I had to go and draw out Chrom's Exalted Mage Prince regalia for this chapter because I did NOT want to use any of his existing outfits and I just could not visualize what I wanted it to look like. Once I finish the concept art, I'll post it and link the tweet here. I also had the huge urge to draw the "new player" I mentioned last closing note. I'm really curious as to what you guys will think about them.

(One of my friends on Discord called our favorite blueberry "twink dark healer Chrom" and described this fic as basically "Chrom thinking he's Morgan and acting accordingly" and honestly I have never heard a funnier summary of this story. Thank you, Drowsy, your contributions are highly appreciated! XD)

"... I don't think I've ever heard a more accurate description of my little blueberry. Except for one thing: Chrom still isn't that good at tactics."

Meh, that's what we have Robin for.

"Ahem."

And you, but that's obvious enough to not warrant a mention.

Don't own, and I'm gonna give you another heads-up for Grima sadism/brutality. You do NOT antagonize the Fell Dragon and live unless Chrom decides to plead for your life.

"Oh, come on, he does that all the time!"

"No, I am not going to wield Falchion!"

Chrom sat with his father, Robin, Lissa, Frederick, and the Khans in one of the Feroxi wagons bound for Plegia, arrayed around a table holding one of Robin's maps. To his left, Robin frowned, confused, while to his right, Dad held his chin in thought. Lissa scowled from across the table, Flavia snorted with amusement, and Frederick and Basilio looked about done with the princess's pushiness. The blonde girl huffed. "Why not? You can wield it just fine, you've got some sword skills, and besides, it'll really complete the heroic 'Prince of Ylisse' image!"

"While normally I would agree with milady, milord has admitted that his swordplay is fairly average compared with the rest of those who specialize in the blade."

"And it's too heavy for me!" the bluenette cried. "I can barely swing it as I am right now!"

Dad scoffed. "You know, if you had kept up with your training—"

"Umbra is fine! I don't need a weapon that can hurt people!"

Lissa raised an eyebrow. "You didn't seem to have that problem when you used Falchion back in the Border Sands."

"I-It was in the heat of battle, I w-was trying to get it back to you—" Chrom gulped down the rising bile. "I don't even remember what happened, only that it did happen! Oh, gods, I hurt those people!" He covered his face, ears burning in shame.

Robin sighed. "Come on, Lissa, I really don't think it's that important for Chrom to wield Falchion. You're the only one of us who can use it with the greatest amount of effectiveness. Chrom will probably just make a fool out of himself swinging it around."

"Thanks, Robin, I really needed that." The bluenette huffed.

Frederick nodded. "Robin does have a point. How would it reflect upon Ylisse for her returned prince to wield Falchion poorly?"

"Look," the mage-healer uncovered his face, "I said yes to an outfit change, even though I really, really don't agree with it. Can you give me just this in return? Please?"

Lissa glanced around at the others before sighing. "All right, fine. I'll compromise. You wear the outfit, and I keep Falchion."

"Thank you," Chrom breathed. "I know you want the image of a mighty warrior prince, but I don't think that's what anyone needs right now. You're the warrior princess—I think Ylisse needs a prince who can balance both your ideals and Emm's. Unwilling to hurt anyone but still fighting for what is right."

Dad chuckled. "Huh. Never would have thought of it like that. I like it."

"Are we agreed then?" Basilio asked. "Because we're going to be coming up on the Border Wastes in another couple of hours or so, and we need to be prepared to put our plan into action." The others nodded. "Good. Have Maribelle and Virion finished with Chrom's outfit?"

"Almost, I think Mari said they were putting on the finishing touches when I spoke to them earlier," the blonde princess reported. "Oh, and she and Libra found you this fantastic staff, Chrom! It's a Recover staff, but it looks super fancy and everything!"

"O-Oh, um, thank you! I really appreciate that, I'll have to thank them when I get the chance," Chrom said.

The West Khan clapped his hands. "Sounds like we're about ready. Let's go kick some Plegian butt and end this!"

"Now, I'm afraid this is the best we could put together on such short notice," Maribelle apologized, "but it will have to do for the purpose we need it."

Chrom stared at the outfit that lay on the table of the tactical wagon. The soft white tunic had poofy light blue sleeves made of a translucent material with long white button-up cuffs that went three-quarters of the way up the forearm. The bottom of the tunic ended just below mid-thigh in a long off-center slit, and the top extended into a high collar, both edged with gold detailing. The floor-length blue cape was attached to a triangular piece covering the shoulders and chests and embroidered with white teardrops, golden diamond shapes, and the Brand of the Exalt. Two long blue tabard-like pieces extended from the front of the cape and ended in tapered points above the hem of the tunic, also filled with gold and white embroidery. The blue boots opened in the front to a white insert and were edged around the front slit and heels with gold trim. A belt of dark blue leather clasped in the middle with a golden teardrop inset with a diamond, and there were soft white breeches that could be tucked into the boots. A circular gold headpiece with triangular points reminiscent of the sun completed the ensemble.

"It's… It's…" The bluenette opened and closed his mouth, finding himself at a loss for words. The whole thing evoked Emmeryn's own robes but with Chrom's own personality. It was the most—well, gorgeous, lovely, beautiful, neither of them seemed adequate to describe the incredible outfit. Chrom felt his eyes tearing up at the sight. Emm… if only you could see this… I hope I do your memory proud when I wear these…

"I-I can't seem t-to… I-I don't know w-what to s-say…" He sniffled. "I-It's the most—most wonderful ou-outfit I've ever s-seen…" He jumped forward and grabbed both Maribelle and Virion in a hug. "Th-Thanks, you g-guys, you're am-amazing!"

The other two nobles chuckled and hugged Chrom back, Virion patting him on the back. The bluenette pulled back and wiped the tears from his eyes, turning to Libra as he stepped forward with a gleaming golden staff. Instead of the crescent moon that adorned and held the healing jewel of a normal Recover staff, this one had a wavy frame with a teardrop shape and encrusted with diamonds and sapphires. The bottom of the crook of the staff held the healing jewel, fresh and ready to use. He probably didn't need to actually use the staff, but it rounded out the look. He took the staff from the priest and held it in both hands. Hmm, nice balance, not too long—he sent a pulse of power through the staff—wow! Really receptive! "Libra, this is a very good staff! I'm impressed!"

"Only the best for you, your Highness," the blonde man replied, bowing.

Chrom blinked and shook his head, waving his free hand. "No, no, no, you can't just stop calling me by my name just because I'm the prince now!"

"I'm afraid necessity dictates that you get used to such a thing," Virion commented. "Why, all of the nobility will have to address you as 'your Highness' or 'milord' or 'your Grace' because of your new station."

"W-Well, just because I'm the prince doesn't mean I'm any different!" the boy sputtered, turning red. "I'm still the same mage and healer you met last month, I'm still Chrom!"

Libra gave him a kind smile. "We did not wish to discomfit you, but it is important to be prepared for what your position will require."

The bluenette gulped, a sick feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. Gods, he had responsibilities now, more than he'd ever had before. Heck, he was responsible for an entire country! How was he supposed to run it without any prior training? I never signed up for any of this! He bit his lip. No, you didn't, you were just unlucky enough to be born into it. Once again, he couldn't help but resent his birth father. If only he had been born to his foster father… but there was no use dwelling on it now. No matter his status before his disappearance, the fact remained that he was a commoner thrust into a top-tier governmental role.

"Young Chrom? Is something wrong?"

Chrom sighed. "Nothing, just… I'm not ready for this. Being a prince, I mean. Although Emm was ten when she took the throne…"

Maribelle nodded. "It is not unusual to feel out of your depth. Now come, we must get you dressed before we reach the battlefield. We wouldn't want our prince to show up in a bedraggled state, now, would we?"

"No, I guess not." He handed the staff back to Libra and turned away from them, slipping off his clothes. Virion and Libra dressed him in the royal outfit, and Maribelle brushed his hair and pinned the headpiece on. The troubadour opened a bag of makeup, and Chrom gave her a confused look. She ignored him and laid a towel around his front, lining his eyelids with black liner and brushing his eyelashes with mascara. Then she powdered his pale cheeks with a bit of blush before dabbing a soft pink lipstick onto his lips and blending it in. She took the towel back off and put the makeup back into the bag. "Um, Maribelle, I'm not entirely sure what the makeup's for, it's just gonna get smeared in the battle anyway."

"First impressions are always important for someone of high rank, and you'll be attempting to parley with them from a distance at first," she pointed out.

The archer nodded in agreement. "But of course! One must wear that which accentuates one's features in order to be visible to any theatre-goer at every angle."

"Still…" The bluenette fidgeted and sighed. "I guess I can't convince you to take it off, can I."

"You look radiant, Chrom. I find there is nothing wrong with your appearance as it is," Libra supplied, giving the staff to the boy.

"Fine." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then opened them and stood up straight.

"I'm ready. Let's do this."

"Back already, Ylissean dogs? Didn't we just say goodbye not long ago? Hahaha!" Gangrel jibed at the Ylissean-Feroxi line. Chrom waited at the back of the Shepherds' formation, waiting to be revealed. He closed his eyes and breathed, in… and out… in… and out… His nerves settled a bit, and he bowed his head.

Emmeryn… watch over me, sister. We desire peace for all who are innocent… Ylissean, Plegian, Feroxi, it doesn't matter. I only hope to make your dream come true… please, lend me your strength. Let me honor you in what I say and do. I will hold you close to my heart and your sacrifice in my mind. My soul will fight to protect everyone from pain and suffering. I… I miss you… I love you… Emmeryn…

He opened his eyes. Up ahead, Lissa stood at the front of the army. The Mad King sneered and jeered, "Back again for more, princess? Still dreaming about your squished sister? Ha!"

"I have someone I'd like you to meet, Gangrel!" Lissa yelled back. "Emmeryn wanted peace for both of our countries! Her dream didn't die when she did!" The Shepherds parted down the middle, and Chrom strode down the path, his posture perfect, his head held high, his expression soft. He reached the front and fixed his eyes on Gangrel and Aversa, both of whom widened their eyes at the sight of him.

"King Gangrel." His voice, though gentle, carried far. "My name is Chrom Lowell, son of Exalt Archibald and Queen Elaine, brother to Exalt Emmeryn and Princess Lissa. I have come before you today to end the animosity between our nations." Whispers flew through the Plegian army, but he ignored them. "My sister, Emmeryn, believed that every person desires peace. She could not bear to see anyone suffering. And I…

"I believe the same. No matter what country a person is from, I believe they have basic rights to peace, freedom, and happiness. And I believe your people deserve that as well. They don't deserve the suffering and pain and loss that war brings. They deserve a happy life, free from care and worry."

Gangrel regained his composure. "Pretty words from another pretty face! How would you know, with all the riches you're surrounded by?! You've had everything catered to you since birth!"

"How can I," the bluenette rebuffed, "when nearly all my life, I have lived as an ordinary citizen? I know what it means to go without, to get so little income that there isn't enough food in the house, or clothes to wear, or medicine to cure sickness! I've visited one of your towns and experienced the hardship your people have to endure! And I…" his voice choked up a bit, "I can't let them continue to suffer any longer! Please, I beg you, do what is right for your people and seek peace!"

"What I think is right, little princeling," the Plegian king hollered back, "is to wipe you and every Ylissean off the map!"

"Then you are no better than my father!" That got a few gasps. Chrom continued, conviction shining in his eyes. "If we must fight, then I promise not to harm any of your people. And after all is said and done, I will attend to their injuries myself. This is the least I can do for them."

Lissa gave him an odd look, but then shrugged. Gangrel rolled his eyes. "Are you done? Can I vomit now?" He cackled. "What a pathetic, hypocritical, flowery harangue! You idiot boy, I can tell how you long to answer me with blood! Your face speaks peace, but your heart lusts for violence!"

"Why should I wish violence on those whom at any other time I would consider my friends? Throw down your arms or raise them—my offer still stands!"

The king pointed his sword, a jagged Levin, at the Ylissean side. "Charge!"

"Aim to disarm, not kill!" Chrom ordered. The Ylissean and Plegian sides rushed closer and closer together. Then, they met in a clash of swords and axes and lances, spells flying back and forth. The prince rushed into the thick of it, sending Umbra to as many Plegian soldiers as he could at a time. Robin, right above him giving out orders from behind Sumia on her pegasus, cast from the Umbra tome, and Olivia danced and parried. Chrom noted with no small amount of pride that his sweetheart had advanced in her swordplay enough to disarm with ease. Wait, sweetheart?! When did he start thinking of her as that?! Not now, Chrom, you have a king to dethrone!

Nearby, he caught Dad and Ciel fighting back to back. Ciel seemed to be one of their better swordsmen and had knocked out several opponents already. Dad looked bored, but he was casting—he was casting Umbra?! The older bluenette fought his way towards the albino and called out, "I never thought I'd see the day where you'd use that spell!"

"I'm not about to make you a liar, all right?" the older man groused. "Besides, you told me to save all my energy for Gangrel, and Umbra uses less energy than my usual."

Well, that was fair… and very thoughtful of his father. He'd have to thank him afterwards.

"Chrom!" The boy whipped his head around and dashed over to Sumia, who had landed her pegasus and held a limp Robin in her arms. "Robin got hit by a Flux to the face!"

"All right, just hang on!" He concentrated his magic through his staff and let it flow into his friend's body. In no time at all, the tactician opened his eyes and gasped. "There you are. Feel okay?"

"Yeah, just fine." Robin sat up and patted his pockets. Sumia handed Umbra back to him. "Oh! Thank you, darling, Chrom would murder me if I lost this!"

Sumia rolled her eyes. "No, he'd just blast you with Umbra and make you sleep for a week."

"Are you forgetting I could just write another one?" Chrom raised an eyebrow, before ducking and flicking a spell at an overhead wyvern rider. The Umbra slammed into the flying lizard and sent it tumbling through the air and onto the ground. The bluenette winced. "Ouch, that looked like it hurt. You know, I hope nobody dies today—"

"Except Gangrel," Robin pointed out.

"—but I'm afraid a casualty here and there will be unavoidable." The mage-healer's shoulders slumped.

Olivia patted his arm. "You can't save everyone, Chrom."

"No…" Then Chrom looked back up, a fierce light in his eyes. "But I can try to save as many as I can."

"That's the spirit!" a nearby Virion called out, once again riding atop a transformed Panne. "Onward, fair prince, and save countrymen and enemies alike!"

The bluenette shook his head. "Thank you, Virion, for your rousing words."

"Of course! I aim to please!"

The four looked at each other for a moment before bursting out into giggles. "I have never heard Virion make a pun before, but that one really hit the mark," Robin sniggered.

"All right, okay, we've still got a battle to finish," Chrom said. "Come on!"

Why, oh why, did Chrom have to be so softhearted?! It would be easier to just kill all of these people in one fell swoop! He was not going to admit that Umbra worked just fine. No, nope, never. He would not. He preferred Expiration much more.

Putting people to sleep with the flick of a wrist had never been easier, though.

After leaving Inigo with his parents, Grima made a beeline for Gangrel. The madman stood at the very back of the Plegian line, directing his troops from there. He spotted the albino and grinned. "Look who decided to show up! Are you that cursed tactician who nearly upset my wonderful execution? Or the crazy manakete who also nearly upset my wonderful execution?"

A wicked smirk grew on the white-haired man's face. "I suppose we haven't been introduced, Gangrel. I'm Raven, the one who took in Chrom and raised him as my own son." His smirk turned into a glare. "And you nearly killed his foster brother and his biological sister. I'm afraid I can't forgive that."

Gangrel cackled, gesturing towards Grima with his Levin sword. "Aww, are you going to defy your prince's orders and kill me?"

"Unfortunately for you, you're the only one I'm allowed to kill." The smirk was back. "Chrom is simply too kind and empathetic to take another person's life, so I have to be the one to spill the necessary blood." He sighed. "It's so boring, not being able to kill anyone else."

"Pfffft, hahaha! How did such a beast end up raising such a wimp?"

The albino chuckled. "I simply couldn't bear to have him change." His fangs came out. "Now, I haven't hurt anybody in this entire battle, and I'd like to take your life. And this time, I'm fully charged up." He summoned two spikes. "So we'll just go a little ways away from here, I'll toy with you for a bit, and then I'll end your life in the bloodiest, most painful manner I can contrive."

Gangrel held up his sword. "Ha! Such a beast! Your little princeling wouldn't listen to me, but you know how evil men are!"

"Oh, I do, Gangrel." His horns came out, two wings sprouted from his back, nails became claws, and his eyes glowed bright red. A dark, violet aura surrounded him.

"I know all too well."

The red-haired man's eyes widened at the sight, and Grima began shooting spike after spike at him, always letting them get just close enough to graze the man. Gangrel backed up, trying to deflect as many spikes as he could and shooting the occasional bolt at the albino. Grima ignored the lightning as he went. Soon, the two had drifted nearly a kilometer from the main battle. A simple flick erected a "bubble spell," a barrier that would prevent others from paying attention to everything that happened inside the perimeter of the spell.

"I want to know something, Gangrel," the dragon asked, inspecting his claws as he tossed another spike in the king's direction, "how did you become king, anyway? What's your story?" He threw another spike and then continued without waiting for an answer. "See, I was an experiment who was constantly mistreated all my life by humanity. There have been a grand total of two humans who didn't immediately run screaming at the sight of me." Another spike whizzed by the Plegian's head, cutting off a few strands of hair. "So believe me when I say I know exactly what you mean."

Gangrel growled. "What do you think?!" he yelled back. "Ever get saddled with a hopeless situation and try to turn it around only to fail?!"

"Yep. Been there, done that. So you were idealistic and naïve, so what? Everyone is at some point." He gave a sharp grin. "That doesn't warrant wanting to wipe out all of my little blueberry's country. Of course, I'm kind of obliged to care about them because he does."

"Give me the Fire Emblem and I'll show you why!"

"You're still on about that?" Grima rolled his eyes. "You know, that's not what it's meant for. The Fire Emblem is meant to seal the world's worst threats away, not grant wishes."

Gangrel brought a particularly large bolt down on the dragon. "Shut up! What do you know about it anyway?!"

"I know… because I was one such threat." Two extra sets of eyes opened on his face, and two more pairs of wings grew out. He gave another wicked smirk at the horror the king exuded, though his grip tightened on his sword in stubborn determination.

"I am the Fell Dragon Grima… and I have come to deliver your judgement."

Playtime's over, he thought, as he shot out more spikes, most of them small and all of them hitting the king in various places. The man hollered in pain, but Grima sent out another wave, this time of larger spikes. He cackled at the sight of Gangrel riddled with spikes. He looks like he got blasted by a porcupine! Oh, I haven't had so much fun killing somebody in a long time! He took out a large spike and slammed it through the king's right foot. Gangrel howled in pain and dropped his sword, bending over to yank the spike out. "Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you… unless you want to bleed out." It wouldn't matter; the spike was stuck too deep in the ground anyway. He took a step closer and threw another spike through his left shin with a satisfying crack of bone. The Plegian king screamed, and his leg gave out. A third spike went through his right hip, blood dribbling down from the puncture. A fourth, underneath his ribs. A fifth and sixth, through each hand. Gangrel's screams turned into bawls interspersed with pleas for mercy. Grima ignored him and sent a seventh spike through the man's right shoulder. Blood and spittle flew from the wounded man's lips with each of his cries. The albino laughed. "Beg for mercy all you want, worm. It won't get you any from me." One last spike, which he held in his hand. He strode up to the downed king and seized his chin, tracing the man's jaw with the tip and letting blood trickle down his neck. "Now… you die!"

"FATHER!"

Grima froze at the sound of Chrom's horrified scream and hid his horns, extra wings, and extra eyes inside his body. Had the bubble somehow fallen while he was occupied? Or, no, apparently he'd stepped a bit out of its range—or maybe that was Gangrel. He let the bubble fall and turned to face a petrified Chrom, eyes wide, face white, free hand covering his mouth. Behind him, the battle looked to be in the latter stages of winding down.

"Father… please, you can't do this!"

"He deserves it," the Fell Dragon grumbled. "He put Ciel in danger and got your sister killed, all because of his selfishness. Let me finish him off!"

"Y-You're torturing him…" The bluenette trembled. "I thought you would at least give him a swift, painless death!"

Grima scoffed. "Since when have I ever done that?"

"Just minutes ago you were throwing Umbra all over the place! I-I thought… I thought…" Chrom gave a shuddery sob. "I didn't think you would do anything close to this!"

"He was going to die anyway, why couldn't have my fun while I was killing him?"

The boy shook his head. "No. Father, I can't condone this." He ran over and knelt next to Gangrel, working one of the big spikes free and healing the man's shoulder up.

"Wha—Chrom, what are you doing?"

The bluenette pulled out another big spike and healed up Gangrel's hip. "I am giving him what he could not give his people—mercy."

Seriously?! Grima watched in dumbfounded amazement as his sweet little blueberry tended to each and every one of the Mad King's wounds. He took a moment to glance at the battle, or lack thereof: all of the Plegian army had surrendered, though Aversa was nowhere in sight. The Plegian soldiers who were awake and able, as well as the Ylisseans and Feroxi, noticed the three and took cautious steps toward them. The albino turned his attention back to Chrom, who had finished healing Gangrel and sent him to sleep with Umbra. Then the young prince stood up and surveyed the armies with a sorrowful expression.

"Please don't kill him," the mage-healer murmured as he strode back to the soldiers.

Grima sent a disgusted glance at the sleeping Plegian and sighed, levitating the man's body as he followed the boy back to the battlefield. There, a crowd of Plegian soldiers awaited the bluenette. One stalked up to him and yelled, "You said you wouldn't hurt our people! Why did you kill so many of them with dark magic?!"

The dragon growled in warning, but Chrom ignored him. "They are not dead," he stated to the men and women. "They are merely asleep, put there by a spell of my own design. If you watch, I will wake one of them for you." He stepped over to a fallen wyvern rider he must've blasted earlier and tugged tendrils of darkness out of the man's head. The soldier blinked his eyes open and groaned, rolling onto his side. Chrom slipped a hand under the man's arm and gently hoisted him up, steadying him while scanning him for injuries. The rider glanced back and forth in confusion.

"Wha's—did I miss th' whole thing?"

The other Plegians gasped and surged forward to hug the man. Chrom stepped aside, a warm smile on his face. One of the other men broke away and indicated Gangrel's body. "Whatta 'bout 'im?"

"He is asleep as well," the prince answered.

The man's brow furrowed in thought. "Ain't… ain'tcha gonna kill 'im?"

Chrom's face grew serious. "He is your king. What punishment for his actions do you believe he deserves the most?"

"Wait, you're gonna let them deal with him?" Grima hissed. "How do you know they're not just gonna let him walk free?"

"I do not." The prince favored the Plegians with a soft smile.

"I just have faith, and hope they will choose the path that is best for them and their people."

Idiotic, soft-hearted little blueberry, Grima thought as he watched the boy interact with the Plegian army, but a fond smile crossed his lips.

He was still annoyed he'd been prevented from killing Gangrel though.

Chrom sagged as he entered the tactical tent that had been erected along with the rest of the Ylissean-Feroxi and Plegian camps. All the healing he'd had to give out to the Plegians, not to mention saving Gangrel's life and healing him, and now the boy was completely spent. He'd had a chance to speak with some of the desert-dwelling soldiers, and many of those conversations had ended up very pleasant. Some of the men and women had even recognized him from when he stopped in Bubblestone! A few of the soldiers were annoyed that the Ylissean prince was offering kindness to them and and told him, in essence, "we don't want your charity," but most everyone else seemed reasonable. To his tremendous surprise, General Mustafa and his contingent had arrived soon after the battle ended, and the older man had, after surveying the situation, taken charge of the Plegian side. The general was due to meet with the Khans, Lissa, Frederick, Robin, Dad, and himself in the tac tent in a few minutes, and the boy looked forward to negotiating with him.

That is, assuming the bluenette had any energy left to spare. As much as they all needed to finish this, Chrom could really use a meal and sleep. Constantly cycling ambient mana did wonders for staving off burnout, but all people had their mental and emotional limits. And after what he saw his father doing to Gangrel… deserved or not, it was terrifying just how vicious Dad could be. Maybe it was a dragon thing, or more likely it was the result of being mistreated for so long, but it almost felt like he shouldn't be surprised. And yet, he could not agree with the torture the older albino inflicted on the king. If he had to die, better it be a swift death than drawing out the pain.

"… kind of surprised you made it here at all," Robin commented as he and the others entered the tent. "I would've assumed you'd want to stay as far away from Gangrel as possible until he was dead."

"Can't a guy check up on the people that saved his life?" Mustafa quipped. "Speaking of Gangrel, how is he even alive, anyway?"

Everyone glanced at Chrom, then pointed at him. The teen gave a weak smile as he slumped into a nearby chair. "I didn't think it was right for him to go out the way Dad wanted."

"How so?" the Plegian general asked.

Dad grinned. "I made like a porcupine and stabbed him a bunch."

"Dad, that's not funny," Chrom groaned. "You were prolonging his suffering needlessly."

Mustafa raised an eyebrow as they all gathered around the table. "So you mean to tell me Plegia is stuck with him?"

"You get to deal with him however you see fit," the prince elaborated. "The people can vote on what his sentence is if they want, but I felt his own people would be better equipped to mete out punishment for him. Execution, exile, jail…"

Strong hands, Dad's hands, gripped and massaged his shoulders. "Wow, you're really tuckered out after all this."

The boy merely gave a noncommittal hum in return.

The negotiations went well into the evening, and Chrom ended up being grateful for Cordelia and Stahl when they entered around suppertime and left food for everyone. The two Shepherds had cobbled together food native to Ylisse, Ferox, and Plegia, and the bluenette thanked them for their thoughtfulness. The group agreed that they could not let the Grimleal get ahold of Gangrel, since they had apparently been trying to manipulate him during his whole reign, but the difficulty lay in where to put him out of their reach. Eventually they decided to let the Plegian army vote on whether to execute or exile the Mad King—the method of the punishment would be determined after the vote. Chrom vehemently protested against Plegia paying any kind of reparations, arguing that the people had suffered enough. Of course, everyone else thought otherwise (except for Dad, who didn't care either way), but the bluenette was positive there was a better solution to the issue. Finally, the group tabled the discussions for the next day and broke off to return to their respective camps and tents.

Chrom yawned as he looked around for his tent. In the light of the setting sun, he made out a path between the tents and started walking. Oh, wait. Didn't they assign tents already? I hope I get to room with Robin again… or maybe Olivia for a—no! Bad! Guys and girls don't go in the same tents! He sighed. I guess I could go back and ask Robin… or maybe I could try looking for Aaron… man, this path is long…

"Good evening, young Chrom."

The bluenette's brain took a moment to catch up. When it did, he squeaked and whirled around to find a chuckling Libra. "My apologies, I did not mean to startle you. Although… you must be exhausted if your delayed reaction is anything to go by."

"Oh." The boy sighed. "I was just looking for my tent. You know, I could probably use the help in taking all this off too, if you're not busy with anything else."

The blonde priest nodded. "Of course. Come with me."

As they walked, Chrom asked a question that had been weighing on his mind ever since he'd healed the first wounded Plegian soldier. "How many casualties did we suffer?"

"For either side? A few. There were those unfortunate souls who ended up crushed by a wyvern or falling pegasus or horse." Libra smiled. "But, all in all, this was perhaps the least costly battle I've ever heard about."

"Oh, um, good, I guess."

"… I had thought the news would make you happier."

"I'm so sorry, Libra, I'm too tired to get excited much about anything right now. But I… I do feel a bit better, hearing about that. Though I wish those few hadn't died…"

Libra put a hand on his shoulder. "It is inevitable in war. We can only try to save as many as we can."

"Yeah… you're right. Gods, I'm wiped." He took a few steps before realizing he had veered off in the opposite direction. "… Apparently I'm too wiped to walk straight."

The priest laughed and clasped his hand around the bluenette's elbow. "Here, allow me to guide you."

"Thanks…"

Chrom didn't remember finding his tent, or getting dressed for bed, and he was out like a light the moment his head hit the pillow.

"Chrom… good morning, Chrom… Oh, he's not waking up, what do I do? Shake him?"

"Wow, I knew he was exhausted last night—"

"Eep!"

"—but this is something else. Calm down, Little Miss Cherry Blossom, I'm not going to hurt you."

"O-Oh, s-sorry, Mr. Raven, I didn't kn-know it was you! Um, but w-what's with the nickname?"

"Well, you're small and cute and have hair that's pink like a cherry blossom, plus your dancing magic is enticing like flower fragrance."

"U-Um… um… th-thank you?"

"… Medeus below, Olivia, I'm not trying to flirt with you. You know how I call Chrom and Ciel 'little blueberry' and 'mini blueberry' respectively? It's the same thing."

"Oh! Oh, I-I get it now!"

Strong hands stroked his back up and down. "Wakey wakey, little blueberry, it's already nine o'clock."

"Is he usually this hard to wake up?"

"Only when he's sick or worn out. Usually I'm the heavy sleeper. Which is… frankly annoying, sometimes."

Chrom cracked his eyes open, his cheek squished into his pillow while he lay flat on his stomach. Bright morning light streamed in, and two figures hovered above him. The one with fluffy hair chuckled and brushed the bluenette's bangs out of his eyes. "Hey there, little one. You were bushed last night, weren't you."

"Y'try fightin' n' healin' n' n'gotiatin' so much…"

The pink-haired figure leaned down and booped the boy's nose. Chrom wrinkled it, and she giggled. "You might want to get up before the mess tent decides to close, or else we'll have to find breakfast for you another way~!"

"Don't forget, we have a meeting with the Khans and Mustafa in a few minutes," Dad pointed out.

"M'kay… wait, what?!" Chrom shot up into a sitting position and reeled as the blood flow in his body reoriented itself. Dad laughed and patted his head.

"See you in the tac tent, little blueberry. Your girlfriend here will make sure you get there on time." He left the tent as the bluenette gave an indignant squawk and sputtered.

Olivia turned bright red, and the mage-healer covered his face with his hands. "Am I really that obvious?"

"I thought that was me." He gave her a confused look, and she blushed harder. "I-I-I mean, I—um! Well, that is—ahem—I th-thought—oh, ne-never mind!"

Chrom recalled the realization he'd had in the middle of the battle yesterday and blushed as well. "Ah, well, I know we're friends and all, but, um, somehow I didn't realize this until we were fighting and—and—oh, gods, how do I go about this?! I've never confessed before!"

"Con-Confessed?"

"I-I, we-well, um… I…" He took a deep breath. "O-Olivia, I like you. Um, n-not just as a friend—ah, more th-than a friend! I-I'd really like to s-spend the res-rest of m-m-my life with y-you."

"O-Oh…"

He waved his hands in a placating manner. "Y-You don't have t-to feel the same! I-I won't hold it a-against you… a-and we can still be f-friends…"

Olivia beamed and threw her arms around him in a hug. Chrom laughed and hugged her back. "Um, so, uh, is that a… um…"

"Y-Yes!" She laughed and leaned back, gazing into his eyes. "That's a yes. I-I mean, I like you back—too! I mean—yes, I-I want to be your g-girlfriend!"

"Really?!"

"Yeah!"

Chrom's heart soared, and he stood up, holding Olivia and twirling her around, both of them laughing in delight. When he eventually set her back down on her feet, he wrapped his arms around her waist and gazed into her eyes, a loving smile on his face. She gazed back with an equally enraptured smile—and then booped him in the nose again. "You still have your meeting, dear~!"

"Oh, no! I'm gonna be late!" He rushed around looking for his day clothes and found his regalia from yesterday on the chair next to his cot, freshly clean and pressed. "Ah, um…"

She laughed. "I'll get Lon'qu to help you out. Don't be surprised if you find something tasty at your place, too!"

"Aww, Livvie, you're the best!" He gave her one last hug and then ushered her out.

Well, that was… not how he had expected his morning to go at all. Still, he and Olivia were now a couple!

I might have to ask Basilio if it's okay, though. And Lon'qu. But still!

Fortunately Chrom wasn't too late to the meeting, as most everyone else had slept in a bit (except for Frederick—how did he manage that?!) and were taking their breakfast in the tactical tent anyway. He seated himself between Robin and Dad and nodded greetings to everyone else. Dad had a particularly smug smirk on his face as he ate, and Chrom rolled his eyes with a fond smile. Resident shipper in the Shepherds Robin may be, his father was just as much of one, if not nearly so open about it. He might have to thank the older albino later, they could've had another Tia situation on their hands. The bluenette ignored the scenario of Olivia going back to Ferox before he'd confessed his feelings to her; he was about to experience another several grueling hours of negotiations, he didn't need anything else bringing his mood down.

After the meal, the general, Khans, tacticians, retainer, and royal siblings got down to figuring out how reparations were to be distributed among the nations. By noon they had finally hit upon a solution—setting up trade between the three countries for surplus goods—when one of Mustafa's lieutenants entered with the results of the Plegian army's vote for Gangrel's sentence. The majority indicated exile, so after lunch the delegation began discussing where and how to ship off the former king. Dad wanted to toss him in the desert surrounding the Ruins of Time, but Basilio and Flavia shot that down (they didn't really want Gangrel inside their borders). Mustafa knew about a Plegian penal colony in an archipelago off the southwest end of the continent, but it was run by Grimleal sympathizers. Frederick and Lissa didn't want the king in Ylisse, so Chrom's idea of the Farfort was out. Robin brought up Valm, but Dad retorted with the fact that Grimleal inhabited that continent as well, one of whom was a nasty specimen by the name of Excellus. That last one wouldn't exactly foster friendly relations with Valm anyway.

"We could send him through the Outrealm Gate," Dad eventually suggested.

Everyone leaned in, interested, so the dragon explained that the Outrealm Gate led to different worlds and required a key in order to return to their world. Sending Gangrel through the Gate without the key meant he'd have to wander the Outrealms for the rest of his life. "Of course, somebody will probably reject that on the grounds that we're inflicting a dangerous war criminal on those worlds," he finished with an eye roll. Chrom decided not to comment.

But after some more discussion, nobody could think of a better idea. Lifelong exile to the Outrealms it was, then. Frederick drew up a copy of the treaty and Gangrel's sentence, and then it was sunset. The leaders left the tent to address the three armies, which had been gathered into a crowd in the middle of the three camps. Stepping onto a temporary platform, the other seven stood behind Chrom as he announced the end of the war and the three-way treaty. Then two guards brought forth an awake, handcuffed Gangrel to the front of the crowd, which garnered boos and jeers from many people in the armies. Chrom held up his hand, and everyone went quiet.

"As of this afternoon, April thirtieth, in the year 1032, the council of the Ylissean, Plegian, and Feroxi armies has judged Gangrel Gulari, King of Plegia and Supreme Commander of the Plegian armies, guilty of war crimes and crimes against humanity. With the recommendation of the Plegian people, we the council have sentenced the accused to exile in the Outrealms for the remaining duration of his life." The bluenette swallowed. "Have you anything to say for yourself, your Highness?"

The redhead sneered back at him. "You should've let him finish the job while he had the chance, little princeling," he retorted, nodding to Dad. "I've nothing else to live for thanks to you."

Chrom gave him a sad smile. "I hope you find what it is you're looking for there, Gangrel," he wished. "May your fortunes take a turn for the better."

Gangrel scoffed and rolled his eyes as he was led away.

That night, there was an international celebration of the war's end among the three armies. Food was in abundance, and drinks flowed freely. Chrom made it a point to find Basilio early on before the West Khan got too many drinks into him. He eventually spotted him chatting with Mustafa and Frederick, a firewhiskey shot in hand.

"Excuse me, Basilio? Can I—may I speak with you for a moment?"

The brown-skinned man chuckled. "Of course, kiddo! I'll be just a minute, you two," he threw back to the other two men. The bluenette led him over to a quiet corner, wringing his hands. "Something wrong, boy? You look darn serious for a party."

"O-Oh, um, it's nothing bad, just—I felt I needed your permission on this. Ah, seeing as you're her father and all, you know."

"Yeah?" Basilio grinned. "This has to do with your relationship with Olivia, doesn't it."

Chrom nodded and straightened, taking a breath. "Khan Basilio, I wish for your permission to court your daughter, Olivia, in the interests of potentially asking for her hand in marriage and spending the rest of my life by her side as her husband."

The man laughed and slapped the slim mage-healer on the back. "That speech from earlier has got you in a flowery-language rut, hasn't it."

"You have no idea." The bluenette rubbed at his eyes. "Get into a certain mode of speaking and suddenly I can't turn it off. I feel like everybody expects the prince to sound like an aristocrat, not a commoner," he mumbled.

"Just be yourself, kid, and let them deal with it." The older man's eyes gleamed. "So, you were asking me if you can be boyfriend-girlfriend with Olivia."

"Yes, sir."

He nodded. "Does she know about this?"

Chrom reddened. "Um, we actually kinda confessed our feelings to each other right before the meeting." That got a cackle out of the Khan. "It was Dad's fault! But, um, I'm glad he said something, we both figured out we feel the same way towards each other."

"Father, I wanted to speak to you—oh! Chrom! You're here too!" The two turned to find Olivia approaching them, a blush dusting her face. "I wanted to have you with me when I talked to Father."

"Let me guess… this has to do with your relationship with Chrom," Basilio mused.

The pinkette nodded. "Father, I-I really like him—I think I might even love him—and I'd really like to spend the rest of my life with him! Please, Father!"

"I will care for her and protect her with everything I have!" Chrom added. "Please… I can't imagine not being with her."

The Khan laughed and grabbed them both up in a hug. "Ugh, I'm so happy for you two! That's a yes, by the way." Setting them both down, he regarded the boy with a serious expression. "You treat her right, you hear me?"

"Always, sir," Chrom replied, conviction in his voice and eyes.

Basilio turned to Olivia. "You treat him right, too, got it?"

"Of course, Father!"

"All right, then. You have my blessing. Have fun!" Patting them both on the back, he slipped back into the crowd.

Chrom and Olivia glanced at each other and squealed, throwing their arms around each other. It was official: they were sweethearts!

A portal opened over the grassy island, just above the ground. A tall young man stumbled out of the glowing blue eye, leading a brown horse through, before the portal closed up and disappeared. The youth glanced around at his surroundings, confused.

"Well, that's odd. We seem to have landed ourselves in quite the situation, Camus," he addressed his steed, flicking his curly blonde hair out of his eyes. A single brown strand of bangs fell over his nose, and he blew it off. "I don't suppose any of our companions are near?"

The horse snuffled, pawing at the grass.

He sighed. "Mother and Father must be worried sick if we've all become separated… I do hope we've landed somewhere in the vicinity of Ylisse, not to mention the right time. Right then, we must figure out where we are and continue on from there." So saying, he mounted the horse and checked the old Recover staff strapped to his back. He dug through his pack and pulled out a white mask that covered the area around the eyes and the left cheek. "I believe I might have to thank Gerome for giving these out, I might not even have been born yet!" He chuckled and fastened the mask to his face, leaving sharp brown eyes peering through the eyeholes.

"Now, then. Onward, Camus! From henceforth I must forsake my name and identity so as to protect this timeline's integrity to the best of my abilities. I shall be cautious like Father and gracious like Mother, known to all until the time of my revelation is at hand as the healer-knight, Jagen!"

And that's a wrap! Next up: A Little Domestic! The Shepherds return to Ylisse where Chrom is immediately thrust into his royal duties. Grima moves to Ylisstol and finds a pleasant surprise. Chrom flounders, feeling in over his head. A reunion is had, wedding bells ring, and everyone settles into peacetime life.

Feel free to review or feed me concrit! Anything to let me know I'm brightening your guys' day!

"I... did NOT expect Chrom to ask Olivia to be his girlfriend this chapter, to be honest."

Yeah, he threw me for a loop too. I wasn't even paying attention to the fact that he proposes at the end of that in-game chapter before the timeskip, he just decided "I have realized my feelings" and I went along with it.

"I ship it."

There's a term for people like you who like to ship in secret, and it's called "closet-shipper."