them very comfortable to wear. Also this thing about symmetry, if you had one glove on, you had to have another one on. Chris only wore one glove on his guiding hand, his sword was two handed after all. His jacket looked different from just about every other Altean knight's, no one else wore short sleeves(not even little Ryan), and no one else wore a scarf. Even his hair was a different style then everyone else's! Chris buried his face in his hands, he was all for uniqueness but did everything about him have to be so different?

Even his way of eating was wrong! Despite being Altean by blood, Chris was born and spent the majority of his childhood in Aurelius. So instead of eating beef or pork like Alteans, he grew up eating lamb. He did not eat with his hands but Chris had to get Luke to teach him the proper way to use Altean utensils. He also had to get Rody to show him how to properly wear his jacket, would you believe it? Due to some odd tradition that his family had, he didn't button his jacket. Instead he folded one flap over the other gi style before tying his belt on. Although the two social knights didn't laugh at him, they were actually quite interested in his culture, Chris was horribly embarrassed.

Right now, his little sister would have given him a slap on the face for his shyness, well not really, she was too short to reach his face. A small smile started to break through his miserable expression at the thought of home. His family moved to Altea a year before the War of the Shadows. Sprea was born in Aurelius but she only knew Altea, she was only six years old, Chris had to adjust, he was already fifteen when they left their beloved Aurelian plains. Things were hard for them during the years of the war, things were hard for all of Altea. The village of Sera was small, it was the kind of town where everyone knew everyone else, a good place for a young man who grew up far from the home of his parents. He had studied the sword in Aurelis with his father who was once a famed mercenary. But Chris' father was ill and dying at that point, so after his father died, Chris had to take up responsibility. Perhaps he was fortunate that there was a war going on. Money was the furthest thing from the villager's minds and at that dire time, they supported each other. Chris did his part as well, being the only warrior in the tiny quaint town, he fought off the bandits that roamed free through the land, and the occasional group of foreign soldiers that entered their gates. His deeds earned him admiration and adoration from his fellow villagers, modest as he was, he had admit that it was a good feeling. It would not have mattered one bit if the people of Sera were only minimally grateful, Sprea's adoration was enough for him. The little girl, having not known her father for long, had unconsciously decided that her older brother would make a great replacement.

It had been a painful decision for when he decided to leave his family. The villagers had often told him that he was made for greater things then defending some village that was of no great importance. There were many times when someone would come up to him and openly say, "We'll be sorry when you decide to leave, but you deserve more." He had ignored them, maybe they thought of him as some kind of hero, but what use was a boy who was more Aurelian then Altean, he wasn't like the knights who had driven away the shadows. The funny thing was that his own mind decided to rebell against him and force him to take his friends' advice.

Whenever he visited his late father's grave, an overwhelming torrent of emotion washed over him. It was not uncommon for Chris to be seen slumped over in front of the simple tomb stone, sometimes even on his hands and knees. What they didn't see was his tears, he bowed his head to keep them hidden as they ran down his face unchecked. One such day he had fallen asleep, crying was hard work, harder then fighting twenty bandits on his own. The only difference was that he didn't come out of it cut and bleeding physically, he came out of it bleeding emotionally.

"Big brother? Wake up, Chris! What's wrong? A-are you hurt?" a little voice quickly turned from cheerful to panic.

"Huh?...Sprea? What...where am I?" Chris mumbled sleepily.

"Silly! You fell asleep in front of Daddy's grave, it's getting cold so Mommy told me to fetch you." a big smile lit up the little girl's face. She tugged on his arm then tilted her head curiously, "Your sleeves are wet."

"Yeah, don't worry about it." With out thinking Chris wiped his eyes on his sleeve. He pushed himself up and looked towards the setting sun. Suddenly a rush of energy, like the adrenaline he felt before a fight, surged into his body. He clenched his fists, gritted his teeth. He felt something, something like hate, rage, excitement, determination, fury, all rolled into one package. Chris shut his eyes and inhaled the cool air focusing on identifying that surge. When his sapphire colored eyes reopened, he had his answer. He knew what he had felt, and it was something that had dug itself up, something that could get him power, secure his family and friend's safety, get him anything he's ever wanted.

Ambition.

After that he had gone straight to his mother and announced that after the war was over, he was leaving, leaving for the Altean capital. He would join the army, and see what he could do from there to make a difference for the insignificant people like him. His mother had looked at him with a strange expression, then turned away. Sprea, after having registered his meaning, started gaping. "Does that mean you will be leaving?" she stammered. Deciding that it was best not to tell a white lie, Chris had nodded, "Yes, if I succeed, then I might not be back for a long time. If things go badly then I...I might not ever come back." Tears welled up in Sprea's eyes. Before she could start crying and break his heart as well, Chris had turned and ran out the door. After getting out of ear-shot he stopped to see if his determination, his ambition, had faltered. It had not, he had set his mind on it and there was no turning back. After a couple minutes, he went back to his house and looked through a window, Sprea was clinging to his mother's skirts and sobbing into them. To his surprise even his mother held a hanker-chief to her face, through out his life, even after Father had passed on, his mother had never cried. She had to suffer silently, or her children would suffer all the more when they saw that she was capable of weakness.

Word had gotten around Sera pretty quickly, it was a very small town. It made an uncertain impact as no one knew when the war would be over, even though the tide was slowly but surely turning to Prince Marth's advantage. Meanwhile Chris had continued doing what he usually did, protecting his home.

A bandit fell into a bloody heap, Chris adjusted his stance and went for the second bandit. He quickly cut him down and just barely managed to turn in time to parry an axe coming from behind. He moved swiftly, never crossing his legs, he struck fast as well. One particularly strong bandit managed to hold a parry, stepping forward Chris hooked his leg behind the bandits and threw him off balance. With a quick thrust, the bandit was run through. Hearing a twig break behind him Chris whirled around, straight into an axe blow. He reeled but did not immediately feel pain, instincts took over as he slashed at the bandit with all his strength. The sword nearly cleaved the offender in half.

With the danger gone, Chris felt his legs give way. Catching himself against his sword he leaned heavily on the handle. He could feel blood staining his clothing and splattering onto the ground. He pressed the heel of his wrist hard against the wound, he yelled in pain but didn't pull his hand away. Not knowing anything else to do, he slung his sword over his shoulder and staggered back to Sera. His strength gave way the moment his resolve was achieved. He felt his knees hit the ground, then his whole body. Somewhere there was a shrill cry, "Chris!" then the world turned black.

If the cry hadn't come from the town healer, then he might have died, or at the very least, bed-ridden for a much longer time. Chris had woken up at home, in his own room, on his own bed. At the time he would've thought that it had all been a dream had he not been woken up by a horrible pain. Someone had removed his jacket and shirt, his upper torso was covered in bandages. The thing about staves was that if it was just an ordinary Heal stave and not something fancy like a Fortify or Recover, if possible, it was best to let the patient heal what he could on his own. His mother was the kind of person would could guess what her son was thinking before he said it. When asked she had said that he was healing fine but didn't want any visitors, the villagers obeyed his wishes. For the first three days, Chris had drifted between sub-consciousness and a few minutes of painful awareness. After the three day hill, he had steadily gotten better, he was able to sit up and walk around, although much to Mom's displeasure.

Chris tugged his scarf off his neck absentmindedly, he watched as some new recruits practiced thrusting with a lance. Sir Jeigan was correcting them with sharp comments and advice. The old knight was stern but Chris was certain that you couldn't find someone more loyal to Altea.

All of Altea rejoiced when Marth, Prince of Light stood outside of his palace and announced the death of the Shadow Dragon, the liberation of Archanea. From the small towns to vast cities and ports, everyone was living again. In Sera too, they celebrated in the way they always did. They would create a huge bonfire in the middle of town and everyone would bring chairs and tables and food. Illuminated by the flames and surrounded by laughter, Chris was happy, but also very sad. The end of the war signified the rebirth of Altea, and his time to leave. In all truth, he had believed that Sera had forgotten, now that the war was over, what was the use of a warrior? To his surprise the elder of the village called a halt to the singing and dancing at the stroke of midnight.

"Now, in the start of a new day, the day that Altea can begin to heal. I call upon you to give thanks for the man who helped us live through the horrors of the war. As you all know, Chris will be leaving tommorow, leaving for the capital. There, he hopes to benefit us all, and we hope that he can also benefit for himself. This young man, is deserving of praise from every one of us. Chris, we wish you the best on your journey and that you will find what you search for, but also know this: we will miss you and we will wait for your return. If you find what you search for and wish to stay at the capital, we will also support that decision." as the whisps of the elder's voice rang into the night, a thunder of applause startled Chris. All of a sudden people where shaking his hand and clapping him on the back.

"Good luck Chris, we know you'll suceed."

"Becareful Chris, please return to us one day."

"You're already a hero to us, you'll do great at the capital."

"You're the bestest big brother ever! And you'll be the best fighter in all of Altea, I just know it!" Sprea squealed above the commotion as she wrapped her arms around his waist in her best imitation of a bear hug. A pleasant shiver went down Chris' spine, but then the smile faded from his face. He couldn't see his mother anywhere, his face fell. Maybe she really did hate him for his decision.

The next morning, bright and early Chris woke up. Some time in the night Sprea had decided to burrow under his covers and sleep next to him, maybe she had a nightmare. He walked into the kitchen thinking that he'll see his mother taking something out of the hearth oven like every other morning. To his surprise the room was empty, his and Sprea's breakfast was already on the table. Sleepy and still in her nightgown Sprea joined him in their morning meal in the fashion that it was always carried out in: her excited chatting while Chris concentrated mainly on eating.

Once his plate was empty Chris prepared to take up his satchel but he pause for a moment. He was so used to the wooden walls, to the flowers that Sprea brought home, to the simple furniture, was he really leaving home? Clearing his mind of doubt Chris slung his satchel over his shoulder and exited the house with his little sister-still in her nightgown-skipping behind him. He was greeted to the sight of his mother kneeling in front of Father's grave, very much in the same fashion that he did.

Chris blinked, this was a strange sight to him. He had thought that he was the only one to visit Father, Sprea being too young to understand(perhaps one day she will), and Mother not wanting to break the firm support that she had built up inside her. He silently walked up behind her and after some hesitation, "Mom?" he asked tentatively. His mother looked up as if he had startled her and smiled her sunny smile like nothing was happening.

"Hello Chris, is it time for you to go already?" she asked.

"Yes, I want to start early."

"Oh...I see." she stood up gracefully but Chris could see her clenching her skirt with one hand. "I'm glad you have decided to pursue your dreams, you are not like your father, but he would have been proud." she whispered.

Chris looked towards the sword he was holding, his father's sword. It was a strange style, the hilt was made of the same material as the blade, a sword that was the same silver color all over. Intricate markings have been carved into the hilt and a long red decorative tassel was attached. His father had wanted violence in his youth, the life of a mercenary was ideal for him, it wasn't until much later did he settle down. Chris grinned, yeah, he was nothing like his old man. "So uh...I guess I have to leave. Don't worry, I'll write."

His mother grabbed his arm and insisted on escorting him to the village gates. Everyone who was old enough to be up at such an early hour was waiting. There was no sadness in Chris' heart, he felt ecstatic. With a smile he waved as he walked away from Sera. His ambition was stoking his confidence.

He had then been accepted as a trainee in the Altean capital. It had been a strange case there, he was a bit older then most of the other trainees. His fighting style was foreign to them, there weren't many swordsmen that came out of Aurelius. He was among the top of his class in a short time, he trained for three years and added to his skills. He had written back to his family and friends, their reply was always encouraging although sometimes it created homesickness. In one of his letters Sprea had written a few sentences with what words she knew. The hand writing was sloppy and lopsided but nothing could describe Chris' delight, but it also hurt him that he couldn't be home.

Three years after he first came to the Altean capital, the head of the military school gave him a letter of recommendation. They were recruiting new soldiers into Prince Marth's personal guard. Not being a social knight, Chris had been given his own date for an assessment. He did not notify his friends in case he failed, he would suffer the disappointment on his own.

The second he entered the Altean palace he was knocked down by a mage named Katarina, that started the chain of embarrassment. People stared a little at him but the veteran knights who guided his exam made no comment. An armored knight named Sir Draug guided him through the first parts of his exam, skirmish ambushes. Chris having defended his village from bandits already understood the value of terrain, he escaped the ambush with ease.

"Well done." Sir Draug had said as he brought him into the training arena. Chris had been awestruck at the size of the arena, a massive circle of sand with rows of seats above for events. He would later learn that jousts were set up here during tournaments.

Chris had been struck with nervousness as the veteran knights-that he could actually identify-were standing off to the side. He had been put up against Sir Cain, his sword skills were famous among the soldiers. Chris had managed to keep himself from falling, he had drawn on all of his foreign skills to combat Sir Cain's impeccable Altean ones. After the match Sir Cain had exchanged looks with the other veteran knights, smiled, and nodded, "This one knows what he's doing." then he turned to Chris, "An Aurelian swordsman, not something you see everyday. But you do not look Aurelian."

"No sir, my parents are...were Altean. Sir Cain, how did you know I was from Aurelius?" Chris had stumbled over his words.

"By the way you move, speak, dress, it is easy to tell if you know what to look for."

That day Chris was knighted into the service of Prince Marth. After the formal ceremony, Prince Marth had held out his hand, Chris just barely managed to shake it without his own hand trembling.

"I am glad you have come to the captial, I have found your background very interesting." the prince said.

Chris' head snapped up then he looked down ashamed, Marth was the ruler of Altea, he had every right to know the history of his retainers.

"Your actions in Sera were very heroic, it shows your character and your determined nature. The world needs people who have ambition and yet are not over ambitious, like you. Your knowledge of foreign places are essential if we wish to one day have a peaceful Archanea. You will do well here." The prince's words had both encouraged Chris and unnerved him.

Later Chris was introduced to his fellow soldiers of the 7th battalion: Rody, Luke, Cecil, Katarina, and Ryan. It was nice to train along with people similar in age with him. He had written back to his family about his success. He had soon received a long letter of congratulation from the villagers and a separate one from his sister:

Dear Chris,

Mommy wanted me to practice my writing, I hope I'm getting better. I knew it! I knew it! I told you that you would be the best fighter in all of Archanea. Please come visit home soon, we really miss you. You should see how big Taffy's kittens have gotten! Mommy sometimes lets me go to Daddy's grave really late like you do, although she doesn't let me stay as long as you use to. I don't understand why you used to be so sad. You were so sad that you cried, I didn't think you knew how to cry. I mean some people cry if they just get a little cut, but remember the times when you came home injured? You never even screamed, you need to teach me how to do that. Maybe you can explain to me about Daddy some time.

Love, Sprea

Chris twisted his scarf in his hand then tied it back on. He stood up and looked towards the distance. Aurelius and Sera were in the same direction. As much as he missed his village, he couldn't come home, not yet. His ambition had paid off, but he wasn't going to stop there. Back home they might call him a hero, but he had to work harder.

Right now he was still in the shadows of the long road ahead of him.

But one day, he would come into the light.

Author's Note: I couldn't help myself, I just had to write something about My Unit. Just like Mark the tactician, the default name for the male My Unit is Chris, I don't think the female has one, if she does, please tell me. About the end of this fic, if you didn't get it, you just have to look at the title of FE 12. Marth is the prince of light, the hero of light, Chris is the hero of shadow. I wanted to give Chris a more foreign background since it seems fitting as he helps unite the continent. I also thought giving him some genuine living family would be good.
I really wish they would get a US release date for FE 12 soon. It's already out in Japan right? Golden Sun: The Dark Dawn has a release date so why can't FE 12? Oh well, waiting will make it that much better to play.

Anyway, please give your feedback on this fic (: